RUe Allyn at Amazon.com
Rue Allyn's Books
He must give his heart to his greatest enemy
Rue Allyn's Books
Rue Allyn's Books
Rue Allyn's Books
He must give his heart to his greatest enemy
He must give his heart to his greatest enemy
Rue Allyn's Books
Rue Allyn's Books
Mature content
Heat Level ~ Hot
Buy Links (list price varies):
Amazon   B & N   GoogleBooks
iBooks   Kobo   Crimson Romance
ISBN: 978-1-4405-9716-9
ASIN: B01E0JR298
Baron Raeb MacKai is done allowing himself and everyone he loves to live in poverty and despair. His betrothal to a wealthy English heiress will solve a decade of problems. He will do everything necessary to defend his home and his country, but can he defend his heart?


Mature content
Heat Level ~ Hot
Mature content
Heat Level ~ Hot
Buy Links (list price varies):
Amazon   B & N   GoogleBooks
iBooks   Kobo   Crimson Romance
Buy Links (list price varies):
Amazon   B & N   GoogleBooks
iBooks   Kobo   Crimson Romance
Read an Excerpt from Knight Defender ~ Knight Chronicles # 3
What Readers Think
Mid-April 1295, the northwest coast of Scotland
"Unhand me." She pushed against the massive chest and writhed in the arms cradling her body.
   He gathered her closer, mashing her cheek against him.
   For an instant, his blazing gray eyes held her spellbound as tightly as his strength gripped her body. Unable to look away, she shivered, but not with cold. The odor of damp wool and man nearly drowned her. All sound faded away save her own harsh breathing.
   "Ho, ho!" His chuckle was impossible to miss. "So you are no dying, are you then? Well liars and deceivers must suffer the consequences of their actions."
   She refused to be intimidated. She forced her head away from him. "Is rudeness the customary greeting for your guests, Baron MacKai? I've a mind to refuse to wed you. Then King Edward will decline to pay you rent for docking his ships in your excuse for a harbor.
   "You think you could resist me?" More chuckles shook his chest.
   "It would be a small matter to deny an oaf such as you."
   Flames of some inner fire shone in his unyielding stare. She was unfamiliar with fear, but what else twisted in her belly and skittered just beneath her skin? She wanted to deny his effect on her but in all honesty could not.
   "I could make you beg." He growled low, like some big cat poised to pounce.
   "Never." She could be honest with herself about her body's betrayal, but she'd plenty of reason not to give the churl any hint of her weakness.
   His forward motion halted, his head dipped then stopped a finger's width from her face. His gaze bored into hers.
   Her breath froze at the frenzy of emotions she saw there. 'Anger, threat, resentment, and something she could not identify. She refused to care. Her fingers itched to slap him, and she raised her hand.
   "I wouldna, if I were you." He anchored her hand beneath a brawny arm and started walking again.
   "You'll regret insulting me."
   His brows rose. "We'll see about that. For now, I need you safely stowed away."
   "Stowed away!" He made her sound like bothersome chattel, useful for only one purpose. She squirmed and finally released her outer hand from his hold to beat her fist against his chest. "Beast! You will treat me with the courtesy and respect due a lord's daughter."
   He made no response other than to quicken his pace.
   She hit him harder. "You and your entire cowardly clan will rue this day."
   He stopped abruptly and shifted his grip. Her feet fell downward but found no purchase on solid ground. She hung suspended from the large hands thrust under her armpits. The heels of those palms pressed against her breasts, and heat flooded her body at the intimate touch.
   "You, you …" He and every other MacKai disgusted her beyond words. Raising her head to berate him further, she stilled. Once more, the gleam in those stony eyes compelled her attention. The downward tip at the outer corner of his lids gave him a slumberous appearance belied by glints of indecipherable emotion. Those deceptive lids narrowed. She longed to hide but could not look away.
   "Listen to me."
   His quiet words slid over her skin, causing a rise of goosebumps.
   "You are naught but a troublesome woman. You have no power or authority here, so if you value your overly pampered English hide, you'll no insult clan MacKai. Do you understand?"
   She swallowed and nodded.
   "Excellent."
   He tossed her over his shoulder, secured her legs against him with an arm, and continued walking.
   "How dare…"
   One of those huge palms smacked her rump.
   "Oooo! I'll make you regret you ever touched me."
   A second smack was followed by an order for silence.
