Beguiled Rakehell Regency #17

Fresh up from the country to visit her brother in London, Miranda Lyons Dane gets involved in a daring prank thanks to the notoriously wanton Georgina Jerome. The seemingly harmless game turns dangerous as Miranda is attacked by a cutpurse. Her rescue at the hands of the mysterious George Davenant leaves her certain she is out of the frying pan and straight in the fire, for no man has ever made her feel the torrid heat of desire.

Yet George is only ever spoken of in hushed whispers, for he is reputed to be the most vicious criminal mastermind the capital has ever seen. Suddenly all of the assumptions Miranda had ever made about her life are turned upside down. George offers her the role as his leading actress in the ramshackle theatre he manages.

Despite her fears, Miranda takes the job, and finds herself growing ever closer to her enigmatic but handsome employer. George is a master of many roles and disguises, the only way he can ever keep one step ahead of the peril that dogs his heels. Miranda's entrance into his cold, hard world brings a warmth he never dared dream could be possible for a man with his dark past.

Soon the forces which have demanded George make the most hellish choices of his life threaten to take from him the woman who has come to mean more to him than life itself. Can George save Miranda, or will the two of them be torn apart forever?

AN EXCERPT:
Before George could stop himself, he grasped Miranda’s skirt and began to glide it up over her thighs.
“George, what on earth are you—" she gasped, pressing her back up against the door to steady herself.
The silky material rose inexorably. “You were the dresser. There isn’t one now, and everyone has gone. And since you helped strip me bare, it’s the least I can do. No, pray hold still. I won’t touch you," he promised, somewhat rashly considering what he sure he was about to do. The blood hammered in his ears. He just had to get closer to the heat of her...
“Not unless you want me to," he amended quickly. “But I need to know what you’re wearing under this gown."
“The same as you under your toga," she said prosaically if somewhat inaccurately. “Drawers."
The champagne-coloured silk was so overwhelmingly sultry he could not help himself. Despite his promise he ran one hand from navel to mound, admiring her flat stomach, finely toned muscles, lush but slender thighs.
“Gorgeous. Simply gorgeous. Every man in the theatre wanted to do this tonight. Find out what you had on under that gown. Where did you get them?" he whispered, petting and stroking her like a fractious filly until she relaxed, closed her eyes and lolled her head back against the door.
“Milly made them for Maggie, but she wasn’t here. She offered them to me."
“Exquisite. Just beautiful. Your legs, your—" He leaned his cheek against her and breathed in. The reality was every bit as thrilling as the fantasy. Nay, more so, for she was even more incredibly lovely than his imaginings.
“You are a most regal beauty from head to toe."
His hands reached around to cup her bottom lightly above and then underneath the silk. He was not in the least ashamed of his actions, though he would have been horrified if anyone had ever suspected how this tiny girl could literally bring him to his knees. He was prostrate with longing for her.
Miranda was stunned. He sounded as though... As though he really did love her! But surely it wasn’t possible. It was lust, the heat between a man and woman put into close proximity, working together on such a romantic play. It was bound to happen. It had in the case of Maggie and Hugo the former lead actors, obviously.
But what on earth was he doing? For she could feel the light bristle of his cheek through the delicate fabric. He was actually rubbing her like a cat against a table leg. Or one about to lap at a saucer of milk. My God, he was even purring!
“Tell me, tell me what you want, Miranda," his voice rumbled, vibrating through her lower body...