In his Spanish castillo Marcos Ramirez has been planning his retribution for the Winter family.... And now it's time. Marcos will take Tamsin and destroy her family. But Tamsin isn't the hedonistic society girl he expected. She's beautiful and courageous--bedding her will be sweet. And it's then that Marcos realizes Tamsin's a virgin, and innocent of all she's been accused of!
Showing 1-1 of the 1 most recent reviews
1 . Enjoyed
Posted May 05, 2010 by MC , GreenvilleAnother good short read by Lucas.
April 30, 2008
Number of Print Pages*
Adobe DRM EPUB
* Number of eBook pages may differ. Click here for more information.
Excerpt from The Spaniard's Defiant Virgin by Jennie Lucas
He was waiting for her outside the Dar el-Saladin.
Marcos Ramirez held up his binoculars, watching the flower-covered limousine leave the fishing village in a whirlwind of rose petals. From where Marcos stood, the sturdy gate that protected the village from sandstorms on one side and the sea on the other seemed riddled with red bullet holes.
Tamsin Winter, at last. He'd kept tabs on her through her ten cloistered years in boarding schools until she'd returned to London last year. Since then, the wild young heiress had frequently been in the tabloids, always with a different man on her arm. The spoiled beauty was reputedly the most accomplished flirt in Britain.
Breaking her would be a pleasure.
"The car's moving into position, Patr�n," his chief bodyguard, Reyes, noted aloud.
"S�." Marcos put down the binoculars. He knew his men could have kidnapped the Winter girl without his supervision, preventing her from arriving at her wedding in the Sheikh's kasbah to the north. Marcos could be taking his ease in Madrid right now, drinking coffee and checking the latest numbers on the London and New York stock exchanges instead of sweating in the dust-choked desert.
But he'd been dreaming of revenge for twenty years, and today was the culmination of everything. After he had the girl, both she and her family would be utterly destroyed. Finally. As they deserved.
Marcos smiled grimly to himself. He only wished he could see the expression on her bridegroom's face when he heard the news, the black-hearted bastard.
The limousine left the village, moving along the sand-covered road that separated the Sahara and the bright Atlantic shore. He pulled his black mask down over his face and turned to Reyes. "V�monos."
Tamsin Winter had just sold her virginity to the highest bidder.
Her white bridal kaftan, intricately embroidered with silver thread and jewels, weighed on her like a shroud as she looked through the darkened windows. She felt almost envious of a wrinkled woman selling oranges on the street. Selling oranges seemed like a pleasant fate compared with marrying a man who'd already beaten one wife to death.
She took a deep breath, closing her eyes. It didn't matter, she told herself. She would let Aziz al-Maghrib paw at her with his meaty hands, kiss her with the stench of his foul breath and take her innocence with his flabby, wrinkled body. It would be a small price to pay, since it would save her young sister from a life of misery and neglect.
But, as recently as last month, she'd looked forward to falling in love and marrying a man she could cherish. She'd dreamed of starting a career and some day having children of her own. She'd spent all of her twenty-three years dreaming of the day her life would truly begin.
Strange to think that it was already over.
Saving her sister was the best choice she'd ever made. But, even knowing that, part of her ached for all the time she'd wasted, the romances she'd never had, the chances she'd never taken. If she'd known her life would be so short...
"Tamsin! Stop fidgeting. You'll wrinkle your dress. Oh, you're doing it on purpose, you stupid girl!"
Tamsin slowly opened her eyes, heavy with black kohl, and looked into the hated face of her half-brother's wife. Camilla Winter was twenty years older than Tamsin, and her surgery-smoothed skin stretched oddly over her skull.
"Did you pay for your face-lift out of Nicole's money, Camilla?" Tamsin asked curiously. "Is that why you were letting a ten-year-old girl starve? So you could look like a doll?"
"Do not fear. My brother will beat the rebellious spirit out of her," Hatima, her future sister-in-law, said confidently. Hatima and Camilla comprised her negaffa--the older female relatives who, according to Moroccan tradition, were supposed to help a young bride, to counsel her, to calm her fears about her coming marriage.
Some help, Tamsin thought bitterly. She looked down at her henna-decorated hands folded carefully in her lap. But Hatima was right. Her husband would beat her, either before or after he took her virginity. Maybe both.
She stared out the window as they passed the gate that encircled the village. She never should have saved herself for love, she thought. She should have slept with the first boy who'd drunkenly kissed her at a college party. Then maybe it wouldn't hurt so much now.
"What? No snappy comeback?" Camilla sneered. "Not so brave now, are you?"
Blinking hard to hold back the tears--she'd die before she cried in front of Camilla--Tamsin stared stonily at the fishing boats bobbing off the shore and the seagulls flying free over the ocean. Seemingly disappointed by her lack of spirit, the other women began to speak of recent attacks in nearby Laayoune.