Forbidden at the Fazenda by M.J. Marleigh
This book was written by an author friend and is available for purchase.
About the Book
Forbidden at the Fazenda tells the story of Lady Evangeline “Ivy” Chandonette, a young woman burdened by a secret fear of closeness to any man, stemming from a traumatic attack she endured at seventeen. Shielding herself from love, she remained unmarried—until her family’s declining estate forced her into an impossible choice. At twenty, Ivy must save her father’s legacy by agreeing to marry Allyn Marsden, a long-time admirer, despite knowing theirs will be a loveless union.
Her predicament deepens when she follows her new husband to his coffee plantation in Brazil. Upon her arrival in Rio de Janeiro, Ivy encounters Tristão Fontes, a strikingly bold and charismatic manservant whose presence immediately challenges her guarded demeanor. Yet, Tristão is no ordinary servant; having just returned from abroad, he is determined to restore his family’s lost fortune.
Amid the loneliness of her new life, Ivy finds solace in her passion for painting. As her interactions with Tristão grow, so does a forbidden bond between them—one that stirs a passion Ivy has never known.
Now, Ivy faces a heart-wrenching choice: remain in a loveless marriage to protect her family’s estate or risk everything for the love and longing Tristão has awakened. But with scandal and ruin looming, their forbidden love could destroy everything Ivy has fought to preserve.
Where to Buy
Buy Forbidden at the Fazenda: Books2Read
Excerpt
Following a short corridor, she was drawn to the soothing sound of splashing water emanating from the grand three-tiered fountain at the heart of a lush courtyard. Rushing toward it, the taffeta of her gown rustled softly with each step, the delicate sound mingling with the click of her heels on the smooth stones beneath them. Settling onto the outer edge of the fountain, she inhaled the cool night air, finding solace in its refreshing touch.
After a few moments, she found her composure and began to survey the dimly lit corners. In one shadowy recess, she discovered a wall adorned with a wrought iron gate. Through its ornate bars, the city lights flickered like distant stars, while beyond them stretched the inky expanse of the sea, its waves seemingly beckoning her to freedom. A torrent of thoughts flooded her mind as she examined the gate. What if, somehow, she could escape her current plight?
Leave now! urged a voice from within, echoing in her mind as she paced restlessly near the fountain.
If she ran, perhaps she could make it back to the docks before the ship returned to England. There were bound to be hansom cabs nearby! Her purse had but a few coins, but she could bargain with the ship’s captain. As a daughter of an earl, she could promise him an ample reward. She’d go into hiding and never set foot near Chetwynd Manor again. That alone would break her heart and infuriate her father. Yet, the prospect of surrendering her entire life to Allyn was an unbearable torment.
Perhaps if Allyn believed she’d been kidnapped, he’d relieve her family of any obligations. But whatever the outcome, she would have to run—now!
Ivy dashed to the gate, her heart pounding with desperation. She knew that if it were locked, scaling its imposing height would be her only option. The distant clatter of passing carriages and the briny scent of the sea heightened her urgency. She pressed against the bars, but the padlocked door held firm against her efforts.
Gathering her gown, she draped the flowing taffeta and petticoats over her forearm, their fabric shimmering in the dim light. Ivy grasped the wrought iron bars as she ascended the bottom rail, unleashing a metallic clank that echoed through the courtyard, tolling like a distant bell. Vines rustled around her as she positioned her right foot into the shallow recess of the gate’s intricate scrollwork. The tight space pinched her toes painfully as Ivy struggled to adjust her foot, only to find it hopelessly wedged within the unforgiving iron design.
Her heart raced uncontrollably, the weight of time pressing down as she anticipated Allyn’s approach. With one final tug, her foot slipped free, leaving her delicate silk slipper ensnared in the crevice.
“Curse this wretched thing,” Ivy muttered, frustration tightening her chest.
Bending as gracefully as her gown’s bodice permitted, she struggled to free her slipper when a smooth, cultured voice intruded upon her efforts.
“Pardon me, Miss. You appear quite distressed. May I offer my assistance?”
