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Authors: Sinful Between the Sheets

Barbara Pierce

Phenomenal Praise

for Barbara Pierce and her novels

SINFUL BETWEEN THE SHEETS

“A remarkable storyteller, Barbara Pierce writes captivating, passionate romance. She’s at the top of my ‘must-read’ list.”

—New York Times
bestselling author Lorraine Heath

WICKED UNDER THE COVERS

“Beautifully written . . . dazzles with its fascinating characters and emotional and sensual intensity.”

—The Romance Reader’s Connection

“There’s no disappointment from this author when it comes to the steamier side of romance.”

—Romance Reader at Heart

“A steamy, romantic, scheming, and totally enjoyable Regency romance.”

—Fresh Fiction

“Pierce will draw you in, incite your passions and leave you begging for more of this luscious tale.”

—Fallen Angel Reviews

COURTING THE COUNTESS

“Pierce carries off just-simmering-underneath sexual tension like a virtuoso and keeps readers wondering just how these two dynamic characters will get together. This splendid read shimmers with the temptation of seduction and the healing power of love.”

—Romantic Times BOOKreviews

“Pierce once again earns our appreciation for delighting us with her talent.”

—Rendezvous

MORE . . .

“A good storyline . . . a nice read.”

—The Best Reviews

“Impossible to put down . . . [Pierce is] a truly exceptional storyteller.”

—Romance Reader at Heart

TEMPTING THE HEIRESS

“Pierce does an excellent job blending danger and intrigue into the plot of her latest love story. Readers who like their Regency historicals a bit darker and spiked with realistic grit will love this wickedly sexy romance.”

—Booklist

“Masterful storyteller Barbara Pierce pens captivating romances that are not to be missed!”

—Lorraine Heath,
USA Today
bestselling author
of
Love with a Scandalous Lord

“I love everything about this book. The characters are like friends you cheer for, and the story draws you in so closely you will dream about it.”

—Romance Reader at Heart


Tempting the Heiress
is the latest entry in the Bedegrayne family series and it is an excellent one. Known for the complexity of her characters, Barbara Pierce doesn’t disappoint in this aspect of
Tempting the Heiress
. . . I should warn new readers to the Bedegrayne series that they will find themselves eagerly glomming the previous three novels in the series. Highly recommended!”

—The Romance Reader’s Connection

 

 

 

St. Martin’s Paperbacks Titles
by Barbara Pierce

WICKED UNDER THE COVERS
COURTING THE COUNTESS
TEMPTING THE HEIRESS

SINFUL
BETWEEN
The
SHEETS

BARBARA PIERCE

St. Martin’s Paperbacks

NOTE:
If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

 

 

 

 

 

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

 

SINFUL BETWEEN THE SHEETS

 

Copyright © 2007 by Barbara Pierce.

 

Cover photo © Shirley Green

 

All rights 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 or reviews. For information address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.

 

ISBN: 0-312-34822-3

EAN: 978-0-312-34822-9

 

Printed in the United States of America

 

St. Martin’s Paperbacks edition / April 2007

 

St. Martin’s Paperbacks are published by St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.

 

10  9  8  7  6  5  4  3  2  1

For my witty and beautiful sister-in-law, Jennifer Freese

 

 

 

Lovers and madmen have such seething brains,
Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend
More than cool reason ever comprehends.
The lunatic, the lover, and the poet
Are of imagination all compact.


WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE
THESEUS, IN
A MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM,
ACT 5, SC. 1, L. 4–8

PROLOGUE

Ealkin, country house of Lord and Lady Nipping
Wiltshire County

August 5, 1808

 


Kilby!”

One floor level above and hidden in the shadows of the dark stairwell, Lady Kilby Fitchwolf watched her half brother, Archer, as he kicked open a door and disappeared into the room. The breaking of glass had her cringing and shrinking deeper into the shadows. Whatever her supposed sin, her brother was determined to find her and make her pay. She stifled a cry of surprise when he staggered back into view again. From his unsteady gait, she wagered he had not stopped with the second bottle of wine she had watched him consume at supper.

“Where are you?” he raged, his body heaving in frustration. At some point since their last encounter, he had discarded his coat and had untied his cravat. Leaning heavily against one of the tables, he scowled at the closed doors, attempting to guess where she was hiding.

“Stubborn bitch. Once I get my hands on you, I’ll show you how to heel.” He crossed the marble hall and shoved open another door.

