Elizabeth Boyle (41 page)

“I’ll offer you some clues. She should like this,” he said, trailing the tips of his fingers from her shoulder, down her arm, and over the curve of her hip. Her playful expression urged him onward.

“And if I needed more hints?”

“She would never protest if I did this.”

His lips nuzzled at her neck, her head and neck arching back to allow his kisses full access to the tender flesh.

“Mmm …” she moaned. “I think I’m starting to see what you mean. I suppose if I were the lady you sought I might do something like this.”

Sophia’s fingers massaged his chest, raking and dividing the thick curls. Lower and lower her hands worked, until they brushed over his flat stomach.

The sensation of her touch left him spellbound. For a moment she paused right over his aching staff, as if she wanted him to beg, to plead with her to touch him there, to ease his needs. When he said nothing she passed over his groin, her fingers whispering over his thighs and down to almost his knees.

Shaking his head, Giles nipped her on the shoulder. “I don’t think the woman I’m looking for would ever tease a man so unmercifully.’’ His hands copied her earlier movements, curling around her breasts, skimming the sensitive ends, and then moving lower. His fingers worshiped her thighs in light, feathery touches, but never came close enough to give the needed touch at her core.

She tossed and moaned at his mistreatment. “I see what you mean. I think you are looking for someone a little more daring . . . perhaps a little brazen.” She yanked off his jacket and all but tore the rest of his clothes off.

He dipped his head to her breast, taking her erect nipple in his mouth, teasing it. His hand curled around her bottom, pulling her up and against him.

The sensations in her breasts spread his message through her nerves in quick, urgent waves. As he continued to lave the rough surface of his tongue over her nipple, she found herself unable to think beyond the pulsing need settling in her very core.

When his manhood rubbed against the tight curls at the apex of her thighs, she opened her legs quite willingly.

“What is it you want?” he asked in a smoky voice.

“You,” she answered, her tone urgent and tense.

His hand reached down until his fingers glided over the moist welcome of her body, which arched to meet his welcome touch. As his fingers found her center and began to stroke her, she writhed in enjoyment at the building sensations he provoked.

As she climbed higher under his gentle ministrations, his mouth reclaimed her breast, adding to the rising fever boiling though her blood.

Release. She needed release. How he did this to her, she didn’t quite understand. How he seemed to know just where to touch and how much to tease her.

Even now, as she neared the frenzied state where her vision blurred and everything focused on the places where his body met hers, he pulled back, leaving her tottering on the brink.

“Giles, don’t tease me further. I need you so badly,” she pleaded, feeling herself sliding back from that soaring pinnacle.

“Like this?” he asked, the rapid motions of his fingers guiding her back up the steep course.

“Yes . . . yes . . . no . . .” she panted, her hand reaching for him. She stroked him, mimicking his motions.

Giles groaned, the need for more than this teasing play pushing him to pull away from her. Catching her by the shoulders, he gently laid her back in the downy recesses of the mattress. Positioning himself over her, he gazed down into her eyes. She blinked once or twice, her eyes both stormy blue and lazy with passion.

She didn’t say anything; instead, she reached up with both hands and brushed back his hair. They traced a path along the edge of his face, her thumbs reaching around and following the curve of his lips, the touch gentle and exploring, as if she wanted to memorize his face.

Moistening her lips, she pulled him closer until their mouths could meet.

The moment lost all the playful teasing of their earlier play as their tongues met, loving each other in a warm, tender embrace. At the same time he slowly entered her, taking his time to move first in and then out, each time pushing himself a little deeper into her, stroking her with loving, gentle promises.

Sophia shuddered. How she loved this part of their lovemaking. With each slow thrust he told her what his heart could no longer deny: He loved her.

Rocking against his hardness, she wrapped her legs around him, pulling him closer inside her, so that she, too, could give him love with every rising motion.

Together they found the best pace, first one that gave them the quick, thrilling rush, then a slower one to enjoy the tenderness of their joining.

Sophia’s release welled up, bubbling over and taking her by surprise with its beauty, overflowing with wave after wave of relief.

