By Anna Elliott
What if the fellow you really liked was once a smuggler--or a spy?
Jobless and approximately destitute, Susanna Ward intends purely to discover paintings as a governess. She definitely has no purpose of contacting her kinfolk, who do away with her father and scorned her mom years in the past. yet an opportunity come across with a determine from her prior means that her estranged grandfather used to be murdered, and that his loss of life was once hooked up to an area ring of smugglers, led through a mysterious determine who calls himself Captain Clark.
When Captain Clark himself appears to be like at her door, wounded and wanting her support, Susanna needs to come to a decision the place her precise loyalties lie. and she or he should also notice the reality of her grandfather's dying. differently the guy she is quickly falling in love with can be hanged for treason and murder.
Susanna and the secret agent is a comfortable secret, applicable for every age. it truly is nearly 70,000 phrases in size.
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Extra info for Susanna and the Spy
See the love in his eyes, too. But she had other ideas. She pulled him down, covering his mouth with hers, her hands well-nigh strangling him. What an ass he was. She needed to be kissed. It was an inexcusable omission from their earlier play. An intimacy so perfect that had always been almost too transcendent to trust. They’d had years of practice before the kissing led to complications. She was frantic now, nipping, weeping, as though she wanted to devour him. This was more than a kiss. His blood sang as they locked together, each engaged in a sensual battle for dominance, a battle he wanted her to win.
He only smiled. “So they say. ” She went silent beneath him. Soon he would make it impossible for her to stay silent. He hovered over her bud. Was it his imagination, or did Laurette strain up a fraction of an inch to give him access? No matter. It was far too soon. He leaned back, observing his handiwork. It seemed to him she was not quite so sacrificial. There was the slightest gap between her thighs and she no longer clenched her hands into the bedcovers. His fingertip slowly retraced its assault back up to her nose, omitting the sidetrip into the warm haven of her mouth.
Con was looking at the future Marchioness of Conover. He’d done everything, would do anything in his power, to make it so. Laurette had refused him once. She would not do so again. He couldn’t permit it. He swept her up into his arms and carried her through the doorway. ” Con grinned. She all but beat her fists upon him. However, that would have required more energy on her part, and his Laurette seemed intent on playing the rigid doll. He was looking forward to loosening each limb, and plying her with his fingers and his tongue, until she was enslaved … ensorcelled.