An untamable hellion

Lady Boadicea Harrington is a scandal waiting to happen. She’s too outspoken, too opinionated, and far too much of a flirt to ever land a good match.

But that doesn’t concern her. The last of her sisters on the marriage mart, she isn’t about to settle down. In fact, she doesn’t plan to marry at all. If only she could tone down her wild streak and force herself to behave…

A rigidly proper man

The Duke of Bainbridge is one of the most powerful men in England, so frigid that it’s rumored his own wife committed suicide to escape him.

When Spencer learns his madcap younger brother is pursuing the unsuitable Lady Boadicea, he’s determined to put an end to their ill-advised flirtation. But his best intentions go awry when he discovers his own baffling inability to resist her.

Ice meets fire

Spencer never meant to so thoroughly compromise Lady Bo that he’s duty-bound to wed her. Bo certainly never intended to enjoy being in his arms or to find him so wickedly tempting.

Can her passionate fire prove enough to melt his icy heart, or are they forever doomed to a cold marriage of convenience?

EXCERPT

“Hello?” she called out as she strode across the luxurious carpet, just to be certain that the duke was still otherwise engaged with the gentlemen of the gathering.

No one answered. Alone, then.

“Good,” she murmured to herself, going to the wall of spines nearest to her in search of something that piqued her interest. She didn’t wish to have another clash with him. But she did require some distraction, and what better method than reading? Bainbridge had to possess something here, some volume, worthy of a read. He had stolen the only book she’d brought along with her. 

“Latin,” she grumbled as she studied the spines before her, finger skating over them one by one.

“You don’t know the language?”

The voice, deep and low just over her shoulder and so delicious that it could have been velvet itself drawn over her bare skin, made her finger go still. Where had he been hiding? Of course, that explained the reason why she had smelled him.

She stiffened but refused to turn for fear of his nearness and his capacity to disarm her. “I know it well enough.”

“Ah. These works are not prurient enough for your voluptuary tastes, I take it, Lady Boadicea?” His delicious baritone raised gooseflesh on her arms. Was it just her imagination, or had he drawn nearer? Was that the heat of his breath that she felt upon her neck, just below her right ear? And why did the word ”voluptuary” uttered in his sinful voice incite tingles in her belly?

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