PASSION FOR THE GAME
Chapter One
"If all angels of death were as lovely as you, men would
line up to die."
Maria, Lady Winter, shut the lid of her enameled patch
box with a decisive snap. Her revulsion for the mirrored reflection
of the man who sat behind her made her stomach
roil. Taking a deep breath, she kept her gaze trained on the
stage below, but her attention was riveted by the incomparably
handsome man who sat in the shadows of her theater
box.
"Your turn will come," she murmured, maintaining her
regal facade for the benefit of the many lorgnettes pointed in
her direction. She had worn crimson silk tonight, accented by
delicate black lace frothing from elbow-length sleeves. It was
her most-worn color. Not because it suited her Spanish heritage
coloring so well-dark hair, dark eyes, olive skin-but
because it was a silent warning. Bloodshed. Stay away.
The Wintry Widow, the voyeurs whispered. Two husbands
dead ... and counting.
Angel of death. How true that was. Everyone around her
died, except for the man she cursed to Hades.
The low chuckle at her shoulder made ... read full excerpt from: Passion for the Game ebook
