All Scot and Bothered is the second audiobook in the stunning Devil You Know series by USA Today bestselling author Kerrigan Byrne!
They are a dangerous duke, a fierce lord, and an infamous earl—dark, bold, brave men who know exactly what they want. And there is only one woman who can bring them to their knees...
He is first and foremost—at everything. A man who’s made his own way through ruthless cunning and sheer force of will. A strong and imposing Scot who can turn on the charm but does not suffer fools. His title: Lord Chief Justice of the High Court. His name: Cassius Gerard Ramsay. His mission: To investigate the goings-on at London's most notorious gaming hell, owned and operated by one of the most intriguing and desirable women he’s ever met.
IN THIS GAME OF LOVE, THE RULES DO NOT APPLY
Cecelia Teague was an orphan facing a rather dire future—until a secret benefactor from her mother’s scandalous past swept into her life. Sent to a prestigious boarding school and later to university, Cecelia believed high society was at her fingertips...Then, from out of nowhere, she became the inheritor of a gambling establishment. Now Cecelia must live two lives: one as a proper lady who finds herself undeniably drawn to Lord Ramsay and the other as a savvy gaming hell owner trying to save her business from the very same man. He has no idea she is both women...and Cecelia would like to keep it that way. But what happens when consuming passion and escalating danger threaten to reveal the truth?
A Macmillan Audio production from St. Martin's Paperbacks
"With the Devil You Know series, Byrne once again delivers the beautifully nuanced characters and seductive storytelling her readers have come to expect."—Booklist
Release date:
September 29, 2020
Publisher:
St. Martin's Publishing Group
Print pages:
1
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Seven years was too bloody long for any Scotsman to go without tupping a woman. Or was it closer to eight?
Cassius Gerard Ramsay, Lord Chief Justice of the High Court, convinced himself the extended abstinence had to be why he was currently plagued with a physical malady he hadn’t suffered since his adolescence.
An unwelcome, agonizing public erection.
He’d be forty before too long. Surely he was immune to such afflictions at this age. Indeed, he’d trained such weaknesses out of himself years ago.
Life had taught him a man must rein in his appetites with an iron fist and unshakable self-mastery lest he be controlled or irreparably damaged by them.
And yet here he was, a captive to his cock, posturing to hide his body’s instant—nay, violent—reaction to the sight of the buxom and mystifying Miss Cecelia Teague licking truffle chocolate from her ungloved fingers.
In the middle of a soiree at Castle Redmayne, no less.
Despite his stern inner admonishments to keep his notice elsewhere, his gaze was tugged back to her by an invisible rope over and again to linger at her heart-shaped features.
He needn’t waste time wondering why. She was exactly the sort of women he’d always found himself drawn to. One with more curves than straight lines. Lush. Luxurious, even. Her skin the color of rich cream, her lips the hue of his favorite cordial.
All wrapped in a silky violet confection that contrasted with her extraordinary copper ringlets shining in the luster of the chandeliers.
Her azure gaze was a paradox. Wide and candid … but mercurial.
Damned if he didn’t find that the most intriguing combination.
A living sin, was Cecelia Teague. A wicked brew of both innocence and indulgence. The female equivalent of a truffle.
The tip of her finger disappeared into her mouth as she sucked the last bit of flavor from her skin.
Ramsay swallowed a tortured groan, biting the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste blood as he crossed his legs. Uncrossed them. Shifted positions and crossed them in the opposite direction.
Seven. Fucking. Years.
Or is it longer? The entirety of his thirties seemed to be one long endless span of labor and loneliness, bereft of the splendid visual feast that was the naked female form.
And what a delectable morsel Miss Teague would make, after all the laces, ruffles, and ridiculous contraptions were peeled away, leaving only honest curves, intriguing dimples, fine hair, and supple, pillow-soft skin.
How had he gone so long devoid of the warm weight of a woman’s thighs testing the strength of his shoulders as he brought her to shuddering completion?
Long enough to nearly forget the feel of a woman’s sex. The secret moisture, the yielding, intimate flesh, the unholy pleasure.
Cecelia Teague bent to select another truffle from the crystal dish, affording him a view of her more than generous décolletage. Every wicked thing he’d done, every act he’d fantasized about or even conceived of flashed through his mind in a heart-pounding storm of lust.
Sweet Christ, those breasts would tempt a saint. They’d spill over his hands like fresh cream.
A trickle of sweat slid from his nape into his collar as he inhaled sharply, imagining the warm, inviting scent of the downy skin in the cove between them. The salt of it under his tongue, the unbearable softness—
“May I offer you a taste, my lord Ramsay?”
It took him an eternity to process Miss Teague’s casual suggestion. Finally, he blinked and eloquently inquired, “Er—pardon?”
“You were staring as though you desired them.” Her spectacles magnified her curiously dark eyelashes as they lowered shyly across her cheek. “And I grant you, they taste every bit as good as you’re imagining they would. Creamy and rich, with a hint of salt. You’ve never had better, I’d wager my life on it.”
All the moisture abandoned Ramsay’s mouth. His gaze flicked down to her breasts and he swallowed, dragging them back up to her earnest expression.
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