Maeve and Devlin are back with another erotic tale—this time featuring two of Maeve's favorite characters as you've never seen them before...

--Knightley's Tale
eISBN: 9781426850684
March 2010 available electronically from Harlequin Spice Briefs

Buy the ebook though SpiceBriefs.com, Amazon Kindle, Barnes & Nobel, or another favorite ebook retailer.

An excerpt:

The maiden Knightley sought to rescue was nowhere inside. Reaching the front gate, he folded his arms across his chest and settled in. Girlish voices from earlier this evening returned to haunt him.

“It’s a dare then. Go to the pleasure gardens,” Emma’s silly friends had challenged her this evening at a dinner party. “Return with the cap of the gondolier and tell us all you see and hear.”

Fools, the lot of them.

And he was the biggest fool of all, because here he stood, sentry to the gates of what very likely would be his own personal hell tonight.

As if the devil harkened, an unmarked carriage lumbered up the street and stopped in front of the gardens’ quiet entrance. Alighting without assistance, a young woman sprang to the ground. The hazy moonlight reflected a willowy outline dressed in a cream silk and lace.

Knightley knew that long, lithe body. He’d seen it often enough, leaping gracefully and unladylike, from carriages, trees, and all manner of whatnot. More recently, those soft curves and long limbs had begun leaping into his dreams.

Atop him.

Naked. Undulating.

He shook himself, mentally and physically. This was not the time, and definitely not the place, to dwell on private fantasies.

Receding into the shadows, he prayed for her to lose her nerve, step back, into the carriage.
Emma, being Emma, did not. Taking a quick look around and seeing no one, she only reached back into the carriage to retrieve her cloak.

“I shall be ready for you in one hour,” she called to the driver before he urged the horses down the lane.

Absolutely irritating, Knightley thought. Did she have everyone wrapped around her finger?

Alone, she approached the gardens’ front gate and stopped, surveying the heavy latch. The moon escaped a cloud. Emma, of course, radiated in moonlight.

Knightley’s breath stopped.

This was not Emma. Not his Emma, at least. Not the neighbor girl whom he continually chased out of his library. Not the girl who would tease him into ridiculous debates over Sunday dinners. Not the girl who was set on mismatching everyone in the parish into marriage.

This girl – this woman – was someone you awoke next to after a night of lovemaking and loved her again and again.