Since my latest Undone, The Unrepentant Rake, is out this month, it's positively de rigueur for me to blog about it here. (And anyone who comments has a chance to win a free download. Just letting you know up front.)

My unofficial title for this story is The Romance of the Toe Bone, because a holy relic, the toe bone of St. Davnet, is instrumental in bringing about the happy ending. (It was my muse's idea, and I do what she tells me.) St. Davnet was an Irish saint of the 6th or 7th Century, and little is known about her. She is a patron saint of the mentally ill and women in danger, and (according to one site I can't find anymore) family harmony as well. What is more important to family harmony than true love, I asked myself, and a story was born. In spite of my muse's enthusiasm, I didn't think my editor would accept this story, even though she asked for revisions and didn't complain that the toe bone was too weird. I sent in the revised version and put the story out of my mind.

Shortly afterward, I went to Ireland for the first time and spent a day in Dublin. I visited the National Museum of Ireland, which has a superb collection of prehistoric gold items, Celtic metalwork, Viking artifacts, jewelry, and so on...including an ornamental pilgrim's staff said to have belonged to St. Davnet. I oohed and aahed about all the amazing stuff there. I wanted to stay forever, but nature got in the way and we had to go eat.

I guess when I put the story out of my mind, I put the staff out, too. A few days later, when I was well out of reach of Dublin with no chance of returning, my editor accepted the story. Of course, that's when I remembered the staff. I'd totally forgotten to look for it in the museum!

Duh! I'm going back to Ireland, and this time I won't forget.

Anyway, to give you a better idea what the story is about (lest you think it's littered with toe bones and such), it's the sequel to The Wanton Governess, which came out last year. The brother of the hero was an annoying rake who insisted on having his own story. My muse relented, but she pitted him against a governess with plans of her own and a holy relic. Guess who won?

Beatrix March chose to be a governess rather than let an overbearing husband rule her. Even though she never intends to marry, it doesn't mean she can't enjoy a man's...company -- especially one as tempting as notorious rake Simon Carling.

 

Little does she know that this rake is in the mood to wed...and when Simon wants something, he will go to outrageous lengths to get it! 

 
Comments welcome! Don't forget -- I have a download to give away. :)

Irish Tea Brack and a Three-Legged Cat

I was hoping to post a recipe for Irish soda bread, but so far I'm unsatisfied with the results of my experiments...so I'm falling back on another Irish bread. I've been making tea brack for years, messing with several recipes, and this is the one I used for the loaf pictured here. 



 
 
 
 
 








Please note, though: the loaf doesn't really look like this. It's much, much darker, both inside and out. Blame my flash and my lack of photographic skills. Don't blame the bread -- it's dark and delicious. 

 
Irish Tea Brack

1.5 cups cold black tea (good and strong), but make a little extra and set it aside, because you may need a little more.
3 cups raisins (usually I use regular raisins, but I include some golden raisins if I have them on hand)
1/2 cup dark brown sugar
(Note: you can use fewer raisins and more sugar if you like, but in my opinon, the more raisins, the merrier)
1 tsp. rum flavoring 
2 cups white whole wheat flour (you can use regular flour if you like)
1 tsp. baking soda
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
1/2 tsp. nutmeg
1 egg

Mix the first 4 ingredients in a bowl, cover, and leave for several hours or overnight.

Preheat the oven to 325 degrees. Grease a loaf pan. Some recipes suggest lining it with wax paper. In my experience, that results in a slightly moister loaf.

Mix the dry ingredients together. Beat the egg and mix it into the wet ingredients.Then add the dry ingredients to the wet and stir well. You may need to add a little more tea, especially if you used the whole wheat flour, as it soaks up more moisture. Put the batter in the pan and bake for between 1 and 1.5 hours until done. Let it cool for a while before removing it from the pan. It's great with butter or just as is.

Here is the three-legged cat that belongs to the friends we visited in Northern Ireland this summer. She lost a leg due to an injury, but she's lively even without one of her front legs.

Here she is, a little annoyed at all the attention and preparing to walk away...















And here she is at rest.
I think she'd made a great character for a story someday!
She's Irish, after all. There's got to be some magic in her. Is she really just a cat, or is she something more?

The Wanton Governess

I'm totally exhausted, which is definitely the wrong way to be on release day. Pompeia, the heroine of my new release, was a joy to write, and I was hoping to post something more than just an excerpt, but I'm falling asleep as I type... so here goes.

Harlequin Historicals publishes two short e-novellas in the Undone series each month, and this month one of them is mine! It's a Regency romance called The Wanton Governess. I simply love the cover, because it conveys the heroine's nature so well. Here's a brief blurb:

In exchange for a few days’ shelter, dismissed governess Pompeia Grant pretends to be the wife of a man who spurned her years earlier. James Carling, the man in question, is in America, so he’ll never know. 

And it’s only for a couple of days. 

And she’s helping a friend, so she’s doing a good deed… 

But the next day, James comes home.

And now the excerpt:

“What in hell’s name were you thinking?”

At this furious bellow all the ladies froze, then gaped. “Who was that?” Clarabelle faltered.

Pompeia rose in horror. She would know that enraged shout anywhere. She had heard it only once before, and she would never forget it.

But this time it was surely directed at her.

Footsteps hammered on the staircase, and her heart abandoned itself to terror. She had to run. She had to flee.

No! She had to do something.

