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DEFIANT, by Sabrina York
Noble
Passions, Book Five
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
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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.
All
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.”
She
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.
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
