TEMPTATIONS OF A WALLFLOWER
The Wicked Quills of London #3
Eva Leigh
Releasing April 26th, 2016
Avon Books
Eva Leigh’s deliciously sexy Wicked Quills of London
series continues as a Lady’s secret career writing erotic fiction is
jeopardized by real-life romance . . .
In society circles she’s known as
the Watching Wallflower—shy, quiet, and certainly never scandalous. Yet beneath
Lady Sarah Frampton’s demure façade hides the mind of The Lady of Dubious
Quality, author of the most titillating erotic fiction the ton has
ever seen. Sarah knows discovery would lead to her ruin, but marriage—to a
vicar, no less—could help protect her from slander. An especially tempting
option when the clergyman in question is the handsome, intriguing Jeremy
Cleland.
Tasked with unmasking London’s most
scandalous author by his powerful family, Jeremy has no idea that his
beautiful, innocent bride is the very woman he seeks to destroy. His mission
must remain a secret, even from the new wife who stirs his deepest longings.
Yet when the truth comes to light, Sarah and Jeremy’s newfound love will be
tested. Will Sarah’s secret identity tear them apart or will the temptations of
his wallflower wife prove too wicked to resist?
Now it was her turn to laugh. “I’m hardly enviable, Mr.
Cleland.”
His expression shifted to thoughtfulness. “I wonder why you
might say that.”
“I have…everything a woman could want,” she acknowledged,
matching her stride to his.
“Such as?”
“Wealth, position. If there’s a material thing that I
desire, I simply have to ask, and it’s mine.” She shook her head. “And I’m
grateful for these things. I truly am. And yet…”
“And yet…?” he prompted gently.
“It comes at a high price,” she admitted.
“What is that price?”
She considered this. Never before had she spoken so openly
to anyone. Not her friends, or her family. But here, now, to be with this man,
and to consider the foundations of her life, was both odd and deeply right. At
last, she said, “Freedom.”
He contemplated her perceptively. “Must be very
restricting,” he murmured. “The responsibilities of your position in society.
Not to mention the fact that you’re a woman.” He blushed a little at that word.
It was a charming—but also gently erotic—blush. Her own
cheeks warmed.
He continued, “You haven’t the liberty that a man in your
place might have.”
“Indeed, no.” She gave a small, strained laugh. “You must
think me dreadful to take issue with my admittedly fortunate circumstance.”
He fell briefly silent. “I know a little about having one’s
role be predetermined.” They stopped walking, and she gazed up at him. Cool
sunlight carved hollows in his cheeks and gilded his eyelashes. “Being a vicar
means I must be a model to everyone in my parish. I have to be more pious, more
humble, more self-sacrificing. I have to be better at everything while also
being deferential. I certainly cannot admit to being an ordinary human man.”
Their gazes held at that word, man. Awareness of him sizzled. His
height, his physicality. That suppressed desire. Her own body warmed in
response.
She tiled her head to one side, imagining what it must be
like to live such a restrained life. “Sounds exhausting.”
“Not unlike being a duke’s daughter, I imagine.” He smiled
at her, and that lush warmth continued to gathered through her.
“I never would have thought I’d have much in common with a
vicar,” she said with a laugh.
“Nor I with you,” he answered, his smile softening. “But
here we are, in this garden.”
“So we are.” Strange how the world worked, that she
discovered a man such as him on a day that had started out so perfectly
ordinary. It was almost…miraculous. Did miracles happen? She went to church as
a matter of form, not faith, though the ritual gave her comfort. Still, it was
a revelation to learn that men of God were mortal just like anyone else, with
the same needs and frustrations anybody might experience.
She ought to have imagined as such. She often imbued people
in her mind with hidden motivations and secrets. He was no exception.
“And does your…wife…feel as you do?” She inwardly grimaced
at her lack of tact, but she needed to know whether or not he had someone with
whom he could confide. It seemed a shame, a right shame, that he should be
alone in this world.
“No wife, I’m afraid,” he said with a self-deprecating grin.
A strange relief shot through her. She reasoned that it must
be because it wouldn’t do to flirt with a married man. “Stick around the London
Season long enough,” she replied. “An earl’s son, with a living? You’ll make
someone a fine catch.”
“I’m just a humble country vicar,” he answered. “Hardly the
stuff of a doting mama’s dream for her daughter.”
“You might be surprised.” Without a doubt, she and Mr.
Cleland could never be a match. Even if she wanted to marry, he stood too far
beneath her to warrant any possibility of courtship. Duke’s daughters and
vicars—though they might be sons of earls—made for an improbable, mismatched
pairing.
A vicar could never be married to a woman who wrote
anonymous erotic novels, either. The very idea was ruinous.
But damn and all the other curse words she wasn’t allowed to
use—she liked Mr. Cleland. The way his mind worked,
how he spoke to her like a person of equal intelligence, the sensual quality
within him. It wasn’t all her writer’s fancy. Something burned in him and it
lured her closer, closer, drawn toward the mysteries of this man. Even Lady
Josephina wouldn’t find someone half as interesting in her adventures.
And…he was exceptionally attractive. In a way she’d never
experienced with another man before. She’d met handsome gentlemen in the past,
but Mr. Cleland lit a spark within her, low and hot.
A shame, really, that Sarah couldn’t have been someone else.
Because, if she had…she might give him serious consideration.
But that was never to be. She was who she was, and he was
who he was, and they would have to be friends—nothing more.
So absorbed was she in this thought, that she didn’t hear
footsteps approaching until they were almost upon her. Turning, she saw her
mother coming down the path, wearing a pinched expression.
“There you are,” Lady Wakefield said impatiently. She nodded
at Mr. Cleland, barely acknowledging him. Sarah felt a small stab of shame at
her mother’s rudeness. But a vicar didn’t warrant much attention. “This sun has
given me a headache. It’s time to go.”
“Yes, Mama.” Before the words had left her mouth, her mother
had spun on her heel and strode off back toward the main house.
Sarah offered Mr. Cleland a remorseful smile. “I’m so
sorry.”
“Nothing to apologize for,” he said easily, and it was clear
he meant it. He bowed. “It was a genuine pleasure to meet you, Lady Sarah.”
“I feel the same way.” They smiled at each other. For a long
time, neither, it seemed, willing to move away.
“Now, Sarah,” her mother called out.
Sarah sighed. Her gaze drifted back to the hedge maze. Could
she drop her fan? As they both bent to retrieve it, she might whisper to him an
invitation to meet her there in a few moments. And then… She could taste those
gently curved lips of his. Oh, she’d experienced a few chaste kisses before,
but never anything she truly desired. But she wanted to kiss Mr. Cleland. She
craved feeling his mouth against hers, and seeing if her imagination was
correct about him.
He, too, looked at the maze. Was he thinking the same
thoughts? Did he want to savor her? A delectable thought, one that made her
feel both languid and powerfully alive all at once.
Their gazes met. He turned gorgeously pink.
He was thinking of kissing her!
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EVA LEIGH is the pen name of a RITA® Award-nominated
romance author who writes novels chock-full of smart women and sexy men. She
enjoys baking, Tweeting about boots, and listening to music from the ‘80s. Eva
and her husband live in Central California.
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