“James, wait!” That was Sally’s voice. “Please, just let me—”

“James wasn’t supposed to be home yet,” Clarabelle moaned, and meanwhile the footsteps pounded down the passage.

Think, think! There must be some way to avert disaster. Not to Pompeia herself—that was impossible—but to Sally, to whom the vouchers for Almack’s meant so much. But there wasn’t time, because it would mean convincing Sir James to talk to her privately before exposing the deception. It would mean making him want to. Inexorably, the footsteps approached the drawing-room doorway.

I know how to make a man want to, said the Wanton Within.

Not that! Pompeia’s rational mind screamed. Not now! But after a second’s furious pause, she realized that for once the Wanton might be right. She got her feet moving and went straight for the door.

Too late.

He came into the room like a thunderstorm. It was James indeed, older, broader and even more beautiful than four years ago, from his dark, wavy hair and grey eyes to his well-worn leathers. The Wanton Within applauded, but mostly, Pompeia cringed. She closed her eyes, desperate to compose herself. A babble of voices roiled around her, but she was poised only for his, for the fatal words exposing her as a fraud, commanding her to leave.

Open your eyes, said the Wanton. Look at him.

She did. He stared back, the anger slowly draining from his features, surprise taking its place.

That’s a good start, the Wanton said. Now, let your eyes do the talking. But Pompeia had done that once before to Sir James—accompanied by words that permitted no misunderstanding—and received a stinging refusal.

That was then; this is now, the Wanton insisted. Smile, for pity’s sake!       

Pompeia felt her lips tremble into a travesty of a welcome.

Sir James’s mouth quirked the tiniest bit in response. “Pompeia,” he said.

She forced her tongue into motion. “J-James.”

“Unbelievable.” Slowly, he shook his head. “Oh, Pompeia.” His eyes rested on her, warmly approving. No, wickedly so.

This was astonishingly different from the last time they’d met, when the chill in those eyes had made even the Wanton cower. No, particularly the Wanton, who had gone into hiding for quite a while after that.

What had happened to change things?

Ah. James did know about Pompeia’s disgrace, just as she’d assumed. And, in the way of all men, he anticipated that she would willingly be just as disgraceful with him.

Yes! Do let’s! Just this once! the Wanton said.

The Wanton Governess is available at e-Harlequin, Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Books-a-Million and possibly other places where e-books are sold. So is this month's other Historical Undone, Unlacing the Lady in Waiting by Amanda McCabe, which takes place during the Renaissance in Scotland.

Happy reading to all! (And to all a good night!)

BULLETIN!! Amanda McCabe just sent me her cover art and blurb, so here goes:

Scotland, 1561

Lady Helen Frasier thought Highlanders were barbaric—until she shared an intimate encounter with her betrothed, James McKerrigan. Though their families were enemies, the Highland lord roused a surprising passion in Helen. Then she was chosen to become a lady in waiting to the queen, and their engagement was broken.

Now, Helen has returned to Scotland and her jilted lover, who has vowed to take revenge and claim his promised bride....

The Two Faces of Masquerade

Lately I've been working on a story that begins at a masquerade. The masquerade isn't important to the story except to facilitate a case of mistaken identity, but it occured to me (belatedly) that a masquerade is the perfect place for two strangers to meet and fall in love. There's something so thrilling about the costumes, the secrets, the flirtations... My interest in masquerade as a setting was triggered by Vic Gatrell's Love and Laughter: Sex and Satire in Eighteenth-Century London. Yes, I've mentioned it before. I adore this book. It's chock-full of fascinating stuff about what made people laugh a few centuries ago. (Among other things -- potty humor! The 18th Century was a very down-to-earth time. :))

Masquerades gave people an opportunity to play at being someone they weren't. To indulge in risky behavior without being frowned upon. To throw off the bonds of civilization and be just a little bit (or perhaps a lot) wild. Despite the illicit sexual behavior associated with masquerades, plenty of respectable people indulged in them, even though the costumes often weren't good enough to conceal the wearer's identity -- or even intended to.

For example, in 1749, Elizabeth Chudleigh, Maid of Honor to the Princess of Wales, attended a masquerade bare-breasted! Theoretically, she was disguised as Iphigenia, the Greek maiden who, in most versions of the myth, is saved at the last moment from being sacrificed. Obviously, though, Miss Chudleigh wasn't in disguise at all, but just out for some exhibitionistic fun! She offended many people, but doesn't seem to have cared. Here's a picture of her in costume, with a few very interested fellows:
 
That's the entertaining aspect of masquerade, but there were also the potential consequences, such as disease and unwanted pregnancies. By the early 1800s, values had changed and masquerades were more likely to be frowned upon. Here's an 1816 print by Rowlandson called Dance of Death: The Masquerade. Everyone shrinks away as Death stalks his latest victim at the masquerade -- a clear message about the consequences of self-indulgence.

Not much has changed, has it? People still long to be bad, to throw off the shackles of good manners, to indulge in risky sexual behavior regardless of the consequences, and often they regret it afterward. The sorts of scandals we see from time to time in the political arena are only a reflection of what goes on everywhere -- always has and maybe always will. My question is, why? What in the human psyche drives us toward this sort of release? Is it a useful aspect of human nature or only a perilous one? And since this is a blog about romance, is the hero as bad boy -- which we certainly find plenty of -- a safe way of satisfying the longing to throw off restraints and indulge in exciting and dangerous pleasures?

Barbara Monajem
My new Harlequin Undone, The Wanton Governess, will be out August 1st!