DEFIANT, by Sabrina York, Noble
Passions, Book Five! Have to get yours now!
When
rakish Ned falls in with the wrong crowd, his brother decides to send him to
the Continent for “seasoning”. For Sophia, this just won’t do. She’s loved Ned
for ages—and also longed for adventure. She runs away from her boring suitors
and disguises herself as a cabin boy on the Defiant, the ship
sailing Ned to Italy.
Ned
knows he’s not good enough for Sophia, but once they’re on the Defiant,
he can’t stop himself from touching her, tasting her, loving her. Not when a
wild tempest and a band of ruthless pirates threaten them. Not when every look
from her gives him such pleasure. And certainly not when she comes, warm and
wild and willing, to his bed.
If
they survive their voyage, Sophia’s brother might kill him, but it will have
been worth every moment and every hot, sweet kiss.
A
Romantica® Regency
historical erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave
READ AN
EXCERPT
Sophia stood on the bow of
the boat in the dark as the wind and rain lashed her face. She loved it. Loved
it. Not only was the storm elemental and fierce, it hid her tears.
Surely she hadn’t expected
Ned to greet her with open arms. Not when she had barged in on his adventure as
she had. But she certainly hadn’t expected him to be so horrid. His expression
had devastated her.
Foolish girl, it said.
But then, her heart agreed.
She was foolish.
Foolish to ever think that
he—
“You’re soaked.”
She whirled around, though
she knew what she’d see. More glowering.
She was right.
“What the hell do you
think you’re doing?”
“I’m reveling.” She thrust
out her chin, in case he didn’t believe her.
He gaped at her.
“Reveling?”
“Yes.” She didn’t mean to
shout, but his wintry demeanor annoyed her tremendously. She threw out her
arms. “Look at this!”
“It’s a storm.”
“It’s beautiful. The waves
are wild, untamed—”
“You could be swept
overboard.”
“The wind is howling and
the rain is savage. It’s glorious.”
“It’s freezing. Come
inside.”
“It’s not freezing. It’s
summer.”
“I’m cold.”
“Then you go inside.”
“Sophia Fiona—”
“Don’t call me that.”
“It’s your name.”
“You sound like Ewan.”
“I’m starting to think
Ewan is a saint.”
She glared at him. “What a
beastly thing to say.” She hated that her chin wobbled a little. Hated that he
winced.
“I’m sorry, Sophia. This
has been trying for me.” He sluiced the water from his face. “Won’t you please
come inside?”
“All right. Fine.”
“You will?”
“You did say please.”
He blew out a breath and
offered her his arm. She frowned at it. “I’m a cabin boy, remember? You don’t
offer a cabin boy your arm.” When he didn’t lower it, she smacked it. “Someone
will see.”
That caught his attention
and he slowly lowered his arm. “Right then. Come inside.” He followed her back
to the cabin, his stride decidedly unsteady. If anyone was tipping overboard,
it was most likely him.
When she once again stood
in his chambers, she realized the folly of her actions. She hadn’t brought a
change of clothes and she was drenched. So was he. Without a word, he relit the
lamp and then opened his trunk and pulled out several shirts, two of which he
tossed to her. “Change.”
That was it. One word.
Just “change” and then he presented her with his back. She huffed a breath, but
did as he asked because she was really rather cold. The feel of the cloth
falling over her chilled flesh warmed her. Because it was his shirt. It had
touched his skin. She wasn’t sure why the thought sent heat scudding through
her belly.
“Use the other shirt to
dry your hair,” he suggested, as he began toweling off as well.
She huffed a laugh. “All
of your clothes will be wet.”
“They’ll dry. Are you
clothed?”
“Yes.”
He turned. And froze. His
gaze locked onto her bare legs. “I-I thought you said you were clothed.” A
squawk.
“I am.” But the intensity
of his stare made her self-conscious, so she slipped into the bed.
