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Axton
by Ellen Margret
Category: Romance/Historical Fiction
Description: He had been a womanising rake who took Iona's virginity at sixteen, and didn't remember doing it. Now, older, wiser and bearing battle scars, Axton employs her as his daughter's Nanny. How long before he discovers who she is? Before then, can she gain retribution for his mistreatment of her?
eBook Publisher: DCL Publications LLC, 2011 February
eBookwise Release Date: February 2011
 
4 Reader Ratings:
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [175 KB]
Words: 40219
Reading time: 114-160 min.
He smiled thinly. "What is wrong with being in here? Would you rather I have you in the manor house? I fear that in there we would run the risk of being heard or seen by your father." He gave a deep belch. "I suppose it would not matter if he did discover us. After all, my elder brother has already finalised the purchase of the estate. The manor house now belongs to him. 'Tis a shame that your father got himself into such financial difficulties and had to lose everything. A once powerful man brought so low. Ah well, such is life, for he is but one of many gamblers who never knew when to stop."
She turned to leave. "I should go. It was foolish to come in here with you. I was not thinking clearly." She had not expected him to grab her arm. "How dare you! Let me go at once!"
"You don't really want me to let you go. Women like me, wench. What is there to dislike? Consider yourself fortunate to be in my company."
"Do not call me wench. I am Lady Iona Irvington."
He rubbed his eyes and swayed slightly. "Right now, I need a woman, wench. You are a woman."
His hold on her arm intensified. He held her fast. His eyes had taken on the look of frosted glass, and she realised that he most likely wasn't even focussing on her properly. "You have been drinking."
"Of course I've been drinking. I drank the night away with my brother. We didn't even get to bed and I had another half bottle of brandy with breakfast. I am well topped up, wench."
"You don't sound that drunk. You even sound sober."
He laughed harshly. "We hold our drink well. 'Tis a family trait." He belched again. "I've lost whole days, and nights," he chuckled. "Wenches have come up to me and thanked me for giving them a bloody good time. The thing is, half the time I didn't remember fucking them, and I certainly never remembered names. Women are good for only three things. Fucking, cooking and cleaning, and they don't need names to do that."
Her jaw dropped. "You conceited chauvinist." His response to that was to slam her against his rock hard chest and give her a very bruising kiss. She tried to push away, but he held her fast.
"Wench, you came in here of your own free will. I saw the way you looked at me when I arrived here yesterday evening. It was the way all women look at me, and I do mean all women. Even grannies give me a second glance. Why shouldn't they? I'm everything a woman could desire. I am tall, dark, handsome and I've got a big cock."
"In addition to that you are an arrogant, overbearing, conceited dandy."
"You liked what you saw. I know you did. You eyed me up and down and you licked your lips and pouted."
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