The Duke’s Seduction of Lady M. Raven McAllan

       Rules are meant to broken…

      The mysterious Lady Mary McCoy is tired of playing by the rules of the ton. As a wealthy widow she fully plans on living her life to the full – free from the constraints of marriage.

      And if she has to keep her high society status a secret in order to indulge in the more pleasurable pastimes of life, then so be it! Just as long as it’s on her terms…

      Until notorious rake, Brody Weston, Duke of Welland, returns to his ancestral home – intent on her seduction! Slowly, luxuriously, he begins to unravel her secrets, one tantalising kiss at a time. And suddenly Lady Mary realises that breaking her own rules with the Duke is the most dangerous thing she’s ever done!

       The next exquisite Regency romance from Raven McAllan, The Duke’s Seduction of Lady M will whisk you off your feet and sweep you into an opulent world of scandal, secrets and desire!

      Also by Raven McAllan:

      

       The Scandalous Proposal of Lord Bennett

       The Rake’s Unveiling of Lady Belle

       The Duke’s Seduction of Lady M

      Raven McAllan

       www.CarinaUK.com

       RAVEN MCALLAN

      lives in Scotland, the land of lochs, glens, mountains, haggis, men in kilts (sometimes) and midges. She enjoys all of them – except midges. They’re not known as the scourge of Scotland for nothing.

      Her long-suffering husband has learned how to work the Aga, ignore the dust bunnies who share their lives, and pour the wine when necessary.

      Raven loves history, which is just as well, considering she writes Regency romance, and often gets so involved in her research she forgets the time.

      She loves to travel, and says she and her hubby are doing their gap year in three-week stints. All in the name of research, of course.

      She loves to hear from her readers and you can contact her via her website www.ravenmcallan.com

      To Paul for ignoring the clack of the laptop when he’s trying to watch the football.

      To Doris O’Connor for her ‘re-editing’ – red type to anyone else.

      To the RavDor chicks and my fellow Carina authors for their support, enthusiasm and unfailing encouragement.

      And, of course, to Charlotte and the Carina team because without you this book wouldn’t have happened.

      To Mary McCoy, who won the chance to have her name used for a heroine in one of my books. I hope you like this Mary.

       Contents

       Cover

       Blurb

       Book List

       Title Page

       Author Bio

       Acknowledgements

       Dedication

      Prologue

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

Chapter Three

       Chapter Four

       Chapter Five

       Chapter Six

       Chapter Seven

       Chapter Eight

       Chapter Nine

       Chapter Ten

       Chapter Eleven

       Chapter Twelve

       Chapter Thirteen

       Chapter Fourteen

       Excerpt

       Endpages

       Copyright

       Prologue

      To his heartfelt relief, the village hadn’t changed. Behind the neat row of cottages the fields were a sea of green. Cows grazed in one meadow, and green shoots of corn showed their heads in the next. The trees that fringed the fields were in bud, and along the verges wildflowers nestled amongst the sturdy tufts of grass. It was, Brody realised, the epitome of middle England. Mid-afternoon, it had a somnolent feel to it, as if it was waiting for something to wake it.

      Or someone?

      Him? He snorted and his horse shook its head so the bridle jangled, loud in the silence. Not likely, no one expected him.

      Brody settled deep into his saddle and realised how much he’d missed it. All of it. The views, the tranquillity, the safeness.

      Especially the safeness.

       My land, my world.

      People glanced at him with little curiosity as he rode along the tidy street, past the pond with its five resident ducks, one loud and bossy drake and several ducklings, and around the long-disused stocks, but no one spoke or waved. The maypole stood forlorn in the middle of the green, a ring of scuffed grass around it, a sign it was at times used well. But now? It was simply a pole, denuded of ribbons.

      A heron took off with a squawk, and its long wings stirred the air. An old, white haired and whiskered man, unlit pipe in his mouth, sitting on an equally ancient chair outside one of the thatched cottages, pointed to the bird, but ignored Brody.

      I could be invisible, Brody thought, wryly. I’ve done that. I don’t want it here.

      The blacksmith came out of the forge, looked Brody over and decided he was no one he needed to acknowledge then went back inside.

      Brody stifled a snort. This was his village, his people and he was unknown to them. Had he changed so much? A few years older, undoubtedly wiser, but still himself, surely? He shook his head. How would he know? After all, did he recognise anyone he saw? No. At that moment it was an alien land to him.

      The door of the school opened with a squeak that pierced the quiet afternoon, and a young, dark-haired lady dressed in a deep blue gown emerged. He certainly didn’t know her but one swift look told him he’d like to. In every way possible. As she bent to pick up a large wicker basket from inside the school foyer and then shut the door behind her, her trim figure