End
of Blog Tour
Anne
Greene here. You’ve enjoyed six interviews about me, so I think you know me
pretty well.
So,
to end the Blog Tour, I want to tell you more about MARRIAGE BY ARRANGEMENT. I
love this book.
A MARRIAGE COVENANT
Why does
a handsome, powerful noble of the highest rank in England stoop to marry a mere
Lady of Lowland Scotland?
A
GREAT SECRET
Are the
whispered stories about him true? With his shadowy past and strange behavior
what awful secret does he hide? Each change of clothes transforms him into a
different man.
AN
IMPOSSIBLE CHOICE
Can Lady
Cailin keep her vow to make her marriage happy and successful, unlike that of
her parents, or to save her unborn child, must she arrange for the Duke’s
accidental death?
Here
is an excerpt:
CHAPTER
ONE
Castle Drummond, home of Lord and Lady
MacMurry, near the Village of Kirkmichael in Lowland Scotland -– April 19, 1746
“I
won’t run.” A shudder skipped down Lady Cailin MacMurry’s spine, and she stared
at her younger sister. “I’m committed.”
“It’s not too
late. I heard another scandalous rumor about Duke Avondale.” Lady Megan
MacMurry grasped Cailin’s arm.
“I
won’t listen to gossip.” Cailin pulled away from her sister and lifted her
wedding bouquet to inhale the white rose fragrance. If only the sweet scent
could overcome Megan’s words, and her own misgivings. Though most arranged
marriages turned out badly, surely God would give her a loving one. After all, since her earliest years,
she’d prayed for a happily-ever-after love.
“Ask
yourself why such a grand noble would stoop to marry a Scottish lass with but
the title Lady? Why did he not choose an English Duchess or Marchioness or even
a Countess?” Megan tilted her head and lifted elegant brows.
Why
indeed? Cailin clutched her enormous diamond engagement necklace. The thing
felt heavy with responsibility.
“The man’s an
English duke. He owns palaces all over England.” Megan planted her hands on her
slender, mossy-green silk covered hips. “Every noble lass in the land should be
offering to give her right arm to be in your shoes. And yet they are not.”
New knots formed
in the nape of Cailin’s neck. She held her finger to her lips. “Too late to
turn back now. The wedding chorus has begun.” She forced her feet to take the
first step and then began the slow glide from the stone castle’s rear archway
through the garden toward the rose arbor.
With a jerk,
Megan lifted and straightened Cailin’s cumbersome satin train. “In truth,
beyond his wealth and titles, our family knows little about the English Duke.”
She gathered up her own long skirts and ran ahead to lead Cailin down the
flower-strewn path.
Seven
bridesmaids stopped giggling and chatting and moved to their places in front of
Megan to head the procession.
Beneath
her veil, Cailin smoothed her frown.
Papa had chosen
to take this path in light of the violent upheaval following England’s latest
battle with the Highlanders. Her marriage to the Duke would shelter her family
with his great cloak of protection. Neither the English nor the Scots would
dare invade a castle guarded by the powerful Duke’s Coat of Arms.
More
goosebump fingers shivered her spine. Surely jealousy fueled the flagrant
tittle-tattle. She pulled in a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and
took measured steps in time to the music toward the loch gleaming in the late
afternoon sunlight. She would not let whispers spoil her wedding. She laid her
hand lightly on her father’s offered arm.
Their
procession passed the scores of guests assembled on both sides of the flowered
path. Ahead her groom stood beneath the rose bower, sunlight from the loch
gleaming on him, the pastor, and his groomsman.
Her
heart fluttered.
The Duke looked
the perfect picture of manhood. He towered above his shorter groomsman and the
pastor. Sun glinting off his iceberg blue satin coat, heavily laced with gold,
almost blinded her. His chocolate eyes gazed past the dazzling crowd of guests
and focused on her. Beneath those beckoning eyes, the straight bridge of his
nose above softly smiling lips formed the most handsome face she’d ever seen.
Her pulse quickened. Butterflies flitted from her stomach to her heart and
back.
As she reached
her groom and the chamber music died, her high-heeled slippers sunk into the
grassy moor, but her foreboding dissolved like fog before the sunshine.
The rose bower
in the garden where she and the Duke stood together and promised their fidelity
was pure romance with its lush greenery, heavy scent of roses, and panorama of
softly rolling, newly green glen. Though she didn’t know the man she wed, she
repeated with all her heart to love, honor, and obey him as long as she should
live.
Marrying a man
one had barely met happened more often than not to daughters of Lords. So why
were her knees shaking? Her attractive groom, with his mahogany hair, wide
shoulders, and square jaw, held her hand gently in his warm, strong grasp.
Rumors were just rumors, and, truth be told, if he were not perfect, neither
was she.
A breeze
loosened strands of brown hair from the gold band that tied the thick mass
neatly behind his muscular neck to dance around his face.
She was glad he
had not powdered his hair. Her throat tightened. Loving him would be easy.
Oh God, please let him love me.
She would love
him so greatly, with everything inside her heart. Surely he would love her in
return. She would work hard to make certain her marriage turned out differently
from Mums. There would be no coldness, nor violent arguments between her and
her grand Duke. No sleeping in separate parts of the castle. No making their
daughters’ lives miserable with the dislike they bore one another.
As the
magnificent sunset painted him gold, the Duke’s chestnut eyes stared into hers
with promise, his inviting lips tipped upwards at the corners, and his demeanor
was affectionate and approving.
Joy burst
through her chest, and she gave him a brilliant smile. Yes, her marriage would
be happy. A storybook marriage like Cinderella’s.
The English
parson the Duke had brought with him raised a hand in blessing. “I now
pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
She handed her
heavy bouquet of roses and lilies to Megan and tipped her chin up.
The tall, lithe,
young Duke stepped forward and lifted her expensive Brussels veil. She was so
very fortunate he was not old.
She closed her
eyes.
He touched his
lips to hers.
Oh! Her eyes flew open. The bridal kiss
had been so short…and disappointing. The pledge in his gaze had led her to
expect so much more. She frowned. Their first kiss was like melding lips with
someone on stage, acting a part.
He dropped his
arms and moved back.
She’d scarcely
been around men, and the Duke was a stranger. She frowned. And his kiss had
held so little promise.
A terrifying
thought swirled through her brain like a ghost. Since Papa had betrothed Megan
to a cruel man, what type of man had he selected for her? Were safety and
titles and lands more important to Papa than both his daughters’ happiness?
She shivered.
I’m
giving away three autographed copies of Marriage By Arrangement. For your
chance to win, simply join my following. Three of you will win. Also leave a
comment with your email address so I can contract you for your snail mail
address when you win a book.
ANNE
GREENE delights in writing about wounded heroes and gutsy heroines. Her second
novel, a Scottish historical, Masquerade Marriage, won the New
England Reader Choice award, the Laurel Wreath Award, and the Heart of
Excellence Award. The sequel Marriage By
Arrangement released November, 2013.
A Texas Christmas Mystery also won
awards. She makes her home in McKinney, Texas. Tim LaHaye led her to the Lord
when she was twenty-one and Chuck Swindoll is her Pastor. View Anne’s travel
pictures and art work at http://www.AnneGreeneAuthor.com.
Anne’s highest hope is that her stories transport the reader to an awesome new
world and touch hearts to seek a deeper spiritual relationship with the Lord
Jesus. Buy Anne’s books at http://www.PelicanBookGroup.com.
Or at http://www.Amazon.com. Talk with Anne
on twitter at @TheAnneGreene. Visit Anne’s Facebook page at http://www.facebook.com/AnneWGreeneAuthor.
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