Ordered to wed a Saxon he doesn’t want, Bernon runs headlong
into a challenge of secrets and curses with the one woman he can’t live
without.
Strangclyf Secret eBook by Mary McCall, $4.95 available for order on:
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Exclusive Excerpt:
Bernon studied her pale strained features, taking in the
long golden lashes, short pert nose, tremulous rosy lips, and small pointed
chin. Her features seemed to fit together well enough. At least she wasn’t an
eyesore. His gaze fell upon mottled bruises around her neck, and his blood
boiled. Had he been a volcano, he would have been spewing. He may not want her,
but she was his and nobody marked his property.
Emerald eyes popped open and fastened on him. She looked
like a terrified fairy. A gorgeous terrified fairy.
The muscles in her throat constricted and she whispered in a
hushed frightened voice, “Are you him?”
“I am.”
“Zut! When did I
die?” She sat up and raked her fingers through her hair, glancing wildly about.
Bernon frowned at the curse. “You will not use—”
“Oh Lord!” she exclaimed, cutting him off. “I did not please
my husband, did I? And he killed me. Now I have to spend all eternity in hell
with you.” She turned an anxious gaze upon him. “I was truly hoping we would
never meet.”
What kind of game was she playing? He cocked his head and
considered her through narrowed eyes. “Are you daft?”
“Nay. I am valuable, rare, and precious.” Her hands twisted
in the sheets. “Are you going to start my eternal torture now or make me worry
about when you will strike?”
If fear could kill, he wouldn’t have to worry about having a
wife long. He had never seen anyone so craven in his life. “You are not dead.”
“Am I not?” she asked, a surprised tone in her voice. He
shook his head.
“Then why do you come to me on earth?” She gasped then
narrowed her eyes. “Why, you no-good demon, You must think you will get my
consent.” She scrunched her face in what he assumed must be her version of a scowl.
“I’ll not let you take my soul.”
Bernon closed his eyes and counted to ten. The woman lacked
wit and could not even summon an expression to scare a mouse. “I do not want
your soul.”
“Well, why not?”
she asked in a disgruntled tone of voice and balled her hands into dainty
fists. “What is wrong with me that even the devil doesn’t want my soul?”
Bernon folded his arms across his chest and studied her
curiously. His enemies upon occasion may have referred him to as Satan
Incarnate, but he didn’t expect such a comparison from a bride he had never
met. Was she trying to rouse his ire to test him? “Now you insult me. What
makes you think I am the devil?”
“Because only Lucifer could be so handsome in such a dark
way, and you just said you were him.”
She waved an arm indicating his entire body then peered up, giving him a look
that told him she wasn’t impressed. “How can you expect to steal souls if you
cannot remember what lies you use? Is your memory short?”
He wiped a hand over his face conveying his exasperation.
This had to be the most ridiculous conversation he had ever had. “I am not
Lucifer.”
“Well if you are not Lucifer, then who are you and wher—”
She broke off and slapped a hand over her mouth. Then she peeked up at him
through her lashes. “Are you Bernon?”
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