1813, London
Tory's eyes widened as she watched St. John wrench off his coat. The sight was so
reminiscent of a few days ago that she lost her ability to form a coherent thought for
the space of a moment. When she finally did, he had already finished rolling up his
crisp white sleeves.
"Before you pop a cork, my lady, let me explain something to you," he said in a low,
annoyed voice. "I am not leaving this garden until I escort you from it, so you can
either use my not inconsiderable strength to do your labor, or we can join the others
inside for breakfast."
Impotent rage beat against her skull. How dare he speak to her as if it were his right to
order her about. Her fingernails dug into the rich soil to keep from flying at him with
her claws extended. Tory slanted her calculating gaze toward St. John. She would
give up her quarterly allowance--for an entire year--to see someone scratch that
insolent smirk off his face.
"It appears I missed the ceremony," she said in a measured voice.
His dark brows caved in to form a deep V. "What ceremony?"
"Our wedding, of course," she said. "You know, my lord, the ritual that gave you
complete dominion over my actions."
His furious features eased into a roguish smile. The transformation sent her pounding
heart into a skittering gallop. He was an extraordinarily handsome man when he didn't
scowl so, which he rarely did anything but, when in her presence.
"I do not need the tedium of a wedding to bring you to heel, my lady."
Tory's eyes widened as she watched St. John wrench off his coat. The sight was so
reminiscent of a few days ago that she lost her ability to form a coherent thought for
the space of a moment. When she finally did, he had already finished rolling up his
crisp white sleeves.
"Before you pop a cork, my lady, let me explain something to you," he said in a low,
annoyed voice. "I am not leaving this garden until I escort you from it, so you can
either use my not inconsiderable strength to do your labor, or we can join the others
inside for breakfast."
Impotent rage beat against her skull. How dare he speak to her as if it were his right to
order her about. Her fingernails dug into the rich soil to keep from flying at him with
her claws extended. Tory slanted her calculating gaze toward St. John. She would
give up her quarterly allowance--for an entire year--to see someone scratch that
insolent smirk off his face.
"It appears I missed the ceremony," she said in a measured voice.
His dark brows caved in to form a deep V. "What ceremony?"
"Our wedding, of course," she said. "You know, my lord, the ritual that gave you
complete dominion over my actions."
His furious features eased into a roguish smile. The transformation sent her pounding
heart into a skittering gallop. He was an extraordinarily handsome man when he didn't
scowl so, which he rarely did anything but, when in her presence.
"I do not need the tedium of a wedding to bring you to heel, my lady."
Bookshelf
| Tracey Devlyn Romance Author |
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Excerpt from Dangerous Expectations
Read an Excerpt from A Lady's Revenge
| Sultry Romance with an Edge |
| Copyright © 2007-2010 Tracey Devlyn. All rights reserved. |