Cover image for The least likely bride
Title:
The least likely bride
Author:
Feather, Jane.
Personal Author:
Publication Information:
New York : Bantam Books, [2000]

©2000
Physical Description:
xii, 322 pages ; 25 cm
Language:
English
Subject Term:
ISBN:
9780553801576
Format :
Book

Available:*

Library
Call Number
Material Type
Home Location
Status
Item Holds
Searching...
X Adult Fiction Open Shelf
Searching...
Searching...
X Adult Fiction Central Library
Searching...
Searching...
X Adult Fiction Open Shelf
Searching...
Searching...
X Adult Fiction Open Shelf
Searching...
Searching...
X Adult Fiction Open Shelf
Searching...
Searching...
X Adult Fiction Open Shelf
Searching...

On Order

Summary

Summary

Brimming with passion, laced with humor, Jane Feather's tantalizing historical romances have been called "well-written and fast-moving...entertaining" (Booklist) and "great fun" (Publishers Weekly). Now the New York Times bestselling author of The Accidental Bride makes her exciting hardcover debut with this irresistible tale of a bookish beauty who has never met a man who could best her, tempt her, or seduce her...until now. Brimming with passion, laced with humor, Jane Feather's tantalizing historical romances have been called "brilliantly crafted" (Affaire de Coeur) and "vastly entertaining" (Rendezvous). Now the nationally bestselling author of The Accidental Bride makes her exciting hardcover debut with this irresistible tale of a bookish beauty who has never met a man who could best her, tempt her, or seduce her--until now. --> One moment Lady Olivia Granville is strolling along a path, her nose buried in a tome of Greek philosophy; the next she is plunging down a rocky cliff. Only when she regains consciousness--naked and unwittingly trapped on an unknown ship--does she discover that she owes her life to a stranger who is clearly not a gentleman! Wickedly handsome, disturbingly mysterious, the gray-eyed master of the Wind Dancer admits to making his living from the sea. But it doesn't take long for Olivia to realize that the rogue who'd so intimately tended her wounds is a brash pirate whose schooner is bearing down upon a Spanish galleon. She knows she should be appalled. Instead Olivia is shockingly entranced...and recklessly attracted to an outlaw whose gaze holds both challenge and invitation. Anthony Caxton has known from the first that Olivia Granville is no ordinary woman. But who would have thought that the sheltered daughter of a marquis would have a genuine taste for piracy? Delighted by her response, teased by her beauty, he welcomes her as the newest of his crew, confident that it is only a matter of time before he wins her surrender. Yet even as Olivia welcomes his embrace, she remains unaware that Anthony is harboring a devastating secret...one that will lead them to heartache, scandal, and betrayal. For Anthony is much more than a common pirate. He is the mastermind behind a perilous plot of royal intrigue that could change the course of history. And in this enterprise his opponent is none other than Cato Granville...Olivia's father. Anthony knows the success of his scheme--and his very life--depends upon minute planning, on anticipating every possible difficulty. But he never imagined that he would fall in love with the daughter of his most formidable enemy. And he never dreamed that the dangerous game he was playing would leave Olivia vulnerable to the attentions of a cunning villain--one who wants to possess the dark-haired temptress almost as much as he wants to see Anthony Caxton hang.... THE LEAST LIKELY BRIDE is Olivia--young, chronically shy, and addicted to ancient Greek literature.  As she walks on the sands of an island off the coast of England, her nose buried in a book, she takes a fall -- and wakes up days later on what seems to be a pirate ship.  Her captor, though, is no ordinary pirate.  He possesses the skills of both a physician and an artist.  He is also the most gorgeous male Olivia has ever encountered.  Most disconcerting of all, when he looks at her, he sees--not the stammering, hopelessly bookish young girl Olivia has always been--but a desirable, beautiful woman. Feather weaves together plot and passion into a mesmerizing whole that is perfect for fans of Julie Garwood.  THE LEAST LIKELY BRIDE is timed for the first Valentine's Day of the millennium--and will launch a new chapter in this author's already impressive career


Author Notes

Jane Feather grew up in the South of England, where she developed an interest in historical romance. After her marriage she moved to Oxford, where she received a Masters degree in Applied Social Studies.

Jane later moved to Montclair, New Jersey where she worked as a Licensed Clinical Social Worker until moving on again to Washington DC where she decided to take a break from social work and try her hand at writing romances. She now has more than 40 novels to her credit including the "V" series. Jane is also the author of the Charm Bracelet Trilogy, Bride Trilogy, Kiss Trilogy, Matchmakers Duncan Sisters Trilogy, Cavendish Square Trilogy, Almost Trilogy and The Blackwater Brides Trilogy.

(Bowker Author Biography) Jane Feather was born in Cairo, Egypt, and grew up in New Forest, in the south of England. She began her highly successful career after she and her family moved to Washington D.C. in 1981. she now has over five million books in print.

(Publisher Provided)


Reviews 2

Booklist Review

The third volume in Feather's Bride trilogy is set on the Isle of Wight in 1648 during the English Civil War. Olivia is walking on the edge of a cliff and falls to the beach below, only to be rescued by a man who appears to be a pirate. Although being kidnapped by a pirate is more fun than the world inside her books, Olivia learns that Anthony is more than a pirate; he is on a mission to rescue the imprisoned king of England. Because her father is in charge of the king's incarceration, Olivia knows her path is not a simple one. Feather's writing is quick, vivid, and upbeat, and she provides her readers with just enough history to set the story, nothing more. Her hero is dashing and articulate; her heroine is headstrong and intelligent and ends up saving her lover; and it all adds up to a perfect light historical romance. --Ann Bouricius


Library Journal Review

Marking Feather's hardcover debut and neatly concluding her well-received "Bride Trilogy," this sexy adventure sends scholarly Olivia Granville, the last of three friends who vowed never to marry, down a cliff, into a pirate's arms, and onto the high seas. A sheltered but surprisingly adventurous aristocratic heroine, a staunch Royalist pirate intent on rescuing the king (in direct conflict with Olivia's noble father), and a potent mixture of political intrigue, civil war, and child sexual abuse set the pages alight in this action-filled, swashbuckling tale set against the backdrop of English political turmoil of the 1640s. While the distasteful villains and some subject matter will not work for everyone, this lively, occasionally ungentle, historical will no doubt satisfy longtime fans. Feather is a popular, multipublished author of historical romances. [Previewed in Prepub Alert, LJ 9/1/99.] (c) Copyright 2010. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.


