Love Letters From a Duke by Elizabeth Boyle

Author:Elizabeth Boyle [Boyle, Elizabeth]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, Romance, General, Historical
ISBN: 9780060784034
Google: jok0fvkYchYC
Amazon: 0060784032
Publisher: Avon
Published: 2007-08-27T16:00:00+00:00

Worse than I already am? Felicity thought as she hurried into the house on her still unsteady legs.

Whatever had she been thinking, letting this all-too-handsome man pull her so close? She hadn’t even fought him or resisted. At least not before it was too late.

Instead, her body had traitorously leaned toward his warmth, her tongue wetting her lips in anticipation of his kiss. And kiss her he had, leaving her breathless and wavering inside her sensible boots. Oh, the moment his lips had claimed hers, she’d felt lost.

Well, in truth, her first thought had been a fervent prayer that he kissed better than he skated.

And, oh, did he…

So strong and sure, he’d whispered his intent with the brush of his lips, with the tantalizing sweep of his tongue as he’d ventured forth. He’d been gentle, something she hadn’t expected. But as much as she felt safe from the moment his mouth slanted toward hers, once he’d begun to kiss her, Felicity had no longer wanted that innocent harbor.

She’d wanted to sail straight into the passion he offered, cast off the proper lines and safe anchor, and be his. To let him kiss her, and touch her, and bring this fire he’d ignited to whatever came of it.

For never had she imagined that a kiss could claim one’s heart, as Pippin swore.

Now she knew the truth.

Felicity closed her eyes and swore. In Russian. Then in Italian for good measure. Oh, this was what came of listening to Tally sigh over her French novels one night too many!

Truly, this entire muddle was all Hollindrake’s fault, she told herself. If he had just sent his card around, she certainly wouldn’t be casting herself into one of her sister’s tragic plays where the sensible and respectable young lady is led astray by the mysterious, handsome stranger.

She hadn’t even been that clichéd. No, she’d leapt into the arms of her ordinary footman.

Felicity glanced back to find him following her, those dark eyes glittering with passionate intent. No, he was no ordinary man, and there was enough mystery about him to qualify for an entire shelf of romantic tales.

Go back to him, some mad little voice inside her urged. Kiss him again.

Oh, no! She wasn’t going to do that again. Never. Ever. Right there and then she vowed to keep a fair distance between herself and Thatcher. Until Hollindrake came to take her away and she could forget the compelling enigma behind Thatcher’s dark eyes, the deep cleft in his chin, the curve of his lips, the way it felt when he…

Felicity shook off her wayward thoughts and started forward, nearly tripping over a valise in her path. When she looked up, she found the entire foyer filled with trunks and bags and packages. “Tally, whatever is all this?”

“That’s what I’ve been telling you,” her sister shot back. “If you weren’t woolgathering about whatever it was that was going on outside…” Her sister’s brow quirked upward.

“There was nothing happening,” Felicity told her.

“That isn’t what I saw,” Tally replied, but before she could go on, a voice from upstairs stopped them both.

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