A Measure of Deceit

by Jess Michaels

  “You saw me?” she barely managed to squeak out. “You saw what I was doing through the window?”

  He nodded. “Why do you think I knocked?”

  She swallowed as her gaze moved to below his waist. Even now she saw the outline of his member against the dark fabric of his trousers.

  “If you continue staring at it, you will only make it worse,” he said, his tone mild, though his eyes were full of fire.

  She blushed. “Do you think the book will help?”

  He nodded. “Yes, but you would also benefit from some lessons, some proof that passion is not the worst thing in the world.”

  Her entire body shook as she forced herself to meet his eyes. “And who would give me those lessons?”

  He cursed beneath his breath and took a long step toward her. She could actually feel his body heat now, taunting her through her nightshift. He smelled like pine and soap and something else. Something masculine and warm.

  “Be careful what you ask for, Jacinda,” he whispered. “For if you took me to your bed as tutor, I wouldn’t hold back.”

  She licked her lips, which were suddenly dry. “If you did, wouldn’t it defeat the purpose of readying me for becoming a mistress...or a wife?”

  His eyes widened. “Do you really want this?”

  The question gave her pause. Sex with a man she considered a friend. Surrender to passions that had only ever brought her pain. Did she want that?

  In any other circumstance, she believed her answer would be a resounding no. But here, in her chamber, next to her bed, with Jason’s heat and scent surrounding her, with him looking at her like no man had ever looked at her...she wanted it desperately.

  “I am already ruined, so even if I did find a husband at the end of your ruse, he wouldn’t be surprised that I was not untouched. As long as you didn’t leave me with child, I don’t see how a tutelage could be negative in any way.”

  The words sounded so audacious, so unlike her normally timid self. And she liked that. She liked that she felt...bold.

  “Christ,” he muttered, staring at her for what seemed like a very long time.

  Then his hand came up and he slipped his fingers through her hair. It was only bound in a loose braid, so it fell free with a little coaxing, and thick waves of it bounced around her shoulders.

  “I want you to know what you are really asking for before you go too far,” he said, his voice rough.

  She shivered as he glided his free hand around her back. He settled his fingers into the small of it, drawing her closer, until their bodies touched from shoulder to hip.

  “Jason?” she whispered.

  He didn’t respond, but lowered his mouth and claimed her lips.

  Who’s to say who is blind…and who sees clearly?

  Two Days of Tempataion

  © 2014 Evie North

  As Hannah approaches the imposing gates of Youlden Manor, she keeps reminding herself of why she is about to give her body to the master of the house. Two years ago, Lord Sebastian Youlden wronged her and their unborn child, and she cannot resume her life until she wreaks revenge.

  When Sebastian awoke weeks after a duel that stole his sight, he discovered he lost something else—the woman he loved. Grief-stricken, he retreated to his isolated estate, where he occasionally sends for women from the local inn to temporarily assuage his loneliness. Yet there is something strangely compelling about the latest lady of the night who comes to pleasure him.

  The first time they come together, Hannah’s icy resolve begins to melt in the heat of his bed. As passion begins to burn away the veil of secrecy between them—and gradually lift the blindness from Sebastian’s eyes—the only thing left standing between them and a love that never died is the naked, painful truth.

  Warning: Rather a goodly amount of hot, satisfying sex between a lonely man and the woman he never forgot.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Two Days of Temptation:

  Prentiss was at the door of the room. “Master?” The old servant sounded tentative, a quality at odds with his gruff manner.

  “I’m here, Prentiss.”

  That voice! The sound of it caught at her heart like claws and she tried not to gasp with pain. She must have made some sound however because Prentiss gave her a curious glance.

  He spoke again. “Do you have her?”

  “I have the female, sir.” The old man nodded Hannah toward the open doorway, clearing intending for her to go inside.

  Hannah hesitated. She felt dizzy, torn between her desire for revenge and a new and terrible fear that she may not have the strength to carry it out. But Prentiss reached for her arm, his fingers like a manacle around her flesh. He leaned close, his breath sour in her ear, and whispered what he did not want his master to hear.

  “Keep your feelings to yourself, girly. He may be blind but he knows things. I don’t care if you find him repulsive, you’d do well to hide it behind a smile if you know what’s good for you.”

