By Melody Thomas
Iciness Ashburn used to be the toast of the ton, yet now she skirts the margins of excessive society via stealing from the wealthy to provide to the terrible. Her most modern mark is none except Rory Jameson, the rake who dared mistake her for a woman of the night. wintry weather has stolen from her fair proportion of scandalously good-looking males long ago . . . so why does her center beat swifter as she techniques his door? Rory Jameson is a rake, it really is precise. And he is stuck many a thief whereas on mystery missions for the Crown, yet none has been this exciting, this attractive. he'll make wintry weather pay off what she took so shamelessly . . . and soften her icy fa?ade with the warmth of his depraved contact. yet her kiss units his soul on fire—and now he'll by no means be chuffed until eventually he has made this pleasing temptress his personal.
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Extra resources for Passion and Pleasure in London
He nudged his gray and rounded the cart to see inside. ” She switched her attention to Sheriff Derwood. “I’m on my way to see Mrs. Smythe, who is watching Mam. If I can inquire as to why you should care how I get there? ” “We’re looking for a man who was seen in the pub last night, Winter,” Sheriff Derwood said, severity framing his mouth. “A stranger who left the stables shortly after you did. ” Her heart gave a bump. ” Sheriff Derwood leaned against the pommel, the leather saddle creaking beneath his weight.
In one brief glance, Rory recognized the gray mare at the stable. Disappointment pushed against him. Something told him Old Ben was involved. Then he thought of those two boys, one of whom was 30 MELODY THOMAS Winter’s brother and wondered what their role might also be in this confrontation. Rory had only a small purse to give them. That and his horse. He had a bullet for them as well, he thought, crossing one hand over the other as he leaned into his saddle. “Gentlemen,” he said, using the term loosely.
She had once idolized him. She’d been fourteen and he sixteen when they’d made a secret pact to one day marry. That evening at the fair, he’d pulled her behind the mountebank’s medicine wagon and sealed that promise with her very ﬁrst kiss. After arriving in the kitchen, Winter pumped water into the sink basin and scrubbed her face and arms, remembering that kiss, a kiss that felt nothing like the one Trevor’s dark cousin had bestowed on her last night. A kiss that had left her knees wobbly like a willow weakened by a gust of wind, and had planted an odd sense of self-betrayal in her heart.