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REVIEWS for The Bloodstone Affair [Brothers of the Absinthe Club 2]

5 Hearts: "This book is so masterfully written, I still get chills up and down my spine when I think about it. Whether it is from the sex alone, yes it was that good, or partially due to the macabre elements of the plot, I cannot tell. The plot is chillingly delicious with some surprise elements and lots of twists and turns to insure the reader cannot take their eyes from the pages. Our hero, Gavin St. John, has all the attributes a woman hopes for in her man; considerate, polite, handsome, and so sexy that our heroine felt an immediate attraction even though she’d never felt one before. Carlotta, the dowager duchess, is strong, sensible minded and very beautiful. Aunt Lillian, the late duke’s aunt, thought they would make the perfect couple, if they lived through the spectral events brewing at Bloodstone Manor. This book deserves the highest praise. If you enjoy a good ghost story or are a fan of erotic romantic suspense, this book is for you." —Karen H., The Romance Studio

5 Blue Ribbons: "Right from the start I was intrigued by the characters and fascinated by the history of the various ghosts of Bloodstone Manor. Each scene adds a new level of tension and excitement that had me enthralled in the storyline and anticipating what would happen next. The lovers who are using Gavin and Carlotta to reunite will touch readers' hearts almost as much as their hosts budding romance. Emma Wildes has created a series that will have readers eagerly awaiting each new addition to this thrilling series." —Chrissy Dionne, Romance Junkies

4.5 Kisses: "Once again, Emma Wildes transports her readers back in time to an era in which women were ladies and men were strong and noble. With an enticing combination of wry humor, romance, mystery, suspense, intrigue, and horror, The Bloodstone Affair had me guessing from one page to the next, trying to figure out what was going to happen, breathless until the very end. The first two of six books in the Brothers of the Absinthe Club series (Arabian Pearl and The Bloodstone Affair) are so different yet tied together so skillfully that they spotlight Emma Wildes’ talent and leaving me desperately looking forward to the next four books in this exciting series!" —Kerin, Two Lips Reviews

"The men of the Absinthe Club return to share their most erotic memories and Gavin's story raises the bar among this group of friends. Unusual settings are fast becoming a hallmark of this intriguing series from Emma Wildes, and Carlotta and Gavin's courtship is a prime example of that. There is no typical ton courtship for these two as they share their bodies with the ghostly Brenna and Malcolm. Their unusual problem creates an instant intimacy between Gavin and Carlotta that is totally believable and supremely sensual. The storyline has an addictive gothic twist with its malevolent spirits and lovelorn ghosts and readers will find themselves riveted to the very end to find out what happens with all the characters involved…both living and dead. The Bloodstone Affair is an excellent addition to a fascinating series." —Isabelle Spencer, RRT Erotic

STORY AND ADULT EXCERPT

Wandering over to her dressing table, Carlotta picked up her brush and began to run it through her waist length dark hair, abstractly looking in the mirror. Her maid had only been gone a few moments when the door opened behind her, and she turned, certain Annie had forgotten something.

But it wasn’t the young Irish girl in her neat uniform. Instead, Gavin St. John came into the room without so much as knocking, and when he closed the door behind him, he also turned the key in the lock. Too startled to be outraged, Carlotta froze, her brush in hand. “Sir, what…what are you doing?”

Wearing only boots, fitted breeches that clung to his long legs, and a white shirt that was open to show the gleam of a well-muscled chest, he looked very different from the smooth, well-mannered man who had sat across from her at dinner just an hour before. His blue gaze glittered with something that was decidedly not polite courtesy, and he didn’t say a word but took his time in thoroughly examining what he could see of her body through her thin night rail.

Carlotta flushed under that intense, wholly male scrutiny, suddenly trembling. “Mr. St. John,” she said, striving for a calm, no-nonsense tone, “please leave. This is improper and if you have a question, we can discuss it in the morning.”

“I’ve no questions, lass. I’ve not come to talk to ye.”

Though she hadn’t been frightened before, the sound of the soft brogue—in St. John’s voice but spoken completely differently than his usual cultivated diction—made her suddenly go cold. “Gavin?” she said shakily, staring at him.

A low laugh rang out. “I’m afraid the gentleman in question can’t answer you, lass.” He seemed to look past her and his smile faded, replaced by something more forceful. He said softly, “Come, Brenna. I wait for you.”

