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‘I am no seducer of innocents!’ Indignation had him vaulting out of the bed.
A crowd of interested bystanders were peering into his room with a mixture of shock and disapproval.
With a low snarl he stalked stark naked across the room and slammed the door shut on the whole crowd of them. Then he shot the bolt home for good measure.
He turned slowly, wondering just exactly what sort of female he had found in such a ramshackle inn, in such a dreary little town. And he took a good look at the girl who was sitting up in the bed, with the covers clutched up to her chin.
Contrary to what he’d half expected, she was a pretty little thing, with a cloud of chestnut curls and a pair of huge brown eyes.
Which was an immense relief. He might have lost his memory, but at least he hadn’t lost his good taste.
‘The poignancy and humour will make any reader a Burrows fan.’
—RT Book Reviews on The Captain’s Christmas Bride
‘[A] passionate and emotional tale readers will love.’
—RT Book Reviews on A Mistress for Major Bartlett
‘A funny, flirtatious, spirited romp.’
—RT Book Reviews on Never Trust a Rake
In Bed with the Duke
Annie Burrows
ANNIE BURROWS has been writing Regency romances for Mills & Boon since 2007. Her books have charmed readers worldwide, having been translated into nineteen different languages, and some have gone on to win the coveted Reviewers’ Choice Award from CataRomance. For more information, or to contact the author, please visit annie-burrows.co.uk or you can find her on Facebook at facebook.com/AnnieBurrowsUK.
MILLS & BOON
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Once again, my thanks to the Novelistas for constant support, brainstorming when necessary, and cake.
Contents
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
‘Vile seducer of women!’
Gregory winced and pulled the quilt up over his ears. What kind of inn was this? Surely even travellers to such a Godforsaken backwater shouldn’t have to put up with deranged females bursting into their rooms and screeching at them before breakfast?
‘Oh! What wickedness!’
Pulling the quilt up round his ears clearly wasn’t a strong enough hint that deranged females weren’t welcome in his room. For the voice was definitely getting louder. Coming closer.
‘What is the world coming to?’
Just what he’d like to know, he thought resentfully, dragging his eyelids open and seeing the owner of the strident voice standing right over him, jabbing a bony finger at his face.
‘How could you?’ the bony-fingered, screeching woman shouted into his face. Right into his face.
Enough was enough. He knew that public inns were of necessity frequented by...well, by the public. But surely even here a man was entitled to some privacy? At least in his own bedchamber?
‘Who,’ he said, in the arctic tone that normally caused minions to shake in their shoes, ‘let you into my room?’
‘Who let me into your room? Why, I let myself in, of course.’ She smote her breast theatrically. ‘Never have I been so shocked!’
‘Well, if you will invade a man’s chamber what can you expect?’
‘Oh!’