Wicked and the Wallflower: Bareknuckle Bastards Book 1

Whit looked to Devil. “She seems unhappy.” “Unhappy?” With lightning speed, Grace boxed Whit’s ear. “Oi!” Whit danced backward, a hand at the offended body part. “Fucking hell!”

Another warning sounded from Whit, and the woman looked over her shoulder. “That’s a very persistent nightingale.” “He’s irritated.”

The words enraged Devil. Felicity was more than convenient. She was more than a pawn. “How dare you manipulate her to get to me.” Ewan raised a blond brow in his direction. “Say that again. This time, more slowly.”

“I love you,” the countess said, quietly. “I’ve loved you since we were children. I’ve loved you rich. And now I love you poor. Do you love me?”

Memories swirled. Whit, reed-thin and small, with too many teeth in his little face, his impish smile big and bright. Grace, tall and sturdy, with sunken sad eyes. And Ewan, all long legs and sharp bones, like a foal. And with a monstrous determination.

“I didn’t mean to say it.” Her brother shot her a look. “Bordello?”

For the first time in her life, as she heard the words my lady, she wondered what it would be to actually, honestly be someone’s lady. What might it be like to stand by his side? To touch him at will? To have him touch her?

“Because I am not for dukes.” Why the hell not?

Devil looked to his brother, letting his fury into his gaze. “I’ve already saved the girl.” Whit’s brows rose in silent question. “You don’t see her anywhere near the Garden, do you? Now get the fuck out.”