To her horror, it felt like something moved, a quiver behind her shoulder that made her whirl in alarm. For a split second, she saw something in the mirror, a vague outline of a female form with flowing blond hair. She felt heat pouring through her body, the effect not precisely unpleasant, but infinitely disturbing. Carlotta gasped, feeling as if she were falling down a well, and when she swayed she found a pair of strong arms came around her to lift and hold her against a warm, hard body. Helplessly, she gazed into Gavin St. John’s azure eyes and realized whoever held her was not the man she had met that day.

Nor was she any longer the woman who had greeted him.

Her hand came up to touch his cheek, exploring tenderly the length of his lean jaw. She heard herself say in wonder, “Malcolm.”

“My love.” His lips hovered over hers, then captured her mouth hungrily. The ensuing kiss was almost violent with longing and suppressed desire. His tongue plunged deep, tangling with hers, probing and possessing. When he broke away, he whispered breathlessly, “I thought this would never happen again. By the Gods, how I have yearned for ye.”

“Then take me now,” she answered, a heavy tightening in her breasts and liquid heat centering between her legs. “I need you inside me, Malcolm.”

His laugh was low and dark as he carried her toward the bed. “After two centuries of wanting, lass, prepare for a long, hard ride.”

Glorious anticipation shot through her entire body, making it tingle as he laid her down on the cool sheets. He stripped her delicate embroidered nightdress off at the expense of buttons and fabric. Tossing the damaged item on the floor, his avid gaze roamed over her nude body with lascivious delight. Pulling off his boots, he shrugged out of his shirt and dropped it on the floor, his hands going to the fastenings on his breeches.

Who is she? Carlotta wondered, caught in a hazy mixture of confusion and intense sexual desire, knowing she had no control over what was happening. Her mind was aware but her wayward body obeyed the commands of someone else. And when the tall, blond man she somehow knew was now Malcolm and not St. John, stepped out of his pants, she saw he was fully aroused, his erection high and stiff against the taut plane of his stomach, the distended tip glistening with the evidence of his readiness.

Languid with need, she smiled and shockingly spread her legs in carnal invitation.

“Brenna,” he said as he moved over her, kissing her again, resting against her open thighs but not yet penetrating her. He tasted a little like the brandy St. John had drank after dinner, his mouth warm and firm and delicious. His long-fingered hands stroked her skin, skimming over her shoulder to cup one of her breasts, and he brushed the nipple with his thumb. “What a bonny, bonny lass,” he murmured in her ear, kissing her neck lightly. “Her breasts aren’t as large as yours, love, but they’re more than a firm soft handful, and that’s enough for any man.”

Running her hands through his thick hair, reveling in the silky texture, she laughed lightly. “Shall we compare your cocks as well?” Shifting a little, she tested the length of the rigid shaft poised between her legs. Her fingers measured the girth and lightly rubbed over the slick, swollen crest. “This feels quite adequate, my lord. Hard and long and ready to take me.”

His grin was wickedly teasing. Heavy need darkened his eyes as he stared down at her from beneath the fringe of thick lashes. “You always were a randy lass, eager for a tumble.”

A twinge of sadness came and went, just a shimmer. “With you,” she whispered. “Only you and never another.”

“Don’t I know that, love. I was jesting.” His mouth brushed hers and their lips trembled together as he began to enter her. Carlotta felt the probing hardness at her vaginal opening, her legs spreading further to accommodate his size, the sensation incredibly pleasurable. “So tight,” he said through his teeth. “Damned tight, wet, and hotter than Hades itself. God help me, it’s good.”

Lifting her hips, she felt the progression of each inch as he slowly impaled her with his hard shaft, finally resting fully inside her vaginal passage, nudging her womb. When he began to withdraw, a low rapturous sigh came from her throat. “Yes.”

Her impassioned response made him smile, a soft growl punctuating his plunging thrust back into her willing body. Clutching at his tight buttocks, she welcomed the rhythm, finding a wild need building and taking over.

It was flagrant and primitive and acutely pleasurable. It was ecstasy and heated excitement. Her breasts trembled with each inward stroke, and her hands protested at the small of his back as he slid backwards. A blissful tension seemed to hold her in its grip, growing tighter and tighter with each moment of his erotic possession. His use of her body gave her so much physical gratification that she openly moaned her enjoyment. As he moved he tangled his hands in her long hair, whispering words of love and desire in her ear, his rangy body moving over and in hers. The subtle scent of his skin was unfamiliar, but masculine and intriguing.