Kilby used the noise he made below to cover her escape. Barefoot, she raced up the flight of stairs to the next landing. A part of her knew her actions were futile. Archer seemed intent on searching every room in the house. It was only a matter of time before he discovered her. Kilby moved down the dark hall, sliding her hand along the wall as a guide. Sadly, this was not the first time she had been forced to disappear during one of Archer’s drunken tirades. If she could keep away from him until he sobered, she would be moderately safe.

“Damn you, Kilby, enough of this nonsense,” her brother roared from below. “Show yourself!”

“Never,” she whispered softly. Her hand closed over the latch to her mother’s bedchamber. As far as she knew, no one had entered the rooms since her parents had drowned in a yachting accident thirteen months earlier. Even Archer, who had inherited their father’s title, Marquess of Nipping, had avoided this part of the house. With luck, he would tire of his search long before he approached the third floor.

Slowly she opened the door, praying the hinges were well oiled. They were. Kilby slipped through the narrow opening and carefully shut the door, then leaned against it. Her breathing hitched as she fought back the sudden sting of tears. The room still held the lingering scent her mother used. Kilby could almost feel her mother’s arms circling around her, her warm scented flesh wrapping her in love and security.

“All will be well, my little honeybee.”

Kilby wiped the tears off her cheek. How often had her mother crooned those words to her, using the special endearment she had reserved for Kilby? A thousand? Tens of thousands? When she had been a child, she had believed in the power of her mother’s assurances. Her safe, happy
world had never been the same since word had reached Ealkin of her parents’ deaths.

And then there was her younger sister. Her given name was Evelina, but the family had endearingly dubbed her Gypsy. At age two, she had been very adept at escaping the watchful eye of the servants and roaming the house and lands at will.

Gypsy had been such a vibrant child, with a heart-shaped face, wild black hair, and laughing blue eyes. That spirited child no longer existed. The sudden loss of her parents had devastated her seven-year-old sibling. When told the news of their parents’ deaths, her sister had started screaming. For hours, poor Gypsy had cried and raged at the injustice of her loss. Too dazed by her own volatile emotions, Kilby had not been able to comfort her sister. As the hours passed, she had feared for Gypsy’s sanity. In desperation she had summoned a physician. By then, her sister’s scream had deteriorated to a hoarse, broken hiss. The physician had dosed Gypsy with laudanum to calm her. He had promised Kilby that a few days of rest would restore her little sister.

The physician had been wrong. Gypsy had not spoken a single word from that day forward. Kilby had tried everything from rewards to threats to break Gypsy’s silence. As the months passed, she realized her sister’s silence was more than mere stubbornness. It was as if a part of her had died along with their parents. These days, Gypsy walked about the house like a ghost, not allowing anything, even grief, to touch her.

Kilby flinched as Archer bellowed her name again. He sounded closer. Perhaps he had moved on to the second level. Her eyes had already adjusted to the inky blackness of the room’s interior. Reaching out her hands, she moved away from the door and used her hands and her memory to
seek out her mother’s wardrobe. The brass handles clanked together as her fingers brushed against the cold metal. Kilby opened one of the doors and slipped inside. The wardrobe was empty so she settled into it with little effort and shut the door so only a crack remained. If Archer thought to check his stepmother’s bedchamber, Kilby prayed he would only give it a cursory glance as he had all the other rooms.

Kilby threaded her fingers through her hair and held them there while she rested her forehead on her raised knees. Her nerves were raw from this hide-and-seek game her brother forced her to play almost nightly. What was she going to do about Archer?

He had not always been the drunk, angry man who bullied and terrified her now. When they were children, they had been close. Archer was barely two years older than Kilby, and they had raced up and down the halls of Ealkin, playing pranks on the servants.

They did not resemble each other in looks. Kilby had inherited her straight black hair from her mother. She viewed herself unremarkable in stature and looks. What elevated her features beyond average were her eyes. Unlike her siblings, the blue eyes Kilby had been bestowed at birth had lightened to an exotic violet color. Once when she asked her father why she had violet eyes and her siblings did not, the marquess had told her that her uniqueness had been a gift from an angel.

There was nothing extraordinary about Archer. He was about the same height as their father had been. His dark blond hair curled slightly at the ends where it brushed the collar of his coats. He had blue eyes lighter than Gypsy’s, and pale pink, narrow lips that hinted at his future uncompromising tendencies. Her father had always said that Archer had favored his mother in looks. The first Lady
Nipping had died giving birth to Archer’s brother. The infant had died three days later.

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