   Since her backside began to throb, Jessamyn subsided in favor of plotting retribution. She'd start with boiling in oil followed by a sound beating and end with banishment.
   She was deciding whether or not to add tar and feathers when she heard the creak of leather hinges. They crossed a doorway, and she went flying through the air to land in a heap, face down on a feather bed.
   "Dry clothing will be brought. Dinna imagine I care for your comfort. I simply canna be bothered to find another woman if you catch an ague and die."
   She struggled to right herself, sputtering and pulling her hair from her face. The brute deserved the sharp side of her tongue. She gathered breath as she turned to speak, just to see the coward disappear and the door bang shut behind him.
   He was not getting away that easily. She leapt from the bed, ran for the door, and nearly jerked her arms from her shoulders when the wooden barrier refused to budge at her angry pull.
   Dumbfounded, she could only stare.
   He'd barred the door? Boiling oil and banishment are too good for him. I must see him drawn and quartered.


"RueAllyn has certainly managed to capture the divide between Scotland and Englandin this gripping tale of romance, passion, and deceit!" -- 4 stars, InDTaleMagazine
ISBN: 978-1-4405-9716-9
ASIN: B01E0JR298
ISBN: 978-1-4405-9716-9
ASIN: B01E0JR298
Baron Raeb MacKai is done allowing himself and everyone he loves to live in poverty and despair. His betrothal to a wealthy English heiress will solve a decade of problems. He will do everything necessary to defend his home and his country, but can he defend his heart?


Baron Raeb MacKai is done allowing himself and everyone he loves to live in poverty and despair. His betrothal to a wealthy English heiress will solve a decade of problems. He will do everything necessary to defend his home and his country, but can he defend his heart?


RUe Allyn at Amazon.com
Rue Allyn's Books
Rue Allyn's Books
Rue Allyn's "Knight Defender" is the third tale in The Knight Chronicles, but you can read it as a standalone. I love, love, love this author, this series, and this book! I don't give many straight 5-star reviews, but this definitely deserves one. It's a rare steamy historical gem. Lady Jessamyn is an amazing leading lady and mmmm Raeb McKai couldn't get any hotter. I thought Robert from #1 would be the hottest in this series, but I was wrong! Raeb all the way! I can't wait to read more by this author! ~ Mathphilosopheron, Amazon Review
Read an Excerpt from Knight Defender ~ Knight Chronicles # 3
Read an Excerpt from Knight Defender ~ Knight Chronicles # 3
What Readers Think
What Readers Think
Mid-April 1295, the northwest coast of Scotland
"Unhand me." She pushed against the massive chest and writhed in the arms cradling her body.
   He gathered her closer, mashing her cheek against him.
   For an instant, his blazing gray eyes held her spellbound as tightly as his strength gripped her body. Unable to look away, she shivered, but not with cold. The odor of damp wool and man nearly drowned her. All sound faded away save her own harsh breathing.
   "Ho, ho!" His chuckle was impossible to miss. "So you are no dying, are you then? Well liars and deceivers must suffer the consequences of their actions."
   She refused to be intimidated. She forced her head away from him. "Is rudeness the customary greeting for your guests, Baron MacKai? I've a mind to refuse to wed you. Then King Edward will decline to pay you rent for docking his ships in your excuse for a harbor.
   "You think you could resist me?" More chuckles shook his chest.
   "It would be a small matter to deny an oaf such as you."
   Flames of some inner fire shone in his unyielding stare. She was unfamiliar with fear, but what else twisted in her belly and skittered just beneath her skin? She wanted to deny his effect on her but in all honesty could not.
   "I could make you beg." He growled low, like some big cat poised to pounce.
   "Never." She could be honest with herself about her body's betrayal, but she'd plenty of reason not to give the churl any hint of her weakness.
   His forward motion halted, his head dipped then stopped a finger's width from her face. His gaze bored into hers.
   Her breath froze at the frenzy of emotions she saw there. 'Anger, threat, resentment, and something she could not identify. She refused to care. Her fingers itched to slap him, and she raised her hand.
   "I wouldna, if I were you." He anchored her hand beneath a brawny arm and started walking again.
   "You'll regret insulting me."
   His brows rose. "We'll see about that. For now, I need you safely stowed away."
   "Stowed away!" He made her sound like bothersome chattel, useful for only one purpose. She squirmed and finally released her outer hand from his hold to beat her fist against his chest. "Beast! You will treat me with the courtesy and respect due a lord's daughter."
