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Zusatztext " Bride of a Distant Isle is an enthralling novel filled with mystery! intrigue! and a compelling romance. Sandra Byrd’s twisting plot and vibrant characters weave a rich and satisfying story that absorbs the mind and captivates the heart." Informationen zum Autor Award-winning and bestselling author Sandra Byrd has published four dozen books in the fiction and nonfiction markets, including Mist of Midnight , Bride of a Distant Isle ( A Romantic Times Book Reviews Top Pick ) , and her most recent, A Lady in Disguise . For nearly two decades, Sandra has shared her secrets with the many writers she edits, mentors, and coaches. She lives in the Seattle, Washington area. Klappentext A romance set in Victorian England, "Bride of A Distant Isle "is the story of Annabel Ashton, who fights to save her family home and her mother's honor while trying to figure out if the man she loves wants her or just wants to use her to achieve his own ambitions.Bride of a Distant Isle CHAPTER ONE NEAR MILFORD ON SEA, HAMPSHIRE, ENGLAND MAY, 1851 I had no warning before evil befell me. Edward had abruptly recalled me to Highcliffe, but why now? It was not as if we’d often holidayed together, or enjoyed one another’s companionship. In fact, over the course of our adult years I’d been home infrequently and we’d been mostly separated, at school, years before that. Grandfather was long dead, as were Edward’s parents. Pretense could be done away with. Perhaps he’d had a sudden, inexplicable longing for family now we two were all that remained. Unlikely. The day after I arrived, I walked from the house, which was now crumbling, across the green lawn, now thinning, toward the Edge of the World, to gather my thoughts. I’d forgotten how the sea around Highcliffe relentlessly pounds the land, undermining it so fiercely that the earth quickens, churns, and slips; the breakers smother all sound, throwing off thickly salted mist that clouds vision like a cataract. For this reason, I had no signal that someone was approaching. Instead, I suddenly felt his breath curdling in my ear. The whispering started. “It was many and many a year ago,” came the murmur, “in a kingdom by the sea, that a maiden there lived whom you may know by the name of Annabel Lee; and this maiden she lived with no other thought than to love and be loved by me.” “Mr. Morgan,” I acknowledged, then hard-swallowed my bile and turned round to see his face. I knew by the familiar warped timbre of his voice that it was my cousin Edward’s childhood friend and current associate. Their fathers had been friends, too, and their dubious dealings together extended back to that time. “I am taking my leave of you, returning to the house.” “Take your leave? No, indeed. I’ve long prepared to read Mr. Poe’s poem aloud to you, Annabel. I purchased the book at great expense. Surely you’ll give me the respect of listening attentively to the complete recitation.” “Please do not call me by my Christian name.” I turned to face him. “It’s forward.” He wore finely spun black trousers and highly polished boots, but his girth was poorly restrained by a red silk waistcoat. Nearby stood a young woman, her face flat-planed and impassive. “My sister,” Mr. Morgan said at my glance. “Mrs. Wemberly. A widow.” The gaps between Morgan’s teeth had been charming as a child but now reminded me of the widening cracks in his soul, like a cobblestone path long left unattended, mortar washing away, extending the spaces as the years passed. He placed himself between me and the worn walking trail, most often used by the sheep. I looked for a way around him, but there was none to be had without risking a fall. By the look...
