My Lady's Choosing: An Interactive Romance Novel(15)

“Yes,” Craven chokes out, close to breaking into a sob or feeling the tender joy of sexual release. You really cannot tell with him.

“There is something very wrong in this house,” you say. You allow Craven to lift your skirts with hungry hands.

“Yes,” Craven murmurs into the sacred space between your thighs. Your body arches to sate his starvation. Pleasure burns straight up your spine, into your hair, sparking your eyes, roaring so loud in your ears that you almost don’t hear him whisper, “Sometimes I think it will drag me down with it!”

“It won’t while I’m around,” you say, running your fingers through the silken waves of the dark ocean of his hair. “Tonight, we sleep together…to protect each other!”

He nods, his mouth worshiping at your hidden temple, and he tumbles you backward into his rooms. He lifts his head from your nethers to take a deep drink of you, his eyes running over every curve of your body. His look is so intense, you gasp. The moment you do, he kisses you so that in essence you are breathing him. He tastes of spice and blood, he smells of fire and forest, and you are so alive with desire that you forget you are a lady. You begin to tear your dress from your body in the forgetting. His limber fingers help you free yourself from any and all constriction, and he takes you there, half clothed, thrusting deeper than any fear could reach, until you are both clawing for more.

You are close to reaching a transcendent state of being, but then loud banging pierces the euphoria of your ecstasy.





Bother. Do you stop and investigate, for there is a mystery afoot?! Go to this page.

Or do you ignore the banging in favor of continuing some other banging? There is probably a logical explanation for the sound, plus this is seriously becoming the most euphoric encounter you’ve ever had. Go to this page.





“I will travel with you anywhere!” you cry. “Wherever you go, I shall follow! I don’t care about the danger, as long as I am with you!”

“Oh, my darling!” sighs Evangeline, embracing you deeply. “I don’t know why, but I knew, I always knew that—” She is interrupted by a stifled but loud sob.

You look up. It takes you a moment to realize that the hard-bitten viragos surrounding you are all sniffling and sighing to a woman. Even the angry Gráinne is somewhat misty-eyed.

“Oh…oh, just kiss her, you eejit!” she mutters under her breath. You blush and look away, but Evangeline takes charge, her arm still wrapped around your waist.

“Ladies!” she says. “I have a proposition. I have much coin and am in need of some allies capable of facing the most dangerous woman I have ever met and the good-for-nothings in her employ. You, I fancy, are all more than capable of this work, and you wouldn’t refuse some hefty compensation. So…what do you say? Will you join me in righting the terrible wrongs that have been visited upon those I care about, including this beautiful young woman?”

The entire tavern roars in approval. Evangeline turns to you and winks.

“But, my lady!” you whisper. “How will we find where she is? Even most of her henchmen don’t know her whereabouts!”

Evangeline leans toward you and smiles conspiratorially.

“Well, my darling, there is one thing that those brutes don’t have.”

Your eyes widen.

“The contents of the canister, my dear! We’ve got the location of the lost Temple of Hathor!”





Turn to this page.





“STOP! Stop this madness!” You aim Ollie’s pistol at the two men. They stop and stare at you.

“Don’t you see?!” you cry. “Constantina tried to kill Mac because she was trying to hide something! She was walking toward the French not because she was drunk, but on purpose! She was the informant!”

“But she wasn’t in the chain of command for Mac’s regiment!” shouts Ollie. “How could she have known the things that were handed to the French? Things that even I, in the same spy cell, didn’t know about until years later?!”

“Because she was passing on information for someone else,” you explain gently, fixing your eyes now on Mac. “From what you both have told me, there is only one person who could be the mole. One who is known very well to you, Mac.”

Terrible comprehension breaks across the faces of the two men. You nod at them gravely.

“That is right. Constantina was the conduit, but the information was provided by Abercrombie!”





Och, man! Turn to this page.





“I did everything you told me to, my lady. I gave the false diary you wrote to the vicar, so he in turn would give it to the next fool he saw fit to help carry out your plans. I kept your true diary to myself. Of course, I have never touched it—I know this volume must be full of your secret dreams and desires. I have been your faithful Manvers, I have, indeed.”

You steal a silent step into the morning room. Oblivious to your presence, Manvers is seated before a portrait of Blanche, speaking to it as if she were a woman whose blood flowed warm and lively ‘neath her flesh.

“Your hatred for Hopesend is clear as a bell,” he goes on. “I hope you love what I have done with the place, my lady. The others…they don’t love you like I love you. They don’t, I swear they don’t! A-ha! A-ha-ha-ha!”