The Rogue's Kiss
Chapter One
Spring 1741
Rain. Nothing but streets and rain. Glistening cobbles, rooftops awash with rivulets of
water ... everywhere, mist and rain.
Roisin had never experienced such rain. She leant her forehead against the window of her room,
glass divided into diamonds by lead strips along which more rain dripped. She was used to the
soft rain of her native Ireland. It was often torrential, even ceaseless, but the smell was different.
The way it fell seemed somehow less hopeless. Perhaps because the window she was used to
viewing the world from looked out on to fields and trees. Perhaps the hopelessness came from
being far from home. Or, perhaps, because today was her life's worst.
Roisin was not Irish, although, if any had asked her, she would have claimed that distant green
isle as her home. And her family seat in Kinsale, County Cork, had long been filled by the line of
noble English ancestors now stretched behind her. Standing over her, she thought despondently,
looking out once more at the downpour.
Roisin was nineteen and, after the death of her father eighteen mon ... read full excerpt from The Rogue's Kiss ebook
