![]() ![]() He was more raw and masculine, possibly handsome-if not for the rapier scar that had flayed his left cheek. Not ever again by a pretty face and prettier lies. She was not about to be taken in by the man. She squinted at him as rage flared through her, scorching in its intensity. She was taken aback by how sinfully attractive he was. Jocelyn flushed as the husky rasp of his voice stirred deep within her. “I must assume that the house and name on this card are as fabricated as this dire situation your note hinted at?” Long elegant fingers coolly caressed the card that she had presented to his butler to gain entrance, and those ice-blue eyes flicked to the note she had written. But then, Jocelyn’s papa had always called her his little Napoleon. He was reputed to be ruthless, and have one of the shrewdest minds in all London. Jocelyn gritted her teeth and desperately hoped that he did not hear the pounding of her heart, or sensed her fear. ![]() Eyes that were the color of winter blue, colder than the wind that whistled through the open windows, stared at her penetratingly. Lady Jocelyn Rathbourne’s hand did not waver as she pointed the derringer at the Duke of Calydon. ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |