Traitor in Her Arms

Book 0: The Scarlet Chronicles

by Shana Galen

Genres: Historical Romance; Victorian Romance; Romantic Suspense

Synopsis

Two morally compromised souls wage a battle of wits—and seduction—against the backdrop of the French Revolution in this slow-burn romance from bestselling author Shana Galen.

After her late husband leaves her in debt to some dangerous people, Lady Gabrielle McCullough is forced to become a thief. In the intervening years, her skills have not gone unnoticed. After being recruited by the Scarlet Pimpernel, the mysterious do-gooder spiriting aristocrats out of revolutionary France, Gabrielle crosses the Channel for the most daring mission of her life. Accompanying her is the Earl of Sedgwick, a thief in his own right and an enticingly masculine presence. The man is not to be trusted—nor is Gabrielle's body when he's near.

Ramsey Barnes would not say he is an honorable man. His whole life has been based on a lie; why change now? Although it pains him to deceive the tantalizing Gabrielle, he's working toward an altogether different objective: unmasking the Scarlet Pimpernel. If Ramsey fails, his blackmailer will ruin him. But when Ramsey's confronted with the carnage of the Reign of Terror, he seeks refuge in Gabrielle's heated embrace. Now he faces a terrible choice: betray the woman who's stolen his heart—or risk losing everything.

Release date: August 22, 2017

Publisher: Loveswept

Print pages: 288

Sample

A low fire flickered in the hearth, but otherwise the room was shadowy as midnight. Gabrielle did not hesitate, slipping inside and closing the door behind her. She pressed her back against the solid wood and allowed her eyes to adjust.

What she saw was a typical lady’s bedroom. A large tester bed hunkered in the middle of the room, taking up most of the space. The heavy curtains were not drawn, and on the far side she could see a small, elegant desk against the window beside a porcelain washbasin. A pretty dressing table stood at the far wall, beside a door that most likely opened into the dressing room and then the duke’s bedroom. Brushes, combs, and cosmetics littered the table’s surface. She caught a glimpse of sparkle from the jewel of a discarded earring, but she ignored it, her eyes continuing to roam. On the side nearest her, to her right, was a large clothespress. According to the servant she’d questioned, it would be locked as well. When she opened it, she would see the jewelry box. That lock might give her trouble—the more delicate ones tended to be the most difficult—but once she mastered it, Queen Cleopatra’s lapis lazuli necklace would be hers.

With new purpose, she strode to the clothespress, tried the lock, just to be certain, then reached up to extract her hairpin again. She could feel her heart tap excitedly as she slid the metal into the lock. Her breath came in quick, controlled snatches as she twisted the hairpin this way and that. In her mind, a jig played, and she tapped one foot to the tune. It was always thus when she worked—the excitement and fear mixing with the pounding of her blood until she swayed, heady from the combination.

Snick.

Gabrielle smiled, knowing the lock was hers, and if the lock was hers, so was the necklace.

She swung open the door of the clothespress and stepped closer. Just as she had been told, the jewelry box sat on one of the shelves, beside a pile of white underthings. Gabrielle reached out and lifted the box’s lid.

It opened easily and silently, revealing a treasure of rubies, emeralds, sapphires, and diamonds. The Duke of Beaumont had been generous to his duchess. But Gabrielle’s eyes scanned the gems quickly, ignoring them, seeing the drawing of Cleopatra’s necklace in her mind. It was a rough piece by current standards, with large rectangles of gold circling the neck, interspersed with beads of lapis lazuli and set off by a large lapis lazuli oval that would have rested in the cleft at the base of Cleopatra’s throat. The pure blue of the mineral in the centerpiece was said to be remarkable.

The necklace was not on the box’s top shelf, as she had been told it would be, but she did not allow the thought of failure to enter her mind. Instead, she lifted a few of the bulkier pieces and searched beneath them. When the necklace was still not to be found, she closed the lid and pulled open the top drawer. More gems glittered, as well as the opalescence of cameos and a collection of iridescent pearls. But no lapis lazuli.

She felt a bead of sweat trickle down her back as she slid the drawer closed and opened the bottom one. She already knew she would not find it.

“Disappointing, isn’t it?” a deep voice murmured beside her.

Gabrielle’s heart jumped, her nerves following, but by sheer force of will, she stilled her body. Blowing out a slow, measured breath, she turned ever so slowly toward the sound of the voice and saw only the door of the clothespress. As she watched—heart pounding so hard she feared it would burst—the door creaked closed, revealing a man on the other side.

“You,” she whispered.