By Brenda Joyce
Raised as a pirate's daughter, Amanda Carre has now not been tutored within the finer social graces. by myself on this planet, she hasn't ever relied on a person, till destiny intervenes whilst Cliff de Warenne rescues her from a mob at her father's placing. Now she needs to set sail for England to discover the mum she by no means knew, and her chaperone is an notorious women' guy . . . the best gentleman privateer of his period, Cliff is familiar with honor calls for that he see this pretty wild baby to London and into her socialite mother's fingers. he is acutely aware that Amanda is completely unprepared for a debut in London's ton, so his simply recourse is to turns into her dad or mum and champion her transformation right into a woman -- and locate her an appropriate fit. yet with each passing second it turns into more durable to disclaim his jealousy and ire -- until eventually Amanda makes her gorgeous debut, a girl ultimately. And whilst his ardour in ultimately published, their love can not be denied.
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Extra info for A Lady At Last (de Warenne Dynasty)
She stood by the bed, clad in a man’s sapphire-blue silk dressing gown, but it was unbelted and open, revealing her lean golden thighs, soft belly and full breasts. Her expression was one of despair, but it was also fierce and determined. She would not stand down. Cliff prayed he was not too late. He strode to Woods, who was so preoccupied with his victim that he did not see him until Cliff raised his fist. Woods cried out but Cliff knocked him backward into the wall, the blow so stunning he slid down it into a heap, as if unconscious.
Even in polite society he kept a dagger in his belt, a stiletto in his boot, for he had gained his fortune the hard way, and he had made his share of enemies. Besides, in the islands, he had no time for fashion. Cliff realized that he was late for his appointment with the colonial governor. But several fashionably dressed ladies were just entering the square, one a gorgeous beauty. They glanced his way, whispering excitedly. He saw that they were on their way to the scaffolding to inspect the site of tomorrow’s hanging.
His grip tightened. She began to protest, trying to pull back, but he restrained her. “I beg your pardon,” he said grimly, aware that he was flushing. With his free hand, over her shirt, he touched her waist, expecting to find another pistol strapped inside her shirt there. Instead, he was stunned at how narrow her waist was, with no flesh to spare. He could probably close both of his hands around her, if he tried. “Get your paws off me,” she gasped, outraged. He ignored her, sliding his hand to the small of her back and trying not to think about drifting it lower.