To Love a Scoundrel

HE’S NOTORIOUS FOR HIS WICKED WAYS…
Frederick Stoneham thoroughly enjoys the life he leads as one of London’s most disreputable rogues. When his father arranges for him to wed Lady Eleanor Ashton, he believes his decadent lifestyle can carry on uninterrupted. After all, he remembers Eleanor to be plain and timid–not the kind of wife who will demand attention or insist he leave his mistress. But Frederick has a change of heart when he sees the striking beauty Eleanor has become…

CAN SHE REFORM HIM?
Eleanor is stunned to discover she is to wed Frederick Stoneham–the man she has secretly pined after for years, despite his reputation. When Frederick’s former mistress tells her a horrible lie, Eleanor feels betrayed. But Frederick’s persistence–and a passion that refuses to be ignored–are slowly melting Eleanor’s resolve. Now Frederick must prove to Eleanor that his days as a rake are in the past and that she is the only woman he will ever love…

OUT JUNE 5, 2007!!!!!!!!!!

EXCERPT

For no other reason save to torment himself, he allowed his lips to brush against her firm, unwilling ones—coaxing them into softening, into opening for him. He heard her whimper, the quietest of sounds yet still discernible over the din of his pounding heart.

He kissed her gently, tenderly, his hands balled into fists by his sides with an enormous effort of restraint. The kiss was near-chaste and yet flames of desire coursed through his blood, urging him to crush her to him, to possess her with his mouth. Instead, he commanded himself to retreat. He took a step back and watched curiously as her eyelids fluttered open, her eyes seemingly unfocused and dazed.

And then her hand flew out and struck him firmly across one cheek. “How dare you kiss me so without my permission?” She glared at him, her entire body quivering.

Frederick smirked as he rubbed his smarting cheek. “Soon, my lady, you’ll be begging me to kiss you like that.”

“Not as long as I live.” She shook her head so hard that he feared her bonnet would become disengaged.

“Shall we strike a wager on it? One hundred pounds that you beg for my kiss before the year is out. Are you game?”

“Oooh,” she cried, stomping one foot with a huff. “You are a rogue. I didn’t want to believe it, but everything they say about you is true, isn’t it?”

“I haven’t any idea. Perhaps you should tell me just what it is they say about me, and I’ll answer each charge. Might as well get it all out in the open. ‘Air my dirty laundry,’ as they say.”

“Very well.” She folded her arms across her breasts, meeting his gaze with her own. “They say that you are a defiler of innocents.”

“Innocents? Do they really say that? You may rest easy, as that that one is indeed false. I do not trifle with innocents. Ever. What else?”

“That you keep a half-dozen mistresses.”

“The current count is a mere one, unless you count a recent though regrettably brief interlude with a widow in Shropshire. Do you honestly think I should pay to keep half the demi-monde in style? I’ve not that much blunt. No, I think one kept mistress is sufficient, even for a man with my, er, appetites. Have you anything else?”

Her eyes narrowed perceptibly as her color rose once more. “That you’ve fought two duels of honor these past six months alone, called out by angry husbands for dallying with their wives.”

“Ah, that one is true. Partially. I have fought two duels and—”

“And wounded an innocent man who sought only to avenge his wife’s honor after you coldly and calculatedly seduced her,” she interrupted, her blue eyes blazing.

“In the hand. I shot the fool in the hand, only to keep him from killing me without just cause.”

“So you deny seducing two married women?”

He nodded. “I seduced only one married woman, and I hadn’t any idea she was married at the time. In fact, she told me quite plainly that she was not. Is that all?”

“Isn’t it enough? You’re lucky you haven’t gotten yourself killed.”

“I must say, your concern for my reputation is touching. But why should you care if I do get myself killed?”

“In case you have forgotten, our fathers have signed a betrothal agreement on our behalf. They expect us to wed by Christmastide.”

“Ah, yes. That. And yet you told me just this morning that you would not have me, and I was in full agreement. So, you see, you needn’t worry.”

“No, a man like yourself could not bear to associate with a woman like me now, could you?”

Had she any idea how close to the truth this statement was? No, he could not bear it—to taint her so. He might not be a gentleman, but he did possess some scruples.

“Good day, Mr. Stoneham,” she said, interrupting his thoughts. With a tip of her head in his direction, she turned and walked away from him, leaving him there alone beside the honeysuckle hedge, thinking that perhaps the world would be a better place if he hadn’t shot the dueling pistol from that fool’s hand.