Changing the Earl's Mind
The Lords of Whitehall #3
A man who knows everything…
For nearly a decade, Drake Ramsey, the disciplined and logical Earl of Saint Brides, has been the driving force behind the Home Office; meeting with foreign leaders to negotiate treaties, spurring a lethargic Parliament into action, and directing a secret army of spies. The last thing he wants to find while taking a well-deserved vacation is a dangerous fugitive. Nevertheless, when he catches a beautiful murderess hiding in his hunting cabin, he has little choice but to bring her to justice, landing himself in a battle for control he could never hope to win.
…meets a woman determined to prove him wrong.
Marrying a stranger simply to gain access to her dowry and travel the world, admittedly, was the biggest mistake of Sarah Tindall’s life. In fact, she would readily admit to making several big mistakes. Killing her husband, however, is not one of them. When a starchy lord takes it upon himself to bring her to a London prison, she is determined to escape him and prove her innocence, yet every attempt ends with her back in her handsome captor’s arms. Even if her innocence is proven, his forbidden and passionate kisses leave her uncertain if escape was ever an option.
Lightning flashed, and she could see one side of his mouth pull up into a small smile. “What were you after, Mrs. Tindall? Perhaps I could be of service. After all, you are most definitely pursuing something in my bedchamber.”
She sucked in a gasp. “I can assure you passing through your bedchamber was not my design.”
“Is that so?” he asked, his voice naught but a low murmur. “Then what, pray tell, was your design?”
“Nothing. A book to help me sleep, but it’s nothing. I shall just be going now.” She tugged her hands, but he didn’t let her go.
She felt the heat of his breath on her neck, and every inch of her skin came alive, tingling with warmth.
“A book, you said? Do you read often?”
She nodded, unable to push enough air from her lungs to form any coherent words. His stilted breath warmed her neck as he let out a soft chuckle.
“Of course you do,” he murmured. “You are either God’s greatest creation, or the devil’s most dangerous weapon.” His lips brushed her neck, and he let out a low groan. “My darling, I am not at all sure which is the case.”
“Oh!” she breathed, her voice an unrecognizable whimper on the air.
His touch electrified her, melting her resolve until she was utterly lost.
“What tomes do you prefer, Mrs. Tindall?” The low rumble of his voice washed over her like silk. His hands flexed over her wrists as his tongue lightly skimmed to just below her ear. “I asked you a question.”
“Not those awful gothic tomes, I hope.” He caught her earlobe between his teeth, laving it with his tongue.
The mewling sound that escaped her mouth sounded distant and unfamiliar. Her breasts ached, flattened against his chest, and heat pooled in her belly.
Then he shifted, and she felt his breath on her lips. “I think you will find that sort of reading will only keep you up at night here. Ghosts seem to leap from the pages expressly for that purpose.”
She was undone. His mouth was so close to hers, his touch so heated, she had never wanted anything as desperately as she wanted his kiss. It was madness. She had to come to her senses. This man was keeping her prisoner. He was taking her to her death.
Kristen McLean is a regency-era romance novelist with a flair for humor and suspense. She has always had a love of novels, with a special place in her heart for historical romance. Now she has the pleasure of writing at home, tucked away in a forest with her husband, two children and their cat. Her husband is loving and impressively patient, their two beautiful children strive to embarrass and exhaust her, and the cat hates everyone, but tolerates—well, she tolerates whoever will feed her.