These Wicked Games Read online

  Eve Ortega

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  Eve (alias “TessaD”), a part-time librarian and full-time mommy from southern California, is our round four winner. Her chapter, “Forget Me Not,” was voted number one out of 253 submissions.

  Says Eve: “I came to my love of all things Regency by way of a Jane Austen devotion. I even gave my son the middle name Austen.” But that’s not the only link Eve has to our story. When she was ten years old her family adopted a kitten and Eve named it…you guessed, Penelope!

  Courtney Milan

  Courtney (alias “CM”), a jack-of-all-trades from California, is our fifth round winner. Her chapter, “The Missing Missives,” was voted number one out of 179 submissions.

  Courtney has been a computer technician, a lawyer, a sales person, a hair stylist, a pastry chef, a bodyguard, an editor, a teacher, a statistician, an animal trainer, and what else but a writer! She wrote her first novel when she was ten years old. “It was entitled ‘To Bring Back the Buffalo’… and it was not released to critical acclaim, nor was it a resounding success.”

  Sara Mangel

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  Sara (alias “Sara_Lindsey”), a recent college graduate from California, is our sixth and final round winner. Her chapter, “Patience Makes Perfect,” was voted number one out of more than 180 submissions.

  An art history/pre-med major in college, Sara spent much of her time working on her senior thesis, “Once Upon a Picture Book: The Illustrated History of Little Red Riding Hood.” When she wasn’t studying or writing, she was reading lots and lots of romance novels.

  Sara is a member of RWA and is currently at work on her first novel, a historical romance set in the Regency era.

  About the Panelists

  Victoria Alexander

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  New York Times best-selling author Victoria Alexander was an award-winning television reporter until she discovered that fiction is much more fun than real life. She turned to writing full-time and is still shocked it worked out. She’s appeared on the New York Times, USA Today, and Publishers Weekly best-seller lists, and is the author of twenty-five novels or novellas, including time travels and Regencies.

  Victoria grew up traveling the world as an Air Force brat. She now lives in Omaha, Nebraska, with her husband, two kids in college (buy her books!), and two bearded collies—Sam and Louie, who think they’re human—in a house under constant renovation and never-ending chaos. She laughs a great deal—it keeps her sane. You can visit Victoria’s web site at www.victoria-alexander.com.

  Eloisa James

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  New York Times best-selling author Eloisa James’s historical Regencies have been published to great acclaim. A reviewer from USA Today wrote of Eloisa’s very first novel that she “found herself devouring the book like a dieter with a Hershey bar”; later, People magazine raved: “Romance writing does not get much better than this.” Her writing has finaled for the RITA Award, won the National Readers’ Choice Award for Best Long Historical, and has repeatedly been named among the Best Romances of the Year by Amazon and Borders. After graduating from Harvard University, Eloisa got a Ph.D. from Yale and eventually became a Shakespeare professor, publishing an academic book with Oxford University Press. All her books must have been written in her sleep, because her days are taken up by caring for two children with advanced degrees in whining, a lonely cat, a very plump dog, and a tumbledown house. You can visit Eloisa’s web site at www.eloisajames.com and her blog at www.squawkradio.com.

  Cathy Maxwell

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  Cathy Maxwell loves writing about relationships that pit yin against yang with a lotta zing. This dynamic has kept her books on the New York Times and USA Today best-seller lists and earned her a faithful audience of fans who are just as joyful about life as she is. Cathy lives in beautiful Virginia with kids, a dog, a cat, and some horses. Her take on the writing world, and other bits of advice, can be found on her web site at www.cathymaxwell.com.

  Teresa Medeiros

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  New York Times best-selling author Teresa Medeiros wrote her first novel at the age of twenty-one and has since gone on to win the hearts of readers and critics alike. She is a seven-time RITA finalist, a two-time PRISM winner, and a two-time recipient of the Walden-books Award for Best-Selling Fiction. Her most recent novel, The Vampire Who Loved Me, was released by Avon Books in October 2006. Teresa makes her home in Kentucky with her husband and two cats. You can visit her web site at www.teresamedeiros.com and her blog at www.squawkradio.com.

