Publication Day Push with an Extract: The Return of the Disappearing Duke by Lara Temple

The Return of the Disappearing Duke

A scarred mercenary…Or the Disappearing Duke of Greybourne?

Rafe has spent years running from his true identity. He’s a lone wolf, living far from aristocratic England and his violent father. Then unconventional Cleopatra Osbourne requests his protection as she crosses the Egyptian desert. In Cleo he discovers a fellow outcast—and a fierce desire! Cleo must return to London, and here lies Rafe’s dilemma—because following his heart means claiming the title he’s avoided for so long!

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Amazon UK: https://bit.ly/RafeDukeUK

Bookbub: https://bit.ly/RafeBookbub

While searching Cairo for her brother, Cleo saves Rafe from an assassin’s knife. In these scene they’ve made it back to their lodgings and Rafe is trying to distract her from what had nearly happened.
They ate in silence until Rafe spoke again.
‘Thank you, Cleo.’ His voice was low, resonant, like the rush of the Nile against the felucca's hull.
‘For what?’
He leaned back, the cane chair protesting.
‘I should have thanked you properly. For coming to my aid.’
‘I’m certain you would have managed.’
He shook his head.
‘Anyone can die, Cleo. I’ve seen skilled men make the most foolish mistakes. You should take credit where it is due.’
‘I don’t want to.’
‘I know. And that is a bad sign. You can’t go around believing I’m infallible. Until we get you safely on your way to England you need to remain alert.’
‘I was alert. That is why you are sitting across from me and not dead or being stitched by a Cairene surgeon, which is not a fate I would wish on my worst enemy.’
He grinned and tapped the table with his palm.
‘That’s better. Moping does not suit you.’
‘I was not moping!’
‘Blue as a witch’s…never mind. I keep forgetting you are a lady.’
‘And I keep forgetting you’re a grown man.’
‘Excellent. Now throw something at me.’
‘Ladies do not throw things,’ she snapped.
‘They damned well do. They can’t easily throw a punch at me like a man might when riled. Though, like you right now, they might wish to. And my ragged face discourages slapping, so I’ve had the odd plate or tankard tossed at me. Go ahead if it will make you feel better.’
‘Breaking something merely because one is angry is childish and serves no purpose.’
‘Says someone who’s never done it. And you’re frightened, not angry.’
‘How precisely would breaking something alleviate fear?’
‘I didn’t say it would.’
‘Then why are you telling me to break something?’ Her voice was rising, shedding all pretence at calm.
‘To distract you. It’s working, too.’
‘You. Are. Infuriating!’ She ground her teeth, thumping her fists on the table. Part of her knew his object was not merely to distract her, but to break the strange tension that was binding them and that made her even angrier. She didn’t want him to be flippant now, not when she was still shaking inwardly. She wanted something completely different and he knew that and that was precisely why he was trying to make her angry. Well, he’d succeeded.
If her plate had not still been half full of Birdie’s stew, she might have succumbed and done just what he suggested. Smashed, shattered, razed, crushed it into tiny bits and stomped on them until they were dust. Until fear and need and confusion were consumed in the fireball of her fury. Until she was free of everything, including the most impossible man she’d ever met.

Lara Temple writes strong and sensual Regency romances about complex individuals who give no quarter but do so with plenty of passion. She lives with her husband, two children, and one very fluffy dog and they are all very understanding about her taking over the kitchen table so she can look out over the garden as she writes and dreams up her Happy Ever Afters.

Amazon author page US: http://bit.ly/LaraTemple

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Website: www.laratemple.com

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