Synopsis They say you learn from mistakes ... but what if they're not your own?
After four Seasons and no prospects, Lady Samantha is resigned to life as a spinster. Her aunt, Caroline Fitzsimmons, Viscountess Chamberlain, insists they set sail to Italy for a tour she hopes might allow her charge to meet and marry a European aristocrat.
His mines having suffered a multitude of disasters, Ethan Range, Marquess of Plymouth, needs to secure an Italian invention to help alleviate fires.. He's none to happy to discover Lady Caroline traveling on the same ship as he is to Rome. He knows her secret and is rather incensed she's been able to hide Samantha's true past from the ton.
While taking a late-night stroll on deck, Samantha is confronted by the scowling marquess. Incensed by his assertion that Caroline is really her mother, Samantha barely has time to slap the man before a sudden storm sends a wave of water onto the ship, washing them both overboard.
Forced to save each other, the two end up as castaways on a deserted island in the Mediterranean. Although they face perils a plenty during the week they're stranded, they have far more to fear from one another than from hunger, weather, and pirates. Can the two realize the mistakes of the past are not their own? Or will their week on the island lead to more turbulence? The heart may be the best life preserver in The Passion of a Marquess.
“We need to get below deck,” Lord Plymouth announced suddenly, tearing his gaze from whatever had him spellbound only the moment before.
“What is it?” Samantha asked as she continued to stare to the west. The ship lifted again, this time higher, so that the main mast wavered above them. She had to take a step to the right to keep her balance, even though the marquess had taken her upper arm in a grip that would surely leave a bruise.
The sky to the west lit up with blue-white intensity as a lightning bolt seemed to strike the ocean.
Nearly to the stairs, Samantha was about to descend when a wave crashed over the rail and sent seawater washing over the deck. Several barrels suddenly lost their footing as the water lifted them and sent some over the side of the ship. When the wave of water hit the wheelhouse, it rolled back over the deck, grabbing Samantha and nearly upending her. Seawater poured down the stairwell as the ship suddenly tilted.
Lord Plymouth kept his hold on Samantha, jerking her away from the stairs just as the water would have caught her and probably sent her head-first through the opening.
“Hang on!” he managed to get out as he gripped a railing.
Samantha reached for anything to grab onto, one gloved hand grasping the marquess’ lapel while the other tried to hang onto the railing.
“Christ!”
The curse had Samantha following the Lord Plymouth’s startled gaze.
Damnation!
Although she was fairly sure she didn’t put voice to her own curse, Samantha Fitzsimmons would remember it for all the days of her life. For directly in front of them, a wave of monumental proportions descended on the ship. The roar was deafening. The force of the water was far more than her tenuous grip on the railing could withstand. Within a fraction of a second, she was forced to let go and move her hand to the only body she could hang onto.
That of the Marquess of Plymouth.
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