New York Times bestseller Hannah Howell's extraordinary Wherlocke family returns with the story of a passion that will heed no resistance, no matter how deadly…
When Lorelei Sundun first finds Sir Argus Wherlocke in her garden, she's never heard of the mysterious Wherlocke clan-or their otherworldly abilities. That changes the moment she watches Argus-the most tantalizing man she's ever seen-disappear before her very eyes. What she's witnessed should be impossible. But so should falling in love with a man she's only just met…
Pursued by a madman intent on harnessing the Wherlockes' talents as weapons, Argus meant to seek help from his family, not to involve a duke's lovely daughter in the struggle. But now, the enchanting Lorelei is his only hope for salvation-and the greatest temptation he's ever faced…
Praise for Hannah Howell and If He's Wicked
"Fans will gladly follow Howell from the Scottish Highlands to London for her new trilogy." -Publishers Weekly
"The superbly talented Howell never disappoints." -Romantic Times
Showing 1-1 of the 1 most recent reviews
1 . Enjoyable read
Posted June 28, 2011 by Abby , Vancouver. BCI have been a huge fan of Hannah Howell and have really enjoyed this series. I was kinda hoping than Argus would be saving the day with his special talents....so to bad, so sad!! Loved Lorelei and her father....but agree with other reviewers, there could have been more humour added
June 06, 2011
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Excerpt from If He's Dangerous by Hannah Howell
There was a naked man in her father's rose garden. Lorelei Sundun blinked her eyes several times, but the man was still there. She wondered why he was staring at her in astonishment. She was not the one standing naked in a garden, a fat white rose the only thing protecting her modesty. Lorelei was certain she should be the one doing the gaping. In fact, she mused as she allowed her gaze to travel the long length of his lean body, she should be on her feet and racing toward the manor, perhaps even screaming for help. Loudly. Instead, she was utterly fascinated.
For a moment she wondered if she had been sitting in the sun contemplating her lack of a husband for too long. She was not wearing a hat. Could one get a brain fever from sitting hatless in the sun?
Lorelei was not sure that even a brain fever would cause her to see a naked man. Certainly not one with a big, fat white rose hiding his manly parts, the part of a man she was most curious about. Lorelei was certain that the drawings in a book she had found hidden in her father's massive library could not be accurate concerning those parts of a man. A man could never hide something that large in his breeches. She doubted a man could even walk properly with such an appendage and suspected the looks on the faces of the women in those drawings were not ones of ecstasy but excruciating pain.
He was, she decided, a very handsome man. It might be why she found it impossible to look away as any woman of sense would do. His hair was thick, hanging far past his broad shoulders, and a black so deep and true the sunlight caused it to glint with faintly blue highlights. His features were harsh, almost predatory, but there was no fear in her heart. His eyes were dark and she was tempted to move closer to see what color they really were. He was tall and lean, but she could see the firm muscles beneath his smooth, swarthy skin. There appeared to be the remnants of bruises marring his fine body. Lorelei clasped her hands together in her lap to quell the sudden, and startling, urge to touch that sun-kissed skin, to soothe those hurts. He had good teeth, straight and white, she mused even as he shut his mouth and revealed lips that had a seductive hint of fullness to them. Those lips and his enviably long lashes were the only soft features on his hard face.
"Who are you?" he asked, his deep voice holding such a strong note of command she could feel it tug at her mind, and had to quell the instinctive urge to immediately refuse to answer him.
"Lady Lorelei Sundun, seventh child of the Duke of Sundunmoor," she replied, thinking that she ought to be the one making demands. "And you are?"
"Sir Argus Wherlocke." He scowled at her. "This is not where I wished to be."
"I suppose it is somewhat awkward to find oneself standing unclothed in a duke's garden."
"And you should not be able to see me."
"You have no Wherlocke or Vaughn blood, do you?"
That was no answer to her question, she thought, but swallowed a flare of annoyance. "Neither name appears in the family lineage."
Lorelei decided she could not leave the man unclothed any longer. His state of undress was stirring an unwelcome curiosity within her. She stood up, walked over to him, and handed him her fine shawl made of Italian lace. His eyes widened as he took it in his hand and she could see that those eyes were the dark blue of the night sky. When she realized how close she stood to him, how her palm itched to touch his skin, she took a step back. She briefly averted her eyes as he tied her shawl around his waist, for he had to step back from the shelter of the rose. Before looking away, however, she had noticed that the look of utter astonishment on his face had begun to lessen.
