Between the Devil and Ian Eversea (Pennyroyal Green, Book 9)
Julie Anne Long
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She might look like an angel . . .
The moment orphaned American heiress Titania "Tansy" Danforth arrives on English shores she cuts a swath through Sussex, enslaving hearts and stealing beaux. She knows she's destined for a spectacular titled marriage—but the only man who fascinates her couldn't be more infamous . . . or less interested.
But it takes a devil to know one . . .
A hardened veteran of war and inveterate rogue, Ian Eversea keeps women enthralled, his heart guarded and his options open: why should he succumb to the shackles of marriage when devastating good looks and Eversea charm make seduction so easy?
And Heaven has never been hotter!
When Ian is forced to call her on her game, he never dreams the unmasked Tansy— vulnerable, brave, achingly sensual—will tempt him beyond endurance. And fight as he will, this notorious bachelor who stood down enemies on a battlefield might finally surrender his heart . . . and be brought to his knees by love.
delicious, nearly intimidating height? It was all of those things and none of them. All she knew for certain was that it was new, and suddenly she was as blank-minded as a newborn. Conscious that she was gawking, she forced herself to look in some other direction, which turned out to be, for some reason, up. The only thing of interest on the ceiling was the chandelier, so she feigned wonderstruck admiration. When she looked down again, the man was watching her. Clearly puzzled. Her heart
stood in a knot that looked decidedly judgmental. A murder of crows, a pride of lions, a judgment of ladies, he amused himself by thinking. Still, he might need to revise it to a murder of ladies, given some of the expressions. They were to take the competition in several sets; the contestants would have three shots each at different distances. “Set one!” he called. “Take your places, please!” The men filed onto the field, Simon among them, and he smiled and saluted in the direction of Miss
background and youth, and so forth . . . you didn’t have to take that dare, now, did you?” Ian launched an incredulous eyebrow. How long have you known me? “Furthermore she goes about collecting hearts as blithely as if she’s picking blueberries, Colin. Without thought to the consequence.” “Hmm. Now, who does that remind me of?” “She smokes and drinks! Hard liquor!” Ian insisted wildly. Colin snorted. “I’m starting to think you’ve been smoking and drinking hard liquor.” Ian hesitated, and
wry look. “In a moment.” “Suit yourself.” He watched Colin aim for Madeleine, who was sitting across the room in conversation with Marcus’s wife, the way a man in a desert headed for an oasis. But then he always aimed for Madeleine that way. “A FINE PAINTING I think you’ll enjoy hangs in just the other room, and I’ve long wished to get a look at it. Would you care to accompany me? I’d be honored to hear your opinion.” Sergeant Sutton was dashing, though much of it had to do with the uniform,
first discovery. There was to be no narration, no finesse, no coddling. He covered her as if she were a longtime lover, and she surrendered, as if in a dream, not knowing where it would lead, only that she would go wherever he wanted to take her. And in the dark silence it only seemed right, to make sense. He found her lips, and the kiss was savage and hungry and deep, almost punishing, as if he’d waited a lifetime for this very kiss, as if she’d deprived him of the very thing he needed to