  Julia Quinn

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  Perennial best-seller Julia Quinn loves to dispel the myth that smart women don’t read (or write) romance, and in 2001 she did so in grand style, competing on the game show The Weakest Link and walking away with the $79,000 jackpot. She displayed a decided lack of knowledge about baseball, country music, and plush toys, but she is proud to say that she aced all things British and literary, answered all of her history and geography questions correctly, and knew that there was a Da Vinci long before there was a code. For more on Julia and her books, please visit her on the Web at www.juliaquinn.com.

  May Chen

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  May Chen is an editor with Morrow/Avon who works primarily in romance fiction. In addition to enjoying well-written, lush historical romances, she also loves diving into sexy contemporaries, “chick lit” with a unique angle, and strong women’s fiction with edgy, take-no-guff heroines.

  Carrie Feron

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  Vice President and Editorial Director Carrie Feron spent her adolescence reading romance and now she edits it. She is known for her success in publishing women’s fiction, including best-sellers by Susan Elizabeth Phillips, Elizabeth Lowell, Kathleen Woodiwiss, Laura Lippman, Meg Cabot, Teresa Medeiros, Christina Dodd, Dorothea Benton Frank, Kathleen Tessaro, and Oprah Book Club author Pearl Cleage. She has been at Avon for twelve years, where she has seen the Avon Romance program become the country’s foremost publisher of romantic fiction.

  Lyssa Keusch

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  Senior Editor Lyssa Keusch focuses primarily on commercial fiction, but enjoys editing the occasional nonfiction project as well. Starting her career at Avon Books too many years ago to admit to, she was introduced to the business through romances, and so she’s always had a soft spot in her heart for the category. But because variety is the spice of life, she branched out to add mysteries to her list. In addition to genre fiction and commercial women’s fiction, she also edits thrillers. The authors with whom she’s worked include New York Times best-sellers Julia Quinn, James Rollins, and Kinley MacGregor, as well as Carole Matthews, Karen Hawkins, Samantha James, Mary Daheim, G. M. Ford, and Jerrilyn Farmer. In addition to fiction, she always has an eye out for narrative nonfiction, ranging from popular science to history to memoir; she loves to learn something new through a narrative she can’t put down.

  Lucia Macro

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  Executive Editor Lucia Macro began her career in 1983. She joined Avon in 1996, and since then has made her mark acquiring many leading authors of romance and women’s fiction. Her roster of New York Times best-selling authors includes Stephanie Laurens, Victoria Alexander, Eloisa James, Cathy Maxwell, and Lisa Kleypas. In addition to romance, she acquires women’s commercial hardcover fiction, and was part of the team that developed the Avon trade paperback program. Lucia has a keen interest in anything to do with royals, past and present, and is the editor of the best-selling Sex with Kings. In her “spare” time Lucia can be found watching old movies. She recently spearheaded (with editor May Chen) the launch of Avon Red, the new line of erotica from Avon.

  Esi Sogah

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  Editorial Assistant Esi Sogah joined Avon in the summer of 2005, working with Lucia Macro and Erika Tsang. She has worked with best-selling authors such as Stephanie Laurens and Suzanne Enoch, as well as Karyn Langhorne, Bette Ford, and Lynn Emery, who write contemporary African-American ro
mances. In addition, Esi writes the Avon Romance newsletter From the Heart and sits on the advisory board for the Harlem Book Fair. She is looking to acquire all genres of romance, especially sexy historicals and multicultural contemporaries.

