Edits
have just arrived on Of Silk And Steam,
the fifth book in my London steampunk series, and I can't wait to dive back
into this story!
Though
it's not the end of the series, it's the final book in this story arc, and
there was so much to wrap up in terms of plot. Add to that a complicated hero,
a heroine with a heart of ice and a cast of secondary characters who threatened
to steal the show (Blade, the hero of my first book, Kiss of Steel), and it was probably the toughest book I've written
- though definitely the most fun.
One
of the problems I have with editing is when the story sucks you back in. I
deliberately set aside the book once I've written it and don't dive back in
until edits arrive, but the other day I couldn't help myself... and found myself
reading all the way through when I knew I should be writing!
I
know that's probably a good sign - or maybe it's just that I enjoy this romance
so much. Frigid ice princess? An alpha hero? Enemies? Just a few of my favorite
romance tropes.
Here's an excerpt:
Peter Duvall gave a little gasp. Bluish blood dripped
down his chest; the color that gave the blue bloods of the Echelon their name.
The young woman stepped back, jerking the tip of her
rapier from Duvall’s chest. It had gone straight through the heart, the only
way to kill a blue blood. The duel had been serious then, or else they’d have
used pistols, far less lethal in these circumstances. A blue blood could only
be killed by decapitation or severe damage to the heart; a shot had to be true.
Leo Barrons clapped a little as Duvall fell, echoing
the rest of the crowd of young bucks, though he could barely take his eyes off
her. He’d arrived late at the Field of Blood in Hyde Park, near Constitution
Hill, evening caressing the skyline of London. Just in time to catch the end of
the matter.
Who was she?
Tall and slender, the woman had the proud bearing of a
queen, but that wasn’t what stirred the blood in his veins. The head-to-toe black of her tight velvet
coat, the steel manica protecting her sword arm, and long leather
leggings only highlighted the shining garnet red of her hair. Caught in a
chignon at the nape of her neck, wisps of it clung to her serious face. The
setting sun caught it on fire. Thick dark lashes shuttered her eyes as she
plucked a handkerchief from her second - a young lad, more boy than man - and
with considerable aplomb wiped the blood from her blade.
She might have been standing alone in that clearing,
deftly ignoring the excited chatter of the assorted young men congratulating
her. There was a sense of aloofness to her, as if she existed outside this
world and could never be touched.
And she’d just
managed to defeat a blue blood in a duel, which was a talent in itself. Blue
bloods were faster and stronger than humans, the craving virus that afflicted
them giving them exceptional capabilities. How the devil had she managed it?
Duvall was... had been no slouch with a blade, though he was hardly a master.
One look. That was all it took. Leo wanted her.
“Who is she?” Leo murmured to the Duke of Malloryn’s
heir, Auvry Cavill, without taking his eyes off her.
The faintest of smiles touched Auvry’s mouth. They’d
been friends since Eton. “Why don’t you ask her? I wouldn’t want to ruin the
surprise.”
A dare. “So I shall.”
He strode through the crowd, ignoring the young bucks
of the aristocratic Echelon as much as she did. They were unimportant. She was
all that mattered, all that he could see.
Some sense of wariness must have alerted her to him,
for she looked up, brandy-brown eyes locking on him and piercing him straight
through the chest. Or lower.
Handing her second the bloodied rag, she dismissed Leo
with a glance and vanished into the grove of trees behind the field of grass.
If she thought that was the end of it, she was wrong.
His steps accelerated and he knew she heard autumn leaves crackling beneath his
heels as he followed her. A glance over her shoulder and she stilled, as if
realizing he had no intentions of giving up.
“You’ve come to congratulate me?” A mocking tilt of
her perfectly defined brow. She wore disdain almost as well as she did
aloofness. No doubt she was well-used to men’s flattery. With that face and
figure, she’d have to be.
“Congratulate you?” he asked. “Perhaps. You were lucky
to win that with your form.”
Those eyes flashed fire, and shock pierced her
expression. Just for a moment. “Lucky?”
He smiled on the inside. If he wanted to capture her
attention he had to be different than all the others who, no doubt, fawned at
her feet. “You drop your shoulder too low on the lunge,” he said, gesturing to
the offending body part, his gloved fingers brushing the puffed velvet sleeve
of her coat. “It creates an opening, if your opponent is aware of it.”
