Erotic Historical Romance
Can Lady Cranfield overcome her traumatic past in the arms of the self-assured Earl of Ruel? The Earl of Ruel's non-negotiable offer: His help in return for one month of her complete submission. Dare she take the risk? Light BDSM, Curvy/Plus-Sized Heroine.
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A Measured Risk by Natasha Blackthorne
For Adults 18+ Only
Part of the Regency Risks Series Bundle :
Kindle US: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0161KA54S
Kindle UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0161KA54S
Purchase A Measured Risk for $3.99 or Read for Free through Kindle Unlimited:
Kindle US: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00FJBI2K0
Kindle UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00FJBI2K0
By reading any further, you are stating that you are 18 years of age, or over.If you are under the age of 18, it is necessary to exit this site.Copyright © Natasha Blackthorne, 2012, 2013
Excerpt
“Why did you run away?” His deep voice settled in her belly, rich and warm, like crème brûlée on a cold winter’s night.
“Because I wanted you to follow.” She tried to sound sophisticated and seductive, but her voice choked off on the last word.
Ruel placed his hand on the shelf above her head and blocked her path to the door. His tall, solidly muscled body leaned over her, surrounding her with the sumptuous, sinful scents of tobacco, Scotch whisky and something masculine and undeniably dangerous. A slow, sensual smile stretched his hard mouth.
He appeared different. Softer. More approachable.
At the change, her insides seemed to flip over.
“Well, sweeting, getting us off alone was a very inspired idea.” He touched one of her fallen ringlets. “I am bored to distraction with endless hunting and fencing.”
As he slowly wrapped the curl around two fingers, he brushed her collarbone. Fiery sparks tingled down her spine, so intense that she shivered and her nipples beaded, pressing against her stays. By some instinct she hadn’t even known she possessed, she arched her back, presenting herself for his assessment.
His eyes shone so vividly blue against his bronzed face that they resembled cornflowers. She swallowed tightly and wished for a long drink of claret. This more personal side of him suddenly seemed far more hazardous than his usually fierce exterior.
Well, no matter. There was nothing to fear. She would allow only as much contact as need be to get to know him a little. Since being torn from her lonely yet secure life in Ireland and thrust into society at age sixteen, she’d spent her time allowing people only as near as was comfortable. She was an expert at emotional evasion.
It should be easy to regain her control.
But now, as late afternoon sun rays played over his pale hair, turning it to the colour of winter wheat, all her carefully rehearsed words flew away.
Say something—anything—else he will think you’re a bird-wit.
An intimate smile, one that invited her to play, tugged at his mouth.
“In a situation like this, alone with a gentleman, it’s perfectly normal for a lady to feel some apprehension.” His hushed voice, barely audible above the piano and boisterous singing from down the corridor, accentuated their isolation. His gaze became so piercing that she had to lower her eyes.
He brushed his fingertips over her cheek. “She will invariably ask herself if he will try to kiss her.”
She jerked her eyes back to his face. God, he couldn’t mean to—Not yet, surely… Peculiar, heated chills swept over her. She tried to take a step back, but found her arse flush against the bookshelf.
He leaned closer; so close that his Scotch-scented breath tickled her face. “And just in case you are wondering, Lady Cranfield—the answer is most assuredly yes.”
She should demand that he put his arm down so she could pass by and leave. She really should. But she couldn’t stop looking at his hard mouth and wondering what it would feel like upon hers. He was so close to her that his breath blew on her lips. If she moved but a fraction, she’d be kissing him.
Kissing him.
Dear God. Her breath began to come very fast and short. Her throat went tight with a suppressed moan.
His eyes burnt as brightly as aquamarines. He looked so fierce. If he kissed her, if he dared… Oh God, it would be so harsh. That cruel-looking mouth could express itself no other way.
Excitement rushed through her, sending tingles to every point of her body, even her toes.
But no, he wouldn’t. Not yet.
He kept leaning closer. He didn’t close his eyes. Instead, he seemed to focus all the harder upon her.
Heart pounding and unable to move away, she braced herself for his assault.
His lips brushed hers, barely. A gossamer caress.
He lifted his head.
It was done.
Ended.
And it hadn’t even begun.
He held her chin, appearing so cool, so unaffected. His kiss had seemed to sear her. An urge to put her fingers to her lips arose in her. She resisted it, for it would give away too much of how she was affected.
Never show your feelings.
He traced his thumb along her lower lip, slowly, deliberately, as he studied her with eyes that now glittered with something powerful and predatory. Heat pooled in her pelvis, low and spreading even lower.
She went weak all over, as if she’d lain in a sunny window seat for too long. Her knees almost buckled. She forced them to lock. To be strong.
It should not have affected her so profoundly. It had just been a peck—not a true kiss at all. William had poured out all of his skill upon her and hadn’t garnered even a tenth of the reaction in her that this man’s peck had.
