Warner Books historical romance

Lady Sorcha Macleod is certain that the man her sister Adela loves, the dashing Scottish Knight Templar Sir Hugo Robinson, is the masked rider who kidnaps Adela on her wedding day. When she learns he is not, she sets off to rescue Adela with Hugo in hot pursuit. On the road with the irrepressible Sorcha, Hugo soon discovers a woman of fire and beauty, a woman he longs to touch and taste-but his honor forbids it, because he is bound by his vow to marry Adela. As a cruel mastermind plots to steal the Templars' storied treasure and keep Adela for himself, Sorcha and Hugo will risk everything, even their own destiny, to save her and to protect the Templars' long-held secret.

In a scandalous last attempt at happiness, Lady Justine Girvin asks her brother's friend, Struan, to teach her all about love, and the young viscount, hoping to escape a sinister past, takes the ultimate risk to find true love.

THE ONE THING A LADY MUST NEVER DO...Wealthy Lady Georgina Maitland doesn't want a husband, though she could use a good steward to run her estates. One look at Harry Pye, and Georgina knows she's not just dealing with a servant, but a man.IS FALL IN LOVE...Harry has known many aristocrats - including one particular nobleman who is his sworn enemy. But Harry has never met a beautiful lady so independent, uninhibited, and eager to be in his arms. WITH HER SERVANT.Still, it's impossible to conduct a discreet liaison when poisoned sheep, murdered villagers, and an enraged magistrate have the county in an uproar. The locals blame Harry for everything. Soon it's all Georgina can do to keep her head above water and Harry's out of the noose...without missing another night of love.

Fiddlesticks! I am sure the ladies Letitia and Viola Featherton are wrong when it comes to matchmaking. They insist that it has all to do with love. I, Miss Hannah Chillton, believe one has only to bring a couple together and let nature take its true course. To prove my point, I secretly plan to match the ladies themselves. Lud, what a challenge! They are practically in their dotage. And love certainly does not signify in the match the Featherton sisters are making for me. True, when Lord St. Albans and I first met, he fair took my breath away. But after we accidentally ran him down with our carriage, I became convinced he belongs to that most despicable class of men: rakes. His arrogance is insufferable ... except when he appears so shy and considerate that I almost think St. Albans is two different men. But that cannot be possible. Or can it?