Publisher's Synopsis
EXCERPT:Damn her. Damn Kendrick Moreland and her lies, her beauty, and for every night he dreamed of coming home to fuck her senseless. The only thing that kept him going during the war, kept him sane was the memory of her exquisite face. He should have died a thousand times, like the rest of his men. For some callous reason he had lived. In the darkest of times, he questioned why he had been spared. Now he knew, and what perverse irony. He had lived through a bloodbath to watch her marry another. His deep, sardonic laugh bounced off the library walls. Kendrick crossed her arms over her chest and withdrew a step or two. "You're mad, and, you're . . . frightening me."How dare she stand there all pale and horrified? Her childlike vulnerability increased his desire to protect her from everything evil. And fuck her. His balls swelled and his cock pushed against his breeches. He had never wanted anything more in his life than he wanted her. Be damned with civility, propriety and her reputation. Not a soul would dare to speak out against his woman. And she would be his woman by the time they left this room. Her eyes widened as she stared into his with fear and expectancy. She wanted him too; he felt it with every beat of his tumultuous heart. He stalked toward her, lowered his head and captured her mouth. Devouring her lips was like laying claim to heaven. Velvety smooth, they moved against his. He didn't have to force her lips apart to gain what he sought. The moment he ran his tongue over her bottom lip, she allowed him access. Breaking from the kiss, he held her back from him. "Take off your dress. Do it now before I rip the damn garment from your body.""You're not serious!""Oh, no? I shall count to three. If you intend to salvage the dress, I suggest you remove it. Now!"