Ruel traced her jaw line with his fingertips. Unthinkingly, she leaned in to his touch.
“Of course, once he has kissed her, then it’s his turn to wonder…” His voice sounded unnaturally loud to her ears. “How will she respond? Will she withdraw, or can he ignite some hidden fire?”
She sensed that he was toying with her. She didn’t understand flirtation—why had she imagined she could carry this ruse off? Was he making advances in order to have a laugh with Francesca and her simpering friends later? Hurt blossomed in her chest. She resented him for that. She ought to feel indignant, superior, uncaring—anything but hurt.
“Please don’t make sport of me.”
She cringed. Was that quavering, pleading voice really hers?
An infinitesimal pause. “Now, why on earth would I do such a thing?” His voice was as smooth as velvet.
“To please your vanity,” she replied, trying to regain her wits.
“Here.” He placed her hand to his chest. The contours of his muscles were hard, powerfully developed. Even more so than she’d expected. His body heat radiated through the satin and, beneath her hand, his heart beat was rapid and strong.
“Is that vanity?” He put a finger under her chin, giving her no choice but to face him. “Is it?” He gentled his grip.
The warmth in his voice settled over her like luscious hot chocolate. Melting her insides to quivering burgoo, rendering her speechless, unable to move.
“My dear, lovely Lady Cranfield, I am going kiss you again.”
Then he touched his mouth to hers, more firmly this time. Delicious, steady pressure. Her lips trembled and she clutched his lapels. He lifted his head. At the loss, a throaty, pleading moan sounded in her ears. Had it really come from her?
Clearly, now was the time for her to reassert some control over her reactions. To put him at a more comfortable distance.
“Kiss me back.” At the commanding edge in his voice, hot, sweet honey pooled in her belly.
No. Focus.
What had she wanted to ask him? Focus? Dear God, what rubbish. She could scarcely remember her own name, much less anything else. What madness had made her think she could maintain control over him?
He traced her mouth with his tongue. Deliberately; lingeringly. This time she couldn’t hold back a moan. She had grown to dislike it when William kissed her opened mouthed. It had always seemed such an overheated, messy thing. But where was her coldness now? She was burning to know what it would feel like to know Ruel’s full kiss. She had to know—just once—or she would surely die.
Just once. Certainly once wouldn’t hurt.
Tentatively, tremulously, she opened her mouth.
He thrust inside, his tongue like a
bold blade of flame as it touched hers. He tasted of whisky and
something smoky, too sensual to be
borne. Fire burst within her, spreading over her breasts. Of their
own
volition, her hands slid up his muscled
arms and she gripped his shoulders and moaned again.
She twisted and pressed her breasts
against his chest, trying to increase the sensation on her taut,
aching nipples. However, her stays
prevented it. Her frustration vibrated deep in her throat, another
longer, more intense moan.
The sound startled her and, for a
moment, it was as if she were staring down at the two of them. She
didn’t recognise herself, but she
couldn’t stop kissing him back. Couldn’t stop rubbing her breasts
against him.
Who was this uninhibited strumpet?
His breathing changed, growing heavier.
He cupped her face with his large, long-fingered hands,
angling her head. She went even more
boneless and allowed him to move her as suited his desire.
He probed more forcefully with his
tongue, went deeper, compelling her to open further, to melt
against him more completely. He slid
his hand to her neck and threaded his fingertips through her hair. He
lifted the heavy mass off her neck. Cool air rushed over her nape. In
one quick movement, he tightened his hold on her hair and, with
gentle but firm pressure, he pulled her head back. Her shocked gasp
came out as a mere whimper, muffled by his demanding mouth.
No man had ever handled her like this.
She’d never even suspected a gentleman would handle a
woman—not even one of his whores—like
this. If she had any sense left, she ought to be frightened,
offended—enraged.
Instead, her nipples pebbled painfully
and heat twisted through her insides.
He tore his mouth from hers. As she
gasped for breath, a sense of loss hit her so intensely that she felt
disorientated. She stood there, leaning
against his hard body, panting open-mouthed, with her head pulled
backwards by his grip.
He studied her and tightened his grasp,
pulling more harshly this time. A violent shaft of desire
stabbed her, womb-deep.
Warmth, and what looked very much like
satisfaction, shone in his gaze.
He laid his other hand along her
collarbone in what could only be called a blatant, sexually
possessive
manner. The skin crinkled around his
eyes. He was smiling, ever so slightly.
Something had just happened. She didn’t
understand what. If only she could think, she would be able
to reason it out. However, liquid
warmth pooled in her lower pelvis so suddenly that she gasped. Her
sex throbbed as if it were a beating heart.
Coherent thought was impossible.
He shifted and throbbing heat seared
her, even through their clothing.
