His Wicked Heart

A desperate plan…a wicked desire…

Jasper prowled toward her. “You attempted
fraud. More disturbingly, you arranged for a stranger to assault
me. Don’t you think you deserve some sort of punishment?”

God, she hadn’t thought of it that way. When
she’s agreed to Tilly’s scheme to seduce Saxton and switch places
with the prostitute, she’d figured they’d all get what they wanted:
Saxton would get a tumble, Tilly would get a portion of the fee,
and Olivia would gain a bit of freedom only money could buy. Her
belly squeezed with nausea, her limbs shook with shame. She
probably deserved punishment, but couldn’t bring herself to admit
it and put herself at his mercy. “No.” She retrieved his money from
the dresser and thrust it toward him. “Here.”

“I don’t want a refund. I want you.”

Olivia squeezed the bills in her hand. “I
thought a man like you would find one woman as acceptable as the
next.”

Heat leapt into the ice of his eyes. He stood
silent a long moment during which Olivia’s heart tried to beat
itself right out of her chest. “You couldn’t be more mistaken.” His
tone was soft, but razor-sharp. “How many times have you and Tilly
executed this scheme?”

“Never.”

He was terribly handsome, even in his fury.
The already hot room sweltered with the heat coming off his bare
chest. His intense stare curled her toes. “So you screw your other
clients. It’s just me you defraud?”

She sucked in a breath, wishing he were ugly
and cruel instead of devastatingly handsome and justifiably
outraged. “No.”

His gaze heated and he pushed closer, his
chest a hair’s breadth from hers. It was very difficult to find her
voice. “I lied about being a whore. I’ve never traded my body for
money. To anyone.”

He pressed even closer, bringing his pelvis
against hers. “Should I feel complimented because you considered it
with me?” His voice had dropped to a disturbingly seductive tone.
The words caressed the side of her neck as he leaned in.

Horrifyingly, her body burned where she came
into contact with him. Air couldn’t seem to find its way to her
lungs. “I…needed money.”

“Then take it.” He unfolded her hand, took
the money from her palm, and set it on the table. He traced his
finger around the edge of her face from brow to chin. She should
flee, but could only stand there mute, bound by the promise in his
gaze. “The devil,” he muttered before kissing her.

Also by Darcy Burke

Her Wicked Ways

To Seduce a Scoundrel

By Darcy Burke

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2012 Darcy Burke

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 0985455810

ISBN-13: 978-0-9854558-1-1

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters,
places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination
or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events,
locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Book design © Darcy Burke.

Cover design © Hot Damn Designs.

All rights reserved. Except as permitted
under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication
may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by
any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the
prior written permission of the author.

For Mom and Papa, and for my brother,
Rich.

I’m blessed to have a family like you.

Other authors say the second book is the
hardest, and I must concur. I have to thank my critique partners,
Erica Ridley, Lacey Kaye, and Janice Goodfellow for reading a
ridiculous number of drafts of the opening of this book. Who knew
Regency Fight Club would be so daunting? Thank you also to Jackie
Barbosa, Rachel Grant, and Elyssa Papa for reading drafts and
providing valuable insight.

I never would’ve made it to the next step in
my career with this book if not for the staunch support of the
Pixie Chicks and so many writer friends including Kris Kennedy,
Courtney Milan, Kristina McMorris, Leigh LaValle, and Kendra
Elliot. I also want to thank my dear non-writer friends who’ve
given me so much and encouraged me in ways I deeply appreciate:
Jenni Duhl, Bonnie Anderson, Shelly Leritz, and Dominique Dobson.
And thank you Leanne Karella for giving me a job when I needed it,
which allowed me to refill my creative well.

I’m sincerely grateful to my agent, Jim
McCarthy, for loving this book as much as I do and for championing
its success.

Finally, thank you Kim, Jennifer, and Megan
at Hot Damn Designs. You design the most gorgeous covers and
provide rock star support!

August, 1817, London

JASPER SINCLAIR, twelfth Earl of Saxton,
loosened his cravat as he awaited the arrival of his companion for
the evening. He’d never visited this particular brothel, situated
in a tiny court off the Haymarket, but a glimpse of its employees
below stairs had been enough to encourage him to stay. It was
difficult to find a bawdy house whose offerings were worth his
notice that wasn’t frequented by the upper echelon of Society. And
Jasper ought to know. He’d made a hobby of locating just such
jewels amongst the filth.

He had high hopes for tonight. His body
thrummed with pent-up energy he needed to release before facing his
family at his mother’s bi-weekly tea tomorrow. He shoved away
thoughts of that and focused on the matter at hand. Or rather the
matter that would soon be in his hands. He stripped his coat off
and threw it over the back of a chair.