Read an Excerpt
Tempting the Wolf
By Lois Greiman HarperCollins Publishers, Inc.
Copyright © 2006 Lois Greiman
All right reserved. ISBN: 0060783982
Chapter One
London, 1818
Women. Nairn O'Banyon loved them with every inch of his being.
He loved the look and feel and sound and taste of them. Loved the way they thought and laughed and glanced at him from the corners of their long-lashed eyes.
Two were watching him even now. He could feel them peruse him from behind. Could sense their interest and so much more. One was young. One was middle-aged. They were both lovely, regardless how they looked.
"Sir O'Banyon, isn't it?" called the older of the two.
He turned at the sound of his name and was not disappointed. The sweet, heady scent of them tickled his nostrils.
"Aye, me lady," he said and bowed. The tail of his brown cutaway coat brushed his boot tops, and the ivory buttons on his fawn-colored waistcoat gleamed. 'Twas a silly costume. 'Twould be no good a'tall in the heat of battle, yet the snug buff breeches accentuated the muscles of his thighs to full advantage, and did no small favor to some of his other attributes. And though the hilt of his ancient blade caused a slight rumple in the fabric at the small of his back, he was forever loath to set it aside, for in his experience, there was no friend so trusted as the dagger he called MacGill.
The women approached, pastel gowns rustling againstthe cobbled walk, frilled parasols tilted just so.
He filled his senses with them. Through the dark years behind him, ladies' costumes had changed, but the essence of a woman had not. 'Twas one of several things for which he would be eternally grateful.
"Mrs. Murray," he said, and reaching for the older woman's hand, kissed her knuckles. The titillation of skin against skin caused a prickle of sensation to quiver across the back of his neck.
Cecilia Murray gave him a flirting smile. "We missed you at Lord Bayberry's ball yesterday eve, sir."
Her gown was mint green, made of a kindly fabric that seemed to show every swell from toe to bosom, where it gathered lovingly to display a wealth of dove-white breast.
Feelings sharpened, scraping like fingernails down his spine. O'Banyon drew his hand cautiously away. "Then I must surely be absent more oft," he said, "if I be missed by such a bonny lass as yerself."
"Lass?" she said and laughed huskily but her cheeks flushed and her eyes shone. "You, sir, are a terrible tease."
"Na a'tall," he said and held her gaze, "I am but an Irishman. And we take lovely lassies verra serious, indeed."
Her hand fluttered to her bosom. His gaze followed it. His senses sharpened, his nostrils flared, and for a moment he feared he had gone a bit far, but in that instant the younger woman stepped forward, distracting him.
"Sir," she said, extending her hand, " 'tis such a pleasure to meet you. I am Rosanna Rutledge. Aunt Cece has mentioned you on more than one occasion."
There was little he could do but take her hand. Anything less would have been considered rude. And he was never rude . . . not where women were involved.
Her fingers felt soft against his palm. Her scent was sweet and heady. His body tightened another notch. "Then ye have me at a disadvantage, lass," he said and kissed her knuckles. Sensations crowded in, feelings as sharp as knives. Images of pale skin, succulent bosoms, long limbs tangled, hot and sweaty, about his.
The bed in his rented townhouse was surely large enough for three. But there were problems . . .
Releasing her hand, he stepped back a pace and put the thoughts behind him -- where they tingled along his backside like a wanton caress.
"A disadvantage?" she asked.
"Aye. For I dunna ken if I should deny yer aunt's words aboot me or swear they be true."
The girl gave her head an inquisitive tilt. "She said you were the most alluring man in all of London."
"Did she now?"
She held his gaze with bold tenacity. "She did indeed."
"Aye well," he said and turned toward the aunt. "It seems the truth will out then, little matter how I try to hide it."
The widow laughed low in her throat.
O'Banyon tightened his defenses against the rousing effects.
"She also informed me that you were quite vain," said the girl. Her tone was cool, as if impatient at his lack of attention.
He turned slowly back toward her with feral slowness. Their gazes met. Her eyes widened the slightest degree, and her breath seemed to stop in her fragile, white throat.
"I can but apologize for me shortcomings, lass," he said.
"Have you many then?" she murmured.
"Counted with the stars," he assured her.
"Truly." She stepped forward. "Then we must surely spend some time together, sir, so that ye might confess -- "
"Rosanna," said Mrs. Murray, her tone just a tad sharper than it had been only moments before. "I believe a breeze is picking up. Will you be a dear and fetch my shawl from the curricle?"
The girl hesitated just a moment, then pulled her gaze from O'Banyon's and crafted a careful smile. "But auntie, the carriage is halfway across town."
The women's gazes met steadily. "I know, my dearest, and I do so apologize, but if I catch a chill I fear your visit may very well be cut short and you'll be forced to return prematurely to your mother in Worcester."
Temper darkened the girl's eyes, which were met by her aunt's knowing stare.
Then Rosanna nodded sharply and turned toward O'Banyon. "Another time, sir," she said.
He bowed and watched her go.
"My niece will be visiting her cousins this afternoon," said Mrs. Murray, pulling his attention back to her. "Perhaps you could come round for tea."
O'Banyon grinned, well flattered. "I fear I dunna drink tea, lass."
"In truth, sir, neither do I."
He gripped his hands behind his back. "Did I na hear ye are betrothed to another?"
Continues...
Excerpted from Tempting the Wolf by Lois Greiman Copyright © 2006 by Lois Greiman. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
