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The Merchant's Bride

[ON HIATUS!!!!] What are the chances that a selfish, spoiled and arrogant daughter of a noble man in the little town of Griffinwald would fall head over heels in love with a foreigner, an affluent merchant who bathes in the very waters of pride, arrogance and bloated ego? What are the odds that the universe would plan their meet in the most dramatic way; a missing handkerchief flying off with the wind; Scared horses whinning loudly in the distance, a banging thunderstorm is the grand plan. What if this merchant has travelled this far to seek out a certain girl who should become his bride, only to land his heart in another woman's bosoms? ___________ EXCERPT ____________ "The housekeeper is not," said she. "And I am not dumb enough as you think. I can figure my way out of here." "You can?" "Yes, I can." "Hm." Rochester travelled his hand up to his lips. Bussing his mouth sensually with his thumb, he felt his lips divide. Hoping it would have the desired effect on the girl, he said, "I am still confused. Why haven't you left here already? Is there perhaps something else you would need me to do for you? Want to warm my bed perhaps?" "You are disgusting, sir! And I hate you!" Louisa yelled, and in a couple of sprints, she was outside his chamber, shutting the door with a slam. ====== PS. This book is set in thesame fantasy world as my other book, "The Dark Lord's Maiden." You could add up the other book to binge read up to the latest chapters to understand the personality of these characters. But then again this book can also be read as a stand-alone, apart from TDLM. NOTE BELOW! The first chapter has been renamed “Prologue [Silver blue] ” and the former content has been changed. Please clear cache or re-add to Library if you cannot access it. Cheers! And happy reading COVER ART BELONGS TO ME. DO NOT STEAL! ínstαgrαm hαndlє: @nαncчjímσffícíαl fαcєвσσk @ Nαncєє Jímí fα¢євσσк ραgє @nancy writes

Nancy_Jim · 历史言情
分數不夠
207 Chs

Devilish

THOMAS IS NOT YOUR CHILD.…

The full-blown tubby woman halted in her stride. Her stumpy feet withered in her shoes. The heat barrelling below her skirt, and trickling down her thighs wasn't an actual discomfort. It was the churn in her stomach and the ache in her throat that made her want to scream out loud. Not at the clean grasses twirling about her heels, nor the view of the hard workers breaking their backs in that hour tilling the soil. She wanted to bark at the world. At life. Dammit! She was in fact a barren woman. Fruitless. Well-stricken in age. And having no use. That bit was true about her life. Louisa had not told a lie regarding what she said.