   He made no response other than to quicken his pace.
   She hit him harder. "You and your entire cowardly clan will rue this day."
   He stopped abruptly and shifted his grip. Her feet fell downward but found no purchase on solid ground. She hung suspended from the large hands thrust under her armpits. The heels of those palms pressed against her breasts, and heat flooded her body at the intimate touch.
   "You, you …" He and every other MacKai disgusted her beyond words. Raising her head to berate him further, she stilled. Once more, the gleam in those stony eyes compelled her attention. The downward tip at the outer corner of his lids gave him a slumberous appearance belied by glints of indecipherable emotion. Those deceptive lids narrowed. She longed to hide but could not look away.
   "Listen to me."
   His quiet words slid over her skin, causing a rise of goosebumps.
   "You are naught but a troublesome woman. You have no power or authority here, so if you value your overly pampered English hide, you'll no insult clan MacKai. Do you understand?"
   She swallowed and nodded.
   "Excellent."
   He tossed her over his shoulder, secured her legs against him with an arm, and continued walking.
   "How dare…"
   One of those huge palms smacked her rump.
   "Oooo! I'll make you regret you ever touched me."
   A second smack was followed by an order for silence.
   Since her backside began to throb, Jessamyn subsided in favor of plotting retribution. She'd start with boiling in oil followed by a sound beating and end with banishment.
   She was deciding whether or not to add tar and feathers when she heard the creak of leather hinges. They crossed a doorway, and she went flying through the air to land in a heap, face down on a feather bed.
   "Dry clothing will be brought. Dinna imagine I care for your comfort. I simply canna be bothered to find another woman if you catch an ague and die."
   She struggled to right herself, sputtering and pulling her hair from her face. The brute deserved the sharp side of her tongue. She gathered breath as she turned to speak, just to see the coward disappear and the door bang shut behind him.
   He was not getting away that easily. She leapt from the bed, ran for the door, and nearly jerked her arms from her shoulders when the wooden barrier refused to budge at her angry pull.
   Dumbfounded, she could only stare.
   He'd barred the door? Boiling oil and banishment are too good for him. I must see him drawn and quartered.


Mid-April 1295, the northwest coast of Scotland
"Unhand me." She pushed against the massive chest and writhed in the arms cradling her body.
   He gathered her closer, mashing her cheek against him.
   For an instant, his blazing gray eyes held her spellbound as tightly as his strength gripped her body. Unable to look away, she shivered, but not with cold. The odor of damp wool and man nearly drowned her. All sound faded away save her own harsh breathing.
   "Ho, ho!" His chuckle was impossible to miss. "So you are no dying, are you then? Well liars and deceivers must suffer the consequences of their actions."
   She refused to be intimidated. She forced her head away from him. "Is rudeness the customary greeting for your guests, Baron MacKai? I've a mind to refuse to wed you. Then King Edward will decline to pay you rent for docking his ships in your excuse for a harbor.
   "You think you could resist me?" More chuckles shook his chest.
   "It would be a small matter to deny an oaf such as you."
   Flames of some inner fire shone in his unyielding stare. She was unfamiliar with fear, but what else twisted in her belly and skittered just beneath her skin? She wanted to deny his effect on her but in all honesty could not.
   "I could make you beg." He growled low, like some big cat poised to pounce.
   "Never." She could be honest with herself about her body's betrayal, but she'd plenty of reason not to give the churl any hint of her weakness.
   His forward motion halted, his head dipped then stopped a finger's width from her face. His gaze bored into hers.
   Her breath froze at the frenzy of emotions she saw there. 'Anger, threat, resentment, and something she could not identify. She refused to care. Her fingers itched to slap him, and she raised her hand.
   "I wouldna, if I were you." He anchored her hand beneath a brawny arm and started walking again.
   "You'll regret insulting me."
   His brows rose. "We'll see about that. For now, I need you safely stowed away."
   "Stowed away!" He made her sound like bothersome chattel, useful for only one purpose. She squirmed and finally released her outer hand from his hold to beat her fist against his chest. "Beast! You will treat me with the courtesy and respect due a lord's daughter."
   He made no response other than to quicken his pace.
   She hit him harder. "You and your entire cowardly clan will rue this day."
