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Excerpt of The Duke is Wicked by Tracy Sumner

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League of Lords #3
Author Self-Published
March 2021
On Sale: March 2, 2021
Featuring: Duke of Ashcroft (Sebastian); Delaney Temple
ISBN: 0164301135
EAN: 2940164301132
Kindle: B089CWG5M8
e-Book
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Romance Paranormal, Romance Historical

Also by Tracy Sumner:

The Devil of Drury Lane, October 2023
e-Book
Kiss The Rake Hello, June 2023
e-Book
Two Scandals and a Scot, April 2023
Hardcover / e-Book
From a Scoundrel with Love, February 2023
e-Book
One Wedding and An Earl, January 2023
Paperback / e-Book
The Wicked Wallflower, May 2022
e-Book
The Scandalous Vixen, January 2022
e-Book
The Brazen Bluestocking, October 2021
e-Book
The Ice Duchess, August 2021
e-Book
The Hellion is Tamed, July 2021
e-Book
The Duke is Wicked, March 2021
e-Book
Chasing the Duke, December 2020
e-Book
A Scandalous Christmas, December 2020
e-Book
Tempting the Scoundrel, October 2020
e-Book
The Rake is Taken, June 2020
e-Book
The Lady is Trouble, February 2020
e-Book
Tides of Desire, November 2019
e-Book
To Seduce A Rogue, February 2012
e-Book
To Desire a Scoundrel, December 2011
e-Book
Tides of Love, November 2011
e-Book (reprint)
Tides Of Passion, October 2011
e-Book (reprint)
Tides Of Passion, July 2002
Paperback
Tides Of Love, October 2000
Paperback
Christmas Kisses, November 1999
Paperback
Carolina Rose, April 1999
Paperback

Excerpt of The Duke is Wicked by Tracy Sumner

He was even more handsome up close. 

The brief look she’d gotten from beneath that silly bonnet while sneaking into the viscount’s Oxfordshire home hadn’t done the man justice. Now she knew better. Shadowed slashes where the moon shone through the windowpane cut across a body they’d struggled to fit into what was her most enormous bed. Long legs...endlessly long. A lean yet powerful body stretched out, to her mind, hardly looking English. His men had loosened the collar of his fine cambric shirt, exposing a mix of muscle, golden skin and scars. A warrior’s physique. Delaney noticed details, sometimes obsessively. He had neatly-trimmed nails, calluses on his fingertips, forgot to cut his hair, and cared (but not significantly) about his clothing. His sun-kissed skin indicated he worked outdoors without a hat. He wore a signet ring on his pinkie, a crest of a lion with snapping teeth that did not match his decorous bearing.

The Duke of Ashcroft blinked once and released a soft moan, still lost to the insect’s venom. His eyes were as astounding as described in those pointless society pages, a strange mix of amber and gold, like whiskey or the soft clay of Georgia. When most of the tales bandied about in the broadsheets were pure garbage.

Or, as they called it here, rubbish.

But his hair was his crowning glory. Dark, with a tantalizing hint of copper, so long the curls had long-ago settled into gentle waves now hiding part of his face. When she’d turned to find him standing behind her in the park, she’d wanted, insanely, to plunge her fingers into the silken strands to see if they were as soft as they looked.

Delaney sighed and slipped into the armchair tucked close to his bedside. When was the last time she’d had an opinion about a man, any opinion, much less wanted to touch one?

She now recognized she’d created an enormous problem by placing her mouth over his and breathing life back into his lungs before all of polite society. 

The English were fussy about such things.

Heavens, she huffed and propped her chin on her fist. They were fussy about everything.

She’d tried to tell the horde circling them as the duke’s men had loaded him into her brand spanking new cabriolet and carried him off, one a stick-figure countess with a vile reputation for gossip, that she’d only been doing what she could to save the man. A rudimentary and unproven way to resuscitate, noted in medieval texts but not, as yet, taken seriously in the medical community. They believed she’d done it because she wanted to be a duchess. The goal of every woman she encountered in this country, to be someone’s wife. Delaney pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes until she saw stars.

If society only understood.

That was the last thing she’d ever, ever want.

 

Excerpt from The Duke is Wicked by Tracy Sumner
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