a ravishing redhead

Book two in the Wedded Women Quartet, A Ravishing Redhead, is scheduled for release on May 1st! I have thoroughly enjoyed writing Margaret and Henry's story. Margaret, a feisty redhead who always says exactly what she is thinking is the exact opposite of Catherine from A Brooding Beauty. In Henry & Margaret we find a couple that actually TALKS to each other... unfortunately, perhaps a little too much! I hope you enjoy this brief excerpt from ARR, and make sure to check it out in its entirety when it is released in less than a month.

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“It is not that you are a horrible man, or even an ill tempered one. We simply do not compliment each other,” she said.

Surprised to discover he was rather starting to enjoy himself, Henry reclined back in his chair and raised one eyebrow. “Is that so?” he said.

Margaret nodded vigorously. “Yes. Precisely so.”

Now it was Henry’s turn to play with his fork. He turned the utensil over and over in his hand, studying the silver handle as if it was the most fascinating thing in the world before he said, in a deceptively calm tone, “Where the bloody hell is all of my money?”

“Your… your money?” she squeaked.

“Yes. My money. The money I sent here every month since I left. The money that should have been going back into the estate to pay for its upkeep. Since the roof is all but falling down around us, I have to ask, darling, sweet wife. What have you been spending it on? Surely not clothes,” he said rather snidely after looking pointedly at her choice of apparel.

“Your money?” Margaret repeated, leaving Henry to wonder if his wife was a bit daft.

“Yes,” he said, all thoughts as to the color of her hair banished as anger brought his blood to a rapid boil. “For the past year I have sent you a damn fortune! Yet I return to find three quarters of the staff dismissed, the gardens in complete disrepair, the fields fallow, and the house a mess. So let’s hear it, madam. Where has it gone?”

“Eight months,” she said quietly.

“What?” Henry frowned, certain he had misunderstood her.

Margaret got to her feet. Leaning towards him, she spoke in a voice loud enough to be heard in the next town over. “Eight months, sixteen days, and nine hours. That is how long you have been gone. Not a year. Not quite yet.”

Henry rose out of his chair as well. “Of all the absurd, ridiculous things to keep track of that is most certainly the –”

“Time is all I have had to keep track of since you left!” she yelled, cutting him off mid sentence. “There never was any money, not since you ran off with my dowry, you old goat, and stranded me here next to penniless. The servants left when I could no longer pay them! You mock my clothes, but this is all I have to wear. I had to sell my dresses to pay for the staff that is left!”

           “Did you just call me an old goat?” Henry asked in disbelief.