his awful innuendo. “You are a ridiculous man.”
“You adore me,” he said, kissing her again.
“Someone has to.”
He placed a sweet kiss on her lips and then peppered over the sun spots covering her nose. “I hope our child has your smile and your courage. And most of all, I hope they have beautiful skin like yours and freckles like these.”
Daily walks on the shore had turned her skin golden brown and made her spattering of freckles stand out. Sarani hadn’t cared—he loved her skin and her in it. And she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that any child of theirs, regardless of what they looked like, would be beloved as well.
“I love you, Rhystan.”
“It cannot possibly be as much as I love you, my duchess.” Blue-gray eyes full of joy and love held hers. “Thank you, my love.”
She stroked her fingers over his jaw. “For what?”
“For loving me. For choosing me.” He placed a hand on her heart and then the small curve of her stomach and pressed his forehead against hers. “For giving me everything a man could ever hope for.” He let out a choked breath. “And for saving me.”
“Saving you?”
He gave a solemn nod, his eyes so full of love that her throat went tight. “You did, even when I didn’t know I needed saving, you were there. You will forever be my port in the storm. My safe harbor. My home. Always.”
Keep reading for a sneak peek at
Rules for Heiresses
Coming October 2021 from Sourcebooks Casablanca
One
Lady Ravenna Huntley, unwed sister to the Duke of Embry, was in the biggest pickle of her life, and that was saying a lot, considering she’d been a fugitive on one of her brother’s ships across the Atlantic. Now, she was about to lose a substantial fortune playing vingt-et-un while disguised as a man…unless she did something she’d never considered before.
Unless she cheated.
This win was a matter of survival. She was almost out of money, barring her last pair of earbobs. Notwithstanding her previous exploits, her brother would have her hide if his precious sister ended up getting thrown into the stocks on an island in the British West Indies.
But she wasn’t a cheater and never had been. Ravenna could understand how desperate times made people consider unpalatable options because at the moment, she truly was out of options. She hadn’t fully thought through her plan. Yet again.
She could win if she bluffed her way through it, but if she lost… Well, better not think of that. Why was it so bloody sweltering? It felt as though sweat was pouring down her back in rivers. She eyed the men gathering around the table in the gaming hell at fashionable Starlight Hotel and Club, and tugged at her collar.
Jump first and think later had served her marginally well over the past six months.
Not now, naturally.
Her overwarm skin itched beneath the scratchy fabric of her clothing. Men’s fashion, while practical, chafed unbearably especially when sweat was involved. And right now, she was boiling like a hog farmer on a blistering day. A part of her—a sad, whimsical, miniscule part of her—missed the silks and the satins of her gowns, but those times were behind her. These days, she went by Mr. Raven Hunt, young nob and ne’er-do-well who enjoyed a spot of gambling…especially when finding his amiable, charming self in need of quick, easy coin.
Though said coin at the moment was neither quick nor easy.
She’d lost count of the cards ages ago…because of him.
Ravenna gulped, her heart kicking against her ribs, currently restrained beneath a starched band of linen. Despite its functional purpose of keeping her identity as a female hidden, the stiff, restrictive layer made it quite hard to breathe. And at the moment, she needed to capably inhale, exhale, and focus, mostly because of the inscrutable gentleman across the felted table who watched her with hard, piercing eyes.
Mr. Chase. Shipping magnate. Undisputed local sovereign.
Ruthless, cold, powerful.
Her one remaining adversary.
His sinful looks didn’t help. Lips, luscious and wicked to a fault, were framed by a square jawline covered in a dusting of dark shadow, and an aquiline nose was drawn between high-bladed cheekbones. A pair of thick slashes for brows sat over an onyx gaze that was so mercurial it was impossible to read. His eyes reminded her of a churning ocean at midnight, lightning flashing over its surface. Those storm-dark eyes were a study in temptation alone—she’d only ever seen such intensity in one person before. She shook off the