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  Critical acclaim for the marvelous romances of Jude Deveraux

  The Summerhouse

  “Deveraux is at the top of her game. . . . [She] uses the time-travel motif that was so popular in A Knight in Shining Armor, successfully updating it with a female buddy twist that will make fans smile.”

  —Booklist

  “Entertaining summer reading.”

  —The Port St. Lucie News (FL)

  “[A] wonderful, heartwarming tale of friendship and love.”

  —America Online Romance Fiction Forum

  “A wonderfully wistful contemporary tale. . . . With New York Times bestselling author Jude Deveraux, one thing that’s guaranteed is a happy ending.”

  —Barnesandnoble.com

  “Thought-provoking, entertaining, and downright delightful.”

  —Amazon.com

  “Jude Deveraux’s writing is enchanting and exquisite in The Summerhouse.”

  —BookPage

  “Once again, Deveraux gives us a book we can’t put down.”

  —Rendezvous

  “Jude Deveraux takes a fascinating theory and runs with it....A very compelling and intriguing story.”

  —Romantic Times

  Temptation

  “An exciting historical romance that centers on the early-twentieth-century women’s rights movement. . . . Filled with excitement, action, and insight. . . . A nonstop thriller.”

  —Harriet Klausner, Barnesandnoble.com

  “[A] satisfying story.”

  —Booklist

  “Deveraux[‘s] lively pace and happy endings . . . will keep readers turning pages.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  High Tide

  A Romantic Times Top Pick

  “High Tide is packed full of warmth, humor, sensual tension, and exciting adventure. What more could you ask of a book?”

  —Romantic Times

  “Fast-paced, suspenseful.... [A] sassy love story.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “Exciting. . . . Fans of romantic suspense will gain much pleasure.”

  —Midwest Book Review

  “[A] fast-paced escapade . . . as mysterious and sultry as the Everglades themselves.”

  —BookPage

  “Jude Deveraux not only keeps you guessing but mixes crime and human morality with humor in the most unexpected moments.... [A] fantastic read.”

  —Rendezvous

  The Blessing

  “Plenty of romance, fun, and adventure . . . fans won’t be disappointed.”

  —San Antonio Express-News

  “[A] fun and entertaining love story. . . . A must for Deveraux fans.”

  —The Advocate (Baton Rouge, LA)

  An Angel for Emily

  “All sorts of clever turns and surprises. Definitely a keeper....Wow!”

  —The Philadelphia Inquirer

  Legend

  “First-rate reading. . . . Only Jude Deveraux could mix romance with tongue-in-cheek humor and have it all come out so perfectly right.”

  —Rendezvous

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  Prologue

  BENDING OVER THE CHILD, the woman began to ask her questions. What had she done that day? Had she told the truth? Who had she seen? What had she learned that day?

  All in all, it could have been a scene in any of a million homes, but there was a difference here.

  The room itself was plain, sparsely furnished, no soft, cuddly toys, no dolls, no games. There were iron bars on the windows. There was a desk with neatly arranged books, papers, and pens on top of it. There was a small bookcase against one wall, but there were no childish titles in it. Instead, the books were about runes and symbols, about Druids. And there were many books on women of the past who had conquered countries and ruled nations.

  Three of the walls were covered with displays of weapons: old ones, new ones, knives, swords, weapons that needed gunpowder. They were arranged in perfectly symmetrical patterns on the walls, in circles and diamonds, rectangles and squares.

  Over the child’s narrow bed was an enormous painting based on the tower card of the tarot deck: the card of death.

  After a few minutes of questioning, the woman sat on a chair by the child and, as she did every night, she started to tell her the bedtime story. She told the same story every night, never varying it by so much as a line, because she wanted the child to memorize the story and to learn from it.

  “Once upon a time,” the woman began, “there were two sisters, one named Heather, and the other one named Beatrice. Actually, they weren’t really sisters, not by blood. Heather’s father had died when she was twelve, and Beatrice’s mother had died when she was only two. When the girls were both thirteen years old, their parents married each other, and Beatrice and her father (who had been alone together for a long time) moved into the house that Heather’s rich father had left to his wife and only child.

  “But even though the girls were only three months apart in age, they were very different. Some unkind souls (and there were a lot of them in that little town) said that Heather had received everything, while Beatrice had received nothing. And it did seem that way. Heather had beauty, brains, talent, and even a bit of clairvoyant power that she had inherited from her great-great-grandmother. It wasn’t enough psychic ability to make her a freak, just enough to put her in demand at every party. Heather could hold someone’s hand, close her eyes, and tell the person his or her fortune—which was always good. If Heather ever saw anything bad in someone’s future, she kept it to herself.

  “On the other hand, Beatrice was quite plain-faced, of average intelligence, had no known talent, and certainly no psychic abilities.

  “All through school people loved Heather and ignored Beatrice. In their final year in high school, Heather went to France on a school trip, and she returned a different person. Whereas before she’d been a friendly, sociable young woman and had dated many boys, after she returned from France, she would lock herself in her room for hours at a time and she turned down all invitations. She gave up the lead in the school play; she stopped taking singing lessons. And she stayed away from boys as though they were the enemy.

  “Whereas other people thought it was commendable for Heather to become so studious, Beatrice thought it was just plain odd. Why would her sister, who had everything that Beatrice dreamed of having, give it up? Beatrice asked her sister what was going on. ‘Boys can’t be trusted to behave themselves’ was the only answer that Heather would give before she slipped back into her room and locked the door. Beatrice thought this was a very strange answer because she didn’t want the boys to behave, but then she was never asked out. ‘Too weird’ is what the boys said about Beatrice.

  “So one day, Beatrice decided to find out what was going on. When she knew that Heather was alone in the house, Beatrice ran in the front door screaming that their dear mother had just been run over by a truck and was right now bleeding to death in the emergency room of the hospital. As Beatrice knew she would, Heather ran out of the house, grabbing the keys to her stepfather’s car (he took the train to work), and drove off in a flurry of gravel and tears. Of course Heather hadn’t taken the time to lock her bedroom door, so Beatrice knew that she would have a long, uninterrupted opportunity to see what was so very interesting in her ‘sister’s’ room.

  “After an hour of searching, Beatrice had found nothing particularly interesting or new—and Beatrice knew everything in Heather