His erection.
Ruel brushed his fingers against her
back. Tugging, pulling.
Undoing her laces.
She froze and placed her hands on his
chest. “Don’t.”
The gown slipped and she automatically
clutched the dark purple silk to herself.
He took hold of her wrists, easily
encircling them with the forefinger and thumb of each hand. “Let
the gown fall away.”
He used the voice. The one from the
dreams she only reluctantly admitted to herself. The confident,
commanding tone that the nameless,
faceless man used in her nocturnal fantasies. Her secret lover who
would press her down and—
“I want you to remove the rest of
your garments and then I want you to lie on that crimson divan and
display yourself for me.”
She threw a glance at the divan, her
favourite spot in this whole house. The image his words conjured
—her, lying naked on the crimson
velvet, open for his perusal—burnt into her brain. Her arousal
deepened.
Of course, despite her wayward
dreams, she didn’t really want to do something like that.
She couldn’t possibly.
She barely knew Ruel. Yet there was
that innate sense that she could trust him. That she could give in
to his whims and it would be safe.
A secret shared between them. Temptation tingled through her,
increasing with every beat of her heart.
Reckless.
She had never been reckless in her
life. A trembling began in her legs.
She turned back to him. His features
were tight with desire, his stare commanding and compelling.
She wanted to be reckless with this
man.
“The door is locked. The others
aren’t going to come in here—the gentlemen are all occupied with
fencing and the ladies are busy
with their watercolours.”
She’d never allow herself the luxury
of surrendering to this. For this was pure emotion and it would
be giving him too much of herself.
“I won’t do it.” She had intended
to make her tone resolute. That thready, pleading voice couldn’t
possibly be hers.
“It would please me.” His firm
tone sent a new wave of lassitude through her limbs.
Need twisted in her lower stomach.
Wait—How had they come to this
moment? Where the devil was the reserve and sexual coolness that
had driven William into other arms?
This virtual stranger held some kind of special power over her. God.
It was unthinkable. It was terrifying.
“No.” Her strident denial echoed
jarringly in her ears.
He released her wrists.
She pulled the gown up high and
clutched it tight. She wanted to run. She should run. But his large,
strong body still stood between her
and the exit. Would he really attempt to stop her if she tried to
flee? Her heart pounded at the thought. Because she knew that if he
put his hands on her and stopped her, especially if he did it as
forcefully and firmly as he’d behaved thus far, she’d melt for
him.
What a revelation! She’d never
suspected such a creature existed in her secret heart, waiting for
someone to come along and draw her
out.
“You’d better leave now.” She
pushed the words past her shaking lips.
For Adults 18+ Only
Kindle US: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00FJBI2K0
Kindle UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00FJBI2K0
What are people saying about A MEASURED RISK?
"I loved everything about this story, it was so good. But want I loved most was Jon patience with Anne. He was a strong male lead and very dominant, but his patience with her was just...I can't even explain it. I mean just reading this story, you knew this man as dominant as he was, was falling in love with this woman." ~ Salacious Reads
"I really enjoyed A Measured Risk. It was fresh, steamy, emotional and just a heart touching romance between two very unique characters...
There are some holy hell make you fan yourself moments and some sweet ones too which totally worked for me.
All in all, an excellent historical erotica that'll spice up an evening in. They were really just a great pairing and I enjoyed their time together in and out of the bedroom." ~ Review by Anna of Herding Cats and Burning Soup.
"Jonathon was pure male and super hot...a perfect mix of passion, dominance and submission...Well written and wonderful escapism...A highly recommended read." ~ Best Selling Author Sam Crescent
"Wonderful erotic romance! I absolutely loved this story. It's rare to find a real, sweet love story in a BDSM romance. This one's definitely a keeper, something to read a second time. Looking forward to read more of those! ~ Author Deborah Court. "I am hopelessly in love with the Earl of Ruel and I don't care if he's a fictional character! Experience the elegant, and frequently excessive life of the privileged during this romantic era." ~ Romance in Review
Deepened & Fully Re-edited!
A MEASURED RISK features a shy, intellectual, strong-willed widow with real life curves (Rubenesque/BBW) and a protective, possessive Dominant, alpha male hero. This is a story of Dominance and submission with light BDSM, emotional healing, trust and love.
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A Measured Risk is an Erotic Historical Romance. This means it contains graphic sexual language. It also means that there is a greater focus on the development of the romance through eroticism than in Mainstream/Traditional Steamy or Spicy Romance.
A Measured Risk by Natasha Blackthorne
For Adults 18+ Only:
Kindle US: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0161KA54S
Kindle UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0161KA54S
Purchase A Measured Risk for $2.99 or Read for Free through Kindle Unlimited:
Kindle US: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00FJBI2K0
Kindle UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00FJBI2K0
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