Katherine Archibald is in search of a grand adventure. A young woman in late Victorian England, she wants to open up a book store in London and travel Europe hunting down rare books. Love isn't on her map.
Enter Matthias Duma. The Hungarian count captures Katherine's attention like no other man before him with his unusual gold-malachite eyes, his exotic features, and his command of the night sky.
After a night of intrigue during Katherine's birthday, she discovers the map does include love in the legend, but will the map lead her to Budapest and the dark, brooding Hungarian she's just met?
The door squeaked open and Katherine peeked over the top of her book. A tall, muscular man walked in wearing a white button-down shirt and holding his blazer. He paused, as if surprised to find her, and then walked toward the window, his stride easy. He moved with wolf-like prowess, his long legs taking cool, calculated steps as his unusual eyes surveyed her. Katherine bit the inside of her lip, returning his measured perusal with one of her own. His silence was unnerving, yet intriguing.
His eyes drew her to him -- malachite green with a gold ring around the iris. Dynamic. Expressive. Even now, as he looked at her, they softened and grew translucent. He stopped in front of the window and casually threw his blazer onto a nearby chair as if he owned the room.
"Hello," he said.
"Hello."
"You're staring."
"I am? I thought you were staring at me."
He chuckled. "Perhaps I was admiring you."
"Me?"
"Who else is here?"
Katherine pursed her lips as her insides warmed from the deep silkiness of his voice. He smiled and walked to her chair, slowly gliding around it, tracing his finger over the leather headrest, skirting her curly hair.
"What's your name?" he asked.
"And who is inquiring?" She tried to sound cool and composed, but she had to fight the nervous temptation to play with her hands.
"Romeo, perhaps?"
"Then my name is Juliet."
A teasing smile graced his lips as he walked out from behind her chair and glanced at a bookshelf before turning to look at her again.
"Would you fall for Tristan?"
"Only if my name were Isolde."
He walked over to a wooden table near the window and ran his long finger over a clay mock-up of Excalibur lodged in a stone. "What do you think of Arthur? Do you think it suits me?"
"Only Guinevere would believe your name was Arthur."
He crossed his arms, his eyes sparkling in the sunlight. "Would you believe my name was Matthias?"
"I might, if--"
"If what?"
"If I knew more about you."