Enter to Win a Historical Romance Print Prize Pack
LADY OF INTRIGUE
SABRINA DARBY
Released Nov 9th, 2015
Entangled Scandalous
London, 1814
Lady Jane Langley values logic and reason over passion and emotion. Her intellect has given her value in the eyes of both her father and society. Logic gives way to terrible, icy fear when Jane finds herself in a devastating carriage accident... an accident in which she is helpless to do anything but watch as her aristocratic companion is murdered.
But this was no mere accident. This was an assassination. Spy and grandson of Lord Landsdowne, Gerard Badeau is methodic in his dark, shadowy work, knowing that any display of emotion could get him killed. Something about the mysterious woman and her cool blue eyes stays Gerard's lethal hand. Now he has both a witness and a hostage.
And if he doesn't kill Lady Jane Langley, he risks a fate that is far, far worse...falling in love with her.
“When I leave—”
“Jane, you know I cannot let you.”
“You say you love me. Then let me
go and trust that I will not reveal you.”
He leaned over her, cradling her
head, brought her mouth to his. The rough fabric of his shirt rubbed
against her; she parted her legs to cradle him between them, against
her, knew that she was tempting her own control, her own ability to
make either of them stop.
Lady Jane Langley. She
said her name in her head, repeated it again till the words began to
hold some modicum of meaning. Langley.
Jane. But his mouth was
everything, a world of swirling colors and rich warmth, where she
would never be cold, never be hurt, always be in the cradle of his
hands.
She broke away, burying her face
against his neck. “If you really love me, then would you not want
my love in return?” She lifted her head again, challenged him to
meet her gaze. “As your prisoner, any love I professed would be...
false.”
Distorted.
She admired him and desired him.
“I cannot
let go of you.” But
this time he was not referring to her ability to identify him. She
looked away from the tortured need of his gaze and stared at the now
dark pile of ash. She understood that agony and confusion. Her world
had upended and apparently his had as well. And though she had said
she could not give him her love, her heart ached. Somehow, as
different as they were, they had found something akin in each other,
experienced some sort of communion of the souls. It was very like
love. Perhaps it even was the seeds of such an emotion, but it didn’t
matter. She pushed herself from him, reached down, buried her hand in
soot. With her other hand, she pulled at his shirt, not caring when
she heard the tear of fabric.
“Gentle, love.” His hand stilled
hers but she slid her fingers around, took his wrist between her
fingers, and brought it to her mouth. Lips pressed to that thin,
sensitive skin where she could feel the pulse of his blood, she
lifted her other hand.
“Here,” she whispered, palm flat
against his chest. Then she lowered his hand from her mouth to her
own breast, above where her heart beat. She met his eyes, still
blinking away the wetness from her own. “In some way, you are
right. I am yours. My heart, that ephemeral space the poets call a
soul. Everything. But still, I will leave you.”
Sabrina Darby has been reading romance novels since the age of seven and learned her best vocabulary (dulcet, diaphanous, and turgid) from them. She started writing romance the day after her wedding when she woke up with an idea for a Regency. She resides in Southern California with her husband and son.
Thanks!
ReplyDeleteCrystal, Tasty Book Tours