Simply Irresistible by Kate Pearce Page B

this time.”
    â€œThen perhaps for the first time in our lives we are even,” Val said softly, and kissed him back.

A wounded soldier and a rector’s daughter discover strange
goings-on in the sleepy village of Kurland St. Mary in
Catherine Lloyd’s charming Regency-set mystery debut.
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    Major Robert Kurland has returned to the quiet vistas of his
village home to recuperate from the horrors of Waterloo.
However injured his body may be, his mind is as active as
ever. Too active, perhaps. When he glimpses a shadowy
figure from his bedroom window struggling with a heavy
load, the tranquil façade of the village begins to loom
sinister . . .
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    Unable to forget the incident, Robert confides in his
childhood friend, Miss Lucy Harrington. As the dutiful
daughter of the widowed rector, following up on the major’s
suspicions offers a welcome diversion—but soon presents
real danger. Someone is intent on stopping their investigation.
And in a place where no one locks their doors, a series of
thefts and the disappearance of two young serving girls
demands explanation . . .
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    As Robert grapples with his difficult recovery, he and
Lucy try to unearth the dark truth lurking within the village
shadows, and stop a killer waiting to strike again . . .
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    Kate Pearce doesn’t just write sizzling historical erotica!
She also writes historical mysteries as Catherine Lloyd.
Please turn the page for an exciting sneak peek of her
first Kurland St. Mary Mystery
DEATH COMES TO THE VILLAGE
now available wherever print and ebooks are sold!
    Chapter 1
    February 1816
Kurland St. Mary, England
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    â€œDamnation!”
    Major Robert Kurland jerked awake from his uneasy half-sleep to the hoot of a barn owl and glared out into the darkness, his breathing uneven, his mouth dry.
    When he was able to walk, he was going to take a gun out to the woods and slaughter every nocturnal creature that had disturbed his sleep for the past few months. Selfish, perhaps, but when sleep was as precious to him as water to a dying man, completely justified.
    He levered himself upright against his pillows, aware of a fresh pain pounding in his head and the now familiar dragging ache of his broken leg. Foolishly, he’d instructed his valet to leave the curtains open, and now the entire landscape beyond his windows was bathed in moonlight. His gaze turned to the black bottle of laudanum and glass of water on his nightstand. He could dose himself, slide back down onto the warmth of his bed, and sink into oblivion....
    It was tempting. But despite his doctor’s advice, Robert was reluctant to take too much of the opiate. Its siren call dulled his senses and made him forgetful and quite unlike himself. Resolutely, he turned his attention to the problem at hand. He would never get back to sleep unless he closed the curtains. The old clock on the mantelpiece wheezed and struck twice. If he rang the bell, Bookman would come, but it seemed wrong to disturb the other man’s rest. He would simply have to manage for himself.
    Robert drew back the covers and studied his bandaged and splinted left leg. If he’d been a horse, they would have shot him, rather than painstakingly trying to reset his shattered bones. Sometimes during the last hellish months, he wondered if that would’ve been for the best. Even after all this time, his leg was still pretty damn useless. He used his upper body strength to pivot and placed both his feet on the floor. Even such a small effort made him sweat and curse like the lowest class of soldier he’d commanded.
    He grabbed hold of the dresser next to his bed and lifted himself upright, carefully placing the majority of his weight over his right side. It wasn’t that far to the windows, and there were plenty of objects he could use to support himself along the way. Part of him was revolted by the spectacle he made, dragging his wounded body around. The rest of him