Book 3 in the Taming the Tudor Male in Three Easy Lessons Series
Lancelot Upstanding Collyer has been the Earl of Swafford's bodyguard for ten years. He's loyal, ruthless and devoted to his post. He's never failed a single mission in his career, and never been distracted by a woman. But he's about to be tested beyond even his stalwart endurance.
Lady Catherine Mallory, the Earl's eldest daughter has been trouble all her life and nobody's more aware of this than Lancelot - the man often charged with getting her out of scrapes, while she refers to him scornfully as Master Stiff Upper Lip. Now she's all grown up and her father wants her married, but by maintaining her reputation as a 'Shrew,' this wayward lady keeps suitors at bay.
When the bodyguard and the Earl's daughter are caught together in a scandalous midnight tryst, they might claim it was a case of mistaken identity, but the Earl sees a chance to finally tame his stubborn daughter. A marriage is arranged at once, but with certain... stipulations. Can Lance tame his Shrew and keep that perfect record of victory, as well as her maidenhead, intact? Or will Cate find a way to conquer his notorious stiff upper lip and seduce her husband?
“Hush!” he warned, even as he kissed her inner thigh again, teasing her further, too fascinated by her immoderate response to stop touching her. She was beguiling, a mate unbound by inhibitions.
A warning tried to push its way into his thoughts, and he thrust it out again.
Not now. Don’t bother me now. Can’t you see I’m busy, damn you?
It seemed she wouldn't stop him from devouring her in her current wild state, her skirt and shift up around a slender waist, her legs in their silk stockings spread before him, the curls of her womanhood, silky soft, scented with rose and almond oil. She was a ripe and ready little piece, the sweetest, juiciest fruit and altogether too much for Lance to think about resisting a moment longer. If the touch of his mouth did this to her and to him, what would it be like to ride her? He had never experienced this level of excitement and anticipation over claiming a woman before.
As he shifted forward to cover her with his full body weight, she exhaled a laugh, a low, mellifluous sound that flowed around him like rich cream and honey.
She was more than ready.
He slid a finger into her again, where she was still wet from his tongue and her own unleashed passion. She arched, sighing with pleasure, arms flung out. With his other hand, he fumbled for her face as the straw crunched and crackled beneath them. One finger traced a dimple and then her smiling lips.
The pins holding her long hair in a net had begun to work loose. He pulled them free with quick fingers and then slid his palm under the heavy locks, so soft, thick, redolent of lavender and…
Lance drew sharp rein, the warhorses jibbing and skidding to a halt in the ravished battlefield.
Long, lush Godforsaken curls.
Of course there were more than a few women in the world with hair like that. But all the facial features he’d explored with the fingertips of his left hand now fell into place, forming a truth that struck him like the slap of a vengeful lover, making certain he could no longer ignore it.
“If you find her, Collyer, you have my permission to deliver a spanking.”
What jest of fate was this?
Curls of an untamed nature, the scent of a Dorset rose garden, the full, demanding lips, the little dimple in her right cheek and the deeper, corresponding dimple in the left, the one eyebrow arched higher than the other and the tiny edge of a scar on her chin caused by some childhood misadventure. Who else could it be but her, the little witch who already left him with one indelible mark, proving herself dangerous to his body, his health and his peace of mind?
Good God, when did she grow these curves? His mind now struggled to make sense of this. How old was she now?
No. No, no, no. This could not be happening.
“Don’t you dare stop!” she gasped, writhing under him, insistent and breathless.
Now fully attuned to it, he heard the malapert tone, his tremendous mistake thereby confirmed. All these years later, he still had the imprint of her teeth on his buttocks and would not forgive her for it, or let anyone forget. Damned Savage! When the Hell did she start masquerading as a lovely and cooperative female, all soft, scented skin and tantalizing lace garters? When did she start flirting with men, luring them to commit mad acts of passion in dark stables? She must have expected some other man to meet her here tonight.
Oh, she needed a spanking all right. Her father was correct about that. She very nearly got something else from him.
When he felt the curls on her head once more, wishing she were anyone else, Catherine made a small pleading sound, turning her face to kiss his pulse.