Winter's Woman (The Wicked Winters #9) - Scarlett Scott Page 0,63

one whit.

“Blade will be in attendance,” Evie pointed out.

Devil settled his hand on the gentle swell of his wife’s belly. “Because he had no choice. Dom banished him. Also, he’s spoony. Have you ever seen him play with knives?”

He loved Blade as he loved all his siblings, but Devil was no more pleased than Dom had been by their brother’s recent reckless actions. He had brought scandal down upon The Devil’s Spawn at a time when they could least afford it. Along with the potential for more danger.

“I still think it was harsh of Dom to send him away.” Evie covered his hand with hers, lacing their fingers together.

“The monkery is an excellent place for him. Not much trouble he can get into there. Besides, the rest of my siblings will be joining him, aside from Dom.” Devil tugged her mouth back to his with his free hand. Winter swirled outside, blanketing the streets of London in early snow. But he was on fire for Evie, and he’d had enough chatter. “Seems we have some lessons to attend to, milady. I’ve taught you the art of whittling, you’ve taught me the art of reading. But the time has come for us to teach each other the art of—”

She kissed him, silencing the rest of his words.

Which was just as well. It would have been quite crude. One could remove the man from the rookeries, but one could never remove the rookeries from the man. Good thing his sweet lady wife did not mind, duke’s daughter and all.

The End.

Dear Reader,

Thank you for reading Winter’s Woman! I hope you loved this ninth book in my The Wicked Winters series and that Evie and Devil’s happily ever after touched your heart the way it did mine. As always, thank you for spending your precious time reading my books!

Please consider leaving an honest review of Winter’s Woman. Reviews are greatly appreciated! If you’d like to keep up to date with my latest releases and series news, sign up for my newsletter here or follow me on Amazon or BookBub. Join my reader’s group on Facebook for bonus content, early excerpts, giveaways, and more.

There are more Winters on the way. If you’d like a preview of Winter’s Whispers, Book Ten in The Wicked Winters series, featuring dangerously debonair Blade Winter and the lady who steals his heart, do read on.

Until next time,

Scarlett

Winter’s Whispers

The Wicked Winters Book Ten

By

Scarlett Scott

Don’t miss this special addition to the bestselling The Wicked Winters series, featuring Winter family favorites and a whole lot of holiday steam!

Blade Winter is a coldhearted assassin with a deadly reputation. After a costly mistake leaves him banished to the countryside for a Christmas house party he has no wish to attend, he is furious. No amount of merrymaking is going to improve his mood. Until he crosses paths with a beautiful brunette he can never have, and suddenly, the prospect of a yuletide rusticating in Oxfordshire is not nearly as detestable…

Lady Felicity Hughes may be London’s darling, but she is hiding a desperate secret. No one knows she must wed to save her family from penury, and she intends to keep it that way. But before she binds herself in a loveless marriage of convenience, she wants one night of passion. Who better to have it with than the wickedly handsome Mr. Winter?

Blade knows better than to dally with a lady who is forbidden, no matter how much she tempts him. Felicity is equally determined to get what she wants, even if there can be no future between herself and a dangerous man like Blade. She has nothing left to lose. Except her heart.

Chapter One

Oxfordshire, 1814

There was a female beneath his bed.

Trouble, warned his instincts.

A female was what had landed Blade here, in the monkery, at a cursed country house party being held by his half brother Devereaux Winter.

Not this particular one, though. He would have recognized the ankles. Blade was a connoisseur of ankles. And knives. Not necessarily in that order.

This one’s ankles were fine boned, nicely turned, covered in pale stockings. He noted those first. He noted her arse second. A plummy handful, that. Too bad it was draped in an unappealing gown of virginal white. Virgins weren’t his sort.

Innocence wasn’t his sort.

Blade preferred debauched. Sinful widows, wicked wives. A woman who wasn’t afraid to suck a cock.

Which was why the miss rooting about beneath his bed needed to go. At once.

He cleared his throat, hoping the strange bit of petticoats would realize she