The Duke Is Mine (Fairy Tales)
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“Eloisa James is extraordinary.”
In the capable hands of USA Today and New York Times bestselling author Eloisa James, the fairy tales we loved as children take on vibrant—and sensuous—new life. With The Duke is Mine, the beloved author of A Kiss at Midnight and When Beauty Tamed the Beast gives the classic tale of the Princess and the Pea a delightfully romantic Regency spin. Fans of Victoria Alexander and Julia Quinn will simply adore this historical romance gem about a lady reluctantly betrothed to one duke but pursued by another; a tantalizing tale of love, lies, and one very uncomfortable mattress.
will I find Madame?” Behind him, Lucy was barking again. “Catacombs,” Bessette gasped. Then he crumpled. Quin let go of the scarf, allowing him to fall to his knees, but he kept his weapon trained on the man’s head. “Madame Fantomas put her in the catacombs.” Bessette’s shoulder moved, just a twitch. The fool was planning another attack. One swift and well-aimed kick with Quin’s boot and the man rolled on the ground instead, hands between his legs, sobbing with a high-pitched squeal. “Where
branch, as steady as if she were on ground. A second later Quin stood beside her. Up close, he could see that she was flushed with exertion, her bosom moving up and down. The bodice of her habit was made of fine linen, and her breasts strained against the cloth. His hand clenched on the branch above their heads. Hopefully, she wouldn’t glance at his breeches. “How can you climb a tree with a corset and all those petticoats?” Her eyes shone with mischief. “It’s a secret.” He leaned back against
if you prefer that term.” “Evangeline was not faithful to me, but I was to her. I was so feverishly in lust with her that there were times when I doubted my own ability to maintain my self-control. Though, of course, I did.” A shadow crossed her eyes. “Evangeline threw away something that every woman in this kingdom would love to have. She didn’t deserve it.” “Deserve it or not, she had it. When I carried your sister up those stairs, I didn’t feel even a shadow of desire.” She frowned at him.
again, but he pulled her legs open and put his mouth on her, on that part of her. She went rigid again for a second, long enough for a rough lap and a sweet lick, a finger stroking where a tongue had just been, a . . . And then she forgot about Georgie. Forgot her own name. Forgot everything except the man who drove her further into a firestorm with every lick. She couldn’t stop twisting, or suppress the moans leaving her throat, one after another, undignified, guttural, animal. Quin’s hands
hell was she? He started down the stairs. He would check every house in Wissant, and then return here to see if the patrol discovered anything. The damnable thing was that he knew this particular sensation. It fell on his shoulders like a familiar but loathed garment. He had felt it when he realized that Evangeline had taken Alfie and headed for the Channel. He had tasted it, bitter on his tongue, as he galloped toward Dover, hoping to intercept them on the pier. It had driven him half-mad