The Devil's Lady
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Bid by King Edward to marry one of his knights, Aisley de Laci hopes to
avoid the altar by choosing Baron Montmorency. 'Tis a union she is
certain none will endorse, especially the baron, who is rumored to
practice the dark arts from his isolated keep.
Renowned in battle, the Red Knight has secluded himself at Dunmurrow for
reasons of his own. And he does not want a wife, no matter how wealthy
and beautiful she might be. But even he cannot defy the king's order,
and what comes to him, he takes—and holds.
Although Aisley refuses to believe the tales that make Montmorency more
myth than mortal, she begins to wonder whether he does possess
mysterious powers. How else to explain her own growing feelings for her
husband, a man so shrouded in shadow she has never seen his face?
Was she under a spell or truly the Devil’s Lady?
A full-length novel originally published by Harlequin Books.
"a solid and sensual medieval adaptation of one of the great love stories, complete with some good plot twists." - The Historical Romance Critic
"Deborah Simmons guarantees the reader a page-turner." - Romantic Times
what?" "We shall flee, my lady!" she answered eagerly. "We shall flee this dreaded castle and be rid of the devil forever!" Aisley's smile grew more grim. "And as two women, alone in the winter countryside, where shall we go?" "We shall seek sanctuary at the nearest nunnery!" Aisley patted her servant, unwilling to destroy whatever dreams were a comfort to her. But somehow she thought the king would frown upon her murdering her new husband in his bed. "Take your pallet into the wardrobe,
could soon be on her way, a free woman! He leaned toward her and grinned. "Montmorency it is then," he said. Aisley's eyes widened in surprise. She had expected the king to deny her decision, perhaps to force her to choose another, but never to let her marry the Red Knight, a virtual recluse who shunned those outside his dark demesne. She felt herself sway on her feet, then stood firm, gathering her wits about her. The king was smiling at her shock. Obviously, displeased with her attempts at
heavy body still garbed for war. She swallowed hard, dismissing the wanton thoughts as wholly unlike her and a product of the moon's dark spell. Her husband appeared to be too drunk for such play anyway, Aisley noted, and he would, more than likely, not welcome her attentions. She frowned at the thought, but pushed it aside. Whatever Piers's feelings on the subject, she was his wife, and it was her duty to see to him. In this case that meant putting him to bed, so the rest of the residents of
His hands moved over her pale skin roughly, possessively, as he pushed his tongue into her mouth. She did not demur, but met him eagerly, and he growled with the strength of his unleashed passion. He cupped her breasts, lifting them to his mouth, and sucked hard and endlessly, unable to stop. He could hear her low panting and knew he was not being gentle, but could not help himself. He spread her legs wide to receive him. "Aisley, Aisley," he groaned in apology as he lifted his head, but she
his horse, but Alan nudged his steed closer. "Where did he take her? Is he asking a ransom?" Alan asked. His was the voice of reason, a calming influence on Montmorency's rage, and the Red Knight's arm dropped as he listened. Clyde's hand trembled on his reins, for he knew how close he had been to death, and he silently thanked his lord's vassal. Yet, when he looked at the Red Knight, he felt as though the blade had, indeed, pierced his heart, the anguish on the great warrior's face was so