Lord Ravenscar’s Inconvenient Betrothal + Giveaway

Lord Ravenscar’s Inconvenient Betrothal

“Women either ran from Lord Ravenscar or ran to him.”

A Wild Lords and Innocent Ladies story

Alan Rothwell, Marquess of Ravenscar, is furious when unconventional heiress Lily Wallace refuses him purchase of her property. He can’t even win her over with his infamous charm. But when fever seizes him and they’re trapped together, horrified, Alan realizes Lily’s attentions will compromise them both! His solution: take Lily as his betrothed before desire consumes them completely…

Purchase Link: myBook.to/Ravenscar

Author Bio –

Lara Temple writes strong, sexy regency romances about complex individuals who give no quarter but do so with plenty of passion. Her fifth book with Harlequin Mills & Boon, 'Lord Ravenscar’s Inconvenient Betrothal,' will be published in March 2018, and is the second in her Wild Lords series. Her four previous books are: Lord Hunter's Cinderella Heiress, The Duke’s Unexpected Bride, The Reluctant Viscount, and Lord Crayle’s Secret World.

When she was fifteen Lara found a very grubby copy of Georgette Heyer’s Faro’s Daughter in an equally grubby book store. Several blissful hours later she emerged, blinking, into the light of day completely in love with Regency Romance but it took three decades of various fascinating but completely unrelated careers in finance and high tech before she returned to her first love.

Lara lives with her husband and two children who are very good about her taking over the kitchen table for her writing (so she can look out over the garden and dream). She loves to travel (especially to places steeped in history) and read as many books as possible. She recently went looking for that crowded little bookstore but couldn’t quite remember around what corner it was…hopefully it is still there and another girl is in the corner by the window, reading and dreaming…

Social Media Links –

Amazon author page: http://amzn.to/2mWin9R

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/LaraTemple 7

This scene takes place at the house the heroine Lily Wallace has inherited and where she finds herself alone with Lord Ravenscar when he falls ill. This is the moment when Ravenscar realizes the magnitude of the mess they are in…


Ravenscar pushed into a sitting position and leaned his head in his hands, trying to think.

He had been alone with Lily at Hollywell for a full day. The fact that no one knew this yet made no difference. Her rashness and his fever had just sealed their fate.

‘You must return to the Hall. Now.’

‘No, I cannot,’ Lily answered. ‘Everyone thinks I went to Bath. What on earth would I say if I suddenly appeared the following day, as muddy and wet as a bog monster and without my luggage? As soon as the rain stops and you are well enough to leave you may walk to Keynsham. I will remain here until the post chaise returns for me in two days’ time. You see, I have thought it all through.’

He didn’t raise his head. He hadn’t felt so bruised since the forced march out of Portugal under Moore. She wasn’t mad, yet she was if she thought it was that simple.

‘You aren’t well enough to walk to Keynsham yet,’ she continued, infuriatingly matter of fact. ‘But you cannot spend another night here on the sofa. Do you think you can manage the stairs? The bedrooms have been aired.’

The bedrooms have been aired.

Lily. You’re mad.

He didn’t say it. Partially because he knew that under her cheerful bravado she must be as aware as he of the consequences awaiting them and partially because he couldn’t help the anticipation that was building as his mind and body absorbed this new reality.

He was about to break another vow. It was becoming a habit.

Compromised by an heiress.


Hunter and Stanton would split with laughter.

‘Very well. Upstairs.’


It wasn’t as bad as he anticipated. Halfway up the stairs his legs began to remember their function and he could have made do with leaning on the bannister, but he kept his arm around her for the pure pleasure of it. This indulgence almost cost him his balance halfway down the corridor when Lily suddenly shuddered and leapt to one side.

‘Lily! What’s wrong?’ He managed to stop from keeling over by propping himself against the wall and he pulled her against him in one movement.

‘I stepped on something. It was soft and… Oh, no, it’s a mouse. I killed it.’

He found what she was staring at in the faint light of the tapers she had lit along the corridor to light their way. A tiny grey bundle in the centre of the carpet. His head was pounding and his body felt it was a hundred years old, but he couldn’t help it, he started laughing, then winced as she jabbed him with her elbow.

‘Oh, you heartless brute. It isn’t funny!’

‘I’m not laughing at that. I don’t know why I’m laughing. But you can relax that conscience, sweetheart. It wasn’t a vixen that did your grey friend in, but a cat. Those are claw marks.’

He felt her shudder again as she looked and then glanced away and he pulled her more firmly against him. What a strange little thing she was. To brave being alone in a haunted house and caring for a felled rake, but then to come apart at the seams over a mangled rodent.

‘Albert had a cat, a very unfriendly ginger tabby who was always disappearing behind furniture and making a general nuisance of himself. Come, let’s leave the little fellow for now, there’s nothing you can do for him.’

‘I hate leaving him there.’

‘I’ll toss him out a window, then.’

‘No…leave him. The tabby is probably hungry. I’ll try not to think about it.’

He kept a firm hold on his smile until she had deposited him on the side of the bed with all the concentration of a three-year-old carrying a full glass of water.

‘You should lie down.’

So should you, right here with me.

He didn’t say the words, but as they surfaced in his mind he vaguely remembered asking her not to leave when the fever had been high, clinging to her hand like a child. She must think him pathetic. Even if she did lie down with him he was in no shape yet to do anything about it. Yet.

In the light of the single candle she looked younger, unusually awkward as she stood watching him. Was she waiting for him to fall over again? What a blow to his vanity. Here he was worried about the consequences of compromising her when she probably thought him an object of pity. But whatever either of them thought, they would likely only leave this house categorically betrothed. Did she realise that? For someone so sophisticated she could be incredibly naïve. If he said anything she would likely run away again, storm notwithstanding.

Would it be so terrible to marry her?


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