“Close your eyes,” he said
as he unbuttoned the damp linen clinging to his chest.
“Why?”
“I need to change as well.
I’m f-freezing.”
“Okay.” She did. But she
peeked.
He ripped off his wet
shirt and her breath caught at the sight of his broad back. Muscles rippled as
he moved and she swallowed. He was beautiful. He tugged the fresh shirt over
his head and she nearly whimpered as that magnificent vision disappeared. But
then, he unfastened his trousers.
A ll pretense of not
peeking evaporated.
He sat and took a moment
to work off his boots. And then he stood. His trousers were tight, as was the
fashion, and he had to peel them off. As he bent, she caught a flash of his
bare behind.
She must have made a noise
because he whirled around. His cheek bunched when he saw her watching. “You’re
supposed to have your eyes closed.”
She hunkered in the
covers, as though that would disguise the fact that her eyes were open wide.
“Sophia…”
It was probably wrong to
grin at him, but she couldn’t help it.
“Sophia Fiona!”
“Stop calling me that. It
always makes me think I’m in trouble.”
“You are in trouble. You have no idea how much trouble you’re in.”
She tipped her head to the
side. “We both know Ewan will be so relieved to see me, he’ll forget how angry
he is—”
Ned stilled and fixed her
with a dark glare. “What makes you think I’m talking about Ewan?”
“I… ah…”
“I’ve a mind to bend you
over my knee.”
Why a shiver rippled
through her, she had no idea. She’d been spanked once or twice as a child and
she hadn’t cared for it in the slightest. But something dark and domineering in
Ned’s tone made her womb warm.
“You-you wouldn’t.”
“Wouldn’t I? Now, look
away. Your brother would skewer me if I gave you the education you’re about to
have.”
S he attempted not to
snort. Ned—and everyone—thought her a prim and innocent miss on account of the
polish she’d acquired at Lady Satterlee’s. Nothing could be further from the
truth. As a child, before Ewan had made his fortune, they’d lived a
hand-to-mouth existence in the slums of Perth. She’d seen more than one couple
rutting against a wall in a dingy alleyway. And at one point, she and her
brother had taken refuge in a bordello. She’d been only seven, but if she’d had
an education, she got it there. She could probably teach Ned a few things.
Still, because he seemed
to expect it, she squeezed her eyes tight and didn’t hardly peek at all as he
finished changing. Besides which, the spot she was interested in was mostly
shadows.
With a great huff, he
threw himself back into the chair. “Now, go to sleep.”
“Don’t you want me to put
out the light?”
“No. I want to be able to
see where you are.”
“I’m not leaving again
tonight.” Probably. Unless her despair overcame her once more.
“Leave it on.” A grunt,
and not a very nice one at that. Why he had call to be annoyed, she couldn’t
fathom.
Blast and damn, he was an
annoying man. Sophia grunted as well and rolled over, facing the wall of the
cabin. She studied the patterns the swinging lamp made for a long while,
listening as he shifted one way and then the other.
It was really unfair for
him to have to sleep in the chair. This was his room. But he would never share
her bed. She grimaced at the way the words came out, but it was true. He
wouldn’t. Unless…
She rolled over again and
watched him twist in the chair. He caught her eye and frowned.
“Ned?”
An impatient groan. “Yes,
Sophia?”
“Ned, I’m cold.”
He stilled. Then barked,
“Put on another blanket.”
“There aren’t any more.”
She faked a shiver. She wasn’t cold in the slightest. She never was. Ewan said
she ran hot. “Brr. My teeth are chattering.”
His glower became a frown.
“I hope I don’t get ill.”
He paled. “You shouldn’t
have gone out in the rain. Why did you go out in the rain?”
She sneezed. Or something
like it. “I don’t know.”
“Sophia?”
“Am I running a fever?”
She put her palm to her forehead. “I think I’m running a fever.”