  Repulsive? What did that mean?

  Hannah tried to pull away but Prentiss would not let her go until she made some sign she understood him. She gave a stiff nod and the next moment he pushed her into the room. She stumbled, finding it difficult to see—the only light came from the low fire burning in the hearth. She could make out the shape of a large man seated in an armchair before the fireplace. He was leaning forward, his fair head bowed, hands clasped between his knees. There was something in his stillness that struck her as strange, and then he lifted his head. Even in the poor light there was a familiarity about his movement that sent her memories catapulting back.

  She shook away the thoughts. This was not the time.

  “Prentiss, bring her to me.” He spoke again, and now the deep timbre of his voice was like a rough caress.

  Hannah swallowed, trying to calm herself, to smooth the jagged nerves that threatened to undo her. She would not remember the affection that same voice could carry as he once held her in his arms. She would not. She must not give the past the power to steal her resolve away from her.

  Back straight, legs stiff, she ignored the servant hovering behind her and walked across the room to the man in the chair. It was only when she reached him that she realised he wore a blindfold about his eyes.

  She’d known he was blind. She’d heard the rumours long after he left her, stories about an accident and a woman, though no one seemed to know the details. Then at the inn she had listened to the gossip about his condition. But knowing and knowing were two different things. She remembered Prentiss’s warning. Was he hideously scared?

  “Woman?” He sounded impatient now. “Place your hand upon my shoulder.”

  Hannah’s hand shook as she rested it upon his shoulder. He reached up so fast she had no chance to step back. His fingers closed firmly upon hers. He was strong and she could not have freed herself if she’d wanted to.

  “Ah.” His face turned to her and the firelight flickered across it. The features below the smooth black blindfold were achingly recognizable. Again her heart felt as if it had been shredded. No, anger, she screamed inside her head. Fury. Rage. These were the emotions she felt for him. These were the feelings he deserved from her! Certainly not pity, and never compassion.

  “What is your name, sweeting?”

  That deep and slightly hoarse voice. The same one he’d used as he held her in his arms, making the promises he would break so effortlessly later. The memories of her suffering strengthened her and settled her nerves. It would be over soon, she told herself. Soon she would be gone and she would never have to think of him again.

  “My name is Janet.” She said it in a whisper to disguise her voice. Not that it was likely he would remember. Why should he? She was but a distant memory, lost among so many other women he had used and betrayed.

  He gave a shiver, as if he was cold despite the fire. Perhaps, as Prentiss said, he could divine her thoughts? She must be careful not to give herself away, not until she was ready. He must suffer, oh y
es. It was the one thing, the only thing, that had got her this far. And before she was finished he would beg her forgiveness.

  “Janet.” He repeated the false name. “Then, Janet, will you stay with me tonight and comfort me?”

  Janet forced her stiff lips into a smile, so that he would hear it in her voice. “I will, my lord.”

  He tipped his head to the side and then he nodded. “It is a bargain then, Janet. Go with Prentiss now. I will see you anon.”

  “Go?” Confused, she looked to Prentiss—the old man was beckoning her to him. She trailed after him out of the room, but she couldn’t help glancing back when she reached the doorway.

  Lord Youlden was still seated before the fire, and if she hadn’t seen the blindfold for herself and known him to be blind, then she might have thought he was contemplating the flames. What was he thinking? Dreaming of past glories? Or regretting that cold and frosty dawn when he walked away from her, never to return?

  “The master likes his girls clean.” Prentiss’s bluntness claimed her attention.

  Hannah gave him a haughty stare. “I am clean. I told you. I bathed.”

  Prentiss snorted. “Not that sort of clean, girly.”

  Her hand went to the knife inside her sleeve. Perhaps he would not ask her to strip completely. If he did then she must find a way to hide her weapon.

  Prentiss led her into a small room that was furnished with chairs and a sofa that had seen better days. A large woman was waiting on the sofa, her face round and plump beneath a mop of dark hair.

  “This her?” She heaved herself awkwardly to her feet.

  Hannah tried to back away but Prentiss was behind her and there was nowhere to go. She considered telling them she’d changed her mind and fleeing into the night. But she couldn’t do that. Not after all her searching and planning. Not when she was so close.