  Erika Tsang

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  Senior Editor Erika Tsang joined Avon Books in 2002 with the intent of expanding the historical romance list. In the four years since, her list has expanded to include paranormals, romantic suspense, contemporary, and multicultural romance. She works with best-selling authors Jacquie D’Alessandro, Suzanne Enoch, Laura Lee Guhrke, Lynsay Sands, and Beverly Jenkins, just to name a few. Some of her newer acquisitions are Marianne Stillings (Sighs Matter) and Terri Garey (Dead Girls Are Easy). She is currently seeking to acquire all subgenres of romance. Her criteria are that the story must have a creative concept and that the hero be fashioned after either Harrison Ford or Ewan MacGregor.

  Tessa Woodward

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  Editorial Assistant Tessa Woodward has been with Avon since September 2005. She works with Carrie Feron on her impressive list of best-selling authors. She is looking to acquire well-written romances—especially Regency and Victorian historicals with strong heroines and sexy heroes.

  A FANLIT CHAPTER BY JULIA QUINN

  Let the Games Begin

  Patience didn’t know much about marriage—hers had consisted of three years by herself in the country, after all—but she suspected there were certain lines a wife should not cross.

  And as she stood in the doorway of her husband’s newly redecorated library, choking on a burst of panicked laughter, she was fairly certain she’d just crossed one of them.

  “One reason,” Damien growled, looking very much as if he might like to take something apart limb by limb, “why I should not boot you out into the street this minute. Give me one good reason, and maybe it will save your hide.”

  “Well,” Patience stalled, trying to keep her eyes on his face—not an easy task when there was a large Persian cat wrapped over the top of his head competing for attention—“I am your wife.”

  “Presently,” he snapped, yanking the cat from his head and grunting with pain as it took a chunk of his hair with it, “that is not reason enough.” He tossed the cat behind him. It landed nimbly on a leather chair, let out a satisfied purr, and promptly curled up for a nap.

  “Kindness to animals,” Patience added. “It’s a virtue.” She winced as he shook another cat from his leg. “Or so I’m told.”

  “How many of these bloody beasts have you installed in my home?” he ground out, carefully stepping over a third.

  “Only these six.” She smiled weakly. “Not counting the new one.”

  “The new one?” It wasn’t a question, more of a warning.

  “I named him after you.”

  He took an ominous step toward her. “Did you now?”

  Patience tried to gauge the amount of time it would take her to reach the study—the closest room with a lock on the door. “It was rather scrawny,” she explained.

  “Is that so?”

  She stepped backward. This was not going as planned. She was supposed to put him in his place, and then put herself in her rightful place—as his wife. But he was supposed to apologize. Maybe even beg. He was not supposed to look so…so…dangerous.

  “My lord!” she yelped, finding herself backed up against the wall. He’d managed to reduce the space between them to mere inches, and she wasn’t quite certain if she was about to be kissed or throttled, but either way, she really didn’t want to have it done in front of a complete stranger. She jerked her head toward the window, once, twice…

  “What the devil is wrong with you?”

  “I believe it’s my presence to which she’s objecting,” said the stranger. With a smile. A rather mischievous one. “Rather discourteous not to have introduced us.”

  “Lady Coulter,” Damien said, surprising her with the use of her title, “you may make the acquaintance of Mr. Crane as he exits the room.”

  “It would be rude of me not to see him to the door,” she said, trying to edge sideways out of her husband’s grasp.

  “Oh, no, not at all,” Mr. Crane said, grinning mercilessly as he crossed the room. “Tender as your reunion is, it is not my place to witness it. Or disrupt it. Lovely to meet you, Lady Coulter,” he said, nodding as he passed by.

  Patience gave him an insincere smile. Under the circumstances, she thought herself absolved of social niceties.

  “Oh, but before I go…” Mr. Crane stepped back into the room and murmured something in Damien’s ear. Patience watched as her husband’s expression darkened.

  “You,” he said, jabbing a finger in her direction. “Don’t move.” Damien strode to the desk, picked up a feathered quill and hastily scrawled something on a scrap of paper. “You’ll see to this?” he said to his friend.