"This is most strange," he muttered and frowned at her. "You should not be seeing me. You most assuredly should not be able to hand me this shawl nor should I be able to hold it."
"And you should not be standing unclothed in my father's rose garden," she said. "Yet here you are. Where did you wish to find yourself ?"
"I sought out one of my family." He cursed softly.
"I am being pulled back."
"Pulled back where?" Lorelei knew her eyes were widening as the man appeared to be slowly losing all substance, the roses behind him beginning to show through his body. "You appear to be fading away, sir.
Are you a ghost then?"
"No, not a ghost. Heed me now, for I have little time left. You must find someone in my family, a Wherlocke or a Vaughn. Tell them that I am in need of help. A man who calls himself Charles Cornick is holding me captive. He seeks knowledge of our gifts." "Your gifts?" The man was so faded now that she could see right through him and had to clench her hands tightly against the urge to grab hold of him and try to hold him in place.
"He seeks a way to steal them, to take them into himself. You must contact my family so they can help me. Soon. I need help soon."
"Where are you? Where does this man hold you?" "In the country. I know not where. I smell lavender and sweet peas."
Between one blink and the next, he was gone. Lorelei stepped up to the rosebush he had stood behind, but there was no sign that he had ever been there, not even a footprint left behind in the soft dirt. He could have been standing on one of the runemarked stones her father had surrounded with his roses, but there should have been footprints leading to the stone.
Lorelei was just convincing herself that she had dreamt the whole incident when she reached to tug her shawl more closely around her shoulders. It was gone. A chill that had nothing to do with the lateafternoon breeze went straight through her. Her shawl had been tied around the man's waist. That small fact proved that something had happened, something she could not explain but could not deny.
"But what?" she muttered and lightly rubbed at her temples to push away the faint ache of an approaching headache. "A man simply cannot appear and disappear like that. Nor should a spirit be able to hold fast to a shawl and disappear with it."
It had to have been a dream, she firmly told herself. Lorelei started toward the manor house only to stop and look back at the place where the man had stood. She was certain she was awake. She pinched herself just to be sure and cursed at the pain. There was no doubt that she was awake, yet it was difficult to believe all that had just happened. It would be so much easier to believe that she had left her shawl in her room and had just had a little dream while sitting in the sun.
Soon. I need help soon.
Lorelei hurried into the house. This matter needed looking into. If it had not been some delusion brought on by sitting too long in the sun, then there was a man in trouble somewhere. She needed to know more about the family he wanted her to summon to his aid. Her father and his extensive library was a good place to start.
Roland Sundun, Eighth Duke of Sundunmoor, looked up from his book as his youngest daughter burst into his library. "M'dear, is something wrong? Have the twins misbehaved again?"
"No, Papa, Axel and Wolfgang are with their tutor," Lorelei replied.
She stood still for a moment to catch her breath, surprised that she had actually run all the way to the library. Her tall, almost too thin father looked a little startled and she could not blame him. Her impetuous entrance must have made him think there was some emergency. In truth there might be, but she would keep that knowledge to herself for now.
"Papa, do you know anything about a family named Wherlocke or Vaughn?" she asked.
"Oh, yes, m'dear." He stood up and carefully set his book aside. "I have studied them for years. Why do you ask?"
"Just some gossip I heard. Something about them being, well, a bit strange."
"Not strange. Gifted. Wondrously gifted. Fascinating people. Utterly fascinating."
Lorelei watched her father stride over to a set of shelves that reached up a full two stories. It held papers and books about a subject dear to his heart. Dissertations on ghosts, magic, witchcraft, and all manner of strange happenings filled the shelves to overflowing. She sighed even as she experienced a surge of interest. The answers she sought would be a long time in coming, but the very fact that her father went straight to that shelf told her that what she had seen in the garden could well have been real.
Argus grimaced as he fought the nausea and cold sweats he always suffered when he sent his spirit out from his body. It was wrong that he should suffer so only to have failed in his mission, he thought crossly.
He moved a hand down his body to rub at his roiling belly and tensed as his fingers brushed against soft lace. Opening his eyes, he looked down at the delicate shawl tied around his waist.
"Damn my eyes, she was real," he whispered. Hope surged in his heart, easing his discomfort.