Enter to Win a
Select Ebook Bundle from Loveswept
SARAH'S SURRENDER
Bound and Determined #2.5
Lavinia Kent
Releasing Sept 22nd, 2015
Loveswept
Five years ago, Miss Sarah Swilp had been deeply in love with Jonathan Perry, the second son of an earl. But when Jonathan inherited his aunt’s lands and money, he turned cold, demanding Sarah’s maidenhood and uttering those unforgettably cruel words: “You do know I won’t marry you.” She refused, of course, and that spoiled everything. Now, just as she’s agreed to a marriage of convenience, Jonathan reappears—and after Sarah gets one look at his lean, hard body, the embers of desire burst back into flame.
Over time, Jonathan has learned quite a bit about the art of pleasure—though nothing has ever given him so much joy as the husky timbre of Sarah’s laugh. It had hurt to leave her, but what other choice did he have? Perhaps he’d been too afraid of ending up like his brother, targeted by a woman seeking a title. Seeing her again, Jonathan can’t help wondering what might have been if only Sarah had surrendered to red-hot lust. Fortunately, judging by the wicked look in her eyes, it may not be too late to find out.
Sarah’s Surrender is intended for mature audiences.
BUY NOW
a Rafflecopter giveaway
Lavinia Kent is a former two-term
president of the Washington Romance Writers and a four-time Romance Writers of
America Golden Heart nominee. She lives in Washington, D.C., with her family
and an ever-changing menagerie of pets.
Now
that was quite the gown. Or perhaps he should say quite the green.
Jonathan
Perry stared across the room at the dress and the girl who was trying to fade
into the palms. He wasn’t normally taken with fashion, but this was hard to
miss. He’d noticed the girl earlier in the evening, had been both strangely
drawn to her and at the same time put off by her lifelessness, but until this
moment he had not seen her clearly—and now he saw her very clearly. He couldn’t
think of ever having seen anything quite that bright a green—well, perhaps a
fly settling on a pile of dung. They sometimes shone with unbelievable color in
nearly the same manner.
He
was about to turn away when the lady shifted slightly and something about the
movement drew him. It was reminiscent somehow, that must be why he kept looking
at her. He pursed his lips and stepped forward.
It
couldn’t be.
By
God, it was.
Sarah.
Sarah
Swilp.
His
Sarah.
But
a far different girl than he’d left behind those years ago. Then she’d been
bright and shining.
She’d never been classically beautiful, but she’d shone
with such a light that one forgot that within seconds. He could remember
thinking that there was never anything as glorious as Sarah when she laughed,
the deep husky timbre filling the room, even the house, her curls a mad cascade
about her shoulders.
This
woman did not have that quality. It was hard to imagine her ever laughing, not
with those tight lips that seemed almost frozen on her face. Even as she pushed
them up into a smile they hardly seemed to move.
And
she was so, so . . . so faded.
He
could blame some of it on the gown, it was hard to imagine any woman standing
up to that color, but it was more than that. Her skin was so pallid—as if she
had stayed locked in the basement from the moment he left until this very day.
And
her eyes. It should have been impossible to see them from across the room, but
even from here he could see how lifeless they seemed. No, that wasn’t quite
right. They had life, just not a life that anyone would want. They spoke of
wounds deep and painful.
Then
those eyes came up and met his, for a second they flashed with remembered fire,
but then her cheeks lost any color that they still contained—and she turned and
scuttled off.
What
had happened to the Sarah that he’d he known? How had she become this timid
mouse?
It
had hurt to leave her five years ago, but she’d given him no choice. She’d
refused to take a chance on him, had refused to take the risk—and he’d been
equally unwilling. And then her final words had left him with no hope and so he
had gone. He stared after her, remembering how she’d left him feeling.
Well,
looking at her now, it was clear that in not taking that chance she’d lost
much—not that he would take credit for whatever had happened to her these past
years. She had taken responsibility for her life and he had left her to it. No,
he took no blame.
And
he would feel no pity for her.
He
lifted his chin and stared across the room, waiting for her to turn back,
waiting for her eyes to find him again.
Comments
Post a Comment