“Son of a bitch.” The bastard should be shot. “What about your family?”
“They disinherited me when I married Edward. Both families refused my letters informing them of his death.”
How the devil could a parent abandon a child, no matter what the quarrel? His father had given everything to protect his children.
William’s gut tightened at the thought. Condoms were helpful but not a guarantee. If she stayed in his bed long enough, the odds were good…
“You could become pregnant,” he warned, his eyes returning to her face. Blessed Virgin, what he wouldn’t do to see Viola proud and happy, holding his babe in her arms.
“I can’t have children.”
“The fault could be in the stallion, not the mare,” William suggested, his drawl more pronounced. And this stallion would dearly love to prove his potency where another had failed, his cock caroled.
Breathe deep, boyo, let the lust fade, his brain warned. You were trained by the best and you’ll not leap upon a woman.
Viola stared at him and firmly shook her head. “All of Edward’s siblings have at least three children. No, the difficulty is entirely mine.”
He considered her slender body thoughtfully as he remembered other fragile women who’d rarely, if ever, conceived. Viola could be correct about her infertility.
More to the point, she was stubborn enough to continue insisting on this madness of becoming his mistress, no matter what arguments he mustered. Perhaps if he took her, he could sate his hunger before her inevitable departure. His cock eagerly agreed with this reasoning.
He moved to the window before speaking again, trying desperately to think. She needed to be warned about what to expect if she stayed with him.
“I have strong demands and unique tastes.” His voice was darker now. If she came to his bed, he’d play the games he loved, no doubt about it. But he’d never mastered a woman who hadn’t consented and he never would.
“And I understand you pay Mrs. Smith’s girls very well to satisfy them. I should think you would be glad to have a woman constantly available to you.” A hot flush lit her cheekbones and her pulse pounded in her throat as she licked her lips.
Blessed Virgin, she was aroused by this conversation, but did she know what he was talking about? His fist hit the rough wall. “Mother of God, Mrs. Ross, do you have any idea of what I might do with you?”
She ignored his profanity. “No, but I’m willing to learn.”
THE SOUTHERN DEVIL
Even a perfect gentleman has a little devil in him.
Once an orphaned and starving Confederate war veteran, Morgan Evans is now a wealthy man respected for both his business acumen and chivalrous Southern manners. He would be the perfect catch for any woman, but only one holds his constant attention. Jessamyn Tyler Evans has been his obsession since the time she derailed one of his spy missions by holding him hostage in her bed for days. her innocent explorations awakened a fierce hunger inside the young Morgan, and the passion and intimacy they shared frightened them both. Jessamyn spurned Morgan for his cousin, and Morgan vowed that someday he would drive her as wild with desire as she had driven him. Now Jessamyn has returned. The payback has begun…
Jessamyn has an obsession of her own: hunting for a legendary family treasure in the hills of Colorado. To do so, the spirited widow needs a husband, and Morgan Evans is only too happy to join her masquerade for a price: She must submit to being his, body and soul, surrendering herself to whatever he demands. It’s a devil’s bargain to be sure.
Their union is as treacherous as it is passionate—and the only thing they can trust. Searching for a treasure that my not exist—a treasure others would kill for—two lovers are moving deeper into unmarked territory, where no threat is more perilous than everything they feel…
He trailed his fingers slowly down her cheek, leaving tendrils of heat behind. How could he have this effect on her with just his voice and a teasing touch?
He smiled down at her, all hot eyes and white teeth. “I told you the next time we were alone, after the War, that I would do what I wanted to do with you. That you would be the one crying out in hunger and ecstasy. Correct?”
Jessamyn nodded slowly. “You did say that.”
He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She shivered, eyes fixed on his.
He kissed her forehead and nuzzled her cheek. His voice hardened subtly as he whispered in her ear. “That you’d be the one promising anything, in exchange for another touch, not me. True?”
Jessamyn swallowed hard but told the truth. “Yes.”
He lifted her chin with a single finger, his other hand lightly clasping her waist, and let her clearly see his determination. “You’re mine now. I’ve spent years studying, practicing ways to drive you insane with lust.”
