A vampire RegencyThe heroine, Sarah Morrow, is a very young, sultry, sophisticated widow of an impoverished Italian Count. She returns to England after an absence of five years. The hero, Anthony Harford, Earl of Chrisfield, falls madly in love with her and ardently pursues her, despite her initial protestations. Her reservations have nothing to do with Anthony. She has a secret that she can't share with anyone or they'll think she's mad. Will love be strong enough to overcome the terrible secret she hides?
The setup: Sarah and Tony are instantly attracted to each other. Society decrees that they remain apart except in the most restricted settings. Except in his dreams ... his very vivid dreams.
She entered his chambers the evening of her homecoming, before Tony's eyes scarcely closed. He had taken to ending his evenings early, foregoing the usual pleasures of cards or billiards at his club. He had given his cronies cause to wonder at his solitary pursuits. How they would laugh if they knew how swiftly he retired to his bed. How much his vague dreams failed to satisfy his desire. For one woman. Just one. Sarah. He went to bed the day before her expected return with the faint hope that she'd appear once more to him in his dreams. That he would not awaken crying out her name.
He didn't need to call her; he felt her presence. Opening his eyes, he found her standing next to the bed, her lacy white nightgown gleaming in the darkness. Her velvet cape lay in a puddle on the floor. Hurriedly, he lit the candle by his bedside.
"Sarah. You came."
His dream lover had not deserted him after all. Her voice, a husky whisper, caressed him. "I should not have, but I could not resist the temptation."
He took her by the hand and drew her to the mattress. She sat by his side and reached up to untie the ribbon that bound her hair away from her face, her curls falling to her waist.
The candlelight revealed her milky white skin.
He pulled the linen shift from her shoulders. Then she was in his arms, her breasts pressed tightly to his bare chest. The sensation was incredible. He flipped back the sheet and she slipped next to his naked body. He turned to her, his hardened cock throbbing against her thigh.
Her nipples rubbed against his hot flesh. He groaned, then did the unthinkable. His lips surrounded her tightened nipple and he suckled deeply. Rather than pulling away, she arched further into his mouth. Her hands threaded through his dark curls and pulled his head closer. His fingers kneaded her other breast then pinched her aroused bud. His tongue licked her. His teeth nipped her delicately.
She moaned.
"My turn," she whispered.
She slipped down a bit and trailed kisses on his chest. Tentatively, she took one of his small masculine nipples in her mouth and sucked. The salty taste of his skin seemed to act as an aphrodisiac. She could feel his heart beating loudly. Calling to her. Drawing her. Instead, she reluctantly pulled away.