   He stopped abruptly and shifted his grip. Her feet fell downward but found no purchase on solid ground. She hung suspended from the large hands thrust under her armpits. The heels of those palms pressed against her breasts, and heat flooded her body at the intimate touch.
   "You, you …" He and every other MacKai disgusted her beyond words. Raising her head to berate him further, she stilled. Once more, the gleam in those stony eyes compelled her attention. The downward tip at the outer corner of his lids gave him a slumberous appearance belied by glints of indecipherable emotion. Those deceptive lids narrowed. She longed to hide but could not look away.
   "Listen to me."
   His quiet words slid over her skin, causing a rise of goosebumps.
   "You are naught but a troublesome woman. You have no power or authority here, so if you value your overly pampered English hide, you'll no insult clan MacKai. Do you understand?"
   She swallowed and nodded.
   "Excellent."
   He tossed her over his shoulder, secured her legs against him with an arm, and continued walking.
   "How dare…"
   One of those huge palms smacked her rump.
   "Oooo! I'll make you regret you ever touched me."
   A second smack was followed by an order for silence.
   Since her backside began to throb, Jessamyn subsided in favor of plotting retribution. She'd start with boiling in oil followed by a sound beating and end with banishment.
   She was deciding whether or not to add tar and feathers when she heard the creak of leather hinges. They crossed a doorway, and she went flying through the air to land in a heap, face down on a feather bed.
   "Dry clothing will be brought. Dinna imagine I care for your comfort. I simply canna be bothered to find another woman if you catch an ague and die."
   She struggled to right herself, sputtering and pulling her hair from her face. The brute deserved the sharp side of her tongue. She gathered breath as she turned to speak, just to see the coward disappear and the door bang shut behind him.
   He was not getting away that easily. She leapt from the bed, ran for the door, and nearly jerked her arms from her shoulders when the wooden barrier refused to budge at her angry pull.
   Dumbfounded, she could only stare.
   He'd barred the door? Boiling oil and banishment are too good for him. I must see him drawn and quartered.


"RueAllyn has certainly managed to capture the divide between Scotland and Englandin this gripping tale of romance, passion, and deceit!" -- 4 stars, InDTaleMagazine
"RueAllyn has certainly managed to capture the divide between Scotland and Englandin this gripping tale of romance, passion, and deceit!" -- 4 stars, InDTaleMagazine
Is she loyal or a traitor?
Rue Allyn's "Knight Defender" is the third tale in The Knight Chronicles, but you can read it as a standalone. I love, love, love this author, this series, and this book! I don't give many straight 5-star reviews, but this definitely deserves one. It's a rare steamy historical gem. Lady Jessamyn is an amazing leading lady and mmmm Raeb McKai couldn't get any hotter. I thought Robert from #1 would be the hottest in this series, but I was wrong! Raeb all the way! I can't wait to read more by this author! ~ Mathphilosopheron, Amazon Review
Rue Allyn's "Knight Defender" is the third tale in The Knight Chronicles, but you can read it as a standalone. I love, love, love this author, this series, and this book! I don't give many straight 5-star reviews, but this definitely deserves one. It's a rare steamy historical gem. Lady Jessamyn is an amazing leading lady and mmmm Raeb McKai couldn't get any hotter. I thought Robert from #1 would be the hottest in this series, but I was wrong! Raeb all the way! I can't wait to read more by this author! ~ Mathphilosopheron, Amazon Review
Off Limits Excerpt
Hazard Duty Excerpt
RELEASE DATE September 25, 2017
Deal Excerpt
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Mature content
Heat Level ~ Hot
True and Perfect Knight Excerpt
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One Moment's Loving Excerpt
One Night's Desire Excerpt
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Like countless men who faced the French armies, men who loved Lady Marielle Petersham, Duchess of Stonegreave usually died. Hence the ton dubbed her The French Duchess. Because of one indiscretion Marielle retired from society. Now, she must risk more than the censure of the ton. She must risk her life and everything she holds dear or more of her loved ones will die.


One Day's Loving Excerpt
Read an Excerpt from The French Duchess
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What Readers Think
April 2, 1814, Brighton outskirts
   Mari descended the steps of the hired coach and marched into the Bull and Hare. She'd hoped to rest the night closer to the Brighton quays in order to catch the first ship leaving in the morning. However, the ancient coach she hired had proven inadequate against the incessant April rains that would have slowed even the well sprung personal vehicle her plans forced her to leave behind.