His brow wrinkled. He
stood and made his way across the tiny chamber as though on his death march. He
set the backs of his fingers to her cheeks. His frown darkened. “You are warm.”
“No. I’m cold.” She
shivered and peered up at him, her eyes as wide as she could make them. “Won’t
you warm me?”
He wrenched his hand away
as though she’d burned him. “What?”
“Lie here beside me and
warm me up?”
“There’s not enough room
for both of us.”
“I’m small.”
“Sophia.” She’d never
heard her name in such a strangled voice, not even when Ewan was at his wit’s
end.
" Just for a bit? You can
be on top of the covers. Surely that is decent.”
The muscle in his cheek
bunched again, as though he were grinding his teeth.
“Please?”
He gusted a sigh. “All
right, Sophia. Scoot over and make room.”
She did. With alacrity.
“And roll over, facing the
wall.”
She frowned at him “Why?”
“Just do it. Please.”
“Oh, all right.” But only
because he said please. And because, when she was facing the other way, he
couldn’t see her grin.
He settled in behind her
and a shiver rocked her. He was warm. And he smelled delicious. Not fishy in
the slightest. It was delightful, lying here with him. She closed her eyes and
imagined he wanted this as much as she.
If only. If only.
Check out
the other books in the Noble Passions Series from Sabrina York
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.
.jpg)
2014 EPIC
eBook Award Finalist
2013 Passionate Plume Finalist
Widowed and threatened with penury by her heartless in-laws, Eleanor--Lady
Ulster--hatches a plot to save herself. Determined to produce the Ulster
"heir", she seduces a stranger at a tawdry masquerade. Little does
she know, this magnificent masked lover is none other than her husband's
greatest nemesis. And God knows Ulster had plenty.
Ethan Pennington is mortified to arrive at a house party and discover Lady
Ulster in attendance. He has wanted her and hated wanting her--his enemy's
bride--for years. When he overhears Eleanor's predicament and her plans to
place a cuckoo in the Ulster nest, he is more than willing to oblige. The
opportunity to finally claim her--while taking the revenge he craves--is more
than he can resist. Ethan strikes a bargain with Eleanor, promising to provide
her with the heir she so desperately needs...if she will meet his needs in
return. Every decadent one of them.
The
sizzling prequel to Folly
2014
Winner of the Carolyn Readers’ Choice Award
When Lady Helena Simpson flees an unwanted marriage
to a revolting lord, she finds refuge with James, a charming, handsome man
unlike any she’s ever known. Helena concocts the perfect solution to her
problem. She asks—begs—James to ruin her. Surely her betrothed will repudiate
her if she is no longer pure. And if all her efforts fail and she still ends up
married to a horrid man until the end of her days, she will at least once have
known true passion.
But James is not all he seems. He is, in fact, a
wicked lord with a dark fancy. When Helena awakens his desire, he becomes
determined to take everything she has to offer and more. No matter the cost.
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.
Kidnapped and held prisoner by menacing Scottish
brigand, the notorious McCloud, Violet Wyeth does her best to persevere…and
resist his rakish charms. But when she realizes The McCloud is really Ewan St.
Andrews, the boy who once saved her life, the boy who once kissed her and made
her heart flutter, she is lost.
Ewan has every intention of marrying Lady Kaitlin
MacAllister. He desperately needs the entrée into the ton this bride can provide. But when his bride is delivered—bound
and gagged—it’s not Kaitlin. It’s Violet Wyeth—the girl who betrayed him and
ruined his life when he was a boy. He keeps her, determined to punish her for
her sins. But when he discovers the truth about what really happened so long
ago, and seething passion rises between them, he can no longer hold on to his
rusty grudge. By the time he realizes how much he loves Violet—that he always
has—he’s lost her.
All he can do is follow her. Follow her into the
bowels of hell—and partake in the torment of the glittering London Season,
where the harpies are far more dangerous than a Scottish brigand.
About
Sabrina York