Ivy turned to find a gentleman emerging from the shadows. The gas lamps cast a gentle, flickering glow across the courtyard, accentuating the deep emerald of his eyes and the sun-kissed tone of his skin, while his dark hair, artfully swept back, flowed longer than customary for a gentleman.
“I am quite well, sir,” she replied, striving to conceal her vexation. “The dining room was rather oppressive, so I sought a breath of fresh air.”
“Is that so?” He raised an eyebrow, his expression a mix of curiosity and polite skepticism.
For a fleeting moment, Ivy stood frozen, the weight of the day’s events crashing over her. From her arrival in this foreign land to the reluctant role she was expected to play as a wife to the chaos of her failed escape—it all swirled in her mind like a whirlwind. Standing before this mysterious stranger, she could not help but wonder how much he had seen and knew. A tightness gripped her stomach, but she fought to hold her composure, returning his regard with as much calm and poise as she could muster. Stiffening and drawing her shoulders back, Ivy steeled herself, ready to mask any trace of unease with polite gratitude. She had to find a way to discreetly return to her room, where she might regain her bearings and contemplate her next move.
“Indeed, I have quite recovered now, thank you,” Ivy replied, keeping her voice steady despite the subtle tremor in her fingers as she smoothed her gown.
“Incidentally,” remarked the stranger, his tone tinged with amusement, “I too sought refuge from the stifling confines of the dining room, lured by the promise of fresh air.” His emerald eyes, deep and discerning, appeared to delve into her very thoughts, enveloping her in an intensity that both intrigued and made her pulse quicken.
“It’s getting late, and I really must be going,” Ivy said, her voice steady as she adjusted the silk shawl that clung to her damp shoulders in the humid evening air. She offered a polite smile, her expression carefully controlled as she subtly shifted, eager to escape the stranger’s unwavering attention.
“And what of this?” His voice conveyed amusement as he gestured toward the gleaming burgundy object within the decorative metalwork.
This detail brought an unwelcome flush to Ivy’s cheeks, recalling her brief mishap. Feeling the mask of composure slipping, she forced herself to remain still, resisting the urge to glance away and betray the tumult simmering beneath her practiced calm.
“Oh! Yes, my slipper caught as I leaned in for a better glance at the harbor. The sea looks so tranquil under the moonlit sky,” Ivy said, her words quick as she tried to gloss over her misstep.
“Well, then, allow me to assist,” he said, his tone marked by a blend of strength and refinement. With deliberate, measured movements, he rattled the gate lightly, freeing the slipper until it fell softly to the ground. “There you are, as promised. You may resume your path.” His gaze remained, betraying an almost imperceptible curiosity, as though he were unraveling the mystery of her presence.
“You don’t strike me as the sort of young lady who would be wandering out alone at night. Nor should you,” he remarked, his tone carrying a trace of superiority.
His eyes briefly rested on the ring she wore, and Ivy sensed the shift in his demeanor before he spoke with respectful deference. “It appears you have misplaced your husband, Senhora. May I escort you inside? Perhaps he is there.”
“I am quite capable of finding my way and need neither a husband nor a stranger to guide me.” She gathered her gown and edged around him with a sharp movement, irritation simmering beneath the surface.
Upon returning to her room, Ivy experienced a fleeting sense of relief, though the familiar surroundings provided only a temporary reprieve. Shadows danced along the walls, and each creak of the floorboards intensified her anxiety, as if the very space conspired to unveil her failed escape.
Inevitably, her thoughts drifted back to the elusive stranger, his presence lingering in her mind and haunting her with the precariousness of her situation and the uncertainty that lay ahead like a darkened path.
About the Author
My journey into storytelling began in the second grade with short stories and poetry, but it was in middle school that my passion for romance truly sparked. Thanks to my lovely aunt Lora introducing me to Harlequin novels during a library trip, I became hooked on tales of love and adventure.
I’ve always been drawn to stories where passion and danger intertwine, so it’s only natural those themes appear in my writing today. Add to that my obsession with the Victorian and Edwardian eras, and you’ll find the perfect recipe for the kind of steamy, thrilling romances I love to share with you.
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