Historical Romance Month continues this week on Nesie’s Place with the work of author Natasha Blackthorne in the spotlight! Natasha’s Fashionably Impure and Intimate Secrets series will be featured.
“A Measured Risk (Regency Risks Book 1)”
Genre: Historical Romance/Victorian/Gothic
Release Date: September 26, 2013
He is her most dangerous temptation and now he is demanding her submission. Dare she take the risk?
Emotionally scarred in the horrific accident that took her husband’s life, Lady Cranfield is imprisoned by her lingering terror of horses and carriages. She longed to be closer to the fascinating Earl of Ruel. She sensed intuitively that he could teach her how to overcome the terrors that held her in bondage.
And now she’s willing to risk almost anything-her reputation, even her virtue-to find out. But what he proposes startles her.
When the shy, studious and socially awkward young widow approached him, Ruel instantly sensed she would be the sweetest, most submissive experience of a lifetime-if only he can gain her total and complete trust. He makes her a non-negotiable offer. His help in return for her submission and obedience.
But Lady Cranfield grew up neglected by her ducal parents, raised by servants and then later ignored by her handsome, charming husband. She’s learnt to protect her heart at all costs and she trusts no one but herself.
How can the jaded Earl of Ruel break through her self-protective defences and show her how to love when he has spent his lifetime avoiding that tender trap?
Erotica Romance ~ Light BDSM ~ Rubenesque / BBW ~ Regency Historical ~ Character Driven Story ~ Drama ~ Shy Heroine ~ Novel Length 86,000 Words
Excerpt from A Measured Risk by Natasha Blackthorne ©Copyright 2013
She backed all the way into the bookcase.
“Why did you run away?” His deep voice settled in her belly, rich and warm, like crème brûlée on a cold winter’s night.
“Because I wanted you to follow.” She tried to sound sophisticated and seductive, but her voice choked off on the last word.
Ruel placed his hand on the shelf above her head and blocked her path to the door. His tall, solidly muscled body leaned over her, surrounding her with the sumptuous, sinful scents of tobacco, Scotch whisky and something masculine and undeniably dangerous. A slow, sensual smile stretched his hard mouth.
He appeared different. Softer. More approachable.
At the change, her insides seemed to flip over.
“Well, sweeting, getting us off alone was a very inspired idea.” He touched one of her fallen ringlets. “I am bored to distraction with endless talk of hunting and fencing.”
As he slowly wrapped the curl around two fingers, he brushed her collarbone. Fiery sparks tingled down her spine, so intense that she shivered and her nipples beaded, pressing against her stays. By some instinct she hadn’t even known she possessed, she arched her back, presenting herself for his assessment.
His eyes shone so vividly blue against his bronzed face that they resembled cornflowers. She swallowed tightly and wished for a long drink of claret. This more personal side of him suddenly seemed far more hazardous than his usually fierce exterior.
Well, no matter. There was nothing to fear. She would allow only as much contact as need be to get to know him a little. Since being torn from her lonely yet secure life in Ireland and thrust into Society at age sixteen, she’d spent her time allowing people only as near as was comfortable. She was an expert at emotional evasion.
It should be easy to regain her control.
But now, as rays of the late-afternoon sun played over his pale hair, turning it the colour of winter wheat, all her carefully rehearsed words flew from her mind.
Say something—anything—else he will think you’re a bird-wit.
An intimate smile, one that invited her to play, tugged at his mouth.
“In a situation like this, alone with a gentleman, it’s perfectly normal for a lady to feel some apprehension.” His hushed voice, barely audible above the piano and boisterous singing from down the corridor, accentuated their isolation. His gaze became so piercing that she had to lower her eyes.
He brushed his fingertips over her cheek. “She will invariably ask herself if he will try to kiss her.”
She jerked her eyes back to his face. God, he couldn’t mean to—not yet, surely… Peculiar, heated chills swept over her. She tried to take a step back, but found her bottom flush against the bookshelf.
He leaned closer; so close that his Scotch-scented breath tickled her face. “And just in case you are wondering, Lady Cranfield—the answer is most assuredly yes.”
She should demand that he put his arm down so she could pass by and leave. She really should. But she couldn’t stop looking at his hard mouth and wondering what it would feel like upon hers. He was so close to her that his breath blew on her lips. If she moved but a fraction, she’d be kissing him.
Dear God. Her breaths began to come very fast and short. Her throat went tight with a suppressed moan.
His eyes burnt as brightly as aquamarines. He looked so fierce. If he kissed her, if he dared… Oh God, it would be so harsh. That cruel-looking mouth could express itself no other way.
Excitement rushed through her, sending tingles to every point of her body, even her toes.
But no, he wouldn’t. Not yet.
He kept leaning closer. He didn’t close his eyes. Instead, he seemed to focus all the harder upon her.
Her heart pounding, unable to move away, she braced herself for his assault.
His lips brushed hers, barely. A gossamer caress.
He lifted his head.
It was done.
And it hadn’t even begun.
He held her chin, appearing so cool, so unaffected. His kiss had seemed to sear her. An urge to put her fingers to her lips arose in her. She resisted it, for it would give away too much of how she was affected.
Never show your feelings.
He traced his thumb along her lower lip, slowly, deliberately, as he studied her with eyes that now glittered with something powerful and predatory. Heat pooled in her pelvis, low and spreading even lower.