   The most effective way to get to René was to arrive in Brighton in the guise of a governess going to a new post with a military family billeted in Marseille. That way, she could travel without the retinue and fol-de-rol that accompanied a duchess and drew too much notice. She'd obtained the appropriate papers with the help of the local magistrate. Flattered by a few smiles, Squire Beesman had been more than happy to provide documents to expedite the travel of her "friend," Miss Anthea Twitchenholm.
   After promising to send daily letters, Mari left Stonegreave in the ducal carriage with mounds of baggage and her standard retinue. In London she left her maid-carriage, retinue, and all-with a stack of letters arranged in careful order, to be sent one per day to Tante Vivienne. Mari herself had hired the ancient posting coach then proceeded alone to Brighton with a carpetbag of clothing bought second-hand. Once in France, she could travel with a bit more freedom. News of Napoleon's surrender had reached Stonegreave the morning of her departure. Thank heaven. With Napoleon fixed at Fontainebleau awaiting his fate, finding René would be much easier. Extracting him, however, would be more difficult without the distractions of an army encampment.
   As the inn door closed behind her, silence fell in the entry hall, and the gaze of three men, the innkeeper, and a woman whose dress identified her as the innkeeper's wife all turned on Mari. "My good man." She swept toward the innkeeper and set down her single piece of luggage. "I will require a private chamber, a hot bath and a meal, served in my room, in that order."
   The men stared. The innkeeper's jaw dropped, and the goodwife's face reddened. She pushed her way to the center of the circle of men, and looked Mari up and down. The woman's lip curled. "We ain't got no private chambers nor baths for the likes of ye. An' y'll takes yer meals in the common room, likes all the other common folk. If ye gots the coin to pay fer it, that is."
   Mari drew herself up to give the dame the set down she deserved but closed her mouth on the words. She could hardly act the duchess if she was supposed to be a governess on her way to a new post. The glow of satisfaction that her dowdy garb had succeeded battled with the icy disdain the goodwife's demeanor deserved. Mari lowered her gaze and twisted her hands in an attempt at embarrassed humility.
   "Well?"
   Mari watched the leather-shod toe of the other woman's foot tap impatiently.
   "Ahem, yes, well, that is, I would very much appreciate a private chamber." Mari lifted her head and unclasped her hands to reach for her reticule. "If one is available. My employer provided me with funds, so I can pay. I'm willing to forgo the bath and will happily dine in the common room. I certainly would not wish to put such kind hosts to any trouble."
   "Hmpf. I'll not take cheek from…"
   "Wife," the innkeeper warned.
   Mari glanced at him.
   "The miss says she can pay. Send Gertie to prepare the front chamber on the right side. I'll take care of business with Miss . . . ?
   "Twitchenholm." Mari supplied the name on her travel papers. "Miss Anthea Twitchenholm."
   "Well, Miss Twitchenholm, how long will you be staying with us?"
   His wife harrumphed, turned, and clumped off toward the back of the inn where Mari could hear her haranguing several employees.
   Deprived of entertainment, the three men drifted away toward the common room, and behind Mari the inn door opened, letting in a gust of wind and rain along with the newest arrival.
   "Only tonight, sir. I must be at the docks tomorrow if I am to meet Major Standish of the 16th Regiment before he leaves for Marseille. I'm to be governess to his three daughters." She chattered rapidly in hopes of covering over her earlier, too noble demeanor, stopping only when she realized she revealed too much information.
   "Then I suppose ye'd like to retire as soon as possible. Just sign the register, pay fer yer room and board, and my wife will escort ye above stairs. Supper will be served in an hour."
   "Thank you." Mari signed and provided enough coins to cover the cost of the room and her dinner. She lifted her traveling bag just as the goodwife arrived. The woman eyed Mari closely but said nothing, just led the way up two flights of stairs to a small, cozy chamber.
   "Charming," said Mari.
   "We run a respectable house, miss."
   "That's gratifying to know," Mari said, ducking her head in dismissive humility.
   The innkeeper's wife studied her guest before leaving with a rustle of starched skirts.
   Mari closed and locked the door before heaving a great sigh. She had to be much more careful in the future. The fate of Europe and the Petersham name  depended on the success of her venture. She could not afford too fail before she'd truly begun.
