Read with: iBooks for iPad
Genre: Historical Romance
Publisher: Zebra Books
Hero: Simon of Navarre
Heroine: Lady Alys de Lancie
Date of Publication: July 1, 1997
Started On: April 10, 2014
Finished On: April 21, 2014
Lady Alys de Lancie also known as Alys of Summersedge has lived most of her life in the convent, all thanks to her malevolent uncle Richard de Lancie otherwise known as Richard the Fair, whose ambitions begin and end with the throne he is willing to acquire by any means. By his side is the enigmatic, mysterious and much revered magician Simon of Navarre who has his own agenda when it comes to Richard and his goals.
Alys and her beautiful sister Claire are summoned back to Summersedge by Richard, of course with the ulterior motive of marrying them off to suite his needs. Wanting to offer Simon a bride of his choice, it is at first Claire that would have been paired off with Simon if not for Alys stepping in to take the place of her younger sibling. Plain and seemingly mild-mannered, Alys knows when to put her best foot forward and when to take a step back and retreat. But Simon throws all that for a loop when with one sweeping glance from his golden eyes makes Alys think of things way beyond her knowledge and capacity as an innocent who knows naught of the pleasures of the flesh.
Simon finds his plans thwarted in the face of the woman he has chosen to marry, an conundrum if ever there was one. Alys captivates Simon in a way that has never ever happened to him before, making him reconsider and re-evaluate everything he has set out to do, something of course which he doesn’t like overly much. But what is a man to do when his heart refuses to let go?
Just like every single novel by Anne Stuart, Lord of Danger contains the classic elements which makes Anne unbeatable in any genre that she chooses to write. Simon is as alluring as they come, with those elements to him that teases at your brain as well as the other senses that remains attuned to everything he does whenever he enters the picture. And Alys turned out to be just perfect for someone like Simon, a woman who wouldn’t give up, even in the face of major adversity.
I swear that Anne weaves some sort of magic wand on all her stories that makes them this good, there is no way you can pick up a story from her and remain unmoved, even if it is to give in to the urge to throw the book at the wall because of the abruptness of the ending. But then again, you tend to get used to that particular trait when it comes to Anne because somehow, you know that the happily ever after is one that would stick through all sorts of adversity.
Like most historical romances I have read from Anne to-date, Lord of Danger also comes with a side of delicious secondary romance that develops between the beautiful Claire and the altogether too married and too serious Sir Thomas du Rhaymer whose beliefs regarding beautiful women and what he perceives himself to be makes for all sorts of deliciousness when it involves him and Claire. Trust me, you won’t be disappointed.
Recommended for fans of Anne Stuart and fans of historical romances.
Final Verdict: Anne Stuart proves time and yet again that love can strike even the most jaded of hearts. Beautifully crafted, as always.
He’d forgotten how sweet a woman could taste. Or maybe no woman tasted as good as Claire of Summersedge—he was entirely ready to believe that. She kissed with complete innocence, following his lead, letting her tongue touch his, as she moved closer still.
He slid his fingers through her tangled hair, slanting his mouth across hers, deepening the kiss, feeling his soul slip away and no longer caring. He could make his confession later. He could repent later. But how could he repent of something that felt so miraculously wonderful?
“For a wise woman you can be very stupid, Alys,” he said gently. “There is such a thing as pleasure.” He gently stroked her cheeks with his thumbs.
“Pleasure?” she echoed blankly, as if the word were in Arabic, even as her body arched towards his, unconsciously seeking him.
“Pleasure,” he said, his voice low and beguiling. “Shimmering, endless longing and delight, touch and taste and delicate wonder.” He moved his head closer, let his mouth hover over hers. “Heat and dampness and yearning,” he whispered. “An empty aching that finally explodes into a small death that is like no other.”
“He wants a new husband for you. Though he’s strongly considering the convent.”
“I don’t want to enter a convent.”
“That was your original request. What made you change your mind?”
She was slipping down on the bed as the drug took possession of her, slowly, languorously. “I’m afraid of you,” he said, knowing she wouldn’t remember. “I’m afraid of loving you.”
She blinked, dazed. “You’re afraid of making love to me?” she said, her voice gently, sweetly slurred.
“No,” he said bleakly. “I’m afraid of loving you, when I haven’t loved anyone in years. It would destroy me.”
Her eyes drifted closed, but a sweet smile curved her mouth. “Then perhaps,” she whispered, “you need to be destroyed.”
He would have her, and there was no room for the tears she wept as she clung to him. He cursed his ungentle hands but he couldn’t stop himself from wanting her, taking her. He moved between her legs, pushing in deep, breaking past the frail barrier of her innocence. He hurt her, and she cried. He kissed her, and she kissed him back. He touched her, and she came.
“I hate you,” she said.
“If you touch me again I’ll see to it that you really are unmanned.”
Her furious eyes met his. “I love you,” she said, her voice rich with loathing.
“I know,” he said, and kissed her.”
He opened his eyes and looked at her as the pace increased, and she was caught in the tangle of his eyes, staring up at him as her body received him, faster now, harder, deeper, and she still wanted more. She was crying, she wasn’t sure why, but he licked the tears from her face and kissed her with them. She wanted to hold him, but her hands were trapped beneath his, and all she could do was absorb him, take him, as he was taking her, steal his soul and make it her own.
For a moment he said nothing. Then he spoke. “Will you come away with me?”
She looked warily at the horse. “Where?”
“To the far reaches of the world. To the isles of the north, where the wind is like ice. To the heat of the desert, to the mountains of Switzerland. Come away with me and you may never see England again.”