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Roué (F) – Lecher or rake; seducer of women; a man who is habituated to immoral conduct
Sans (F) – Without
Sciocchezze! (I) – Nonsense!
Stomacher (E) – A piece of stiff fabric, roughly the shape of a long, narrow triangle and sometimes boned, that covered the gap of the manteau over the stomach and chest. It was covered with fine fabric and often heavily embroidered and/or decorated with lace. The fronts of the robe were pinned onto it to hold them in place.
Tesoro (I) – Darling
T’es mon coeur (F) – You are my heart
Read on for a sneak peek of Liana LeFey’s next seductive romance!
To Wed in Scandal
Available May 2013.
For Lady Sabrina Grayson, it’s a case of too many suitors...
NOTHING WOULD BRING Sabrina relief save Henry’s removal from this house. She knew he slept somewhere in the opposite wing, but that mattered not. He might as well have been in the next room, as far as she was concerned.
It was going to be a long night.
A faint rustle at the door drew her attention, and Sabrina watched as something slid beneath it. The moment the messenger’s footsteps retreated, she tiptoed over and snatched up the note. She frowned. It was probably another hideous poem from Chadwick.
“I should never have come to this damned house party,” she muttered sourly as she tore off the wax and opened it. The writing jumped at her from the page:
Forgive me. H.
Her traitorous heart pounded as she refolded it. Padding to the desk, she picked up a quill, hesitating, uncertain whether to respond or to simply ignore the communication.
Nib touched paper.
Forgiven. Now, I beg you to forget me! S.
Half an hour later, she still lay awake, unable to sleep after having sent her reply. A soft knock startled her from her reverie. Flinging off the coverlet, she rushed across the room, hoping to catch the messenger and tell him to bear the letter back to its author unopened. She jerked open the door and gasped in surprise.
“I cannot,” said Henry, his voice hoarse, his face haggard.
Sabrina’s whole body quaked at what she saw in his eyes.
“May I come in?”
“No,” she answered.
“Sabri—”
“No!” She tried to close the door, but his foot was wedged in the opening.
“Sabrina, I must speak with you.”
“Do you think I’ve forgotten what happened the last time you managed to get me alone?” she hissed, pushing against the door in vain, terrified of the heat already unfurling in her belly.
“I swear I shall not lay a hand upon you. Not even a finger. Upon my honor.”
She snorted, unable to contain her censure. “What honor?”
“I wish only to speak with you, and then I shall trouble you no more this night. You have my word.”
