Surrender to the Devil by Lorraine Heath

Author:Lorraine Heath [Heath, Lorraine]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
Published: 2012-02-05T17:40:32+00:00

She shook her head to clear it, got up from her desk, and strode across the room. She snatched the cloak hanging near the door and draped it around her shoulders before closing her door and striding down the hallway to the far end.

Once outside, she lifted her skirts and headed toward the nearby coach, where the footman stood beside the closed door that bore the ducal crest. Without a word he opened it and assisted her inside.

Disappointment rammed into her when she realized Greystone wasn’t waiting for her, that she would be traveling alone. The footman must have delivered the message. Warmer inside than she’d anticipated, she realized a heated brick was resting on the floor. Of course, Greystone would have insisted she travel in comfort. He was thoughtful in that regard.

With a sudden lurch the coach took off. Vanity slapping at her, she wished she’d taken a moment to freshen up, perhaps to change her dress and unpin her hair.

If she took it down now, without a brush in hand, she’d look like the very devil when she arrived. Why did she care anyway? What did it matter what he thought?

But it did. The part of her that longed to be desired wanted him to see her as the woman she could be—not the woman that each of Feagan’s lads saw when they looked at her. They loved her, yes. They cared about her. But they didn’t desire her.

While Luke had offered for her hand in marriage, she was fairly certain that he’d never actually envisioned bedding her. And Jim. Now and again, he dropped his armor and she saw how much he wanted her, but it was in the same manner that a child might want a puppy—to care for and look after. Not to share trials, tribulations, joys, and sorrows with. And certainly not to get lost with in wild, sexual abandon.

None of them had ever looked at her the way Greystone did—as though he would like nothing more than to slowly peel the clothes from her body. She knew how talented his mouth and hands could be, and she envisioned him using them to elicit even greater pleasure, envisioned them lying in a tangle of naked limbs.

As she grew unbearably hot with her thoughts, she wished they hadn’t put a warming brick in the coach. Pressing her cheek against the glass, she welcomed the coolness against her skin. She didn’t want to arrive with her cheeks flushed.

All of a sudden she didn’t want to arrive at all. What if she no longer had the strength to resist him?

But it was too late. The coach came to a halt, and she realized that they were going to take her in through the front, not usher her in through the servants’ door as though her arrival was to be kept secret. Did this action mean that he held respect for her? Or did he care so little for her reputation that he didn’t care who saw her

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