My Lady's Choosing: An Interactive Romance Novel(31)

“If only,” he says, his voice a hoarse whisper, his whisper the ghost of a horse that died tragically, galloping across the plains of your shared unconscious, “if only you could have been anything other than clever. If you could have been less intriguing, less beguiling, less enchanting and strange and good. If only you could have been anything other than who you are, then…then…”

“Then what, you blasted man?” you cry. It is senseless how much you feel for him. It is hopeless and obscene and true.

“Then I could have remained the monster I know I am! Without guilt. Without sorrow. Without shame.” He drops to his knees. He tears at his hair. He looks up at you helplessly—so helplessly, some might call it…the look of love.

“Oh, Garraway, who has broken you, my love?” You caress his face.

“I have broken myself,” he chokes out. “I have broken another. You will never kiss me again, I will never know the taste of love again, once you know the truth. Blanche hated me after the child was born—jealous, cruel, thinking I would never again find her beautiful. She called motherhood the curse of womankind and she cursed us all for it. She took lovers, that I knew from the beginning. But as long as I loved her, and thought she loved me, I didn’t care…but then…”

“But then what?” you cry.

“But then I did something. Something terrible. Something unforgivable.” He rises to his feet. “You should leave me! You should leave here and save yourself from me and what I am!” he roars as though a wounded wild animal.





So do you? If you escape from him as he suggests and hie yourself to somewhere safer, turn to this page.

If you know deep in your heart of hearts that his heart is a true and gentle heart, and you wish to continue this heart-to-heart, turn to this page.





You say nothing but hold your gaze defiantly. The very space between you crackles, like the air before an electric storm.

Benedict cups your cheek with a strong hand and checks surreptitiously for anyone observing you in this, the shadiest of corners.

“Oh, dash it!” he growls. He pulls you behind the curtain to plunder your mouth with his.

A respectable young lady should resist, should fight him, but you are tired of being respectable. Instead, your body melts into his, and you feel him smile in the darkness as his tongue parts your lips to explore the sweetness within. Your blood turns to liquid fire as you return his ardor with equal ferocity. You cling to each other, two lost souls journeying through the inferno together.

“Forgive me…this is wrong.” He pulls away with a sudden sigh and departs, leaving you alone in the alcove to rub your tender mouth.

You are not sure how much time has passed when you finally come to your senses. You manage to stumble out from the darkness. Fortunately no one notices…except Lady Evangeline. She arches an inquisitive eyebrow. You walk to her with the steady calm of a soldier.

“My lady,” you whisper to her urgently, “do you trust me?”

Laughter dances in Lady Evangeline’s eyes. “Even if I didn’t, you have me entirely intrigued!”

“Good,” you say, “because I believe if I am to get to the bottom of this little escapade, I will need to go to London, and I will need you to go with me.”

“For companionship?” The laughter has crept from her eyes to her voice.

“That,” you say with a smile, “and the use of your carriage.”





It seems you already have the most cunning of plans. Turn to this page.





“Death is no matter to me. It will come as a relief!” cries Ollie to his traitorous ex-lover. Constantina smirks.

“Perhaps. But first, you shall watch your friends die before you!”

She aims the pistol at you. With heart pounding, you scream in terror, and as you cower, Ollie dives in front of you. A hideous gunshot sounds, and then silence.

Your eyes are firmly shut. But open them you must. You gasp in shock—and then relief—as Ollie staggers to his feet, a chivalrous knight reeling from his noble errand. Truly, you have always had excellent taste in men, even as a young thing.

Constantina, meanwhile, seems to have pitched backward into the loch the moment she pulled the trigger. And there, standing at attention on the banks, barking triumphantly, is—

“Dodger!” you cry.

“Och, Dodger. Good dog, good boy!” croons Mac. Dodger woofs and wags his tail.

You spring forward, not wasting a moment, and pounce on the disoriented Constantina. As Ollie stares at his former lover and current betrayer (and his former former lover and current savior), you rip off your stockings. Mac raises an eyebrow, but then smiles when you use them to bind Constantina’s wrists.

“Let’s go,” you command. “To the castle.”





Heavens, that was a close one. Turn to this page before your feet get cold.





Within hours, you are sailing down the Nile toward the lost temple in Noor’s swift vessel. The three sails of the sturdy little boat snap and quiver in the wind as you speed toward your destination.

You thrill with excitement. No longer the hapless waif of just a few short weeks ago, you are now armed to the teeth and assisted by an army of dangerously powerful Amazons. Lady Evangeline leads the vanguard, a modern-day Joan of Arc, filled with equal righteous determination.