This month has seen the publication
of the final part of my Kinross trilogy, Monsoon Mists. Set mostly in India, in 1759, the story
follows the adventures of Jamie Kinross, younger son of the couple in Trade Winds (book 1) and brother of
Brice from Highland Storms (book
2). It feels like I’ve come full circle
now, although there are other members of the Kinross family trying to invade my
mind so who knows? I may return to them
in the future. In the meantime, here is
the blurb and a short excerpt from Monsoon Mists:-
Sometimes the most precious things cannot be bought …
It’s 1759 and Jamie Kinross has travelled far to escape his
troubled existence – from the pine forests of Sweden to the bustling streets of
Jamie starts a new life as a gem trader, but when his
mentor’s family are kidnapped as part of a criminal plot, he vows to save them
and embarks on a dangerous mission to the city of Surat, carrying the stolen
talisman of an Indian Rajah.
There he encounters Zarmina Miller. She is rich and
beautiful, but her infamous haughtiness has earned her a nickname: “The Ice
Widow”. Jamie is instantly tempted by the challenge she presents.
When it becomes clear that Zarmina’s step-son is involved in
the plot Jamie begins to see another side to her – a dark past to rival his own
and a heart just waiting to be thawed. But is it too late?
Monsoon Mists, excerpt:-
The smile Mr Kinross sent her this time was
nothing short of dazzling. Zar was glad she was sitting down as it definitely
did something strange to her innards. Then a teasing glint flashed in his eyes.
have you thought any more about my proposition?’ he asked.
proposition would that be?’ Zar frowned, caught off-guard by his question.
er … amuse you if you’re in need of a diversion.’
couldn’t stop her mouth from falling open, but shut it quickly again as she
sent him her most quelling glance. ‘Really, Mr Kinross, I don’t know to what
you are referring.’
I think you do.’
was still smiling and Zar felt unaccountably hot all of a sudden. But she was
also outraged. She would make it clear to him she was not that kind of woman.
have you know I’m a respectable widow. Neither you, nor anyone else, will ever
set foot in my bedroom and I’d thank you not to refer to such things again.’
turned to stare out the window while she tried to force her breathing to return
to normal. For some reason she was having trouble inhaling enough air and it
was making her chest heave unbecomingly.
that sounds distinctly like a challenge to me. Would you like to bet on it?’
Zar swivelled round and stared at Kinross. The effrontery of the man.
wager one hundred rupees that I will. Set foot in your bedroom, that is.’ He
raised his eyebrows at her, as if daring her to accept. ‘Say, within the next
two weeks?’ he added, a teasing note in his voice.
don’t believe I’m hearing―’
well, two hundred rupees. Deal?’
see here, Mr Kinross―’
drive a hard bargain, Mrs Miller. Three hundred it is.’
almost stamped her foot in frustration, but managed to restrain herself at the
last minute. ‘I’m not making a wager with you!’
you’re afraid you’ll lose. I thought so.’
expression made Zar see red. She clenched her fists by her side and scowled at
him. ‘I am not.’
then, you almost certainly stand to gain three hundred rupees. That can’t be
bad, can it?’
took a deep breath and tried to think, but Kinross’s quicksilver gaze held hers
and jumbled her thought processes. He was right. It would be the easiest money
she’d ever earned. But then why was he even proposing such a thing? There must
be a catch … For the life of her, she couldn’t think of one though. ‘Oh, very well, I accept your wager.
But I’m not meeting you anywhere private for you to hand over my winnings, is
He bowed. ‘I will allow you to decide entirely. If you win, of course.’
was about to insist that she would, but just then her step-son came back into the room and she didn’t have a
chance to say anything else.
Labels: 18th century, Christina Courtenay, Highland Storms, India, jewels, Monsoon Mists, Trade Winds