Katherine Langford is in London ready to make her debut to society when she discovers that the home next door is being rented by the "Murderous Marquess" Hayden Rowling. Always impulsive, Katy decides to sneak over and take a peek at the notorious M...
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His face was both terrible and irresistible, it's dark beauty reflecting the blackness of his soul...
Although the candlelight cloaked his face in shadows, there was no mistaking her captor for a manservant. Above his scuffed Hessians, he wore only a form-fitting pair of black trousers, an unbuttoned waistcoat, and a cream-colored lawn shirt, collarless and open at the throat. Only a gentleman would dare to be so careless in his dress. The rich aroma of bayberry wafted from his skin, mingling with the intoxicating warmth of the wine on his breath. He stood nearly a foot taller than Katy, his broad shoulders blocking the moonlight.
"Damn that Tristan anyway! I suppose this is his idea of discretion— sending you around the back of the house to skulk about the bushes like a burglar." His voice was silky, yet gruff, managing to soothe and incite her rioting senses in a single stroke. "Thank God I gave the servants the evening off."
"Y-y-you did?" she stammered, keenly aware that she'd never been alone with any man who wasn't a servant or relation. Nor had any man dared to handle her with such shocking familiarity. Although his grip had gentled, he showed no sign of relinquishing her wrist.
His thumb grazed her madly skittering pulse. "At least there won't be any witnesses."
"There w-w-won't?" Katy echoed, beginning to feel like her aunt Mercy's parrot.
Her prolific imagination immediately began to conjure up several dark scenarios for which a man would prefer there be no witnesses. Most of them involved strangulation and Karina weeping over her mottled corpse.
His fingers weren't long and aristocratic, as she'd imagined, but blunt, powerful, and lightly dusted with calluses. As he chafed her icy hands between them, she tried not to envision them fixed around her throat.
"You're shivering. You shouldn't have lingered so long in the damp, you silly little fool."
Normally, Katy would have taken loud vocal exception to her intelligence being questioned, but at the moment, she was questioning it herself.
"I didn't see a carriage out front. I suppose Tristan left you stranded here?" When she didn't respond, he shook his head. "I knew he was up to no good. And to think that meddling rapscallion had the nerve to accuse me of having no manners. Well, there's no help for it, is there? You might as well come with me. There's a fire laid in the study."
He secured the window with brisk efficiency, then retrieved a silver candlestick from a cherry wood occasional table. Katy recognized the elusive flame she'd seen bobbing past the windows. As he started from the room, she hesitated, knowing this might be her last chance to bolt. But it might also be her last chance to taste adventure before settling down to a steady diet of tedium. If she stayed, what a tale she would have to tell Karina! Provided she survived, of course.
