Straight from the Library: Straight Browsing from the Library: The Widow Wore Plaid by Jenna Jaxon

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The Battle of Waterloo made them widows, but each has found new happiness. And Jane, Lady John Tarkington, intends to keep her freedom, even if love—and one particular gentleman—are determined to claim her heart . . .

It is a truth rarely acknowledged—at least in public—that a wealthy widow is free to pursue a great many adventures. For two years, Jane has privately enjoyed her independence. Why should she remarry, even when the gentleman proposing is as wonderful as Gareth, Lord Kinellan? She entreats him never to ask her again. But as her Widows’ Club friends—now all joyfully remarried—gather at Castle Kinellan, Jane begins to wonder if stubbornness has led her to make a terrible mistake . . .

Kinellan needs a wife to give him an heir, and he wants that wife to be Jane. They are perfect together in every way, yet she continually refuses him. Just as he is on the point of convincing her, a series of accidents befall Gareth and point to an enemy in their midst. He has promised Jane a passionate future filled with devotion, but can he keep them both alive long enough to secure it?

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Parched, Gareth headed for the refreshment table that had been set up sufficiently far from the dancing to be out of danger. Footmen were stationed at each end to help keep those who might have imbibed too much from crashing into the table. He grabbed a cup of ale and drank thirstily until the tankard was empty. Setting it back on the table, he then took a glass of rich, red wine and sipped more moderately before heading back to the dancing.

He skirted the dancing couples, where Lathbury was heying with Jane, who was now flagging a bit. Two sets of fast-paced Scottish dancing was hardly comparable to the more staid English country dances. One actually had time—and breath—to converse during those. The faster paced Scottish tempos demanded stamina and good wind.

A young couple ran laughing in front of him. Smiling at the gaiety of the pair, Gareth backed out of their way, toward the blazing bonfire, his gaze still on Jane’s entrancing form. She did cut a delightful figure when dancing.

A passerby jostled his elbow, but he managed to save most of his wine. He spun toward the ungraceful lout when someone else shoved him harder.

The jolt propelled Gareth, already off balance, backward, directly into the flames of the roaring bonfire.

Desperately windmilling his arms to regain his balance, Gareth fought the sickening, helpless feeling of falling backward. Searing heat on the back of his head and jacket grew greater with each passing second, telling him his efforts to right himself would be in vain. God help him, but this would be a fiery end.

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