She stared at him, then looked down to where his
fingers stirred against her sleeve. “Fair warning. I shall take it into
consideration if you’re ever my opponent.”
“I doubt we’ll be opponents.”
“Do you?” A slight challenge to the soft words.
This was not quite going the way he’d planned.
“Perhaps I should introduce myself. Leo Barrons, the Duke of Caine’s heir.”
“I know who you are.” Cool, expressionless eyes. “Your
arrogance precedes you. If you’ll excuse me?”
The moment she brushed past him, he turned. “Have I
done something to insult you?”
That slim figure froze, her spine stiffening. She
glanced over her shoulder at him, one hand resting lightly on the sword at her
hip. “You have no idea who I am, do you?”
Evidently. Leo frowned. He
rarely paid attention to the young women that formed society. As a man of
nineteen, he’d been gifted with two thralls for his eighteenth birthday; he didn’t
need any others. Their blood sustained him and he had not the keeping for more.
And then, of course: “I’ve only recently returned from my Grand Tour of the
Continent. And I doubt I would have forgotten you.”
“I shall take mercy on you this once, my lord,” she
said, stepping closer and staring him in the eye with a defiance that stirred
his blood. “Your father killed mine. You are the last man alive I would ever
wish to converse with, let alone...whatever puts that gleam in your eye.”
“My father’s killed a lot of men.” Caine was utterly
ruthless when he wished to be. Especially to his wife's bastard son, though few
people knew the truth of Leo’s birth. “You’ll have to be more specific.”
The woman leaned forward on her toes, her breath whispering
against his skin. “Perhaps this will help?” The irises of her eyes bled to
black, heated anger gleaming in their depths.
She was a blue blood. “That’s impossible.”
Only the sons of certain blue bloods were allowed the
Blood Rites when they turned fifteen. The Council of Dukes would never allow a
female to be considered, which made her a rogue blue blood, infected by chance.
“I assure you it’s not.” She leaned away from him
again, smiling. There was no warmth in that smile. “My name is Aramina Duvall.”
Another blow; a fist to the abdomen this time. Auvry
had known exactly who she was, the bastard.
“I see you know it,” she murmured.
The Duke of Casavian’s only daughter. The man had died
but a month ago, leaving his affairs in disarray. Leo’s gaze shot to Peter
Duvall’s bloodied form, through the slender trunks of the beech trees. No doubt
this had been a duel to settle, once and for all, who was heir to the duchy.
“That makes
me the Duchess of Casavian,” she said. “Your father’s mortal enemy.”
Boldness stole over him. Leo caught her fingers as she
turned to leave. “I don’t care.” Lifting them to his own, he pressed his lips
against the inside of her wrist, a shockingly bold deed, signaling his interest
in her as a potential thrall.
“You should.” She tugged her hand free, furious heat
stealing into her cheeks. Her eyes were black again, revealing the depths of
her emotions. She must have been newly made a blue blood; it took years to
master one’s emotions and control the depth of the predator within. “After all,
I’m going to destroy you and your father. And if you ever touch me again, I
shall remove the offending digit.”
Then she turned on her heel and strode away. Leaving
him slightly breathless, but no less determined.
So what are your favourite romance tropes?
Enemies-to-lovers? Friends-to-lovers? Something else?
OF SILK AND STEAM (Available March 2015)
When her
father was assassinated, Lady Aramina swore revenge against the Duke of Caine.
Leo Barrons, the Duke's heir, has long been her nemesis, and when she discovers
he's illegitimate, she finally has leverage against the one man who troubles
her heart and tempts her body.
Sentenced to death for his duplicity, Leo escapes by
holding Aramina captive. A woman of mystery, she's long driven him crazy with
glimpses of a fiery passion that lurks beneath her icy veneer. He knows she's
hiding something; he doesn't know it's the key to saving his life.
Award-winning author Bec McMaster lives in a small town in
Australia and grew up with her nose in a book. A member of RWA, she writes
sexy, dark paranormals and steampunk romance. When not writing, reading, or
poring over travel brochures, she loves spending time with her very own hero or
daydreaming about new worlds. Read more about her at www.becmcmaster.com or follow her on
Twitter, @BecMcMaster.
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