All except his face.
Her hand moved almost without thought. She stretched toward the black silk mask still covering the upper part of his face. Was he handsome? Ugly? Merely ordinary looking?
Her hand began to descend toward the mask.
His flashed up and caught her wrist.
His eyes opened, assessing and quite clearly brown. “Don’t.”
Even the most refined lady craves an untamed man to release her passion…
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To Taste Temptation
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Chapter One
Now Iron Heart got his name from a very strange thing. Although his limbs and face, and indeed all the rest of his body, were exactly like every other man created by God, his heart was not. It was made from iron, and it beat on the surface of his chest, strong, brave, and steadfast….
—from Iron Heart
LONDON, ENGLAND
SEPTEMBER 1764
“They say he ran away.” Mrs. Conrad leaned close to impart this bit of gossip.
Lady Emeline Gordon took a sip of tea and glanced over the rim of the cup at the gentleman in question. He was as out of place as a jaguar in a room full of tabby cats: raw, vital, and not quite civilized. Definitely not a man she would associate with cowardice. Emeline wondered what his name was as she thanked the Lord for his appearance.
Mrs. Conrad’s afternoon salon had been paralyzingly dull until he had sauntered in.
“He ran away from the massacre of the 28th Regiment in the colonies,” Mrs. Conrad continued breathlessly, “back in fifty-eight. Shameful, isn’t it?”
Emeline turned and arched an eyebrow at her hostess. She held Mrs. Conrad’s gaze and saw the exact moment when the silly woman remembered. Mrs. Conrad’s already pink complexion deepened to a shade of beet that really didn’t become her at all.
“That is… I… I—” her hostess stammered.
This was what one got when one accepted an invitation from a lady who aspired to but didn’t quite sail in the highest circles of society. It was Emeline’s own fault, really. She sighed and took pity. “He’s in the army, then?”
Mrs. Conrad grasped the bait gratefully. “Oh, no. Not anymore. At least I don’t believe so.”
“Ah,” Emeline said, and tried to think of another subject.
The room was large and expensively decorated, with a painting on the ceiling overhead depicting Hades pursuing Persephone. The goddess looked particularly vacuous, smiling down sweetly on the assembly below. She hadn’t a chance against the god of the underworld, even if he did have bright pink cheeks in this portrayal.
Emeline’s current protégé, Jane Greenglove, sat on a settee nearby, conversing with young Lord Simmons, a very nice choice. Emeline nodded approvingly. Lord Simmons had an income of over eight thousand pounds a year and a lovely house near Oxford. That alliance would be very suitable, and since Jane’s older sister, Eliza, had already accepted the hand of Mr. Hampton, things were falling into place quite neatly. They always did, of course, when Emeline consented to guide a young lady into society, but it was pleasing to have one’s expectations fulfilled nevertheless.
Or it should be. Emeline twisted a lace ribbon at her waist before she caught herself and smoothed it out again. Actually, she was feeling a bit out of sorts, which was ridiculous. Her world was perfect. Absolutely perfect.
Emeline glanced casually at the stranger only to find his dark gaze fixed on her. His eyes crinkled ever so slightly at the corners as if he was amused by something—and that something might be her. Hastily she looked away again. Awful man. He was obviously aware that every lady in the room had noticed him.
Beside her, Mrs. Conrad had started prattling, evidently in an attempt to cover her gaffe. “He owns an importing business in the Colonies. I believe he’s in London on business; that’s what Mr. Conrad says, anyway. And he’s as rich as Croesus, although you’d never guess it from his attire.”
It was impossible not to glance at him again after this information. From midthigh up, his clothing was plain indeed—black coat and brown-and-black-patterned waistcoat. All in all, a conservative wardrobe until one came to his legs. The man was wearing some type of native leggings. They were made from an odd tan leather, quite dull, and they were gartered just below the knees with red, white, and black striped sashes. The leggings split in the front over the shoes with brightly embroidered flaps that fell to either side of his feet. And his shoes were the strangest of all, for they had no heels. He seemed to be wearing a type of slipper made of the same soft, dull leather, with beading or embroidery work running from ankle to toe. Yet even heelless, the stranger was quite tall. He had brown hair, and as far as she could tell from halfway across the room, his eyes were dark. Certainly not blue or green. They were heavy-lidded and intelligent. She suppressed a shiver. Intelligent men were so hard to manage.
His arms were crossed, one shoulder propped against the wall, and his gaze was interested. As if they were the exotic ones, not he. His nose was long, with a bump in the middle; his complexion dark, as if he’d lately come from some exotic shore. The bones of his face were raw and prominent: cheeks, nose, and chin jutting in an aggressively masculine way that was nevertheless perversely attractive. His mouth, in contrast, was wide and almost soft, with a sensuous inverted dent in the lower lip. It was the mouth of a man who liked to savor. To linger and taste. A dangerous mouth.
