Genres: Historical Fiction
“You, m’dear girl,” he murmured, “are old enough to know better than to tempt a scoundrel.”
“I know what I am doing,” she spouted back indignantly. “I am not a child.”
“No,” he agreed easily. “You are certainly not a child.”
“Then I would expect you not to treat me like one.” Her eyes flashed, giving him a teasing glimpse of passion.
Lady Dumonte possessed passion?
Another surprise.
“Of course not.” He frowned in mock seriousness. “How should I treat you? As a lady or a mistress?”
“As a woman,” she ground out. “I am a woman!” Her lips pursed together as she glared up at him.
He smiled broadly; he couldn’t help himself.
“Ah, yes,” he agreed, looking her over as though he had only just noticed. “I believe you are.”
She took in a deep breath, pushing her breasts against the tight fabric of her bodice.
His cock jumped to attention.
“I was wrong about not liking you. I hate you!”
“And yet,” he mused with a knit brow, “you throw yourself at me like all the others. You are either in denial of your overwhelming attraction to me or a glutton for punishment. For my own complacency, I choose the former.”
Céleste shook her head slowly, her eyes narrowed and seething with anger.
“Regardless,” he continued frankly at his own peril, “you had better run along, or you may find your offer accepted, and we both know you never expected that. Your bluff has been called, Lady Dumonte. Go on home like a good girl.”
“I never bluff.”
“Never say never, m’dear,” he murmured with a purposefully wicked smile.
her heart for historical romance. After reading enough of them to fill a rather
impressive library, she decided to write her own. Now she has the pleasure of
writing at home, tucked away in a forest with her husband, two children and her
cat. Her husband is loving, and impressively patient, her two beautiful
children strive to embarrass and exhaust her, and her cat hates everyone, but
tolerates—well, she tolerates whoever will feed her.