She went weak all over, as if she’d lain in a sunny window seat for too long. Her knees almost buckled. She forced them to lock. To be strong.
It should not have affected her so profoundly. It had been just a peck—not a true kiss at all. William had poured out all of his skill upon her and hadn’t garnered even a tenth of the reaction in her that this man’s peck had.
Ruel traced her jaw line with his fingertips. Unthinkingly, she leaned in to his touch.
“Of course, once he has kissed her, then it’s his turn to wonder…” His voice sounded unnaturally loud in her ears. “How will she respond? Will she withdraw, or can he ignite some hidden fire?”
She sensed that he was toying with her. She didn’t understand flirtation—why had she imagined she could carry off this ruse? Was he making advances in order to have a laugh with Francesca and her simpering friends later? Hurt blossomed in her chest. She resented him for that. She ought to feel indignant, superior, uncaring—anything but hurt.
“Please don’t make sport of me.”
She cringed. Was that quavering, pleading voice really hers?
An infinitesimal pause. “Now, why on earth would I do such a thing?” His voice was as smooth as velvet.
“To please your vanity,” she replied, trying to regain her wits.
“Here.” He placed her hand to his chest. The contours of his muscles were hard, powerfully developed. Even more so than she’d expected. His body heat radiated through the satin and, beneath her hand, his heart’s beat was rapid and strong.
“Is that vanity?” He put a finger under her chin, giving her no choice but to face him. “Is it?” He gentled his grip.
The warmth in his voice settled over her like luscious hot chocolate. Melting her insides to quivering burgoo, rendering her speechless, unable to move.
“My dear, lovely Lady Cranfield, I am going kiss you again.”
March 7, 2015
After a carriage accident, Lady Anne Bourchier, Countess of Cranfield, witnesses the death of her husband, and subsequently has a soul wrenching fear of carriages and horses. As this is the only mode of land transportation, she becomes a virtual prisoner on the her former estate, now run by her late husband’s cousin. Anne desperately needs to overcome her fears for several reasons, one being the horse farm inherited from her father…in Ireland. She can’t very well get there, or run it while her fears have firm control over her.
She turns to Jonathan Lloyd, Earl of Ruel, one of the new Earl’s guests for a two week hunt. Impressed by his powerful presence, Anne is convinced he could help her overcome the fear no one else but her hand maiden knows about. After a fainting spell, Anne confesses her problem to Ruel and asks for his help. As one who’s given up on love, Jonathan’s first thought is to walk away and not be bothered with the silly young woman. But his protective nature takes over when he sees the fear deep inside Anne, and knows it’s not just carriages and horses that are her problem. Even though he’s committed to a future marriage of convenience, he decides to help her overcome her fear…in exchange for her total submission to him for thirty days. As the only child of two emotionally distant parents, Anne was literally raised by servants, and has learned to trust only herself, mask her feelings and guard her heart. She should be able to handle the Earl for 30 days.
What ensues is a battle of wills and emotions. Jonathan seeks to take advantage of Anne’s submissive nature and she is more than willing. While the sex scenes are more than a little steamy and well written, this story is about so much more than sex. They each believe they know themselves, but as the month unfolds, personal revelations – and in Anne’s case…epiphanies – are numerous. And, they’re both determined to get what they want from the other without involving their hearts.
Anne and Jonathan are both very likable. There are times when Anne is annoying and irritating, and Jonathan is nothing less than a jerk. But we come to understand their motivations (or lack of), and still want them to work past their differences. Just when we believe things are settled though, MORE truths are revealed!
Several supporting characters pass through, each more deliciously vile than the last. Of note, there is Kean, who served with Jonathan during the war, and Maria, Jonathan’s bride to be. In my world, they both go over a cliff in a tragic carriage accident, and good riddance. However, they do have important parts to play, so we suffer in silence…for now.
This story does continue in book 2, Trust Me, but there is NO cliffhanger. The author selected an excellent ending point that gives the reader a chance to exhale and get ready for the rest of the story.
Plot and character development are spot on, which makes it easy to get deeply invested in these people and their story. This is not a historical romance to be missed.
(I was gifted an ecopy of A Measured Risk from the author during a book chat party in December 2014.)
Natasha is sponsoring a Rafflecopter where THREE lucky winners will score books! Enter today!
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About the Author
Escape into the past with intensely erotic, emotionally driven love stories. Natasha Blackthorne writes character-focused historical erotica romance featuring strong internal conflicts played out in non-traditional and unconventional situations. Her stories are most frequently about the intimate journey of the characters as they learn to open their hearts to love.
Her heroines are not perfect ladies. They are wildflowers and wallflowers who enjoy flirting with the forbidden. Whether they are bold or shy, her heroines’ strong desires and deep emotions drive the plot and drive their heroes to the point of no return.
“I haven’t been disappointed with a Natasha Blackthorne historical romance as of yet…the men, yes..they are strong and dominant, but they also support their women in everything. These men are written with strength and purpose… Thank you Natasha for helping me love historical romance once again.” ~ Salacious Reads
“Natasha Blackthorne has become one of my favorite authors, I love her wonderfully sweet, strong, terribly damaged characters.” ~ Kimberly, a reader.