Seven Nights in a Rogue's Bed (Sons of Sin)
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WILL A WEEK OF SEDUCTION . . .
Desperate to save her sister's life, Sidonie Forsythe has agreed to submit herself to a terrible fate: Beyond the foreboding walls of Castle Craven, a notorious, hideously scarred scoundrel will take her virtue over the course of seven sinful nights. Yet instead of a monster, she encounters a man like no other. And during this week, she comes to care for Jonas Merrick in ways that defy all logic-even as a dark secret she carries threatens them both.
. . . SPARK A LIFETIME OF PASSIONATE SURRENDER?
Ruthless loner Jonas knows exactly who he is. Should he forget, even for a moment, the curse he bears, a mere glance in the mirror serves as an agonizing reminder. So when the lovely Sidonie turns up on his doorstep, her seduction is an even more delicious prospect than he originally planned. But the hardened outcast is soon moved by her innocent beauty, sharp wit, and surprising courage. Now as dangerous enemies gather at the gate to destroy them, can their new, fragile love survive?
caught her hand. To his surprise, she didn’t jerk away. “Fit punishment for assuming myself immune.” Her voice lowered. “Every man I’ve known has been contemptible. My father was weak and greedy and unable to countenance a contrary opinion. He was incapable of kindness or affection. While he didn’t hit my mother, his tyranny turned her into a cypher until she just faded away and died when I was twelve.” “I’m sorry.” He was. The Forsythe women had appalling luck with the men in their lives. And
jerked away. She didn’t want more spurious consideration. She wanted the real man. “Hush.” He pressed his palm to her cheek, holding her as he carefully worked the brush through the snarls in her hair. The room fell silent. The crackle of the fire. The soft whisper of the brush. Rain falling against the windows. The storm outside, like the storm between her and Jonas, calmed. He brushed her hair until it was nearly dry. He had to reach forward to catch the brandy glass. Lazy delight swirled
What artist could recreate Sidonie’s sensuous beauty? No mere dauber could capture the feminine musk on the air. Or depict the soft, uneven pattern of her breathing. Her skin was flushed. A pulse fluttered in the hollow of her throat. Her lips were full and dark, although he’d hardly kissed her. Over and over in the mirrors, she emerged from the loosened gown like a water lily from a lake. He loomed over her like a nightmare. Usually he derived twisted satisfaction from the contrast between a
Sidonie’s jaw tightened at his patronizing tone but she kept her voice even. “I’m sorry, Your Grace. I can’t do that.” “At the risk of leaving Mr. Merrick languishing in prison?” She raised her chin. “I need to see Mr. Merrick. It’s of the utmost urgency. If you can’t arrange a visit, I’ll find someone who will.” The duke’s chilly green gaze focused on her as if she were a rare scientific specimen on a glass slide. He didn’t answer her. “Come, Cam. Get the girl in to see the chap. We can take
night,” she said flatly. He raised his eyebrows in mocking disbelief, while burgeoning need crooned its alluring song in his ears. “You’re not that innocent.” She growled softly and swung away with a flounce of filmy skirts. He caught a glimpse of two well-turned ankles. Interesting that the sight proved so arousing when he’d already seen her naked. “You’re in a humor to tease, I see.” He tilted his head back against the window frame and surveyed her down the bumpy length of his broken nose.