TBR reviewer: Luta Wolf
But nothing, she soon learns, could prepare her for falling in love.
Guy Devaux is delighted with the amorous virgin waiting for him on his wedding night. There’s only one problem. The saucy-mouthed wench is not his bride. Oh yes, he knows the veiled woman in his bed is an imposter, but he’ll go along with the game. For now. The punishment for her deception will come later.
Just as soon as he conquers this foolish desire, this yearning to hear her say she loves him.
There is something to be said for a opinionate wench, especially in a historical romance. Deorwynn is no simpering woman to obey the commands of a man, while as a woman she may not have a lot of choices she has enough and she’ll make them work for her. She never whines about her fate but instead takes what fate gives her and enjoys her life to the best of her ability.
Guy is like most men in history taking what he wants, thinking it’s deserved to him. Women are beneath him or so he thinks until a captive beauty curses him. I really didn’t want to like Guy but the author did such detailed job of explaining the history that the way he thinks makes sense. Plus his arrogance only added to his inevitable fall because really who can withstand Deorwynn.
There was no instant love but instead an instant dislike that was confused by the electricity arcing between Deorwynn and Guy. Needless to say this made for some really good and fun dialogue. Everything was well paced even the passion, never allowing you to get bored but
not going so fast that you get thrown out of the plot. I was so enthralled with this book and the characters that I hated to see it end. I look forward to the next book involving Deorwynn’s brother.
She nodded and then, remembering he might not see, murmured a quiet,
He stilled at the foot of the bed, his tall shadow looming over her.
“Yes…my lord,” he corrected sharply.
Deorwynn felt one of her scowls coming on, but she banked it. He wouldn’t see
it beneath her veil and in the semi-dark, so it was wasted. She was
supposed to be that idiot Sybilia, she reminded herself—the woman who was ready
to forget her previous lover the first moment she laid eyes on this great hunk of
blue-eyed manhood. Had Sybilia been the all-important virgin, she would
gladly have tumbled in that bed tonight, but since she was a faithless trollop
instead of the pure maiden her new husband demanded, Deorwynn had the dubious
pleasure instead. Thus, playing her part, she replied with all sickly
sweetness, “Yes, my lord. Whatever you say, my lord.”
He lowered over the bed, a hand on either side of her. And sniffed.
She backed away. “Is something amiss?”
“Thought I scented the faint odor of sarcasm. Surely not. If my
lady knows my temper is not to be trifled with.”
Grabbing her ankles, he pulled her under him. “Stop wriggling.”
“Ouch your hands are cold!”
“Your hands are cold, my lord,” he corrected her in a low, dangerous tone.
She repeated the phrase nervously.
He snatched away the pillow she held and tossed it from the bed. “Remove the
“But I’m shy.”
“It’s very nearly pitch dark in here, woman. What are you afraid of?”
“The unknown,” she murmured wryly. “You, my lord.”
“I’m your husband now.” His hands parted her knees wider, holding them with
ease, his strength overpowering her straining attempts to close them again.
He ducked between her thighs and she cried out in shock as she felt one strong
lick moisten her nether lips. Reaching over her head, she clutched at
the nearest bed post as if it might somehow save her.
“This will prepare you,” he informed her, his breath tickling her sex.
“I am large and you are small, so you need this.” Again he lapped at her,
faster this time, his tongue slipping part way inside her folds at first,
then thrusting deeper. She heard a soft grunt of approval. Then he
stopped and whispered huskily, “You’re tight as a vise. Don’t clench. Lay
Men like this one had killed her brothers in battle, she reminded herself yet
again. They stole away everything her family possessed and…
They apparently had very long tongues that could lick the bark off a tree.
He stopped again. “Are you grinding your teeth?” he demanded.
“I hear them grinding. Be calm. Trust me.”
She snorted. “Trust you? Ha!”
There was a pause. A too long pause. She held her breath.
Dear God had she given herself away already?