On October 14th, my new release The Darkness in the Marquess of Dane will be available but you can get it on sale now for only .99 cents. After that it will back to it's regular price of $2.99. Better hurry.
Here's a new blurb:
“Is deflowering
all that you expected?”
She turned away
from his mocking gaze. Dane rolled to his side beside her, slowing as he came
to rest on his back.
“I’m not afraid
of you,” she said.
“Is that what you
think this is about? That I’m trying to scare you? I have better things to do
with my time.”
She sat up in the
bed and peered over her shoulder. “I think that you have nothing better to do
than intimidate anyone who dares show you a kindness.”
“You aren’t old
enough to know that no one is kind without an ulterior motive. And, in case
you’ve forgotten, I’m paying you. Neither kindness nor fear has anything to do
with our time together. Unless I wish it.”
He swung his feet
off the bed. “Dress yourself, Miss Turnbow. I’ll send for the carriage.”
So he wasn’t
going to accept the price for which they had bargained. She couldn’t read
anything into his decision. Should she be insulted that he did not want her? Or
should she be thankful his reasons for entering into their Faustian bargain
were to remain unclear and unfulfilled?
If he was
inviting her to leave, she wouldn’t hesitate. She ignored the torn
undergarments but buttoned her short jacket. Her cape would cover a multitude
of outward sins. Her conscience would have to deal with everything else.
Dane stood at the
table, his robe still disarranged and too revealing. He had collected a metal
box that now sat before him with the lid thrown back. “Your money,” he said,
glancing at her as she approached.
He threw the
money on the table one bill at a time, giving her time to count. When he
stopped at two thousand five hundred, she said, “But you’ve already given me
five hundred.”
“Humor me.”
She reached for
the money, feeling a moment of uncertainty now that Dane’s sexual excesses
officially tainted her. Tarnished, that was what she was.
He started a
second stack that grew to five thousand pounds, the pile of money in a small
mound on the table.
“Another week,
Miss Turnbow. What do you say?”
* * * * *
Mark stood at the
library door, drink in hand, when Christina came in the front door of their
townhouse.
Looking at her
brother was more difficult than she imagined it might be—after the events of
last night.
“You look like
you could use a drink,” he said.
She did not
bother to remove her cape, instead brushing past him and walking to the
sideboard. She had never been interested in hard alcohol, preferring sweet
drinks like ratafia or lemonade. Drunkenness to the point of forgetfulness
seemed a good idea for the first time in her life. It would dull her memory temporarily,
but she thought she’d earned a few hours to disconnect from her new reality,
that of a fallen woman.
She poured the
brandy into her glass and lifted it with shaking fingers. Mark reached around
her and took the glass.
“Christina.”
She turned into
his chest and his arms went around her.
There were no
racking sobs, but the trickle of tears came. The pent up pressure crumbled
beneath her brother’s support.
“I got the
money,” she said. Before she left, Dane had stood at his table, counting out
the bills as if they were ha’pennies. And then, when he’d counted out another
five thousand, she’d almost gotten sick. His offer was untenable and no one
would ever have to know about the new offer or the twenty-four hours she had
agreed to spend with him.
“Am I the worst
brother in Christendom, allowing you to do this wretched thing?”
“I had to help,
Mark.”
“I know.”
“And you will be
happy to know I am still a virgin.”
Mark took her by
the shoulders at held her at arm’s length. “Dane? He didn’t touch you?”
She sucked in a
breath and she felt the crush of anxiety at the realization of what she had done. “I didn’t say that. He is…very
different.”
She reached for
the brandy. Mark didn’t stop her this time. Once she swallowed, the golden
elixir trailed down her throat, leaving behind a scorching reminder that she
was not a practiced drinker.
She coughed and
set the glass aside.
“Do you want to
talk about it?”
“I don’t even
know where to begin.”
“I will make this
up to you some day. I don’t know how, but I promise I will.”
“Just help John
make this right. Use this money wisely so that when I do have to give up my
virginity, it is to a man who will appreciate my worth.”
There, Imogene learns some of the ways of lady and what she doesn't know, she can mimic. Her old foes are still looking for her and when she is at her most desperate, Jack Davenport, sweeps into her life to rescue her. In exchange, she agrees to be his mistress.
