Dancing with the Duke by Suzanna Medeiros Page B

away
all who’d loved him before the accident that had taken both of his
parents’ lives.
    He remembered, too, how his older brother had
developed the same mysterious ailment last year. An ailment that
had led to his death.
    His father was sixty when he’d first started
complaining about headaches. His brother’s attacks had started much
earlier, at the age of thirty-two, and his illness had progressed
more quickly. Nicholas was only twenty-eight, but he could no
longer ignore the fact he was now showing signs of suffering from
that same disease.
    Pushing back his grim thoughts, he opened his
eyes and squinted against the bright light streaming through the
window. He began to sit up but froze when he took in the unfamiliar
surroundings.
    Vague images filtered back to him, most of
them featuring a blond-haired, gray-eyed woman hovering over him.
He frowned, trying to remember what had happened the night before,
but his memory eluded him.
    He surveyed the room around him. Where was
he? Not in his London townhouse. He remembered receiving a letter
from his grandmother the day before. While not unusual, his
grandmother’s letters were rare enough to make him wary since she
never bothered him with good news.
    He closed his eyes and concentrated on the
memory. He’d arrived home yesterday afternoon, and a footman had
presented him with the letter. He remembered wondering what bad
news he was about to read as he proceeded to his study and threw
the letter on the desk. He’d poured himself a brandy before picking
up the letter again and breaking the seal.
    And that was all. Try as he might, he
couldn’t remember what his grandmother had written. Nor could he
remember anything after that. He must have read the letter. He
always did. He’d learned long ago there was no point in putting off
bad news.
    He opened his eyes at the sound of the door
opening to find a woman standing there. Could this be the woman he
remembered hovering over him last night? She was younger than he’d
thought, not yet twenty if his guess was correct. Her long blond
hair, tousled from sleep, trailed over her shoulders.
    He frowned. Had he spent the night with her?
He must have been truly out of his head, because he didn’t usually
dally with girls who were barely out of the schoolroom.
    She was rubbing the sleep from her eyes when
she entered. When her gaze met his, she froze. Her eyes were blue
and wide with shock. Then, to his surprise, she opened her mouth
and screamed.
    Well, this was different. He’d made many
women shriek in his day, but usually with pleasure.
     
A Marquess for Christmas — Vivienne
Westlake
    Regency Erotic Romance
     
    Excerpt
     
    A proper widow. A rakish marquess. He rescued
her from thieves, but will she be able to save him from
himself?
     
    When Violet Laurens is rescued from
highwaymen, the furthest thing from her mind is that her heart
might tumble next. She loves her independent life, no matter her
lonely bed. The handsome stranger reawakens the passion she thought
buried along with her husband, pushing her to new heights of
desire. But she knows it’s only a matter of time before he
remembers his name and leaves her.
     
    The dissolute Marquess of Kittrick has vowed
never to marry, causing a rift in his family that sets him on the
road just in time to do battle with ruffians intent on stealing a
lady’s coins — and more. Discovering the fiery wanton beneath the
widow’s oh-so-proper demeanor makes him want nothing more than to
forget who he is for just a bit longer. Maybe forever.
     
    When Kit is forced to acknowledge who he is,
will the truth trump their shared passion, and the love they can’t
quite admit to? Or will Violet overcome her fear — and Kit his
dissolute ways — and be able to lay claim to A Marquess for
Christmas?
     
     
    “He still sleeps fitfully, my lady.” Avery
put his hand to the man’s head. “A little warm. We should get some
ice and keep his temperature down.”
    “And you have