Loving Lord Ash (40 page)

Frances stepped into the room, and her feet sank into thick carpet. Oh! She couldn’t track mud and slush in here. She put her hat and candle on a nearby table, closed the door, and leaned against it to tug off Frederick’s boots.

Ah. She wiggled her toes in the deep pile and looked around. Red-and-tan wallpaper covered the walls, heavy red curtains hung on the windows to keep out light and drafts, and a red upholstered chair sat by the fire. But the best thing of all was the big mahogany four-poster bed.

Which had likely been used by Lord Jack to entertain countless women. She wrinkled her nose as she jerked off her overcoat and hung it on a hook. As distasteful as the notion was, she was so tired, she couldn’t muster much moral outrage. Perhaps in the morning she’d be suitably incensed, but now she just wanted to lie down.

She slipped out of her coat and started unbuttoning her waistcoat . . .

No, better leave that on, as well as her shirt and breeches and socks—all Frederick’s castoffs. It seemed unlikely another traveler would arrive so late, but she couldn’t take any chances.

She pulled back the coverlet and climbed onto the bed, stretching her aching body over the soft, yielding, wonderful feather mattress.

She was asleep even before her head hit the pillow.

About the Author

A native of Washington, DC,
Sally MacKenzie
still lives in suburban Maryland with her transplanted upstate–New Yorker husband. She’s written federal regulations, school newsletters, auction programs, class plays, and swim league guidance, but it wasn’t until the first of her four sons headed off to college that she tried her hand at romance. She can be reached by e-mail at [email protected] or by snail mail at PO Box 2453, Kensington, MD 20891.

Please visit her home in cyberspace at
www.sallymackenzie.net
.

BEDDING LORD NED

Pleasure Is On Her Dance Card

Determined to find a husband, Miss Eleanor “Ellie” Bowman attends a ball put on by the Duchess of Greycliffe, fondly referred to as the Duchess of Love. But she roundly dismisses the suitors the matchmaking hostess has invited on her behalf. For it’s the duchess’s dashing son Ned, Lord Edward, who long ago captured Ellie’s heart—and roused her desire. All it takes is a pair of conveniently misplaced silky red bloomers to set the handsome widower’s gaze on this unusual girl who is clearly more than meets the eye . . .

After four years of mourning, Ned must find a wife. At first glance, the birthday ball his mother has thrown in his honor is decidedly lacking in suitable mistresses. But he senses something unexpectedly alluring beneath the veil of Ellie’s plain exterior—and suddenly she’s invading his dreams in a decidedly scandalous manner.

SURPRISING LORD JACK

Unladylike Behavior

Frances Hadley has managed her family’s estate for years. So why can’t she request her own dowry? She’ll have to go to London herself and knock some sense into the men interfering in her life. With the nonsense she’s dealt with lately, though, there’s no way she’s going as a woman. A pair of breeches and a quick chop of her red curls, and she’ll have much less to worry about . . .

Jack Valentine, third son of the famous Duchess of Love, is through being pursued by pushy young ladies. One particularly determined miss has run him out of his own house party. Luckily the inn has one bed left—Jack just has to share with a rather entertaining red-headed youth. Perhaps the two of them should ride to London together. It will make a pleasant escape from his mother’s matchmaking melodrama!

THE NAKED LAIRD

Lords and Ladies Can Make Strange Bedfellows . . .

The viscount’s house party promises to be one of the season’s highlights, and Lord and Lady Kilgorn are delighted to attend. If only the long-estranged couple had realized they were
both
invited—and assigned to the same bedchamber . . .

Lady Kilgorn did not travel miles from her comfortable home to share a too-small room with the handsome Scottish scoundrel she’d married far too young—and far too eagerly! And the last thing Lord Kilgorn needs is to be teased by the sight of his ever more beautiful wife! But as the weekend progresses, the pair will discover there are some fires even time cannot put out . . .

THE NAKED DUKE

The Surprise of Her Life

Sophisticated. Scandalous. In fact, Miss Sarah Hamilton, a proper Philadelphian, finds London society altogether shocking. How can it be that she has awakened from her innocent slumber to find herself in bed next to a handsome—and exceedingly naked—man? The laughing onlookers standing in the doorway are no help whatsoever and surely this amorous lunatic cannot be a duke, as he claims. She is compromised—though she most certainly will not marry him!

The Sweetest Moment of His

James, the Duke of Alvord, is enchanted by his unexpected bedmate—and not at all afraid of her pink-cheeked fury. True, the circumstances and place of their meeting are most unusual, but the spirited American who’s pummeling him with a pillow is an incomparable beauty. If Sarah will only listen to his perfectly reasonable explanation, James is sure that he can capture her heart . . . forever.

THE NAKED MARQUIS

The Man Is Practical

As marriage proposals go, Charles Draysmith’s suit is as romantic as the moors in December. Emma Peterson might be only a vicar’s daughter, and he the new Marquis of Knightsdale, and perhaps he
would
rather marry her than endure the marriage mart. But when he suggests how much he’ll enjoy securing an heir, well, a lady can only endure so much.

But the Lady Is Passionate

There’s something about a woman throwing pottery at a man that piques his interest. Perhaps his proposal lacks grace, Charles thinks. But it does seem a perfect solution. He acquires a wife; his young charges have the mother they so desperately need, and Emma gains security and position. You see? Simple. Practical. Sensib—oh no, not the ceramic dog . . . He will have to confess the truth to calm her down. And the truth is, he’s madly in love . . .

THE NAKED EARL

He Took Her By Surprise

When a naked earl climbs through the window into her bedchamber, Lady Elizabeth Runyon does the proper thing: She screams. Loudly. And then . . . well, Lizzie has had enough of being proper. She wishes to be bold. Wanton, even. She won’t be commanded to put on her nightgown. Just this once, she will be absolutely daring . . .

She Returned the Favor

Robert Hamilton, Earl of Westbrooke, has no intention of being tricked into marriage by a detestable female, and if he has to flee naked across a rooftop, he will. Jolly good there’s an open window waiting—as well as an undressed, slightly drunk, and alluringly beautiful Lady Elizabeth. Oh dear. If they are caught together, he might have to marry her. The idea is delicious . . . and the temptation is irresistible . . .