Only For His Lady

The story is a Regency era twist on Romeo and Juliet...with, of course, a much needed HEA! 

A curse. A sword. And the thief who stole her heart. 

The Rayne family is trapped in a rut of bad luck. And now, it's up to Lady Theodosia Rayne to steal back the Theodosia sword, a gladius that was pilfered by the rival, loathed Renshaw family. Hopefully, recovering the stolen sword will break the cycle and reverse her family's fate. 

Damian Renshaw, the Duke of Devlin, is feared by all--all, that is, except Lady Theodosia, the brazen spitfire who enters his home and wrestles an ancient relic from his wall. Intrigued by the vivacious woman, Devlin has no intentions of relinquishing the sword to her.  

As Theodosia and Damian battle for ownership, passion ignites. Now, they are torn between their age-old feud and the fire that burns between them. Can two forbidden lovers find a way to make amends before their families' war tears them apart?

“I need that sword.” As though there were another in question, Lady Theodosia jerked her chin at the Theodosia sword. She paused. Did he imagine the sheen of tears that popped up behind her lids? Damian scoffed at that feminine wile employed by women of all stations to sway a man. Alas, tears held little effect over him. Then, the lady blinked several times as though shamed by those crystalline tokens of weakness and dropped her gaze to the floor. “My family needs that sword.”
 
How interesting. He’d anticipated waterworks and pretty pleas. Once more his enemy’s daughter proved herself unlike any of the other women of his acquaintance. “Oh?” he drawled.
 
She snapped her gaze up, fury in its blue depths. “Your family stole that weapon from mine and as such, you’ve stolen my family’s right to happiness, and instead we’ve been riddled with misfortune after misfortune.”
 
He’d been labeled cold, unfeeling, and given the moniker the Devil Duke for such reasons, and yet the oddest shift occurred in his chest in thinking of this bold, spirited lady without happiness. Damian angled his head closer, expecting her to draw back. She remained fixed to her spot and merely tossed her head back to stare up at him. Her courage was a heady aphrodisiac and he took in her full, bow-shaped lips. Perhaps it was the madness of the night, but he wanted to lay claim to that mouth.
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