She felt Giles’s body tense over her, then with several long, slow thrusts he, too, found his release, gasping for air while his seed spilled into her body.

For some time they cradled each other, murmuring soft, private words for their hearing only. Their hands retraced the earlier reckless paths, but this time with whispered, skimming touches, as if to reassure themselves that the sensations hadn’t been imagined.

Pulling back for a moment from the warmth of his arms, Sophia looked into his eyes. “Did you find her?”

“Find who?” he asked, his lips brushing over her forehead, her brows, and ending at the tip of her nose.

“The woman you seek. Did you find her tonight?”

“No,” he said with a sad shake of his head.

“No?” she asked, looking more than a little disappointed.

“I suspect it will take a lifetime to find her.”

Sophia grinned and burrowed deeper into his arms. “I can wait.”

Brazen Angel
— Lady Sophia D’Artiers plays a dangerous game of deception that pits her against the most unlikely of adversaries, her betrothed, Giles Corliss.

Brazen Heiress
— Lady Lily D’Artiers is lured into spying by her childhood love, the bold and dashing Webb Dryden.

Brazen Temptress
— Julien D’Artiers’ double life as the toast of the
ton
and an American privateer are about to collide when he finds himself face to face with the one woman who could unmask him: his wife.

One Night of Passion
— Georgie has one night to find a man to ruin her and the dashing Captain Colin Danvers comes to her unlikely rescue.

Stealing the Bride
– Stealing another man’s bride was the least of Temple’s sins, falling in love with Lady Diana Fordham was far more dangerous…

Once Tempted
– Only Robert can help Olivia clear her sullied name, yet one kiss reveals that the rogue in her arms isn’t the man she thinks he is.

It Takes A Hero
– Rebecca Tate will have to take a page from one of her own scandalous novels to keep the dashing Rafe Danvers from ruining her success.

Hero, Come Back
featuring Elizabeth’s novella, “The Matchmaker’s Bargain” – James Reyburn returned from the war a wounded man, but love has a way of healing all wounds, even a broken heart.

Something About Emmaline
– Inventing a wife was just a convenience for Alexander, until a real-life Emmaline arrives on the baron’s doorstep and in his bed.

This Rake of Mine
- Miranda Mabberly hid from society and her ruined past for seven years until fate and a bit of matchmaking put her back in the arms of Mad Jack Tremont, the very rake who ruined her.

Love Letters from a Duke
– Felicity Langley has every intention of marrying the Duke of Hollindrake until she finds her heart stolen by another, her footman.

Confessions Of A Little Black Gown
– When Thalia Langley mistakenly receives the wrong trunk, she knows better than to don the seductive black dress she finds inside.

Memoirs of a Scandalous Red Dress
– Lady Philippa Knolles has loved Captain Dashwell since the first moment he stole a kiss from her. Now she has one last chance to claim his heart.

How I Met My Countess
– The Earl of Clifton always knew that one day he’d meet his perfect countess. He just never counted on meeting Lucy.

Mad About the Duke
– Elinor Sterling wanted nothing less than a duke for her next husband until a mysterious solicitor catches her heart.

Lord Langley is Back in Town
- Lord Langley has come back to London after years in His Majesty’s service to find the only way to save his scandalous hide is to take a bride and proper Minerva Sterling is the perfectly respectable choice.

His Mistress by Morning
– An imprudent wish and a bit of magic lands Charlotte Wilmont in the arms of Sebastian Marlowe, but not at all as she’d imagined.

Tempted by the Night
– Lady Hermione Marlowe has loved the Earl of Rockhurst from afar for ages and refuses to listen to all the scandalous rumors that swirl around the rakish man. That is until an imprudent wish gives her a glimpse into the earl’s secret life.

No Marriage of Convenience
– The Earl of Ashlin needs a respectable wife and Riley Fontaine is anything but…

Elizabeth Boyle is the NY Times bestselling author of regency-set historical romance novels. Her favorites moments as an author include winning the Dell Diamond Debut, the Romance Writers of America RITA award and falling over backward into Puget Sound during a photo shoot. Having successfully hunted software pirates for a living, Elizabeth feels equally qualified to delve into the antics of rakes, spies and privateers in her writing life.

