A Promise of More
A Promise of More
is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
A Loveswept eBook Original
Copyright © 2014 by Bronwen Evans
Excerpt from
A Kiss of Lies
by Bronwen Evans copyright © 2014 Bronwen Evans.
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Loveswept, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
L
OVESWEPT
and colophon are trademarks of Random House, Inc.
eBook ISBN 978-0-345-54729-3
v3.1
B
Y
B
RONWEN
E
VANS
A Kiss of Lies
A Promise of More
To the lovely Sue Grimshaw, who liked my very first book,
Invitation to Ruin
, when she ran the Borders romance blog. Who would have thought I’d be lucky enough to work with her as my editor! Thanks, Sue. I’ve enjoyed every minute.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Epilogue
Prologue
London, December 1815
Sebastian Hawkestone, you lucky sod
, he told himself. Next he silently thanked his fellow rake and infamous Libertine Scholar, Hadley Fullerton, for allowing him to beg off their engagement this evening. A card game at White’s could not stir his senses like a night of sexual transgression. Especially when the lady involved seemed determined to torment him with pleasure.
It was not unusual for women to extend seductive invitations his way. He was, after all, a man in his prime. He made no apology for being a red-blooded male who more than enjoyed his fair share of bed sport, plus he was a member of the notorious Libertine Scholars. His reputation of being a rake was well deserved.
He had, however, been surprised by the said lady’s invitation. A woman who earned her living as a man’s mistress rarely gave her services away for free, unless she wanted something.
It hadn’t taken Sebastian long to understand her motivation. It would appear that Clarice Hudson was applying for a role he had no intention of offering her—that of his next mistress.
If she knew him at all, she’d understand he formed no long-term relationships, monetary or otherwise, with members of the opposite sex. He found keeping liaisons fleeting meant neither party was disappointed. Nature did not intend men, or indeed women, to remain faithful. If nature had counted on fidelity, then it had failed miserably. Sebastian had yet to meet any man, or woman, who would turn aside temptation if they thought they wouldn’t be caught.
A flash of skin in the cheval mirror focused him on more pleasant matters.
“Clarice, dear. I must admit I’m eager to partake of an evening of mutual pleasure. However, to avoid unpleasantries the following morning, I must declare I’m not looking for any permanent arrangement. You know me. I do not, nor will I ever,
keep a mistress.”
“They say,” she murmured, in tones meant to make a man as hard as granite, “you’re a man of legendary passions. Besides, who said anything about becoming your mistress? I already have a protector.”
The lovely courtesan stood over him, clad in nothing but silken skin, his favorite feminine attire, her hand expertly working his cock until his eyes crossed.
Her bountiful, pert breasts jiggled as her hand moved upon him, the petal-pink nipples making his mouth water for a taste. Her ash-blond hair swung about her upper arms and downward, cloaking the luscious curves of her waist and hips, matching the groomed hair between her thighs. A place he hoped to explore very shortly, and for the rest of this cold winter’s night.
One thing a Libertine Scholar wasn’t was stupid. His uncanny ability to read people as easily as he could read a map told him exactly why Clarice had invited him to her home and into her bed. It wasn’t just because of his reputation as a legendary lover. She lied. It was obvious she was looking for a new protector.
He breathed heavily. “I was under the impression Baron Larkwell, Douglas Hennessey, kept you.”
“Doogie is merely a boy.” She leaned forward, her silky tresses tickling his groin and making his balls tighten further. Her tongue teased his member, heightening his need for what was to come—her mouth fully upon him. She drew back, an assessing glint in her eyes. “Why settle for Doogie when I can have a real man?”
“Why indeed? Flattered as I am, perhaps it is more because young Doogie is about to marry. Marry an heiress whose father would not condone Doogie’s extramarital affairs. A father who knows he’s buying his daughter a title and expects Doogie to cherish her as much as he did. A father who holds the purse strings and is shrewd enough to count every single penny.”
A pout formed on her perfect lips before a sly smile took its place. “Men like Doogie always find a way to enjoy pleasure.” She gripped him tighter. “With the right incentive, I’m sure Doogie could become quite emboldened, enough to defy his father-in-law. But”—she ran her finger down his cock—“sometimes a woman needs more than money and trinkets. Sometimes we want pleasure for ourselves. You’re hung like a stallion and that excites me.” Her head lowered once more, hovering over his straining member. “I’m very good at providing appropriate incentives. Even you will find it hard to resist me.”
