The Third Book in the Scorching Noble Passions
Series by Sabrina York Releases!
Fans of Sabrina York’s
steamy Regency series have been eagerly awaiting the release of Dark Duke, the
third book (following award winning Folly
and Dark Fancy) in which Edward Wyeth, the Dark Duke of Moncrieff, finally
meets his match in the form of a flame-haired Scottish spitfire.
Noble Passions: Follow
the decadent exploits of friends and enemies as they find love and passion in
the glittering world of the Regency—and its dark underbelly. Each book is a
stand-alone read.
If you’re new to the
series, download Sabrina’s free
teaser book at http://sabrinayork.com/home-2/sabrina-yorks-teaser-book/
to read blurbs and excerpts for this popular series. Each book in the series is
a stand-alone story.
Enter to win a signed
print copy of Dark Fancy (Helena and James’
story—Book 2 in the Noble Passions Series) on Goodreads! https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17409083-dark-fancy
Dark DukeSabrina York
Noble
Passions, Book Three
Edward Wyeth, the Dark
Duke of Moncrieff’s life has been turned on its end. His well-ordered home has
been invaded. By destitute relatives. From Scotland. How on earth can he write
Lord Hedon’s salacious novels with hellions battling in the garden and starting
fires in the library? But with the onslaught has come a delicious diversion.
His cousin’s companion, the surprisingly intriguing Kaitlin MacAllister. He is
determined to seduce her. Using her desperate need for funds and her talents as
an artist, he convinces her to draw naughty pictures for his naughtier books…and
he draws her into his decadent web.
But Kaitlin has a secret.
She’s fled Scotland—and a very determined betrothed. When Edward’s cousin is
kidnapped and held in her stead, Kaitlin is honor bound to return to her
homeland and rescue her—much to Edward’s chagrin.
Because suddenly he can’t
bear the thought of Kaitlin marrying another man. He can’t bear the thought of
losing her at all.
A
Romantica® Regency historical erotic
romance from Ellora’s Cave
By
reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age. If
you are under the age of 18, please exit this site.
An Excerpt From: DARK DUKE
All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing,
Inc.
Edward skirted the mêlée
in the garden and made his way to the far end of the estate, where there was
nothing but flowers and trees and a placid little pond. Nothing to attract
diminutive fiends bent on mischief. He would sit in the folly until his
temperature returned to normal.
Perhaps until spring.
Dear God. He’d had no
idea having the Wyeths of Perth take over his house would be such a nightmare.
If he had suspected as much, he would have turned them away at the start. They
would probably have crawled in under the door. Through the cracks in the flue.
Vermin had a way of finding entrance.
But now. Now they were
here.
Entrenched.
He had to get rid of
them.
Perhaps he could send
them back to Scotland.
Scotland would revile him
for it, but he had little use for rocky tors, lochs and sheep.
Then he thought of Violet
and his heart lurched. It would crush her to be trundled back to what she
referred to as “the bleak wilderness.” She was looking forward to a glittering
season in London. She was seventeen. She needed a husband. A husband of
quality. That might be difficult to find in the wilds of Scotland.
And Ned. Ned was twenty.
He was just starting to find his way with the ton. He’d made some
friends—decent fellows. He’d even been receiving invitations to game at
White’s.
The two of them—the
normal two—deserved better than being lumped in with the rest.
He whacked at a rosebud
as he passed. It exploded into a flutter of petals. He refused to feel any
sympathy.
He couldn’t send them
packing.
Then what?
Hell. He was a duke of
the realm. He had six houses spread throughout the empire. Why hadn’t he
thought to purchase a spare in London?
Aha!
That was brilliant.
He would. He’d buy them
their own house. Move them all, lock stock and—well, maybe not the barrels, as
the older boys did like to drink. He’d move them all into their own domicile.
With Aunt Hortense. Let
her manage them.
His life would once again
be orderly. He would be the master of his own abode. Free to pursue the life of
a wealthy dilettante.