Her climax burst like a glorious sunrise, the convulsions wracking her body as she cried out in release. Her inner muscles gripped his surging cock as the shockwaves rippled through her, carrying on one blissful ripple of pleasure after another. Moments later he stiffened and she could feel the jerk of his ejaculation as he groaned. His orgasmic release was followed by the sound of silence except for the restless wet breeze sighing at the window.

Damp, sated, and comfortable in the arms of a man who was no more than a virtual stranger, Carlotta lay sprawled across his broad chest in the aftermath, trying to catch her breath.

“Oh yes,” she heard her lover whisper. “That is how I remember it, lass. And we’ve just begun.”

* * * *

The room was unfamiliar, the perfume of early summer roses mingling with the earthier, unmistakably musky scent of sexual intercourse. Gavin blinked and came slowly awake, finding himself tangled in silken sheets, the soft, nude body of a woman lying next to him.

Jesus…what the hell happened?

Dinner, he thought feverishly, he remembered dinner. The food had been exquisite, and the raven-haired duchess more than divinely beautiful…

Next to him in the lightening darkness of approaching dawn, she stirred and sighed, her arm tightening around his waist. On her side, she slept easily against him, soft pink lips parted, her bare gleaming body ivory in the inadequate light struggling against the heavy drapes. Lustrous ebony hair spilled in disarray over the bed linens. Her full breasts lifted a fraction with each measured breath, the nipples the delicate color of coral from a clear blue sea, perfect and enticing.

He was naked in her bed, he realized in grim astonishment. What’s more, it came back slowly—he recalled dark, forbidden pleasure and joyous fulfillment as he moved between her legs time and again, taking his fill of her slender, voluptuous body.

Bloody Hell, if memory served, he’d fucked her half the night.

Well, not him precisely.

God in heaven, no wonder he was tired and drained. She’d welcomed him too, that much he knew. His shoulders bore the marks from her nails. Even in the uncertain morning light, he could see the glistening smears of dried sperm on her slender thighs, the tiny dark triangle of pubic hair between them both dainty and inviting. He hardened as he remembered what it felt like to plunder that sweet, delicious heat, his shaft stiffening and rising in arousal.

And the last thing he needed, he realized as he jerked his gaze away, was to get an erection at this particular moment. Whatever had happened last night hadn’t been his fault, but if she woke to his cock at full mast, she might doubt his word on it.

Carefully dislodging her encircling arm, he slipped out of bed and searched for his discarded clothing.

Carlotta Stone rolled a little and murmured something incoherent. Her beautiful face was serene until her lashes fluttered, and he just managed to jerk his breeches over his hips before she opened her eyes. He saw a reflection of his own consternation as she came to the realization of her nudity and his presence in her bedroom.

“Oh,” she whispered. A visible blush invaded her cheeks as she sat up and snatched the sheet up to cover her bared breasts. “It really happened, didn’t it?”

Gavin felt more than a little off-balance himself. “I’m afraid so,” he said, fastening his pants and stifling a wince over his half rigid state.

“I thought maybe, for a moment, it was a dream.” She swallowed audibly, looking more than delicious with her shining tumbled hair a dark halo around her oval face. Her slender shoulders trembled a fraction.

“Dream? I’m afraid not. What it was exactly, I am not certain, The only thing I can tell you is that I have never encountered this particular situation before.” He ruefully ran a hand through his rumpled hair. “I feel as if I should apologize, Duchess, but at the same time assure you it was not my intention to …well…to…”

“It wasn’t you.” Her declaration was soft but firm, though her cheeks were more scarlet than ever.

At least she realized that. “No, it wasn’t. Well, to the extent I could not resist what was happening enough to change it.” Now that the initial shock had passed a little, the scientist in him was deeply intrigued. Gazing at the woman in the rumpled bed, he asked quietly, “Tell me, how was it for you?”

Glancing up, she gave him a scandalized look from dark wide eyes, her soft lips compressing together. “I beg your pardon? Simply because I exonerate you from any responsibility, Mr. St. John, do not think that gives you the largesse to ask me outrageous questions.”

Realizing how she had interpreted his inquiry, Gavin couldn’t help it, he gave a smothered laugh. “I didn’t mean the actual act of sexual intercourse,” he explained, “for if your experience was similar to mine, it means you were fully aware, you simply were not able to control your body. That is what I wished to know.”

Perhaps it was the memory of the way she had climaxed wildly so many times beneath him, but Carlotta glanced away, no longer meeting his eyes. Her slender throat rippled in a small swallow. “Yes, that is exactly how it was.”

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