*
Leaving his curricle and four in the very capable hands of his tiger, Richard entered the inn. As he drew off his gloves, he saw a woman speaking with the innkeeper. Ordinarily he would have dismissed any woman as dowdy as this one, but she spoke in the clear, dulcet-and surprisingly humble-tones of Marielle Petersham. What demon had conjured her away from Hertfordshire. He shook his head. She couldn't be Marielle, yet she must be The raven's wing hair, the slim form could belong to many women, but not that voice. The woman was now claiming that she was to be governess to the daughters of Major Standish of the 16th, Richard's own regiment. She lied.
   Richard waited until she disappeared up the stairs before questioning the innkeeper about the young miss who had just left.
   "Claims she's a governess, sir." The man's waggling eyebrows indicated he believed otherwise. "Be she governess, doxy, or wayward lady, she must not 'ave traveled much. Di'nt seem t' know what t' say an' what not t' say."
   "I see your point. But perhaps she's only inexperienced and does not understand that discretion is a primary subject and usually taught by example." He stepped up, signed the register as plain Mr. Campion. He examined the signature above his, recognizing the handwriting with little trouble. He took a piece of foolscap from a stack on the desk.
   "I wouldn't know 'bout such. Only know she's a might full of herself fer a governess."
   She would be, since she's no governess.
What in the world was the Duchess of Stonegreave doing masquerading as a governess traveling alone on the outskirts of Brighton? "Sounds like she could use a little advice from an experienced traveler about how to go on when she journeys."
   He scrawled a message onto the foolscap then handed it to the innkeeper. "Would you be so kind as to deliver this to the young miss? I've invited her to dine with me in the common room, so all is above board. She may be more amenable to my wisdom if well fed, and governesses never have enough cash. She'll probably accept a free meal even if it comes with a bit of a lecture."
   The innkeeper raised his brows, looked at the note, then nodded. "'Right y' are, Mr. Campion, sir. Since yer clearly not planning anything havey-cavey. I'll deliver yer note, but if the miss declines, I'll not 'ave 'er forced in any way. If y' take my meaning, sir."
   Richard smiled. "I would never compel an unwilling innocent." Marielle's innocence was in question, however, and he would find a way to compel her to tell him what she was doing here.
   "Right then. 'enry!" the man bellowed the name. A lad on the edge of manhood came running.
   "Yes, sir."
   The innkeeper gestured at Richard. "Help this gentleman with 'is bags and show 'im t' the front room on the left."
   "Yes, sir. This way, sir."
   After approving the chamber, Richard handed the youth a coin. The door closed behind him, and Richard reviewed the facts that would trap Marielle when they spoke at dinner.
   Major Standish had been a staff officer in the 16th. The man had no wife, let alone any daughters. He wasn't even in France. Richard knew from dispatches he read at the War Office that, having received orders posting him to a Canadian unit, the major was most likely at sea. She must have taken the bait in the false letter he'd given her? If so, her fate was sealed. His current mission and Bruskingly's speculation about Marielle Petersham's French connections made her activities appear suspicious.
   We know a French agent will deliver to Napoleon the plans for Louis's return to France. The agent will leave from Brighton in the next two days
.
   As little as Richard wished to have anything more to do with Marielle, he could not avoid her. The timing of her incognito journey was too convenient to be coincidental. If she was not herself the French agent, he would wager that she knew something about the agent and his or her activities. Shaking his head, he completed his toilette and descended to the common room. Would the duchess heed his summons? The note had been innocuous, to any but that lady. To her, his signature would be a threat, especially if she was as guilty as she appeared to be. She didn't strike him as the type of woman to ignore a threat. But she was female, and it could be some time before she made her appearance. He sent for a newspaper and coffee and settled down to wait.

THE FRENCH DUCHESS NEEDS REVIEWS
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Except for images and book covers, which are copyrighted to their respective owners, all site content © Rue Allyn.
Site design developed by Rue Allyn. Please contact Rue if you have any questions regarding site content.
Available Now

Except for images and book covers, which are copyrighted to their respective owners, all site content © Rue Allyn.
Site design developed by Rue Allyn. Please contact Rue if you have any questions regarding site content.

Except for images and book covers, which are copyrighted to their respective owners, all site content © Rue Allyn.
Site design developed by Rue Allyn. Please contact Rue if you have any questions regarding site content.
Except for images and book covers, which are copyrighted to their respective owners, all site content © Rue Allyn.
Site design developed by Rue Allyn. Please contact Rue if you have any questions regarding site content.