Excerpts

Excerpts

THE SUN SHONE hot and bright upon the now quiet waters of the English Channel. Olivia Granville strolled the narrow cliff path above St. Catherine's Point, for the moment oblivious of her surroundings, of the fresh beauty of the rain-washed morning after the night's storm. She bit deep into her apple, frowning over the tricky construction of the Greek text she held in her hand. The grass was wet beneath her sandaled feet and long enough in places to brush against her calves, dampening her muslin gown. A red admiral was a flash of color across the white page of her book, and a bee droned among the fragrant heads of the sea pinks. Olivia glanced up, for a moment allowing her attention to wander from her text. The sea stretched blue and smooth as bathwater to the Dorset coastline faintly visible on the horizon. It was hard now to imagine the ferocity of the storm that had wrecked the ship she could see far below on the rocks. Men swarmed antlike over her at the work of salvage. The talk in the house this morning had been all of the wreck, of how it was believed that the ship had been deliberately lured to its death by the smugglers and wreckers who had become very active on the island during the past winter. Olivia drew a deep breath of the salt-and-seaweed-laden air. The sixth winter of the civil war had been an interminable one. A year ago it had seemed it was all but over. King Charles had surrendered to Parliament and was held in London at the palace of Hampton Court, while negotiations for a permanent end to the war took place. But then the king had reneged on his parole, had broken all tentative agreements, and had escaped from Hampton Court. He had fled to the Isle of Wight, a royalist stronghold, and had put himself under the protection of the island's governor, Colonel Hammond. The colonel had proved no royalist friend to the king, instead following his duty to Parliament, holding the king an informal prisoner in Carisbrooke Castle. As a result, the protracted negotiations with Parliament had perforce moved to the island. Olivia's father, the marquis of Granville, was a leading Parliamentarian and one of the foremost negotiators, so at the end of the preceding year he had moved his oldest daughter, his nine-month-old son, and his once again pregnant fourth wife to the island. His two younger daughters had been left at their own request in the quiet Oxfordshire house where they had lived for the preceding three years under the care of their adored governess. On the island, Lord Granville had acquired a long, low, thatched-roofed house in the village of Chale, just a few miles beyond the great stone walls of the royal prison at Carisbrooke Castle. The house was cramped and drafty in winter, but at least it was outside the castle. For Olivia and her father's wife--who was also her own dearest friend, Phoebe--such accommodations were infinitely preferable to life in a military compound. The king continued to hold court in the castle's great hall, and an attempt was made to disguise the true nature of his situation, but nothing could disguise the military nature of his surroundings. Olivia had spent her first sixteen years in her father's massive fortress on the Yorkshire border, and during the early years of the civil war she had grown accustomed to a life lived to all intents and purposes under siege; but when the war had moved south, so had Lord Granville. She had grown soft, Olivia thought now, with a half smile, stretching under the sun's warmth. Her northern resilience had been eroded by the south's mild climate and gentle vistas. She was accustomed to deep snow and bitter cold, and the damp drizzle of a southern winter offered no challenges to the soul. It brought a dank chill that seeped into your bones, and the northeast wind blowing off the sea was a vicious thing indeed, but it grew monotonous rather than menacing. But here now was summer. And it was as if the winter had never been. Here were brilliant skies and the wonderful expanse of the sea. She had never before known the sea. There were moors and mountain ranges in her native Yorkshire, and winding rivers in the Thames valley that she had called home for the past three years, but nothing to compare with this wondrous sense of expansion, this vast vista where sea met sky and promised only infinity. Olivia threw her apple core far out across the headland and felt her soul lift, her spirit dance. There were sails out there, pretty white sails on lively craft. Below her, gulls wheeled and drifted on the currents of warm air, and Olivia envied them their wonderful freedom, the ability to give themselves to the current without purpose or necessity, but for the sheer joy of it. She laughed aloud suddenly and took a step closer to the edge of the cliff. She stepped into a patch of undergrowth. She stepped into nothing. THERE WAS PAIN, a confused morass of pain against which no one hurt stood out, distinguishable. There was a murmur of voices, one in particular, a quiet voice that accompanied cool hands upon her body, turning, lifting, anointing. A pair of gray eyes penetrated the dream tangle where all was confusion and fear. There was a drink of gall and wormwood that brought a muddled skein of terrifying images in the world of nightmares, things she could put no name to that writhed around her like Medusa's serpents. She fought the bitter drink, knocking away the hands that held the cup to her lips. The quiet voice said, "Just one more, Olivia," and her flailing hands were held in a clasp, cool and firm, and her head rested in the crook of an arm. With a little moan, she surrendered to a strength and a will much greater than her own, and the foul liquid slipped between her parted lips so that she swallowed in a choking gasp of distaste. And this time she sank into a dark pool, and the green waters closed over her head. The hurt receded and now there were no nightmares, only the deep, restful sleep of healing. Excerpted from The Least Likely Bride by Jane Feather All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.