Modern Romance March 2021 Book 5-8 Carol Marinelli (ebook reader computer txt) 📖

Turning quickly, the sight that met him had him letting out a breath of relief.

No enemies or obstacles graced the horizon, just Yancy Grove rising in the night.

Like the woman at his side, even in the darkness, Yancy Grove glowed.

Against the backdrop of the black sky, the island was an endless stretch of moonlit sand, speckled with palm trees and dune grasses, their silhouettes stark against the white cliffs. From the cliffs, a fortress rose, carved out of the very hillside to tower multiple stories above it. The whitewashed stone walls, arched windows and gorgeous natural accents were vibrant and visible—both at a distance in dim lighting.

Simultaneously ancient and timeless, the fort at Yancy Grove was beautiful and beautifully defensible.

If love at first sight was the instantaneous knowledge that your heart had found its home, then that was what Drake had experienced as he’d scrambled on the beach and looked up at the cliffs that long ago day.

He felt the same strange calm to this day that had fallen upon him that moment when Yancy Grove had come into sight. Calla was his pride, but Yancy Grove was his joy.

Helene’s eyes were glued to the island growing on the horizon.

“It’s stunning,” she whispered.

He stood taller, his chest expanding at her praise.

Like Calla, with Yancy Grove, Drake had taken what fortune he had been given and run with it.

Bit by bit, he had modernized and updated the fort, retrofitting it with all of the modern conveniences he’d become accustomed to as the Duke of Calla, as well as the high-tech security and telecommunications capabilities he demanded as retired admiral Drake Andros and internationally known privateer, the Sea Wolf.

Yancy Grove began their relationship, opening her arms wide and succoring him as a pup, and he maintained it, caring for her with the ardent devotion of a young lover.

“We will dock and walk up to the fortress. I do not keep a staff here as this is my private getaway.”

Her reply was droll. “I think I can handle a walk.”

He laughed. “We’ll see if you’re still singing the same tune when you see the hill.” He joked, but in truth, he was impressed with her. The only child of his greatest enemy she may be, but the woman had stamina. She had kept pace with him through every unexpected hurdle the day had thrown at her, including him. He was man enough to acknowledge that there had been a number of times throughout the day that she hadn’t merely kept pace, but had surpassed him.

Noting her proud bearing and the light of excitement in her eyes, he didn’t think she was anywhere close to her edge, either. Not for the first time, she reminded him of a bolt of lightning masquerading as a human, not powered by an internal battery like poor unfortunate mortals, but the source of power herself.

He docked the Ibrahim, meticulously preparing it for rest before he and Helene disembarked. The island was silent, the warm breeze a permanent and welcome friend, carrying the scents of sea and salt.

They also walked in silence, her long legs easy match for his stride. She was tall and strong, and yet undeniably a woman, even in the darkness, dressed in his clothing, feet youthful and bare.

“You’ve got a thing against shoes,” he observed.

Startled out of stargazing by his statement, she looked down at her feet before looking back up to him, a lopsided grin turning her classic beauty impish. “I think it might just be the barefoot sea-faring life for me.”

She had a siren in her blood. He was sure of it. That or she was some kind of mystical creature, a selkie, a shield maiden, a mermaid given legs. What else could explain the way his jacket flowed around then hugged the firm lines of her lithe legs, or how when she smiled, her wide coral lips revealed a mouthful of pearlescent teeth, charming and sharp at the same time, ready to take a bite out of whatever life threw at her.

That light in her eyes was an unquenchable thirst for adventure and it could make it all too easy, if he allowed it, to lean over and set off a series of aches that began below the belt and ended with his plans embedded in her womb.

She had been drawn from a sailor’s dream, but like all the great sea tales, she sprang from the loins of hell. And every time he touched her, she opened like a flower created only for him.

“I find it hard to picture you this way full-time,” he lied.

She brought a hand to her heart. “You mock my dreams!”

He couldn’t stop his smile, even knowing she’d commanded it from him as they rounded the curve that led to the fort’s entrance.

This time, she didn’t gasp at the encounter, but stopped in her tracks, mouth dropping open.

He laughed, pleased more than he cared to examine at her reaction to the project of his heart.

If the fort at Yancy Grove was breathtaking at a distance, it was a masterpiece up close. Lit up against the night sky, its walls were blinding white, butter-smooth and hand-painted for over a century, the layers of paint freshened regularly. Smooth curves dominated the architecture, with abundant built-ins tucked away for every possible convenience: reading nooks, sea-view benches, dining alcoves, boundless bookshelves. Vibrant patterned pillows and cushions in intricately designed handwoven cases fit wherever one might imagine lounging and gorgeous rugs in one-of-kind patterns adorned gleaming hardwood floors, lending softness and color to the crisp beauty of the interior. The floors were such a deep rich brown they were almost black, and shone to the point of reflection.

An assortment of embroidered and beaded slippers waited for them in the foyer. Drake reached for a rare plain tan pair while Helene looked back and forth from the sparkling interior to the slippers.

Finally, she said, “I’m going to ruin your slippers.”

Drake laughed. “Don’t worry about it. There’s plenty more where those came from. They’re meant