Elizabeth Hoyt - The Leopard Prince

Coming soon

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

Copyright 2007 by Nancy M. Finney
Excerpt from The Serpent Prince copyright 2007
by Nancy M. Finney

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 publisher.

Warner Forever

Hachette Book Group

237 Park Avenue

New York, NY 10017

Visit our website at www.HachetteBookGroup.com.

The Warner Forever name and logo are trademarks of Hachette Book Group, Inc.

First eBook Edition: April 2007

ISBN: 978-0-446-19459-4

Why did you call me here tonight?

You wanted to talk about the poisoning and the attack, yes I know. Harry rose from the table. But your breasts are all but naked and youve sent the servants away. The other servants. Why do you really want me here?

I... George felt her heart quicken.

Because Im not what you think I am, Harry said evenly as he advanced around the table toward her. Im not a servant to jump to your bidding and then lie down when youve done with me. Im a man with blood in his veins. If you start something with me, dont expect me to turn into a lapdog, panting at your call. Harry seized her upper arms and drew her against his hard body.

He drew a finger slowly across the edge of her bodice, watching her reaction. She couldnt think while he touched her. He dipped two fingers below her bodice. She shuddered...

Praise for The Raven Prince

4 1/2 Stars! TOP PICK! With its delicious blend of fairy tale and reality The Raven Prince is refreshing, fast-paced, and sensual romance dishing up plenty of tempting thoughts of desire. Youll adore Hoyts intelligent characters and their spicy dialogue as much as the heated love scenes.

Kathe Robin, Romantic Times BOOKclub Magazine

A spicy broth of pride, passion, and temptation.

Connie Brockway, USA Today bestselling author

A must read! A beautiful romance that will leave you breathless... make you laugh and yet make you cry... and will touch your heart and soul. Tissues are a definite must! Hoyt knows how to tug on your heartstrings! I cant wait to read more from this talented author.

RomanceReaderAtHeart.com

A delicious romance...I enjoyed it immensely!

Jane Feather, New York Times bestselling author

OTHER TITLES BY ELIZABETH HOYT

The Raven Prince

The Serpent Prince

For my sister, SUSAN.

No imaginary characters were hurt
during the writing of this book.

YORKSHIRE, ENGLAND
SEPTEMBER 1760

After the carriage wreck and a bit before the horses ran away, Lady Georgina Maitland noticed that her land steward was a man. Well, that is to say, naturally she knew Harry Pye was a man. She wasnt under the delusion that he was a lion or an elephant or a whale, or indeed any other member of the animal kingdomif one could call a whale an animal and not just a very big fish. What she meant was that his maleness had suddenly become very evident.

George knit her brow as she stood in the desolate high road leading to East Riding in Yorkshire. Around them, the gorse-covered hills rolled away into the gray horizon. Dark was rapidly falling, brought on early by the rainstorm. They couldve been standing at the ends of the earth.

Do you consider a whale to be an animal or a very big fish, Mr. Pye? she shouted into the wind.

Harry Pyes shoulders bunched. They were covered only by a wet lawn shirt that clung to him in an aesthetically pleasing way. Hed previously discarded his coat and waistcoat to help John Coachman unhitch the horses from the overturned carriage.

An animal, my lady. Mr. Pyes voice was, as always, even and deep with a sort of gravelly tone toward the bottom.

George had never heard him raise his voice or show passion in any way. Not when shed insisted on accompanying him to her Yorkshire estate; not when the rain had started, slowing their travel to a crawl; not when the carriage had overturned twenty minutes ago.

How very irritating. Do you think you will be able to right the carriage? She pulled her soaked cloak up over her chin as she contemplated the remains of her vehicle. The door hung from one hinge, banging in the wind, two wheels were smashed, and the back axle had settled at an odd angle. It was a thoroughly idiotic question.

Mr. Pye didnt indicate by action or word that he was aware of the silliness of her query. No, my lady.

George sighed.

Really, it was something of a miracle that they and the coachman hadnt been hurt or killed. The rain had made the roads slippery with mud, and as they had rounded the last curve, the carriage had started to slide. From inside, she and Mr. Pye had heard the coachman shouting as he tried to steady the vehicle. Harry Pye had leapt from his seat to hers, rather like a large cat. Hed braced himself against her before she could even utter a word. His warmth had surrounded her, and her nose, buried intimately in his shirt, had inhaled the scent of clean linen and male skin. By that time, the carriage had tilted, and it was obvious they were falling into the ditch.

Slowly, awfully, the contraption had tipped over with a grinding crash. The horses had whinnied from the front, and the carriage had moaned as if protesting its fate. Shed clutched Mr. Pyes coat as her world upended, and Mr. Pye grunted in pain. Then they were still again. The vehicle had rested on its side, and Mr. Pye rested on her like a great warm blanket. Except Harry Pye was much firmer than any blanket shed ever felt before.

Hed apologized most correctly, disentangled himself from her, and climbed up the seat to wrest open the door above them. Hed crawled through and then bodily pulled her out. George rubbed the wrist hed gripped. He was disconcertingly strongone would never know it to look at him. At one point, almost her entire weight had hung from his arm and she wasnt a petite woman.

The coachman gave a shout, which was snatched away by the wind, but it was enough to bring her back to the present. The mare hed been unhitching was free.

Ride her to the next town, Mr. Coachman, if you will, Harry Pye directed. See if there is another carriage to send back. Ill remain here with her ladyship.

The coachman mounted the horse and waved before disappearing into the downpour.

How far is the next town? George asked.

Ten or fifteen miles. He pulled a strap loose on one of the horses.

She studied him as he worked. Aside from the wet, Harry Pye didnt look any different than he had when theyd started out this morning from an inn in Lincoln. He was still a man of average height. Rather lean. His hair was brown neither chestnut nor auburn, merely brown. He tied it back in a simple queue, not bothering to dress it with pomades or powder. And he wore brown: breeches, waistcoat, and coat, as if to camouflage himself. Only his eyes, a dark emerald green that sometimes flickered with what might be emotion, gave him any color.

Its just that Im rather cold, George muttered.

Mr. Pye looked up swiftly. His gaze darted to her hands, trembling at her throat, and then shifted to the hills behind her.