A group of men had to squeeze by them on their way to the taproom. Aware of the curious glances, Charlotte pulled Miranda into a corner, so as to shield their conversation from prying ears, and replied, "You must go. We are the granddaughters of an earl -- " "One who drank and gambled his fortune away," Miranda shot back. This is the farthest either of us has ever traveled.

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Now she asks the question: What is the price a woman pays for one indiscretion? The granddaughter of an earl, Miranda Cameron has had an unconventional upbringing. However, for the sake of her sisters, she must charm the ton, and make a spectacular match.

Miranda believes she is prepared for the task ahead—until she is confronted by Alex Haddon, the renegade son of a British general. Alex has tempted fate to raise himself from a man scorned by society to one with vast wealth and influence. There had been a time when Miranda meant everything to him. His love for her had almost cost him his life.

What man can resist such a challenge? Alex is not immune to her intoxicating sensuality. Scanda, and far worse, is what she must risk for another chance with the man she still loves…no matter the price.

Oliver was right at his heels. A group of his men had already gathered there. They moved aside to make room for their captain. Nor was the Warrior the only ship to take notice. Apparently many knew what they were waiting for. Several climbed rigging wanting a better look and the air vibrated with excitement. Alex had never seen the like. This woman must be something special to produce so much interest. The crowd of gentlemen parted. Alex frowned, disappointed.

The woman was comely enough but not worth so much attention—and then, a woman holding a parasol appeared, making her way down the gangway. Here was something definitely worth his time. Her face was blocked by that blasted parasol, but what he could see, he liked. The breeze off the water teased the gauzy white muslin hem of dress. It pressed the thin material to her form, revealing long shapely legs, feminine hips, a sweetly indented waist, and curve of breasts.

Beautiful, luscious breasts. I like dark hair galies. I can tell you that without even seeing them. Almost all of them were gathered there, all straining to be the first to see her eyes. Refusing the numerous arms offered to her for assistance, the beauty stepped off the gangway and daintily began picking her way past the barrels and crates, masts and spars piled along the dock.

Her growing coterie of admirers trailed after them like lapdogs—and amongst them saw the elusive Esteves. The portly pilot was doing everything under his power to get under the parasol with the girl. Damn the man. Alex leaned over the railing. I want a word with you. The hapless Esteves, a silver-haired fellow with a black goatee and mustache, looked around in confusion as did everyone else. There was a brief glimpse of a blue velvet cap trimmed in feathers and blonde curls as radiant as the sun.

Alex dismissed the unexpected sense of familiarity. There was no way such a thing were possible. His mind played tricks. I want to talk to you. Blue eyes, blonde hair, full, ripe lips. There was no possibility— Oliver heaved a mighty sigh of longing. He knew the feel of her skin, the scent of her hair, the weight of her breasts. Oh, yes, she fit in other places very well. Alex practically fell back from the bulkhead, suddenly anxious that she not see him.

What the devil was Miranda Cameron doing the Azores of all places on earth dressed in muslins and lace and with shoes on her feet? What he could believe is that she was being eaten up alive by the hungry gazes of every man in this port.

Oh, he flirted with women. He enjoyed them, but he would not marry and the reason was standing down there on that dock. Miranda was listening to something a gentleman to her left was saying.

She was completely unaware of his presence on the deck of the ship not far from her. Alex looked at him blankly, forgetting for a moment where he was. He brought himself back to the present.

They were like cats, always landing on their feet and equally as selfish. Certainly, the French woman who had convinced his father to desert his country and son and turn traitor had not thought of anyone but herself. Even his own mother had abandoned him, leaving him with his British father and returning to her people. So, why did Alex want to believe Miranda Cameron was different? Why, against all logic, did he feel such a sense of betrayal?

Alex started. He turned to see his men staring at him as if he had gone daft. He wondered what expression shown on his face and realized he was squeezing the railing of the ship so tightly his knuckles were white. He tried to relax, feeling completely disconnected to anything that had mattered or had been of importance moments ago.

Miranda and her entourage had reached the ebony painted bow of the Warrior. She closed her parasol. Alex braced himself. The moment was at hand. She had only to look up and she would see him—and then Esteves commanded her attention, begging to have the honor of carrying her parasol. Immediately the other men surrounding her offered their services as well.

Miranda played coy a moment. She made a great pretense of choosing the gentleman to have the honor before handing the parasol to the pilot, smiling her appreciation. No one had a smile like Miranda Cameron.

Its force was kindred to the sun bursting out behind the clouds after a storm. It filled a man with its warmth and assured him anything was possible. Oliver, Jon, even Flat Nose and Vijay were caught by surprise by the force of that smile.

Up and down the dock, men sighed in collective admiration. Their heads whipped around in shock. He met their gazes with an innocent one of his own.

The main one stood on the pier right down there in front of him. He braced his hands against the railing. Not one bit. Esteves holding the parasol looked for all the world to see like a silly old man. Miranda and her chaperone continued their promenade. Had not seen Alex. It was just as well. He had no desire to be part of the growing mob of men following her.

He preferred to watch in disdain as grizzly old seamen, anxious to pay court, hurried from their ships dressed in their ruffles and lace. Some of their finery was a size too small, most of it out of fashion, and all of it was wrinkled from being packed away in sea trunks. They were young, vital men in full dress with gleaming gold braid on their lapels. They were following by a man moving at a more sedate pace.

By the gold braid on his shoulders, he was no less a person that the captain of the ship—and his sights were set on Miranda. Introductions were made. Miranda said something and the British commander laughed as if she were the cleverest of creatures, a sound echoed by his junior offices.

He rarely thought of those scars but at this moment, they felt as they had when the cuts were fresh and the pain alive. You have stores to lay in and that rigging on the top gallant begs to be repaired. Even Oliver. Well, Alex knew the duplicity of character hiding behind that pretty face. His crew came to their senses. They knew that tone in is voice.


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Shelves: historical , series , regency I felt pushed into the story. I think the author should have started with Miranda and Alex as kids when they first meet so I could get more of a feel for the couple. The story picked up for me around chapter 7. Alex and Miranda definitely had a feistiness about them that was fun to read. Ooh here we go, I love when Alex says "We are going on a raiding party". Sigh, men and their possessiveness. Oh man all I have to say is never give a woman who feels scorned carte blanche over your money.


The Price of Indiscretion (Cameron Sisters Series #2)

Turn I loved xathy ending! His love for her had almost cost him his life. A group of his men had already gathered there. Alex dismissed the unexpected sense of familiarity. They were following by a man moving at a more sedate pace. The Price of Indiscretion The granddaughter of an earl, Miranda Cameron has had an unconventional upbringing.

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