One bashful lady discovers her dashing husband might be a traitor to their country.
Desmond Rawlington, Marquess of Dunsmore and seductive charmer, needs a Delacorte sister as a wife. When the eldest elopes, Desmond marries Ainsley only to find himself falling in love with the enchanting young woman, despite her quirky habit of hiding behind draperies.
Lady Ainsley Delacorte, the shyest person anyone has ever met, is nervous around servants, overwhelmed by the ton and forced into marriage. Her reluctance fades with her husband’s sinfully romantic touch, but she can’t forget he’s involved in a traitorous plot to return Napoleon to power.
When Ainsley is caught with an incriminating letter she stole from her husband, Desmond intervenes. Will they face the gallows or can love save them?
EXCERPT:
Desmond wasn't sure why he wanted her to like him. The marriage plans were for him to gain acceptance by the Prince Regent.
Ainsley moved closer. The scent of her surrounded him. As he watched her overcome fears, her attraction to him became apparent. Her mouth closed in on his and he shut his eyes, wishing with all his soul to have the cautious little snail came out of her shell.
"I've heard a kiss would make a hurt feel better." She brushed her lips against his.
He had awoken something in her. She kissed lightly, like a butterfly perches on the most delicate flower.
"M'lord, you won't have to duel with anyone. You have been the only one to kiss me. Teach me how to kiss you."
He could have died with her endearing words. Cocking his head, he slanted his mouth over hers. The flavor of her breath charged into him, and for the first time, she participated in the art of kissing.
"Ainsley," he spoke softly and cupped her cheek. "You already know how to kiss me."
She lowered her lashes while offering her smile.
He pulled her back for another taste. This time her tongue slid into his mouth. He gave her free reign to explore to her heart's content and it made him want her with a greater urgency than before.
Desmond kissed her face, down her neck to her shoulder. He tugged the gown over the edge and nibbled her dainty shoulder.
"M'lord?"
Did she think he'd stop when they were this close to consummating their relationship? His blood pulsed through his veins, thumping in his chest as if his heart were to explode. His need to free her of clothing became critical.
"M'lord?" She tried getting away.
"Don't be afraid." He held her tighter while fighting the pain in his body and ignoring the pounding in his head.
"But, m'lord, it's…" She turned her face away.
"Call me Desmond," he urged as he nibbled at her ear.
The drumming vibrations continued and he soon realized his body wasn't making the sounds. Someone hammered on the dressing-room door and his gaze followed Ainsley's.
