Surrender in Moonlight; Golden Fancy; Notorious Angel

1077 Pages·2012·4.91 MB·English

by  Blake Jennifer

SURRENDER IN MOONLIGHT

BEGINNING

MID-POINT

AUTHOR’S NOTE

NOTORIOUS ANGEL

PART 1

PART 2

AUTHOR’S NOTE

GOLDEN FANCY

PART 1

PART 2

AUTHOR’S NOTE

ABOUT JENNIFER BLAKE

This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of
the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to
actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any
means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any
information storage and retrieval system — except in the case of brief quotations
embodied in critical articles or reviews — without the written permission of
publisher or author, except where permitted by law.
Individual Book Cover Designs by LFD Designs For Authors.
Boxed Set Cover Design by SM Reine.
Surrender in Moonlight
Copyright © 1984 and 2012 by Patricia Maxwell
First Fawcett Trade Edition: May 1984
First Mass Market Edition: October 1988
First E-Reads Publication: 2000
First Steel Magnolia Press Publication: 2012

Notorious Angel

Copyright © 1977 and 2012 by Patricia Maxwell
First Fawcett Gold Medal Edition: July 1977
First Ballantine Books Edition: August 1983
Fourth Printing: November 1986
First E-Reads Publication: 1999
First Steel Magnolia Press Publication: 2012

Golden Fancy

Copyright © 1980 and 2012 by Patricia Maxwell
First Fawcett Gold Medal Edition: November 1980
First Ballantine Books Edition: January 1986
Third Printing: May 1987
First E-Reads Publication: 2003
First Steel Magnolia Press Publication: 2012

1

The quick tread of Lorna Forrester’s riding boots was muffled by the thick
Kirman carpet runner as she moved along the wide hall. Without pausing in her
stride, she slipped the loop that caught up the flowing fullness of the skirt of her
blue-gray poplin habit over her left wrist, tucked her crop under her arm, and
began to tug on the calfskin gloves. There was a mutinous set to the finely
molded curves of her mouth, and in her gray eyes a look of grim determination.
She would not rest before dinner, would not lie in genteel fatigue upon her bed
with warm milk punch at her elbow and a maid in attendance.
The passageway was dim with the failing light of late afternoon, a condition
unimproved by the dark maroon brocade that hung on the walls or the peculiar
green light of an April storm that threatened beyond the end windows. After the
heavy meal at noon, the cool dampness and early twilight had driven everyone
else to their bedchambers, or so it seemed. Lorna was not tired, not even after the
long steamboat trip upriver the day before. In truth, she was too overwrought to
rest. If she did not escape from Beau Repose and the people the great plantation
house held, including her uncle and aunt, she might well succumbed to the urge
to scream and throw things. That would not be conduct at all becoming to a
happy bride-to-be.
An inane giggling, high-pitched yet masculine, drifted on the still air. It came
from an open doorway a few yards ahead of her. Lorna recognized the sound. A
spasm of what might have been dismay or disgust crossed her pale face, but her
footsteps did not falter.
As she drew near the bedchamber from which came that grating laughter, a
low moaning blended with it. Rich, female, the soft, panting moans took on a
higher note. “Wait, Masts’ Frank, that hurts now! Don’t do that, Masts’ Frank,
just be nice. Please, I — oh, don’t, don’t!”
The import of the sounds, the words, did not immediately reach Lorna. It was
only as she came even with the doorway that they took on meaning. In that
instant, she glanced inside, and the breath was driven from her lungs in a startled
gasp. She checked herself.
On the rumpled surface of the four-poster bed within the room, a man and a
woman strained and heaved in a tangle of white and black limbs. It was Franklin
Bacon, the man she was to marry, with one of the housemaids. That he was
hurting the girl, digging his fingers into her hips, and forcing her to take his hard,
bestial thrusts, was immediately plain.