Thief of Shadows

But Isabel knows better and I completely agree with her assessment that “there was a volcano somewhere under that granite shell. And if it ever blew, she wanted to be there to witness the explosion.”

And what a magnificent explosion it was! Riveting in its sensuality, powerful in its sexual draw, heart wrenching as it pulled you into the tenderness of emotion, sweltering in the burning heat of a need that could no longer be denied. His utter seductiveness is palpable!

… “I live and work in the bleakest part of London, my lady. Here people beg steal, and prostitute themselves, trying to obtain the most basic human needs: food, water, shelter, and clothing. They have no time to lift their heads up from their toil, no time to live as human beings, graced with God’s gifts of laughter and love....That is what St. Giles is. That is what I live in.”

...I want them to care just as much about a poor child as they do a gentleman. I want them to make sure every child is fed and clothed and housed. I want them to see that London cannot continue this way with people dying in the gutter.”

Isabel glanced up for a moment and froze. His chest was delineated with lean muscles, his nipples brown against his pale skin, with black curling hair spreading between. His belly was hard and ridged, his navel entirely obscured by that same black, curling hair.

She blinked. She had seen a man-men, actually- naked, true, but Edmund had been in his sixth decade when he’d died and had certainly never looked like this.

Isabel swallowed and untied the garment, a little surprised by the tremble of her fingers, and drew them down his legs. His genitals were revealed, his cock thick and long, even at rest, his bollocks heavy. “Well,” Mrs. Butterman said, “he certainly seems healthy enough there.”

“Wear your social mask at your balls and parties and when you visit your friends out there, but when we are alone, just the two of us in here, promise me this: that you’ll show me only your true face, no matter how ugly you might think it. That’s our true intimacy, not sex, but the ability to be ourselves when we are together.”

She slowly reached out and ran a finger down the length of the deformed nose of his mask. “Who are you?”
His beautiful mouth twisted. “Whoever you wish me to be.”
She laughed then, a little breathlessly. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, sir.”
“I never do,” his words whispered across her senses.

I’ve been looking forward to Winter Makepeace’s book since the first book where we found out that he is the Ghost of St. Giles. And I must say I was not disappointed by him.

Winter lives for his work

She slowly reached out and ran a finger down the length of the deformed nose of his mask. “Who are you?”
His beautiful mouth twisted. “Whoever you wish me to be.”
She laughed then, a little breathlessly. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, sir.”
“I never do,” his words whispered across her senses.

I’ve been looking forward to Winter Makepeace’s book since the first book where we found out that he is the Ghost of St. Giles. And I must say I was not disappointed by him.

Winter lives for his work at his family’s foundling home, and for his nightly pursuit of protection and justice for those who aren’t able to fight for themselves. He doesn’t have time for flirting with women. Especially not Lady Isabel Beckinhall who is always provoking him.

Lady Isabel Beckinhall loves challenges, which is why when she came across the beaten and wounded Ghost of St. Giles, she can’t resist helping him, and maybe finding out more about him. And intrigued she was by their banter, and this gorgeous body. Then there is the dour manager, Winter, who she just can’t figure out, no matter how hard she pokes at him to reveal his feelings. And now she has been elected to be his social tutor, to teach him social etiquette, otherwise he might just be replaced as the manager of the foundling home. And the more time she spends with him, the more he reminds her of someone, and the more she realises that there is a lot more to Winter Makepeace than she originally thought.

Winter was definitely my favorite part of this book. He comes across as so serious, which he is, but there is so much depth to his character. The way he cares for the little orphan children he rescues and looks after, just made me fall in love with him. And the fact that for once we had a hero who was not a rake (view spoiler)[in fact he was a virgin!!! And how rare to find a man who preferred to be intimate only with the woman he was going to love and marry. Swoon. (hide spoiler)]

“We might come from terribly divergent backgrounds, Mr. Makepeace,” she murmured. “But I do assure you I can recognize one as lonely as I.”

Honestly, Winter’s character was so amazing that Isabel paled in comparison to him. I had a hard time liking her, perhaps because she came across as shallow with all her flirting and not understanding why Winter was so serious all the time. But like Winter she hides her true self, and the face she showed to the world was not who she really was. She was sexually very aggressive and not shy at all, which I did like, and I liked that she was the one who made the first move between them.

He wanted to touch her more than he wanted his next breath. More than he’d wanted food when he’d been his hungriest. More than he’d wanted water when he’d been his thirstiest. She was a craving under his skin so great that even now he felt his body actually canting toward her. He wanted to take her, to consummate this hunger within himself. Bury his flesh inside hers and conquer her as primitively as any Viking savage.

The bantering between Winter and Isabel was a lot of fun, and I really enjoyed their chemistry. The romance was slow building, but very intense, and I loved how once Winter decided that Isabel was the woman for him, he pursued her relentlessly despite her reluctance in admitting how she really felt about him.

“Don’t you see? You brought me into the daylight. You’ve embraced parts of me that I was never able to let see light. Don’t make me retreat again into the night.”

This was a great addition to a wonderful series, and a must read.

Isabel was as the sun to a candle compared to that girl so long ago. He wanted to touch her more than he wanted his next breath….She was a craving under his skin so great that even now he felt his body actually canting toward her. He wanted to take her, to consummate this hunger within himself. Bury his flesh inside her and conquer her as primitively as a Viking savage. And he could not. The children of the home…depended on him.

”If I wound you, madam, I am sorry,” he rasped. “But acquit me of stupidity. I am not a rag doll to be played with.”

She cocked her head, wishing he’d remove his mask so that she could truly see him. This man who had captured her interest as no other had in a very, very long time. He parried her flirtation with disconcertingly plainspoken answers. She simply wasn’t used to such frankness. All the gentlemen of her acquaintance knew to speak in elegant riddles that in the end meant nothing at all.


*********

He nodded, as somber as a judge. “Indeed. Let us look at the facts. You joined the Ladies’ Syndicate … and immediately began a campaign of taunting me.”

[…]

”Taunting?”

“Taunting.” He folded the shirt as well, the muscles in his arms rippling in a quite distracting manner. “The little quips, the sly looks letting me know you’d once again thought yourself quite clever as you shot a dart at me, the low, provocative bodices—“

Isabel involuntarily glanced down at her bosom. “My bodices aren’t provocative!” Well, not all the time, certainly.

He glanced at her sternly. “Provocative.” … “And that doesn’t even take into account the later double entendres, the lessons in flirtation, and the dancing lessons in which you took every opportunity to touch my buttocks.”

“I never, ever” – hardly ever— “touched your buttocks. On purpose.”