Synopsis:
She was sent to the Congress of Vienna with one simple mission. Observe and report on the Prussian delegation. What she hadn’t expected was someone in the delegation observing her.
Georgiana “George” Lockhart grew up as a Haberdasher, one of the girls trained by Robert Bittlesworth to be both armed and dangerous. She has her first assignment through the Foreign Office and needs to distract and use a man she assumes is an opposing agent.
Casimir Rokiczana would do anything for his people. The Congress of Vienna seemed poised to tear his homeland apart and he is working frantically to find a voice with each of the Four Great Powers. In his experience men are often swayed by the opinions of their wives, but the English beauty he has chosen to woo to his cause seems to have more on her mind than a liaison.
Excerpt:
When she reached the alcove of the portico where they had kissed, it was to find him leaning against the door and scrubbing at his face with his hands.
“Casimir, what is it? You’re worrying me.”
He pulled his hands from his face and, if possible, looked even more haggard than he had inside. “In a moment. First, this.”
His hands settled on her hips and he gently tugged her forward. She could tell that if she resisted he would release her. She went to him willingly. Once she was pressed against him he raised one hand to cup her cheek. His hold was still so light, she knew he was waiting to see if she would pull away. She leaned forward to take his lips with her own. Her action unleashed him and his hold became firm, possessive.
If their first kiss had been a romantic invitation, this one was barely restrained passion. His tongue swept through her mouth, tasting of wine. He nibbled and suckled on her lower lip as though she were the most delectable dish at a feast. Her blood began to smolder and she pressed against him, her fingers clutching at the silk of his shirt. With a soft growl he ran his hand up from her hip to her breast. When he squeezed the curve and ran his palm over her muslin covered nipple she gasped in response, heat pooling low in her belly. She thought she knew what sex was, but if she did then this was something else entirely. This was elemental need. This was more vital than thirst or hunger. She raised a leg to wrap around his and he shifted to pull her into the cradle of his spread limbs. His kisses strayed to her neck and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, crushing her chest to his. The only words she could form in her mind were yes, more, and please, but she couldn’t even vocalize them. His hands moved down to grip her bottom and pull her forcefully against his erection, his own hips rocking against hers. At that he tore his lips away from her skin, breathing hard, and embraced her in a hug rather than continuing his carnal pursuit. She rested her head on his shoulder as he murmured to her in a language she didn’t understand. He seemed to realize his mistake and switched to English.
“I’m sorry.”
“Never be sorry about this.”
His tone turned wry. “Perhaps I should apologize to your husband instead.”
She tipped her head back until she met his eyes. He was not only haggard but haunted now. “Never, ever apologize to that man who calls himself my husband.”
He rested his forehead against hers. “It would be disingenuous anyway. I’m not sorry. I can’t be. My only regret is that we can’t be together.”
Oh God, yes, she should have started running at that first kiss. Because now she wanted nothing more than to be with him.
His breathing finally calmed. “That wasn’t why I brought you out here.”
“Well, that’s just terrible. You should have.”
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About the author:
Doodlist, scribbler, thinker, planner, and all around fun chick.
What her fans are saying: “…a wit so sharp it should have a warning label…” ~ Dusk Pennington
Sue London began writing short stories about horses and teen sleuths when she was seven years old. After that she traveled to distant worlds, fought with swords and sorcerers, and played with a few undead things. As you might have expected, this means she went into accountancy. Well, maybe that was an odd plot twist, but that’s the difference between real life and fiction – fiction has to make sense.
In her twenties she developed a deep affection for romance, especially enjoying the work of Nora Roberts, Mary Balogh and, most recently, Courtney Milan, Rose Gordon, Lauren Royal, Danelle Harmon, and Diane Farr. You can thank those authors for leading a sci-fi tomboy into writing historical romances set in the Regency period.
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