The Sense of Honor
Ashley Kath-Bilsky
Highland Press
“What would you do to protect the people you
love?”
CHRISTIANA
TATUM
will do anything. But when a handsome stranger comes to
Bellewyck Abbey looking into guarded secrets of the past,
she finds herself not only trapped in a web of deception,
but falling in love with a man who could destroy everything
she has struggled to save.
DEVLIN GRAYSON, the ‘Duke of Pemberton’,
learns the estate he’s inherited is in ruins. Even worse,
Bellewyck’s ward is missing. Certain of treachery, Devlin
probes into the shadows of Bellewyck Abbey. The woman who
thwarts him at every turn, yet steals his heart, makes him
question the foundations of everything he’s grown to
believe. Will he be able to win her trust in time to save
her—or will the sense of honor that guides her
actions end in her death?
Excerpt
His kiss transcended time and space, and
swept her into an enchanted kingdom ruled by desire and
passion. Yet, awareness of so many details endured, from the
quiet of the room to the sighs and cadence of their
breathing. The texture of his clothing and the muscles she
felt contracting in his back with each movement. And, of
course, the scandalous sensation of his arousal pressing
against the skirts of her gown.
He kissed the side of her neck, resulting in a most curious
reaction. A fluttering feeling deep inside her belly grew
more insistent; slick moisture gathered between her thighs.
A moment later, his seductive lips slid down to place
open-mouthed kisses upon the swells of her bosom, prompting
her to clutch his upper arms and direct a rather unfocused
gaze to the ceiling.
Do not faint.
Then, he stopped. Pulling back, his breathing harsh, ragged
gasps, he flicked his hand and—much to her startled
amazement—her gown slid to the floor. How had he
accomplished such a thing without her knowing?
Standing before him in her half-corset, she had little time
to think about the gown. His long, large masculine fingers
began to release the lacings with a skill that made her
blink. Pulling it off her body, he grinned. “I do so like
the shorter version.”
“How did you learn—”
Shaking his head, he pressed a fingertip against her lips to
stop her question. “You do not really want to know, do you
sweetheart?”
“No.” She did not want to think about past lovers. Their
vaporous images sprang up anyway, making her feel gauche,
inept, and ignorant. As if he knew the direction of her
thoughts, he led her to the side of the bed.
“Sit.”
Not knowing what he wanted or expected from her, she could
only watch as he slowly removed her shoes and stockings. Her
chemise remained the only article of clothing and he seemed
to be debating whether or not to remove it.
Perhaps he expected her to remove it? She looked to the open
draperies allowing so much light into the room. Then again,
he’d seen most of her body already in the orchard. For that
very reason, she stood and brazenly opened her chemise
enough to let it slip from her body and pool about her feet.
That action seemed to stun him.
Determined to convey a sense of worldliness, she kept her
arms at her sides and waited for his slow, heated inspection
to conclude. His breathing sounded labored and he swallowed
hard; his nostrils flared slightly like an animal on the
scent of its prey.
He moved toward her—one step, two steps. A hairsbreadth
apart when he turned her about and kissed the curve of her
shoulder, one hand flat against her belly while his other
hand cupped one of her breasts. He groaned low, pulling her
back against his chest, the hard ridge of his still confined
erection pressing against her naked skin.
“You do not play fair, my sweet,” he whispered into her ear.
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