Beauty Like the Night
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Beauty is like the night, fleeting and hard to hold, a truth the forbidding Lord Treyhern is about to discover. Let the opulence of Liz Carlyle's prose immerse you in the beauty of England while plunging you into the midst of the outrageous Rutledge family, where scandal is served up like a soup course and dangerous secrets are everywhere.
The daughter of London's wickedest widow, Helene de Severs has struggled to overcome her heritage. Renowned within Europe's emerging psychiatric field, Helene has a gift for healing children. When fate sends her back to England, the country she left in disgrace, Helene is confident she has learned to govern her own reckless emotions.
Ruthlessly, Treyhern has dragged his notorious family from the brink of ruin. But a disastrous marriage has left him with a traumatized child, and his rebellious brother is just one step ahead of the bailiffs. When his dissolute father drops dead while debauching the governess, Treyhern's infamous temper is truly tested.
But the forceful earl means to straighten everyone out -- as soon as he has hired a reputable governess. Yet the moment she steps from his carriage, Treyhern's cold reserve is melted by a rush of desire he had long thought dead. With her elegant clothing and mountain of luggage, the woman is not who he expected. Or is she? Sometimes the workings of the mind are as dangerous as those of the heart. And soon, danger is truly everywhere...
light, she trembled, knowing she could not long resist him. Cam was determined to shut out her love, along with the depth of his own emotions. But she wanted him anyway. And apparently, and she was willing to give herself to him on his limited terms. As she let his weight bear down on her, the silken hardness of his shaft brushed between her thighs, searing her flesh. Ah, yes! She did want him. She prayed he did not know how much. Boldly, she stared him up and down in the firelight. He was
and stalked off across the hall. “I shall be in my study, Milford. I daresay there is much to be done.” The butler inclined his head in acknowledgment. “And your luncheon, my lord?” Cam spoke over his shoulder. “I find I have no appetite, Milford. I thank you.” Once inside the study, however, the silence was even more oppressive. Because his return had been unexpected, no fire burned in his hearth. In its absence, even his cat had fled for warmer climes—the corner behind Cook’s stove, in all
rattling down the cobbles. Panic struck. Instinctively, she knew she must not be seen wandering alone. Retracing a few paces, Ariane ducked into an alley, just as they dray rumbled past. At once, she knew she had made a big mistake. “Well, well,” cackled a voice from the shadows. Ariane tried to run, but a strong hand dug into the folds of her traveling cloak and dragged her backward into the darkness. “Come ’ere, me pretty, and let’s ’ave a look at you, what?” Ariane dug in her heels, but
joining her. And it had been beyond wonderful. Helene had been a rough-and-tumble sort of girl, and together they had cavorted like fish, only to emerge with the inevitably immodest consequences. The water had rendered Helene’s shift all but transparent. The thin cotton clung to her every turn, revealing her rosy, puckered nipples, and the dainty curves of her incipient breasts and hips. Cam, who at the sight of her was suddenly beset by his own physical problems, had faired a little better with
well—there was no point in denying his feelings for Helene. He did not believe that his aunt’s description of her past was wholly accurate. But he had almost ceased to care. “You know nothing of Miss de Severs’s character, madam,” he said darkly. “You’d be well advised to hold your tongue.” “She is naught but a whore’s daughter!” Mrs. Belmont stamped her foot upon the carpet. “She is not and never has been any better than she should be.” “It is over, madam,” he said calmly, his fear swallowed