Praise for Marguerite Kaye:
‘Kaye delights readers with a heated seduction and fiery games that burn up the pages when her heroine takes
THE CAPTAIN’S WICKED WAGER.’ —RT Book Reviews
‘A spellbinding Regency romance with a difference,
THE GOVERNESS AND THE SHEIKH is another winner for Marguerite Kaye!’ —Cataromance
‘Kaye closes her brilliant Princes of the Desert trilogy, in which Regency Roses meet and fall in love with desert sheikhs. Book Three is irresistible, with its fantastical kingdom, all-powerful prince and the allure of the forbidden. Sensual, ravishing and funny. A must for all lovers of sheikh romance.’ —RT Book Reviews on THE GOVERNESS AND THE SHEIKH
‘If I take you, it will be because I want to.’
The words made Deborah shiver. Did he want her? Want her? No one had ever wanted her like that.
‘And do you—want me?’
Looking round swiftly, to check they were quite alone, Elliot pulled her to him, a dark glint in his eyes. ‘You are playing a very dangerous game, Deborah Napier. I would advise you to have a care, for if you dance with the devil you are likely to get burnt. You may come with me, but only if you promise to do exactly as I say.’
‘You mean it!’ Oh, God, he meant it! She would be a housebreaker. A thief! ‘I’ll do exactly as you say.’
‘Then prove it. Kiss me,’ Elliot said audaciously, not thinking for a moment that she would.
But she did. Without giving herself time to think, her heart hammering against her breast, Deborah stood on tiptoe, pulled his head down to hers, and did as she was bade. Right there in Hyde Park, in the middle of the day, she kissed him …
About the Author
Born and educated in Scotland, MARGUERITE KAYE originally qualified as a lawyer but chose not to practise. Instead, she carved out a career in IT and studied history part-time, gaining a first-class honours and a master’s degree. A few decades after winning a children’s national poetry competition she decided to pursue her lifelong ambition to write, and submitted her first historical romance to Mills & Boon®. They accepted it, and she’s been writing ever since.
You can contact Marguerite through her website at: www.margueritekaye.com
Previous novels by the same author:
THE WICKED LORD RASENBY
THE RAKE AND THE HEIRESS INNOCENT IN THE SHEIKH’S HAREM† (part of Summer Sheikhs anthology) THE GOVERNESS AND THE SHEIKH† THE HIGHLANDER’S REDEMPTION* THE HIGHLANDER’S RETURN* RAKE WITH A FROZEN HEART
and in Mills & Boon® Historical Undone! eBooks:
THE CAPTAIN’S WICKED WAGER
THE HIGHLANDER AND THE SEA SIREN BITTEN BY DESIRE TEMPTATION IS THE NIGHT CLAIMED BY THE WOLF PRINCE** BOUND TO THE WOLF PRINCE** THE HIGHLANDER AND THE WOLF PRINCESS** THE SHEIKH’S IMPETUOUS LOVE-SLAVE † SPELLBOUND & SEDUCED
† linked by character *Highland Brides **Legend of the Faol
Did you know that some of these novels are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk
Outrageous
Confessions of Lady Deborah
Marguerite Kaye
Prologue
The murals were surprisingly well executed. Whoever had commissioned them certainly had eclectic taste, for Dionysius practiced his arts on one wall, with Sappho adjacent, and a selection of rather graphic and—in his lordship’s opinion—physically impossible combinations of male and female were portrayed opposite. Upon the fourth wall was painted a rather interesting triumvirate which Charles Mumford, Third Marquess of Rosevale, would have liked to explore further. His current position, however, made this rather difficult.
‘For pity’s sake, Bella, have mercy, I beg of you.’ The Marquess was a man most unused to pleading. In the normal run of things it was his expectation—indeed, he believed it was his inalienable right—to have his every instruction obeyed instantly. But the situation in which he currently found himself could by no stretch of the imagination be described as normal.
For a start he was trussed like a chicken, bound hand and foot to the ornate canopied bed in the centre of the room. His shirt having been ripped open and his breeches roughly pulled down, he was also shockingly exposed, excitingly vulnerable, from his neck to his knees.
Then there was the fact that he was being coolly appraised by quite the most exotic and alluring creature he had ever clapped eyes upon. Clad in a black velvet robe with a décolleté so daring it seemed to be held in place only by the sheer power of her considerable will, she was the stuff of every red-blooded man’s fantasy. Dark silken tresses tumbled down her back. Her skin was the colour of whipped cream. Her lips were full, painted harlot red. Her countenance sultry. The black stock of the cat-o-nine-tails she stroked was thick and weighty. She was, overall, a perfect combination of the voluptuous and the vicious, which sent the blood surging to the Marquess’s most prized piece of anatomy. Charles Mumford groaned. Whether in trepidation or anticipation only he could truly know.
Bella Donna allowed her eyes to wander languidly over the body of her captive. Despite the undoubted fact that he was an insufferable prig, more than deserving of whatever punishment she decided to mete out to him, the Marquess was a prime physical specimen, his lightly muscled body testament to his fondness for the noble art of fencing. A sheen of sweat glistened on his torso as he fought to free himself from his constraints. The muscles in his arms bulged like cords as they strained against the knots she had so expertly tied. A spattering of dark hair arrowed down from his chest, over the flat plane of his taut belly,
