Lawrence leaned back against the closed door, pausing to reflect over what had just happened. He had made love to Zehra, and it had been Lord, it had been unlike anything he'd ever felt with any woman. He had been focused solely on her pleasure, showing her how intimacy between a man and woman should be. And yet she'd been the one to teach him things. Like how staring into her eyes as she came apart was like watching a sunset over a lake: brilliant blue water bathed in gold light. It consumed him, drowned him in its ecstasy. She'd been so open with herself that he hadn't been able to maintain his emotional distance as he did with past lovers. Being with her, even just holding her in his arms, made him want to tell her a thousand things and to ask her just as many questions. For the first time in his life, he was fascinated by someone in a way he couldn't get enough of. That was why he dragged himself away from the bednot for food, but to clear his head.I cannot let myself get att
Zehra slept for much of the coach ride back the following morning. Lawrence was to blame. He had spent all night making love to her. She had collapsed near dawn from sheer exhaustion. It was true, one could have too much of a good thing. She nuzzled his shoulder as the coach rolled to a stop."Are you awake?" His tender voice made her want to sigh and burrow deeper into his arms."If I say no, can you have the coachman take us back to Richmond?" she asked drowsily.Lawrence's laugh warmed her to her toes. "Don't tempt me, darling. I'd like that more than you, I'd wager. Why don't I take you straight to bed and let you rest?" He brushed the backs of his fingers over her cheek, and she smiled."That sounds nice, as long as you join me. No more separate rooms.""No more separate rooms," he agreed. For a moment they simply stared into one another's eyes, their faces close enough for a kiss. In that moment Zehra felt that she could have wanted nothing else in life, except to be with hi
Emily St. Laurent, the Duchess of Essex, sat in the drawing room of Lord Denbruck's townhouse in Mayfair, sipping tea. Beside her, Horatia and Audrey were also holding teacups. Lord Denbruck, an older man who still bore the vestiges of his handsome features, had been delighting the ladies with tales of his youth."My lord," Emily said at an appropriate lull in the conversation. "The portrait behind youmay I ask who that is?" She nodded politely at a beautiful woman with blonde hair painted in a green gown, leaning against a pillar covered with English ivy. The woman was Zehra's mother, Joan, she was sure of it. The resemblance in the eyes was uncanny. Even though Zehra was dark-haired and olive-skinned, there was no mistaking those eyes."That's my daughter, Joan." Lord Denbruck gave a world-weary sigh. "I have two other children, Elizabeth and Archibald. Joan was my eldest." He chuckled, though it held more sorrow than humor. "I swore never to have favorites, but damned if she wasn'
Avery met Zehra halfway across the ballroom and gripped her by the arm. She flinched, not from pain, but from the memory of the night the auctioneer had grabbed her the same way. Not as a person, but as a thing."Avery, you cannot do this!" Lawrence said, his tone full of fury and panic. "If you send her back, Zehra will face slavery again."Avery shook his head. "I assure you, the slavers are dealt with, both here and abroad. And I warned you this had to be done.""Yes, in a week," Lawrence fired back. "That time has still not passed. Why this sudden entrance? Were you not content to have this concluded peacefully? You required some grand show of force? Why?"Avery's face hardened. "Matters have changed, brother. The Persian ambassador has been informed about what happened at the White House, and in his outrage he has demanded a swift resolution to the affair. Somehow he learned that you were in possession of one of these women, and he insisted we take action immediately."Lawren
Lawrence stood at the back of the crowded assembly room, watching the most beautiful woman in the world descend the steps to the main dance floor. There was no sorrow in her eyes, no hint of the pain she'd endured. The man who had hunted her in London, Al-Zahrani, was at the bottom of the ocean after a sea battle with Ashton Lennox's merchant fleet. Zehra was safe. Now and forever."Miss Darzi!" Her name was announced by the master of ceremonies, and the crowd erupted in applause."Can you believe it? Denbruck's granddaughter?" a lady in front of him murmured to a friend. "She's a princess, you know.""Indeed. Persian royalty, they say," her companion replied. "True exotic beauty. No debutante this season will stand a chance against her. Thanks heavens my daughter is already married." "I heard she was sold into slavery but was rescued by a gentleman here in England!" the first woman whispered scandalously. Lawrence tensed, expecting to hear them condemn her.Her friend shuddered.
BOOK SIX: The Earl of PembrokeGillian Beaumont knew the day was bound to be full of trouble. As she worked to tame the curls of her mistress's hair, she fretted over the wicked gleam in Audrey Sheridan's eyes. Gillian was used to this mischievous glint, but today it seemed doubly intense, and the way her lips curled at the ends in a little smile added to Gillian's worry even more. The last time she had looked that way, Audrey had been chasing a rogue around a sofa, demanding to be kissed."There you are, my lady." Gillian finished putting the last pin in her mistress's hair.Audrey's brown eyes twinkled as she met Gillian's gaze in the mirror. "Perfect. I have to look my best today. The League is coming over for tea in an hour and" A delicate blush bloomed in her cheeks."And Mr. St. Laurent will be there?" "Er I suppose so," Audrey replied vaguely. Gillian was all too aware of how her mistress felt about that particular gentleman. He was a fine man with green eyes and sun-kis
James Fordyce was under a spell. It was as though some enchantress had stepped into Madame Ella's dress shop and cast a glittering web of light over him. The moment he accidentally pulled back the dressing room curtain and saw her, it was as though no other woman had ever existed before or after in his mind. He was an admitted rogue who'd done things that would make his father blush were the man still alive, yet this woman had made him feel like a lad of seventeen, giddy and gawkish as he gazed at her like a moon-eyed calf.He'd lost all rational thought when he glimpsed her bare shoulders and back. Pale creamy skin was exposed by the open gown from her neck down to just above a delightfully rounded derrière. He'd had to restrain his baser instincts to grip her hips and pull her back against him.Once he'd caught sight of those soft gray eyes, he was lost. They were as pale as morning mist covering a field of bluebells. When he gazed deep into her eyes, he had the strangest feeling h
Gillian couldn't breathe. James was reading a torrid part of a novel in public, and she was mortifiedand she didn't want him to stop. It had nothing to do with the story and everything to do with his hypnotic voice. Her heart was racing, and she could only stare at James's lips in utter fascination. So this was what it felt like to long for a manand it was indeed a longinga wicked one."Shall I continue?" he asked again, moving closer. Gillian glanced around the little bookshop. They had wandered into a dim corner as they talked where no one could see them. Her heart gave another wild set of beats as she licked her lips nervously."You shouldn't do that," he cautioned her gently as he closed the book and set it on the shelf ledge by his hip."Do what?" She tried to back up, but her bottom hit a shelf behind her."Lick your lips. It makes a man wonder how you taste, how you feel" He reached up, cupped her cheek, and stroked the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip. The touch burned