Perfect.
He rounded the bend with
a satisfied smile on his face. The trickle of the fountain in the pond was a
balm to his tormented soul. Birds sang in the trees. The sun—well, it almost
shone. It was a beautiful day.
Soon, the world would be
right again.
Soon, they would all be
gone.
He skipped up the steps
of the folly with a lightness of heart he hadn’t felt in ages. A book on the
bench snagged his attention and his mood dipped, but only a bit. Someone had
been here. But they were gone.
He picked it up and
flipped through it and stilled.
Good God.
It was a sketch book.
The first page was an
attempt at this scene. The flowers and trees, the pond and the little fountain.
Not very good. But the second arrested his attention. It was a simple line
drawing of Violet. And it was stunning. The artist had managed to depict her
beauty, but also captured that glint in her eye, the particular quirk of her
lips. Her soul.
The next sketch was one
of Ned, showing a brash young man, standing insouciantly with his hands shoved
into his pockets, whistling a silent tune. The next was of the twins—whatever
their names were—dark heads together plotting some manner of mayhem.
It was so realistic
Edward expected them to leap from the page and whack him with a cricket bat.
But it was the last
sketch in the book that stole his breath. It was a portrait, in profile. His
own face. But not an Edward he would ever recognize. This man was heroic,
tragic, a solitary soldier. It was only a few lines drawn in charcoal, but it
revealed so much about him. Things he didn’t want anyone to ever know.
It was horrifying. And
remarkable.
“Your Grace.”
He snapped the book shut
and spun around.
Of course. What’s her
name. The girl. The owl. From last night.
“Oh, you found it.” She
stepped into the folly and took the book from his hands. He did not know why he
let it go.
“You left it here.” An
accusation. Really? He hadn’t intended for it to come out like that.
She chuckled. “I had to
go rescue Hamish. I was coming back.”
“What…why did you have to
rescue Hamish?” This was her work? She saw him like that? And hell, she was a
damn fine hand. How he would love to turn such talent to…darker purposes. What
a pity she was such a prude. The kind of work he could offer her would make her
rich—rich enough to quit serving as Violet’s companion.
But she would never do
it. No decent woman would.
He must be crazed, truly
crazed, to even think on it.
The gripping sketch of
his wounded countenance lingered in his brain. If she could do that, if she
could see through to his soul and bring it to life on paper—
“And then he got stuck.
In the tree. So I had to rescue him.”
Lord. She’d been talking.
He’d missed the entire explanation. No matter. The question had been purely
rhetorical.
“How long have you been
drawing?”
She winced, clutched the
book to her breast. He recalled what fine breasts they were. “I… What?”
“How long have you been
drawing? You’re quite good.”
“You looked at my book?”
She squawked as though he’d just admitted to peering up her skirts. The lemony
face returned. A beetled brow and pursed lips. It was, upon reflection, rather
adorable.
“It was lying here.”
“You shouldn’t look at
someone’s sketchbook.”
“You shouldn’t leave it
where it can be found.” He crossed his arms over his chest and grinned at her.
Damn, he loved her accent.
She sputtered. “I told
you. Hamish and Tay—”
“Tay?”
“Taylor. Hamish and
Taylor were building a fort in a tree—”
“Yes. Yes. I know. You
had to rescue him. Tell me, have they always been this much trouble?”
She blew out a breath.
“You have no idea.”
They both laughed. It was
a nice moment, because it seemed, for that brief flash of time, they were
friends, bound in mutual misery.
And then he went and
ruined it by letting his lust intrude. “So tell me, what did you think of that
book?”
She tipped her head.
“What book?”
“The one I gave you last
night.”
She blinked several
times, as though she had to try very hard to remember. “Oh. That book. I didn’t read it.”
He stepped closer. “Ah.
You like to look at the pictures, then?” He knew the sort.
“Look at the… What? No,
your Grace—”
“Edward.” He infused his
voice with a low thrum.
