Mary Jo Putney - Dancing on the Wind

Color

Text Size

DAZZLING ROMANCES BY MARY JO PUTNEY

PETALS IN THE STORM Highborn, and wild, Rate Whitbourne, Duke of Candover, earned his reputation as a rake in the silken boudoirs of England's aristocracy, never giving away his heartor his secrets. Until the sensual "Countess Magda Janos" lifts her gaze to meet his grey eyes as cold as the devil's himself. Despite her skill at deception, she cannot hide her real identity from Rate. (404459$4.99)

THUNDER AND ROSES Paying a price for his aid, Clare Morgan agrees to live with the Demon Earl for three months, letting the world think the worst. As allies, they fight to save her community. As adversaries, they explore the terrains of power and sensuality. And as lovers, they surrender to a passion that threatens the very foundation of their lives.

(403673$4.99)

DANCING ON THE WIND Lord Strathmore is known for his unearthly good looks and diabolical cleverness. A tragic past has driven him to use his formidable talents to protect his country from secret enemies, and it is a job he does superlatively welluntil he meets a mysterious woman whose skill at deception is the equal of his own. (404866$4.99)

Prices slightly higher in Canada

A DANCE WITH THE DEVIL

"Lucifer, light-bearer," Kit murmured. "Bright son of the morning."

"Now much fallen from heaven, I fear." Lucifer whispered, intertwining the fingers of his free hand with hers, as he swept her into the pattern of the waltz. "But I have a glimpse of paradise before me now."

Lucifer bent forward and kissed the tender angle between her throat and jaw and upward to the elegant curve of her ear. Her breath caught and her lips parted as he spun her about in a fluid circle. Then with one extravagant swoop, he tilted Kit backward over his arm, intimately locking their bodies together.

"Sir," Kit said demurely, "I believe that we are closer than is proper." And she slowly wrapped her thighs around his

A TOPAZ BOOK

TOPAZ

Published by the Penguin Group

Penguin Books USA Inc., 375 Hudson Street,

New York, New York 10014, U.S.A.

Penguin Books Ltd, 27 Wrights Lane,

London W8 5TZ, England

Penguin Books Australia Ltd, Ringwood,

Victoria, Australia

Penguin Books Canada Ltd, 10 Alcorn Avenue,

Toronto, Ontario, Canada M4V 3B

Penguin Books (N.Z.) Ltd, 182-190 Wairau Road,

Auckland 10, New Zealand

Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: Harmondsworth, Middlesex, England

First published by Topaz,

an imprint of Dutton Signet,

a division of Penguin Books USA Inc.

First Printing, October,1994 10 987654321

Copyright Mary Jo Putney,1994

All rights reserved

Topaz Man photoCharles William Bush

Topaz is a trademark of Dutton Signet, a division of Penguin Books USA Inc.

Printed in the United States of America

Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

BOOKS ARE AVAILABLE AT QUANTITY DISCOUNTS WHEN USED TO PROMOTE PRODUCTS OR SERVICES. FOR INFORMATION PLEASE WRITE TO PREMIUM MARKETING DIVISION. PENGUIN BOOKS USA INC., 375 HUDSON STREET. NEW YORK, NEW YORK 10014.

If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as "unsold and destroyed" to the publisher and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this "stripped book."

To my widely scattered writing buddies,

for comfort,

laughter, and commiseration. You know who you are.

Eton, Winter 1794

After the funerals he was sent back to school. What else could be done with a boy, even one who had just become the wealthiest child in Great Britain?

The brand-new Earl of Strathmore, Lucien Fairchild, was desperately anxious to return to Eton. There, with his friends, he could try to pretend that nothing had changed; that when he went back to Ashdown at the end of the term, he would find his father and mother and sister still alive and well.

He knew better, of course, but he was not yet ready to accept the finality of death. Perhaps when he turned twelve, it would be easier.

His former title had been Viscount Maldon. The Eton headmaster who greeted his carriage was quick to call him Strathmore, as were the school servants who took charge of his baggage, but behind his back, twice he heard voices murmur, "The orphan earl." Lucien cringed when he heard the phrase. It sounded unbearably pathetic. He resented his cane for the same reason, but at least that would be gone in a few weeks.

It was midevening when he arrived at the boarding house where he was lodged. As soon as he had shed his coat and gloves in his room, he went in search of his particular friends, all of whom lived in the same house. As usual, they had gathered in Rafe's chamber, which was the largest and the warmest.

Lucien limped into the room without bothering to knock. His three friends were sprawled in various positions across the furniture. Nicholas was a viscount, Rafe a marquess, and Michael the younger son of a duke, but those titles were mere courtesy, while Lucien was now a peer of the realm. He wished to God that it wasn't so.

When the door swung open, they all looked up. There was a moment of ghastly silence. They had heard the news, of course.

Lucien's heart sank. Brittle with grief and a primal loneliness that he knew would be with him for the rest of his life, he needed desperately for his friends to be the same. He didn't think he would be able to bear it if they were too embarrassed to treat him as they always had.

Then Nicholas set aside his book and uncoiled from his spot in front of the fire. His Gypsy blood made him more demonstrative than the others, and it was entirely natural for him to drape an arm around Lucien's shoulders and guide him to the fire. "Glad you're back," he said easily. "You're just in time for toasted cheese."

Lucien was deeply grateful for his friend's casual gesture. It made him feel real again. In the last fortnight he had sometimes wondered if he was as much a ghost as his family.

As he folded down onto the rug in front of the fire, the other boys set their books aside. Then they toasted chunks of cheese on long forks. The oozing, savory results were smeared across slabs of bread, a perfect supper for a cold, damp night.

Conversation was casual, mostly school news that had taken place in Lucien's absence. It wasn't necessary for him to talk at all, which was fortunate, because he wasn't sure if he would have been able to speak past the lump in his throat. In time, as the tight knot in his chest began to ease, he was able to contribute an occasional comment. He also found, with mild wonder, that he was hungry for the first time since the accident.

When the cheese was gone, Rafe said, "I found something in town that I thought you might like for your collection, Luce." He got up and rooted around in his desk, then came back and handed over a small object.