  Mr. Crane glanced down at the words, then murmured, “Of course.” He smiled and nodded at Patience. “Good luck, my lady.”

  Good luck? Patience’s lips parted as she watched Mr. Crane exit. What did he mean, good luck? She turned to Damien with suspicion. “Why did he wish me luck?”

  He crossed his arms. “Because you, my dear, are going to need it.”

  A cat brushed by Patience’s ankle, but she had a feeling that her shiver was due to a different animal altogether. “What do you mean?” she whispered.

  He smiled at her. Slowly. Like a cat. “I’m moving in.”

  All in all, Damien decided as he lay back in bed and pondered the canopy above, the day had been a success. When he’d arrived in London two days earlier—with the intention of staying only three days—his wife had been a vague, if somewhat annoying, memory. Now she was magnificently real, and, he thought with some satisfaction, presently residing in the room next to his.

  It was time to make his marriage real.

  Well, almost time.

  He supposed he could pass through the connecting door to her bedchamber and demand his husbandly rights, but he had learned a thing or two since his marriage three years earlier. The seduction of his wife required finesse, subtlety, and, well, patience.

  Patience. He smiled. He’d married her for her lands, and she for his money and title, but damn, he had got lucky.

  It wasn’t just that she was beautiful. No, it was the spark behind her eyes, the quick, keen wit, the tiny hint of the devil in her smile. When he’d had her cornered in the library, so close he could feel the air move with each rise and fall of her chest, it was as if the world around them had disappeared. Jonathan could have begun dancing an Irish reel over by the window, and Damien would not have noticed.

  But Patience was up to something. She had implied that she detested Snydley, and yet Jonathan had seen his carriage leaving that afternoon. Snydley had been there, in his house. And Damien was quite certain that he had not been there to threaten Patience. She had been far too carefree, far too easy to laugh.

  No, she was up to something. And she was conspiring with Snydley to get it. But if she thought she could use that annoying little baron to force him to do her bidding, she was sadly mistaken. Because Damien had plans of his own.

  In a single, fluid motion, he pushed himself off his bed and moved to the door that connected his room to hers. As he lifted his hand to knock against the wood, he smiled and whispered, “Let the games begin.”

  Patience had changed into her nightclothes, but then, with a wary glance toward the door that led to the earl’s bedchamber, she pulled on a dressing gown. And then another. And then a third. A woman needed layers at a time like this. Many, many layers.

  It was protection, really.

  She stared at the door. At the knob. There was no lock, no way to keep him out.

  But wasn’t this what she wanted? Hadn’t she come to London with the intention of transforming her marriage from farce to reality? She glanced at the clock. Dear heavens, it was nearly midnight. A sound bubbled forth in her throat—half laugh, half choke. Sh
e was mad if she thought she would sleep tonight. Her nerves were racing, her heart was thundering, and—

  She swallowed. And he was knocking at her door.

  Dear God, she needed another robe. She needed a winter coat. She needed—

  “Patience?”

  His voice, deep and rumbly through the wood of the door.

  “Patience? Are you all right?”

  All right? What was he talking about? She quickly crossed the room and pulled the door open. “My lord?”

  He leaned in, concern etched on his face. “Did you hear that?”

  “Hear what?”

  “That thump.”

  “Thump?”

  “It might have been more of a thunk.”

  “A thunk.”

  He stepped past her and strode into her room. “I thought it came from in here.”

  “No,” she said, watching him as he peered behind the curtains. He was in his dressing gown, and she couldn’t quite keep her eyes off his legs, which were bare from just below the knees. Then he turned, and she looked up. At his chest. It was remarkable how much of it was peeking out between the lapels.

  He shook his head. “I don’t like it.”

  “It could have been a cat.”

  For a moment he didn’t move.

  “My lord?”

  “Please say you don’t sleep with the cats.”