Major Ambrose Delacourt was captured behind enemy lines. Now he’s a prisoner of the Marquis de Séréville, Napoleon’s Master Spy. In order to determine if a stunning blond courtesan is his rescuer or a treasonous double agent, Ambrose must become her love slave. But as the weekend orgy continues, mistress becomes slave and slave becomes master.

Will they both end as pawns in a mad man’s treacherous war game?

Inspiration:

Excerpt:

“He is to be your love slave, Madame Mystère,” the Marquis de Séréville announced from behind her.

Eva hid her alarm with a coy smile. “But I thought you would fill that role, my lord.”

The other guests chortled. The marquis was renowned for hosting depraved house parties that lasted days at his chateau in the country outside Paris. A dozen gentlemen and their mistresses lounged around the opulent room on chaises, sofas, and pillows. Some mistresses already undressing, fondling, sucking...

After a fine supper, they’d all assembled in the drawing room for the night’s entertainment. A British prisoner had been dragged in, barely standing.

It was him. Her quarry, delivered into her hands with the greatest of ease. Almost too easily. Did the Marquis suspect her? Surely not. She’d received his invitation days before her orders had arrived.

“I intend to fill many holes, eh...roles, mon cher.” As the ladies and gentleman snickered, the marquis reached around her, placed a hand at the swell of her breast above her bodice. “But I wish to watch you dominate him first. I’ve heard it is a specialty of yours.”

Eva studied the shackled, bloodied man. It was true she’d had a unique arrangement with a certain gentleman a few years ago. Still, she must be wicked indeed to be so aroused at the sight of this Englishman with his wrists chained behind him.

The British officer--what she could see of him beneath the disheveled hair and filthy beard--hardly looked in any condition to pleasure even the most innocent virgin, much less an experienced courtesan such as herself. “An officer? Did you buy him from the prison before he could be ransomed?”

“He is a spy.” The marquis kissed down her neck, his fingers tilting her chin. “Caught behind enemy lines.”

“Vraiment? But he wears a uniform, non?”

The marquis raised his head. “I had no idea you were so learned in the ways of espionage, my dear.”

Merde. Had she just given herself away? She flipped open her fan, held it to her face and half turned to peek at him, fluttering her lashes. “I’m learned in the ways of many things, my lord. Where would a talented courtesan be without spying on her competition?”

“Touché, mon chéri,” the marquis murmured with a sly smile.

She lowered her fan and brought her lace handkerchief to her nose. “But there’s a disgusting odor about him, monsieur.” She mustn’t appear too eager to interact with the Englishman.

With a snap of his fingers the marquis commanded two footmen to bring a ewer of water, scented soap, and towels. “Strip him.”

The air hummed with anticipation as the footmen ripped at the spy’s soiled and tattered uniform until he was full naked.

A hush fell over the room.

Whether it was at the soldier’s magnificently honed body or the multitude of bruises he’d sustained she couldn’t guess.

Both made her tremble.

After the servants had washed him, Eva stepped close to the prisoner and gave his impressive male parts a lengthy perusal. “Very well. As my slave, he must be taught to obey me. Remove his shackles.”

“But, mon chér, what if he attacks you?”

Eva shrugged. “He seems a docile enough beast.” She circled around the Englishman, noting his muscular arms, thick thighs, and taut buttocks. After more than a month of deprivation, was he healthy enough to endure tonight?

His thick mahogany locks were now washed and pulled away from his face, curling around his ears and dripping onto his broad shoulders. Coming full circle, Eva made herself look up into his eyes.

Defiance. Disgust. Daring. If only she’d been as confident during her years as someone else’s property. This man had casually withstood her examination without uttering a word. He controlled himself too well, she feared, to ever be dominated. Admirable, but extremely dangerous.

Back to top