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...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
As I caught my first glimpse of his fortress, I realized I had wed the Master of Hell himself...
As Hayden carried Katy through the inn's common room, she settled deeper into his chest and curled her arms around his neck. The innkeeper's wife, already garbed in a dressing gown and nightcap, had bustled ahead of them to light a fire in her finest chamber while her beaming husband had informed him that it wasn't every night they had the privilege of playing host to a gent and his lady. The woman was waiting in the doorway, candlestick in hand, when Hayden reached the top of the stairs. He slipped her an extra pound note to ensure they would not be disturbed until morning and she left them alone with a wink that was disarmingly girlish despite the snowy white braids that dangled to her rump.
Hayden kicked the door shut, then tugged off Katy's hat and gently laid her back on the bed they were to share. Like the rest of the inn, the quilt beneath her was faded, but clean. She sank into the feather tick with a sigh, but refused to relinquish her grip on his neck until Hayden gently reached around and unfastened her arms. Making a disgruntled face, she turned her cheek to the pillow and murmured something about French cakes and Mr. Wiggles, all without ever opening her eyes.
Hayden took a step backward, warily eyeing her fully clad form.
Perhaps he shouldn't have been so hasty to dismiss the innkeeper's wife.
It wasn't as if he was a stranger to the mysterious web of laces, buttons, ribbons, and silk that comprised a female's attire. He'd undressed his fair share of them before falling beneath Justine's spell.
Shrugging away his misgivings, he tugged off Katy's fur capelet and dainty half-boots, then slipped the pearl buttons of her carriage dress out of their moorings one by one. As he reached beneath her chemise to loosen the constricting laces of her corset, he reminded himself that he had every right to do so.
So why did he still feel like the worst sort of lech?
Despite Katy's bravado, everything about her seemed smaller than him. Her vulnerability stirred a long dormant desire to protect. He had tried to protect Justine. He had failed.
The side of his palm brushed the gentle swell of one creamy breast. His gaze drifted to her face. As he freed her from the pressure of the whalebone stays, her lips parted in a blissful sigh.
Hayden's own mouth went dry. He remembered just how sweet those lips could taste. How tender and yielding they'd felt beneath his own. He wanted to taste them again, to dip his tongue between those ripe coral petals and steal a sip of nectar.
But it wouldn't be stealing, he reminded himself grimly. He had every right to claim her kisses and so much more. There would be no overprotective guardian to stop him should he choose to slide his hand beneath the skirts of her carriage dress and seek out the narrow slit in the silk of her pantalettes. No scandal sheet reporter to denounce him for breaching both the silk and her tender body until his questing fingers coaxed forth a nectar even hotter and sweeter than her lips could provide, until her breathless sighs deepened into moans and her thighs fell apart in invitation. No gossipmongers to whisper rumors and lies about him for pushing her skirts to her waist and covering her pleasure-wracked body with his own.