“Your Grace. I didn’t have a chance to open it.”
Why petulance curled
within him, he had no clue. “What do you mean you didn’t have a chance to open
it?” She was supposed to have read it. Or at least looked at the pictures. She
was supposed to be gazing at him, right now, with a dewy look.
She brushed an invisible
speck from her skirt. “There was…a distraction.”
Well hell. “What kind of
distraction?”
Her lips pursed. The look
she shot him was not dewy in the slightest.
Still, he wanted to kiss
her.
He wasn’t sure why. She
was certainly not the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. But her face had
character and charm—especially when she smiled. Her figure was full—the way he
liked them—but she didn’t show it off to its best effect. In fact, if he hadn’t
known what lay beneath the thick layers of crinoline and bombazine, he would
have been fooled. She was prickly as a hedgehog and smacked him down at every
turn.
So why did he want to
pull her into his arms and smother her mouth with his?
Perhaps because of all
those things.
Then again, perhaps just
because.
So he did.
He took the girl—whose
name he could not remember, whose face he could not forget—into his arms and
kissed her. It was a gentle buss, as kisses went, but extremely sublime.
Because he’d surprised her.
Her lips were open, as
though poised to speak. He took full advantage, sweeping in his tongue to dab at hers, nibbling and licking and tasting her sweet breath.
The prick at his side was
not a surprise. He’d expected it.
He lifted his head and
stared down into her eyes. Her expression was dazed and determined and perhaps
a little dewy. “Not this time, darling,” he murmured. He took the knife from
her hand and tossed it aside and then pulled her more fully against him.
And ah. She was soft.
Sweet. Her breasts pressed against his chest. Her hips molded the cradle of his
groin. Of course, he was the one doing the molding, but she didn’t fight him.
No. She sighed and tipped
her head to the side so he could deepen the kiss. She tasted like ambrosia. A
tantalizing flavor of cinnamon and woman and surrender. His ardor rose, and
with it, his cock. He rubbed it against her belly.
She stiffened and tried
to push away, muttering something into his mouth that sounded like “No.”
He changed his tack, running
his lips down her cheek and along the line of her jaw to nestle in the crook of
her neck. She shuddered. Some groan-like sound emanated from her throat. She
clutched at his hair.
Thusly encouraged, he
sucked at the tender skin of her neck. Nipped.
“Oh! Saints preserve us,”
she whispered.
“The saints don’t care,”
he responded, switching to the other side of her neck. He found a spot that
delighted her even more and feasted there. In her distraction, she didn’t stop
the palm skimming over her ribs to cup a breast.
He encased her. Ah.
Exquisite. Full and round and pliable. He thumbed a nipple, testing its
rigidity. She dipped as her knees gave way. He caught her. Swung her up in his
arms and carried her to the bench.
From long experience, he
knew better than to give a woman a moment to think. So as soon as he had her
settled across his lap and firmly braced against the wall of the folly, he
kissed her again. With one hand, he stroked her nipples while with the other,
he slowly drew up her skirts.
About Sabrina
York
Her Royal Hotness,
Sabrina York is the award winning
author of over 20 hot, humorous
stories for smart and sexy readers. Her titles range from sweet &
sexy erotic romance to scorching BDSM. Connect with her on twitter
@sabrina_york, on Facebook
or on Pintrest. Check
out Sabrina’s books and read an excerpt on Amazon
or wherever e-books are sold. Visit
her webpage at www.sabrinayork.com to
check out her books, excerpts and contests. Free Teaser Book: http://sabrinayork.com/home-2/sabrina-yorks-teaser-book/ And don’t forget to enter to win the royal
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Books by Sabrina York
Brigand
(Erotic Regency, Ellora’s Cave) —Coming soon
Heart of Ash: A Tryst Island Erotic Romance (Erotic
Contemporary)
Tristan’s
Temptation (Erotic Contemporary, Ellora’s Cave)
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