Emeline looked away again. “Who is he?”
Mrs. Conrad stared. “Don’t you know?” “No.”
Her hostess was delighted. “Why, my dear, that’s Mr. Samuel Hartley! Everyone has been talking about him, though he has only been in London a sennight or so. He’s not quite acceptable, because of the…” Mrs. Conrad met Emeline’s eyes and hastily cut short what she’d been about to say. “Anyway. Even with all his wealth, not everyone is happy to meet him.”
Emeline stilled as the back of her neck prickled.
Mrs. Conrad continued, oblivious. “I really shouldn’t have invited him, but I couldn’t help myself. That form, my dear. Simply delicious! Why, if I hadn’t asked him, I would never have—” Her flurry of words ended on a startled squeak, for a man had cleared his throat directly behind them.
Emeline hadn’t been watching, so she hadn’t seen him move, but she knew instinctively who stood so close to them. Slowly she turned her head.
Mocking coffee-brown eyes met her own. “Mrs. Conrad, I’d be grateful if you’d introduce us.” His voice had a flat American accent.
Their hostess sucked in her breath at this blunt order, but curiosity won out over indignation. “Lady Emeline, may I introduce Mr. Samuel Hartley. Mr. Hartley, Lady Emeline Gordon.”
Emeline sank into a curtsy, only to be presented with a large, tanned hand on rising. She stared for a moment, nonplussed. Surely the man wasn’t that unsophisticated? Mrs. Conrad’s breathy giggle decided the matter. Gingerly, Emeline touched just her fingertips to his.
To no avail. He embraced her hand with both of his, enveloping her fingers in hard warmth. His nostrils flared just the tiniest bit as she was forced to step forward into the handshake. Was he scenting her?
“How do you do?” he asked. “Well,” Emeline retorted. She tried to free her hand but could not, even though Mr. Hartley didn’t seem to be gripping her tightly. “Might I have my appendage returned to me now?”
That mouth twitched again. Did he laugh at everyone or just her? “Of course, my lady.”
Emeline opened her mouth to make an excuse—any excuse—to leave the dreadful man, but he was too quick for her.
“May I escort you into the garden?”
It really wasn’t a question, since he’d already held out his arm, obviously expecting her consent. And what was worse, she gave it. Silently, Emeline laid her fingertips on his coat sleeve. He nodded to Mrs. Conrad and drew Emeline outside in only a matter of minutes, working very neatly for such a gauche man. Emeline squinted up at his
profile suspiciously.
He turned his head and caught her look. His own eyes wrinkled at the corners, laughing down at her, although his mouth remained perfectly straight. “We’re neighbors, you know.”
“What do you mean?” “I’ve rented the house next to yours.”
Emeline found herself blinking up at him, caught off guard once again—a disagreeable sensation as rare as it was unwanted. She knew the occupants of the town house to the right of hers, but the left had been let out recently. For an entire day the week before, men had been tramping in and out of the open doors, sweating, shouting, and cursing. And they’d carried…
Her eyebrows snapped together. “The pea-green settee.” His mouth curved at one corner. “What?” “You’re the owner of that atrocious pea-green settee, aren’t you?”
He bowed. “I confess it.” “With no trace of shame, either, I see.” Emeline pursed her lips in disapproval. “Are there really gilt owls carved on the legs?”
“I hadn’t noticed.” “I had.” “Then I’ll not argue the point.”
“Humph.” She faced forward again. “I have a favor to ask of you, ma’am.” His voice rumbled somewhere above her head.
He’d led her down one of the packed gravel paths of the Conrads’ town house garden. It was unimaginatively planted with roses and small, clipped hedges. Sadly, most of the roses had already bloomed, so the whole looked rather plain and forlorn.
“I’d like to hire you.”
“Hire me?” Emeline inhaled sharply and stopped, forcing him to halt as well and face her. Did this odd man think she was a courtesan of some sort? The insult was outrageous, and in her confusion she found her gaze wandering over his frame, crossing wide shoulders, a pleasingly flat waist, and then dropping to an inappropriate portion of Mr. Hartley’s anatomy, which, now that she noticed it, was rather nicely outlined by the black wool breeches he wore under his leggings. She inhaled again, nearly choking, and hastily raised her eyes. But the man either hadn’t observed her indiscretion or was much more polite than his attire and manner would lead one to believe.
He continued. “I need a mentor for my sister, Rebecca. Someone to show her the parties and balls.”
Emeline cocked her head as she realized that he wanted a chaperone. Well, why hadn’t the silly man said so in the first place and saved her all this embarrassment? “I’m afraid that won’t be possible.”
“Why not?” The words were soft, but there was an edge of command behind them.