To learn more about Elizabeth and her books, please visit her website,
www.elizabethboyle.com
for story excerpts, series information, family trees, e-booklist, and fun giveaways.

Visit Elizabeth’s website:
www.elizabethboyle.com

This book is dedicated most lovingly to my mother, Tess Herlan. A daughter couldn’t ask for a more wonderful mother and mentor. Thank you, Mom, for taking us to the library every week and instilling in us a love of learning and reading, for always encouraging us to follow our dreams, and for teaching us the rewards of hard work and dedication.

And thank you most of all for being my best friend.

“I
’ll never find my way out of here with my virtue intact.” Amelia, the Countess of Marston cast a sly glance over her shoulder at her companion, Webb Dryden, who lounged nearby.

Seated on a marble bench in the secluded inner garden of Byrnewood’s old-fashioned boxwood maze, Amelia held no doubts as to why she’d been invited to explore the twisting paths. Within the dense, tall hedges, a quiet fragrant garden lay hidden, providing a welcome hideaway far from their host’s frantic household.

The late afternoon sunlight glinted off the tawny hints of gold that touched her lover’s brown hair and Amelia smiled at the handsome rogue. “What devious intentions do you have in mind?” she asked him. “Perhaps to hold me for ransom?”

Webb grinned slowly, his look promising the price of her release would hardly be monetary.

She adored the wicked way his mouth curved when she teased him. Though only three and twenty, Webb was well aware of his assets and how to use them to open doors—doors to powerful men’s secrets, and the doors to their wives’ boudoirs.

“A ransom, you say? Now that’s an idea.” He strolled toward her, looking her up and down with the assessing gaze of a rogue. “What might you have to offer that I haven’t already seen or sampled?”

Wretched beast
, she thought, acknowledging that it was his self-assured arrogance that had attracted her in the first place. Resisting the urge to poke him in the side with the sharp tip of her parasol, she peeked out from beneath its fringed edge instead. “I wouldn’t be so sure, sir. A lady of my experience always holds back a wealth of secrets. Why, I don’t think I’ve shared with you any of the truly delicious tidbits I acquired while on assignment last year in Egypt.” She glanced up to see if she’d caught his attention. “Priceless information I gained from personal visits with the Pasha. Morsels that certainly did not go in my report to the Foreign Office.”

He was feigning disinterest, studying one of the tumbling rosebushes growing near the small fountain. But she knew she had him by the way he shifted uncomfortably in his tight breeches.

“A pasha, you say,” he murmured. “Aren’t they rather old and fat?”

“Hardly.” Amelia smiled. “In fact I would guess you to be about the same age.” She continued watching Webb’s reactions as she spoke, all the while knowing that beneath his military-style, double-breasted jacket and starched white shirt lay hard, muscled limbs and a youthful ardor, not unlike the Pasha’s. “And about the same … height.” She sighed, mostly for the effect, but also in remembrance of what she definitely had not put in her report to Webb’s father, her superior at the Foreign Office.

“In the East,” she continued, laying aside her parasol, “men take lovemaking very seriously. They are introduced to sensual pursuits from the time they are young, so really any comparison to Englishmen would hardly seem fair.”

She nearly laughed as this Englishman’s brows rose.

Webb was a great lover, but she wondered if an angry Webb would be even better. And how she loved a man pushed to the point of savagery.

“So why did you bring me here?” she prompted again.

“ ‘Tis the only privacy to be found,” he grumbled, snapping a white rose from the bush and handing it to her. “Between my family and your relatives, we haven’t had a moment’s peace.”

As true as that was, Amelia knew the real reason for their hidden rendezvous—their hostess’s fifteen-year-old sister, Lily D’Artiers.

The girl was in the throes of first love, and Webb, the object of her affections was making a frightful blunder of it, in Amelia’s opinion. “What you really mean is that Lily won’t find us here. Or rather more to the point,
you
.”