"You want my wife. You always have..."
For years, the Marquis of Vane has hungered for Lady Sarah from afar, watching the beauty brave a cruel marriage. When Sarah's wastrel husband makes Vane a shocking proposal – one night with Sarah for 10,000 pounds – the temptation is almost too great. Tricked by her husband into fulfilling his wicked bargain, Sarah can't refuse a night of exquisite pleasure with the devastating man who haunts her dreams. But neither she nor Vane imagined their passionate encounter would set the stage for murder, or that a deadly twist of fate could spell a love to last all time...
What they're saying...
"Unforgettable."
– Anna Campbell
"Sizzling sensuality and powerful storytelling – Wells' hallmarks – make this a fast-paced, enticing read. Wells lures readers into her stories with strong characterization, unique plotlines and plenty of sizzle."
– Senior historical romance reviewer, RT Magazine (Read the Review)
"An exciting Regency romantic suspense thriller..."
– Midwest Book Review (Read the Review)
"Wells knows how write a full-bodied story, one where the focus on the romantic dynamics between the two main characters is supported by a carefully created surrounding world."
– All About Romance (Read the Review)
"Wells does an excellent job of weaving a very complex, emotional love story with disturbing undercurrents, family secrets, and a murder mystery at its core."
– Romance Novel TV (Read the Review)
"...Fantastic from start to finish... I highly recommend Wicked Little Game. It's hot, sexy and action-packed."
– Royal Reviews (Read the Review)
"...Astounding. Wells wove a complex and intriguing story... Rarely do you find a historical that provides as many twists and turns as WICKED LITTLE GAME with the added bonus of incredible emotional depth."
– Lovin' Me Some Romance (Read the Review)
Excerpt One
Finally, Brinsley spoke. "You want my wife," he said softly. "You always have."
Shock ricocheted through Vane's mind. Brinsley knew? He'd always known, it seemed. Had Sarah told her husband of Vane's interest? The idea sliced his chest like a finely honed blade. Suddenly, the past rushed back; events and conversations changed color and shape.
He dragged his mind to the present. He needed to remain calm, keep a cool head. He wanted Lady Sarah more than he wanted air to breathe, it was true. Her husband knew it, but what difference did that make? As long as Vane made no admissions, Brinsley could think what he liked.
"If you wish to call me out, name your friends, Cole. Otherwise, shut your filthy little mouth." With one careless finger, he flicked Brinsley's wilted shirt-point. "Go home, man. You are drunk. Worse than that, you are tedious."
"Home. Oh, yes!" Brinsley chortled, enjoying himself now. "What wouldn't you give to be in my shoes, eh? Trotting off home to my tasty little wife. And do you know what I'll do to her when I get–"
Fury ripped through Vane's blood. He slammed Brinsley against the stone wall, pinning him with one hand to his throat. Every fiber in his body burned to squeeze the life out of the cur there and then.
"Mercy!" Brinsley's face was mottled red, his eyes bulging and frantic. Vane wished he'd put up some kind of resistance, but the pathetic creature made no move to defend himself, save for a feeble kick at Vane's leather-clad shin.
Damn it, he couldn't fight such a poor specimen, much as he yearned to dispatch him to the hottest fires of hell. Vane released his grip and Brinsley crumpled to the slimy cobbles, wheezing and coughing, clutching his throat.
Vane waited for him to recover, even lent him a hand to help him up. With a glance of disdain, he stripped off the glove that had made contact with Brinsley's soiled person and tossed it in the gutter. "Now, what were you were saying before I so rudely interrupted?"
Brinsley dashed blood from his bit lip. "You want Sarah," he whispered, edging closer. "Badly enough to lose your famous control. That must be worth something." He smiled. "That must be worth quite a lot."
Vane remained silent. He willed himself to ignore Brinsley's jibes, turn his back and walk away. But he couldn't pretend not to care. He must know what Brinsley planned. Though she was beyond his reach in every way, he needed to assure himself that Sarah would be safe.
Yet, even as those altruistic thoughts crossed his mind, a small echo of honesty forced him to admit–Brinsley was right. He wanted Lady Sarah Cole in a way no gentleman of honor should want another man's wife. His passion for her was like a recurring fever, rising again and again to attack him in moments of weakness. No matter how hard he trained and fought and conditioned his body, his soul was hers and always would be. For seven years, the knowledge that this worthless piece of rubbish before him possessed Lady Sarah had torn at Vane with razor-sharp claws.
Now Brinsley offered . . . what, exactly?
"You want her," Brinsley repeated. "You can have her. . . at a price."
Vane sucked in a breath. Disgust and desire clashed inside him. Had he misheard? Brinsley couldn't possibly mean. . .
Though Vane maintained his indifferent expression, even managed to look a trifle bored, the very air around them seemed to thicken with his need.
Excerpt Two
I must admit, almost a year after writing this book, I'm still more than a little in love with my big, sexy, prizefighting Marquis of Vane. I hope you all fall in love with him, too! Here's an excerpt:
Vane's heart thundered in his chest, and he knew it wasn't from the fight. He barely made it to his door without ravishing her on the stairs. He was achingly aware that she studied him, painfully reminded of what he wanted – had always wanted – from her.
But she was in his house to earn Brinsley his ten thousand pounds. She was not there because she desired him. If she desired him, she could have had him any time these seven years or more.
Obviously, Brinsley had not given up on his contemptible scheme. Was she here to seduce Vane into changing his mind? The real question: was he strong enough to resist her if it came to that? Did he even want to?
Ten thousand pounds was nothing. A lot more than he'd ever needed to pay for his pleasure before, but a drop in the vast ocean of his wealth. He had, he reminded himself, paid for pleasure in the past. He did not make a habit of consorting with certain married women of the ton who granted their favors freely. Uncomplicated relationships with practiced courtesans were more his style.
Until Lady Sarah Cole.
They passed through a small sitting room and entered his private domain. He'd never taken a woman there before.
He indicated an over-stuffed armchair, displaced from its position beside the fire by the enormous, high-backed bathtub. She took off her bonnet and laid it on the table next toÊ the chair. Then she sat, arranged her skirts and folded her hands in her lap. She kept her gloves on, he noticed.
Her eyes grew large in her fine, oval face as she contemplated the waiting bath, but when she caught him watching her, all sign of anxiety vanished. She smiled, regarding him with that amused contempt with which she always seemed to view Brinsley.
Vane's temper flared. His gaze gripped hers as he shucked his pantaloons, peeled off his stockings, and finally, undid the string of his drawers and pushed them down.
He was aroused. He didn't try to hide the fact. God help him, he relished the momentary dip of her eyes, the slight flush that crested her cheeks as she took in his size, then cut her gaze away.
Hadn't she believed he'd carry out his threat to bathe in front of her? Of course, she was accustomed to dealing with Brinsley. Perhaps now she'd realize the man standing before her was a different beast altogether from that spineless weasel she called husband.
Vane stepped into the tub and lowered himself into the steaming water. Laying his head against the tub's high back, he gave a throaty sigh that was supposed to signify contentment.
It sounded more like a hungry growl.