He had no intention of resisting her, nor any intention of taking a mistress. Even mistresses required too much emotional commitment. He’d seen how giving one’s heart neutered a man.
Then her delicious hot, wet mouth clamped firmly around where he’d wanted it to be from the minute he’d walked into her boudoir. With lips and tongue and teeth, she attended his throbbing member, utilizing a catalogue of expert techniques until he was teetering on the brink of coming.
She was not lying when she’d said she offered incentives hard to resist. She was putting on quite a show, Sebastian the eager and delighted audience.
Understanding that they were perhaps heading toward the finale too quickly, she desisted briefly in order to encourage his participation. “Touch me, my lord.” She took his hand and placed it between her thighs. “The sharing of mutual pleasure brings us both bigger rewards.” She eagerly resumed her ministrations.
Sebastian’s fingers worked her slick heat. She was indeed thoroughly wet and aroused. He chuckled, a low rich sound of pleasure, and closed his eyes to focus on the rhythm of her sweet mouth. Soon the world faded to black as he struggled to hold back his release. He wanted it to last longer; after all, they had all night. He would reward her efforts later with such pleasure she’d not regret inviting him to her bed even when he apologetically declined her delightful offer to become his mistress.
Her mouth worked him more urgently as she neared her orgasm. His hips began lifting of their own accord. Being a gentleman, he would hold on until she took her pleasure. As the pinnacle drew near, she enveloped more of him, sucking him as if she wished to consume him. He gritted his teeth and held on. With a muffled incoherent cry, she tightened her thighs around his hand as she found ecstasy, and finally Sebastian lost himself in the dark grip of passion. Arching his back against his explosive need, he let his savage lust lead him into oblivion.
Suddenly the door to Clarice’s room flew open, crashing against the wall.
Through his orgasmic contentment he could barely see who had rudely invaded their privacy, but he noted Clarice’s cry of alarm and tried to regain his bearings.
“I’ll kill you, you bastard!”
Sebastian closed his eyes on another groan, but the sound was not of pleasure but annoyance. Doogie Hennessey, the young Baron Larkwell. Reluctantly Sebastian opened his eyes, noting that Clarice had already pulled on a robe. He rose up on his
elbows, quirking an eyebrow at the young hothead who was waving a sword in the direction of Sebastian’s genitals. He pulled a pillow across them more for protection than modesty.
“There will be no killing. I’m here at the lady’s invitation.” He flashed a wicked smile at Clarice. “What man could refuse?” He watched Clarice blush and a small smile curved her luscious lips. He really shouldn’t tease the lad.
Doogie stood there, his chest heaving, his eyes filled with hurt. Sebastian began to feel a bit sorry for the young man. He obviously had no idea how deceitful, manipulative, and downright mercenary the fairer sex could be. He prayed the hothead didn’t do anything silly like—
“Lord Coldhurst, I challenge you to a duel at dawn to first blood. Choose your weapons.”
Sebastian ran a hand raggedly through his hair. Of all the idiotic … He should accept the challenge and teach the whippersnapper a lesson. A good wound to the left shoulder would make him think twice about issuing challenges. Better Doogie be taught a lesson by him than challenge an opponent who wouldn’t care what injury they inflicted.
He sighed and shook his head. “Doogie—”
“Lord Larkwell to you.”
“Lord Larkwell, it’s obvious I’ve made an error in judgment. I did not understand your relationship with Clarice was more than a monetary one, nor that with your impending nuptials, the aforementioned arrangement had not ended.” He paused and gave Doogie his best steely gaze. “However, a duel is not necessary. I unreservedly apologize.”
The sword did not lower; it was now pointed at his heart.
“I demand satisfaction.”
This was ridiculous. He pushed Doogie’s sword aside and rose from the bed in one fluid motion, taking Doogie by surprise. He tore the sword from the young man’s hand and threw it across the room, where it clattered on the floor.
“You idiot. No one even knows I’m here. What satisfaction do you require? Clarice was more than willing. Don’t be rash with your challenges or I’ll be forced to teach you a lesson.”
Doogie’s answer was swift, a solid punch to his left cheek. It bloody hurt.