Jessamyn closed her eyes, shaking, and strongly wished she knew someone else who could take her into those mountains.
He touched his tongue to her lips, teased them open. Breathed lightly into her mouth until she sighed and relaxed slightly. Sucked gently on her lips until her whole mouth was open and yearning for him. Then his tongue entered her, swirling over her teeth, teasing her tongue, twining and dancing with it.
She moaned softly and stretched up to meet his kiss, utterly absorbed. He kissed as if they had all the time in the world, as if days and weeks and months could go by while he learned the taste and shape and feel of her mouth.
THE NORTHERN DEVIL
Every woman needs a devil by her side.
Rachel Davis would rather risk death than remain a prisoner of the ruthless man intent on gaining her inheritance. Trapped on a private train with the villain, she makes a desperate bid for escape and runs into the arms of an unlikely savior. Aristocratic, arrogant, and deeply cynical about love, Lucas Grainger is her last choice for a husband—even a husband of convenience. But desperate times call for desperate measures. Taking Lucas to bed and submitting to his tender, hungry desires may be her only hope…
Lucas Grainger has sworn never to take a wife, but he’s not about to let anyone else marry Rachel. He has his own reasons for marrying the gentle, quick-witted widow, reasons she need not know. But holding Rachel night after night awakens deeper hungers than he has ever known, and a calculated marriage soon yields to a blissful, blinding—and dangerous—passion. For if Rachel knew who Lucas really was—of the dark secrets that haunt him—she’d never choose him as her protector…
Theirs is a union both erotic and enduring, and any man who tries to part Lucas from the woman he loves will have the devil to pay…
He whispered against her ear, his warm breath fanning her cheek. “It’s time for our private feast. Oysters? Cheese? Chocolate?”
He caressed her again, the barest movement of his fingertips against her jaw, his hooded gaze scorching. “Or another taste of my wife?”
She blinked and ran her tongue over her lips, even as her brain tried to come back to life. They’d never discussed what he liked to do in the bedroom. “Lucas, perhaps we could talk a little—”
He raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “Talk? Now? When we can do this instead?”
His lips claimed hers again. Unable to disagree with his logic, Rachel moaned and arched against him, her mouth opening farther, her tongue twining with his. His kisses’ rhythm swirled through her, washing away all consciousness of anything else. Her pulse began to throb softly, regularly to the same beat. Deep within her core, a soft, rich fire shimmered into life, magically linked to his lips and her breasts.
He left her mouth, to her groaned disappointment, and tasted her face, kissing her cheeks, nuzzling her forehead, delicately nibbling her nose. “You’re a passionate woman, Mrs. Grainger, and a very sweet one. I need to taste every inch of you.”
And turn the page
for a sneak peek at Diane’s next book,
KISSES LIKE THE DEVIL
Coming in February 2009….
Doors slammed below and the train’s first pass
engers began to spill into the square, gaily bargaining for a ride to the town’s more upscale districts.
Morro woofed deep in his throat and rose, wending his way between the two humans to look over the balcony.
A single man stepped out of the station, isolated by a swirl of travelers. He was tall and broad-shouldered, clad entirely in black. His broad-brimmed hat readily identified him as an American, a rarity here in Eisengau despite its famous summer music festival and military maneuvers. His clothes were well-made yet neither dandified nor a uniform. Straight black hair brushed his collar and his skin was tanned golden brown from the sun, something seldom seen amid these stone walls. His blade-sharp nose, high cheekbones, and stubborn jaw could have been carved by a master sculptor.
He paused on the top of the steps to look around, graceful as a hawk scanning a meadow, yet utterly unselfconscious. His brilliant blue eyes flashed over the crowd like light passing through the finest stained glass—and lingered briefly on the old pension, where Meredith stood. Her breath caught in her throat. How many newspaper articles about American adventurers had she devoured? How many cheap novels about men like him had she bartered for? And to finally see one in the flesh…
Morro thrust his muzzle between the banisters and took a long, considering sniff.
Despite any claim to logic, Meredith opened her mouth to hail the American.
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