Robyn Sutherland needs a heroine!
In January you all were kind enough to help me choose Colin O’Donoghue as the inspiration for Robyn Sutherland on my Pinterest board for “A Season of Ruin.”
Since then, Colin’s been lonely. I can’t stand to look into into his reproachful gaze on my board anymore, so it’s time for us to choose his heroine. I searched exhaustively to come up with three ladies who capture Lily’s looks and character.
Here are your contenders. As you can see, all three of them are gorgeous, but only one of them can be Lily. Help me decide which one!
You all met Lily, Delia’s prim and proper younger sister for the first time in “A Wicked Way to Win an Earl,” but in case you need a reminder, here’s an excerpt from one of Lily’s scenes in “A Season of Ruin.”
From Chapter 2, “A Season of Ruin,” coming from Berkley in August, 2016.
Robyn Sutherland was trying to put his tongue inside her mouth.
Lily knew something was amiss as soon as she felt the fingers grip her wrist, for she was sure she’d have noticed such a strong, muscular lady in the drawing room. No, this wasn’t the ladies’ retiring room, and the fingers circling her wrist weren’t a lady’s fingers.
They were Robyn Sutherland’s fingers, and if the fingers were Robyn’s, then it stood to reason the tongue that had just swept across her lips was also his.
She’d mistaken the room. Robyn, who’d just thrown the bolt on the door behind her, had mistaken the lady. He was eager, impassioned, and quite obviously waiting for someone else.
Someone who wanted his tongue inside her mouth.
Goodness gracious. She’d never heard of such a thing. Was this how gentlemen kissed in London? Or was this just how Robyn kissed?
The wickedest gentleman in the wickedest city in England.
She’d thought the statement utter nonsense not ten minutes ago, but that was before she’d discovered what a determined tongue he had.
Well. She had far more to contribute to a discussion of his wickedness now. It didn’t speak well of him that he hid in a dark room, lying in wait for some female of questionable virtue, right in the middle of Lord and Lady Barrow’s musicale. Not well at all.
“What—” she began.
He chuckled. “What took you so long? I was just wondering the same thing myself.”
Yes. She knew that chuckle, that voice. This particular gentleman hadn’t ever spoken to her in such a low, husky murmur, but she couldn’t mistake that teasing drawl.
“I don’t—” she tried again, but she wasn’t sure quite what she’d say. I don’t think this is the lady’s retiring room? I don’t have time to be accosted tonight? I don’t think you should put your tongue there?
He brushed his mouth against her neck. “Of course you do.”
Lily took a deep breath and warned herself not to panic, even when he pressed against her and she realized she was trapped between his warm, eager body and the hard wooden door at her back. Being accosted by an amorous gentleman was not part of her plan this evening, but she must not fall into maidenly hysterics, especially over a simple case of mistaken identity. It was easily set to rights.
Hysterics would cause a scene. Lily detested scenes. They were messy.
She turned her head to the side in an attempt to break contact with his mouth, but he followed the movement as if he was a horse and she’d hidden a lump of sugar under her tongue.
She wished he’d stop, for at the moment she had other things to worry about. She needed to work out if she should be more worried Robyn was the rake in question, or less so. It did complicate matters. If he succeeded in getting his tongue in her mouth, she’d never be able to look him in the eye again.
Lily’s eyes widened as the hot tongue swept against her mouth again, but she kept her lips sealed. Robyn was a gentleman. She was safe with him as long as she remained unwilling.
A lady communicated her unwillingness by keeping her lips closed.