  “Master’s waiting, Trudy,” Prentiss muttered.

  “Leave me to it then,” Trudy said, flapping her hands at him. “The sooner you go, the sooner I’ll be done.”

  The old man shuffled out and Trudy eyed Hannah up and down. “Right then. Lie down on your back. I’m sure this isn’t the first time you’ve done that.”

  The examination that followed was unpleasant but not painful, and the woman was quick and efficient. Hannah stared at the ceiling and pretended she was somewhere else, somewhere in the distant past.

  As a child she had rarely known a day’s unhappiness. She wasn’t her mother’s favourite—her brother Desmond had that honour—but until her father died it always seemed to be sunny and she always remembered smiling. After her father died it hadn’t been so sunny, perhaps, but still she did not remember being particularly unhappy. She loved her brother too, so she did not begrudge him their mother’s partiality. No, all had been well until she met Sebastian, Lord Youlden, eldest son of the Earl of Mortmain.

  “Clean as a whistle.” The woman pulled Hannah’s skirts back down. She called for the old man. “You can take her in to Master now.”

  Prentiss opened the door. “What about her clothing? Bit dowdy?”

  Hannah looked down at herself. Her clothing was clean but plain, and she had sewn the dress herself. It had seen better days, yes, but what would that matter to a blind man?

  The woman seemed to think the same because she dismissed Prentiss’s comment with a snort of laughter.

  “What’s it matter what she looks like? Is he still asking for a girl with dark hair and eyes?” Her gaze swept over Hannah. “At least you managed to get that right this time. Last one you brought was a redhead.”

  Prentiss gave a sour smile. “Aye, and when she told him he gave me a right bollocking.”

  Hannah hardly heard them. She had straightened her skirts and folded her hands primly before her, before she remembered she was meant to be a woman of loose morals and planted them on her hips instead.

  “No pilfering,” Trudy instructed, eying her up and down. “You hear me?” She frowned and glanced over at Prentiss. “She’s not the usual. Where’d you find her?”

  “At the inn.”

  Trudy turned again to Hannah. “Where are you from?”

  Hannah shrugged a shoulder. “‘Ere and there,” she said, remembering to drop her “h”.

  “Well, don’t think you’ve found yourself a cosy nest at Youlden Manor,” she warned. “The master never has a woman longer than a night and even that’s rare enough. Usually Prentiss gets called to take her away as soon as he’s had what he wants of her. So if you’re thinking you’ve found a fancy new address then you can think again.”

  “I wouldn’t want to live with a blind man,” Hannah said, with a curl of her lip.

  Another snort. “Just ’cause he’s blind don’t mean he’s not a man. You’ll see soon enough, I’ll warrant,” she added archly. “Take her through, Prentiss.”

  Prentiss stepped away from the door and Hannah had no option but to head back to the room with the fire and Lord Youlden. This was her moment. She felt full to bursting with all the emotions she’d been carrying with her the past two years. She was about to take the revenge she’d dreamed of, and nothing was going to stop her.

  About the Author

  Jess Michaels is the award-winning author of nearly fifty romances, erotic romances and urban fantasy novels. She lives in Arizona with her fantastic husband and two adorable cats. When not writing about sexy gentlemen and wicked ladies, she can be found doing geeky things like playing video games and performing aunt duties to two nephews. You can find her online at www.authorjessmichaels.com, on Facebook (Jess Michaels) and on Twitter @jessmichaelsbks.

  Also by Jess Michaels

  Now Available:

  Mistress Matchmaker

  An Introduction to Pleasure

  For Desire Alone

  Her Perfect Match

  The Pleasure Wars

  Taken by the Duke

  Pleasuring the Lady

  Beauty and the Earl

  Beautiful Distraction

  The Ladies Book of Pleasures

  A Matter of Sin

  A Moment of Passion

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  They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Samhain Publishing, Ltd.

  11821 Mason Montgomery Road Suite 4B

  Cincinnati OH 45249

  A Measure of Deceit

  Copyright © 2014 by Jess Michaels

  ISBN: 978-1-61921-998-4

  Edited by Amy Sherwood

  Cover by Angela Waters

  All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: December 2014

  www.samhainpublishing.com