Emeline stiffened. “I take only young ladies from the highest ranks of society. I don’t believe your sister can meet my standards. I’m sorry.”
He watched her for a moment and then looked away. Although his gaze was on a bench at the end of the path, Emeline doubted very much that he saw it. “Perhaps, then, I can plead another reason for you to take us on.”
She stilled. “What is that?”
His eyes looked back at her, and now there was no trace of amusement in them. “I knew Reynaud.”
The beating of Emeline’s heart was very loud in her ears. Because, of course, Reynaud was her brother. Her brother who had been killed in the massacre of the 28th.
Raves for Elizabeth Hoyt’s Prince Trilogy
The Raven Prince
“Hoyt expertly spices this stunning debut novel with a sharp sense of wit and then sweetens her lusciously dark, lushly sensual historical romance with a generous sprinkling of fairy-tale charm.”
—Chicago Tribune
“Hoyt’s superb debut historical romance will dazzle readers with its brilliant blend of exquisitely nuanced characters, splendidly sensual love story, and elegant writing expertly laced with a dash of tart wit.”
—Booklist
“I didn’t want it to end!”
—Julia Quinn, New York Times bestselling author
The Leopard Prince
“Not to be missed… a delight from start to finish. The story is so well written, the characters so engaging, that one would have to call Elizabeth Hoyt the new master of the historical romance genre.”
—HistoricalRomanceWriters.com
“4½ Stars! TOP PICK! An unforgettable love story that ignites the pages not only with heated love scenes but also with a mystery that holds your attention and your heart with searing emotions and dark desire.”
—RT Book Reviews
The Serpent Prince
“4½ Stars! TOP PICK! Fantastic… magically blends fairy tale, reality, and romance in a delicious, sensual feast.”
—RT Book Reviews
“Exquisite romance… mesmerizing storytelling… incredibly vivid lead characters, earthy writing, and an intense love story.”
—Publishers Weekly
Praise for The Legend of the Four Soldiers Series
To Taste Temptation
“Hoyt… is firmly in control of her craft with engaging characters, gripping plot, and clever dialogue.”
—Publishers Weekly
“4½ Stars! Hoyt’s new series… begins with destruction and ends with glorious love. She begins each chapter with a snippet of a legend that beautifully dovetails with the plot and creates a distinct love story that will thrill readers.”
—RT Book Reviews
To Seduce a Sinner
“4½ Stars! TOP PICK! Hoyt’s magical fairy-tale romances have won the hearts of readers who adore sizzling sensuality perfectly merged with poignancy. Her latest showcases her talent for creating remarkable characters and cherished stories that make us believe in the miracle of love.”
—RT Book Reviews
“Hoyt expertly sifts a generous measure of danger into the latest intriguing addition to her Four Soldiers, Georgianera series. Her ability to fuse wicked wittiness with sinfully sensual romance is stunning.”
—Booklist
To Beguile a Beast
“Hoyt works her own brand of literary magic… in the exquisitely romantic, superbly sensual third addition to her extraordinary Georgian-set Legend of the Four Soldiers series.”
—Booklist
“4½ Stars! TOP PICK! A magical love story that reads like a mystical fable and a very real and highly passionate romance. Hoyt has found a unique niche that highlights both her storytelling abilities and her considerable talents for depth of character and emotion.”
—RT Book Reviews
To Desire a Devil
“Rich with dangerous intrigue, suffused with desire, and spiked with wit, To Desire a Devil is nothing less than brilliant.”
—Booklist (starred review)
“4½ Stars! TOP PICK! The kind of powerfully emotional, sensual romance, tinged with fairy tale, that readers have come to expect from this gifted storyteller.”
—RT Book Reviews
Acclaim for The Maiden Lane Series
Notorious Pleasures
“Emotionally stunning… The sinfully sensual chemistry Hoyt creates between her shrewd, acid-tongued heroine and her scandalous sexy hero is pure romance.”
—Booklist
“Fans of historical detail will love [Notorious Pleasures]… the mysterious happenings provide excitement and suspense.”
—Publishers Weekly
Wicked Intentions
“4½ Stars! TOP PICK! A magnificently rendered story that not only enchants but enthralls.”
—RT Book Reviews
“Hoyt brings steamy sensuality to the slums of early eighteenth-century London… earthy, richly detailed characterizations and deft historical touches.”
—Publishers Weekly
Contents
Front Cover Image
Welcome
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
A Preview of Thief of Shadows
A Preview of To Taste Temptation
Raves for Elizabeth Hoyt’s Prince Trilogy
Praise for The Legend of the Four Soldiers Series
Acclaim for The Maiden Lane Series
Copyright
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2007 by Nancy M. Finney
Excerpt from Thief of Shadows copyright © 2011 by Nancy M. Finney
All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at
[email protected]
. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
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