Read An Excerpt

by Isobel Carr

Genre: Georgian Period, England, Historical Romance

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Livy sat down on a rock beside the pool and pulled off her gloves. She dangled her fingers in the water and splashed it onto her wrists before patting damp hands on her neck. Droplets raced down her chest, disappearing into the bodice of her gown. Roland swallowed thickly as his erection grew almost painful.

“At least dip your feet in.” Roland pushed off his rock and swam back to the center of the pool. “You can’t really mean to forgo such a small pleasure? ”

Olivia eyed him as he treaded water.

“Shall I promise not to look at your naked feet? ”

She burst into laughter, shaking her head. “I’m afraid I’ll have to allow you to do a great deal more than look.”

Devere stared up at her, clearly not understanding. Yet another privilege of being male. Livy extended one foot and gestured toward it. “My stays don’t allow me to unlace my own boots.”

He struck out toward her, and Livy simply stood and stared. The water didn’t obscure much of his powerful form as it sluiced over him. Wide shoulders, arms as finely muscled as those of the laborers who scythed the lawns at Holinshed, and what she couldn’t see now, she remembered all too well from watching him greedily as he disrobed. Long legs, a taut stomach, and a member that even at rest was larger than those she’d seen depicted on ancient statues or pottery. She’d never seen her husband naked in the light as she just had Devere, but she was sure Souttar hadn’t looked anything like him.

Devere stopped at the water’s edge and reached for her, fingers dripping, skin glistening in the light. When Livy didn’t move, he propped his chin on his fist and simply watched her.

“I didn’t say I was going to let you play Abigail.”

“Didn’t you?”

Livy let his question hang in the air. This was a mistake. She could feel it. But the excitement pulsing through her urged her closer to the water. Devere’s hand snaked out and wrapped around her ankle. He pulled himself partially out of the pool as he unlaced her boot. Rivulets of water ran down his back, defining every line of muscle and bone.

This was what it felt like to be wanton. She was sure of it. Her skin burnt where he touched her. The dull ache that pulsed in her womb intensified until it almost hurt. She’d never anticipated her husband’s touch the way she did Devere’s, had never wanted him to come to her so badly that her hands shook as they did now.

Devere unhooked her garter with a skillful flick of his thumb and slid her stocking down. She lifted her foot, and he pulled the length of silk free. Livy swallowed hard, ignoring the clamor of alarm that sounded dimly inside her. He might be the predator, but she still held the whip. He’d go only as far as she let him...