BEGUILED
Book 17 of The Rakehell Regency Romance Series
Sorcha MacMurrough
Fresh up from the country to visit her brother in London, Miranda Lyons Dane gets involved in a daring prank thanks to the notoriously wanton beauty Georgina Jerome. The seemingly harmless game turns dangerous as Miranda is attacked by a cutpurse. Her rescue at the hands of the mysterious George Davenant leaves her feeling sure she is out of the frying pan and straight into the fire, for no man has ever made her feel the torrid heat of desire.
Yet George is only ever spoken of in hushed whispers, for he is reputed to be the most vicious criminal mastermind the capital has ever seen. Suddenly all of the assumptions Miranda had ever made about her life are turned upside down. George offers her the role as his leading actress in the ramshackle theatre he manages.
Despite her fears, Miranda takes the job, and finds herself growing ever closer to her enigmatic but handsome employer. George is a master of many roles and disguises, the only way he can ever keep one step ahead of the peril that dogs his heels. Miranda's entrance into his cold, hard world brings a warmth he never dared dream could be possible for a man with his dark past.
Soon the forces which have forced George to make the most hellish choices of his life threaten to take from him the woman who is coming to mean more to him than life itself. Can George save Miranda, or will the two of them be torn from each other forever?
BEGUILED
Book 17 of The Rakehell Regency Romance Series
Sorcha MacMurrough
Word count=83,300
Rating: Sensual
Buy now:
Before George could stop himself, he grasped Miranda’s skirt and began to glide it up over her thighs.
“George, what on earth are you—" she gasped, pressing her back up against the door to steady herself.
The silky material rose inexorably. “You were the dresser. There isn’t one now, and everyone has gone. And since you helped strip me bare, it’s the least I can do. No, pray hold still. I won’t touch you," he promised, somewhat rashly considering what he sure he was about to do. The blood hammered in his ears. He just had to get closer to the heat of her...
“Not unless you want me to," he amended quickly. “But I need to know what you’re wearing under this gown."
“The same as you under your toga," she said prosaically if somewhat inaccurately. “Drawers."
The champagne-coloured silk was so overwhelmingly sultry he could not help himself. Despite his promise he ran one hand from navel to mound, admiring her flat stomach, finely toned muscles, lush but slender thighs.
“Gorgeous. Simply gorgeous. Every man in the theatre wanted to do this tonight. Find out what you had on under that gown. Where did you get them?" he whispered, petting and stroking her like a fractious filly until she relaxed, closed her eyes and lolled her head back against the door.
“Milly made them for Maggie, but she wasn’t here. She offered them to me."
“Exquisite. Just beautiful. Your legs, your—" He leaned his cheek against her and breathed in. The reality was every bit as thrilling as the fantasy. Nay, more so, for she was even more incredibly lovely than his imaginings. “You are a most regal beauty from head to toe."
His hands reached around to cup her bottom lightly above and then underneath the silk. He was not in the least ashamed of his actions, though he would have been horrified if anyone had ever suspected how this tiny girl could literally bring him to his knees. He was prostrate with longing for her.
Miranda was stunned. He sounded as though... As though he really did love her! But surely it wasn’t possible. It was lust, the heat between a man and woman put into close proximity, working together on such a romantic play. It was bound to happen. It had in the case of Maggie and Hugo the former lead actors, obviously.
But what on earth was he doing? For she could feel the light bristle of his cheek through the delicate fabric. He was actually rubbing her like a cat against a table leg. Or one about to lap at a saucer of milk. My God, he was even purring!
“Tell me, tell me what you want, Miranda," his voice rumbled, vibrating through her lower body. “Anything you wish shall be yours."
This was sheer madness. George was surely the most exciting and handsome man she had ever met in her life, but he was asking her for... The impossible. She would go to hell for it, she was certain. However wonderful the delights he was offering her, with his incredibly hard maleness, his clever lips and tongue, which now began to dampen the legs of the pantalettes, adding further moisture to the torridly saturated gusset, this was wrong. But it felt so right...
PROLOGUE
Miranda Dane Lyons looked from right to left, trying to discern anything which looked familiar. It was dashed irresponsible of her friends Georgina and Kitty to take her to the seamy South Bank of the Thames and then leave her to make her own way back to the townhouse.
What a deuced awkward and not altogether enjoyable lark this had turned out to be. She was lost in London, desperately cold, and in dire need of a cab, though she was sure few ever ventured into a neighbourhood as dangerous as this.
The nineteen-year-old Miranda would have done well to have followed their example, she realised now. She gritted out a strong oath when the light from behind her was cut off abruptly, rendering the noisome alley even more murky than it had been a moment before.
At first she thought a light had been extinguished from an upper window, or a shutter closed. She slipped in something which squelched most foully and emitted a breath-stopping stench. Only when she heard the click of a booted heel did Miranda realise she was not alone.
There was something about the movement and posture of the man behind her that put her instantly on the alert. Menacing, furtive...
Perhaps it was the intensity of his gaze glinting in the dim light which filtered down the alley from the street ahead of her. Or perhaps it was the heavy soughing of his breath as he bore down upon her.
Whatever it was, Miranda gathered her cloak more tightly about her slender frame and tried to run.
But it was already too late. Her legs tangled in her skirts and she slipped on something unspeakable underfoot. Then he was upon her, and lifted her almost out of her shoes.
Too late Miranda wished she had paid more attention to her sister’s and friend’s lessons in self-defense. She knew her best chance was to grab his jewels, yank hard and twist. Her assailant knew it too—he locked his hands around both wrists and was trying to trap them behind her back.
She struggled for a moment longer, but Miranda could sense at once it was no use. If anything it was only exciting the man all the more, for she could feel a foreign object pressing into her belly as he rubbed up and down against her. The stench of his breath was enough to knock her on the flat of her back.
This wild thought gave her an idea. She pretended to sag in her captor’s arms.
At last he loosened his crushing grip. As soon as he did Miranda seized her chance, bucking wildly and kneeing him in the thigh. She had of course been aiming for his groin, but she had wounded him sufficiently to incur his ire as well as his lust.
He smashed her up against the dank wall with such force she could feel the brick crumble. He snatched her unbound dark hair and began to throttle her. Miranda could feel her whole world growing fuzzy around the edges, the darkness inexorably closing in....
BEGUILED
Book 17 of The Rakehell Regency Romance Series
Sorcha MacMurrough
Word count=83,300
Rating: Sensual
Buy now: