“Angel?”
His eyes searched her face, bringing a blush of awareness as his attention lingered on her mouth before sliding down to where her breasts would be if she had not bound them.
Pippa pushed him gently down on the pillows. “Calm yourself,” she murmured. “’Tis only me, Pip—Pippen.” She had almost said her own name, she was sure because of his blatant regard.
Dev’s eyes lost their startled look and his gaze fell away from her face. “For a moment I thought you were someone else. A…a woman.”
“What would a woman be doing in here?”
Betrayal
Harlequin® Historical
MILLS & BOON
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GEORGINA DEVON
has a Bachelor of Arts degree in Social Sciences with a concentration in History. Her interest in England began when she lived in East Anglia as a child and later as an adult. She met her husband in England, and her wedding ring set is from Bath. She has many romantic and happy memories of the land. Today she lives in Tucson, Arizona, with her husband, two dogs, an inherited cat and a cockatiel. Her daughter has left the nest and does Web site design, including Georgina’s. Contact her at www.georginadevon.com.
GEORGINA DEVON
Betrayal
TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON
AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG
STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID
PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND
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Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Epilogue
Prologue
Waterloo, 1815
War is hell.
Major Lord Deverell St Simon ran his hand over his face, smearing rain water and mud across his nose and jaw. It was hot and muggy, and he hated Napoleon Bonaparte’s guts. His troops were demoralized and he was close behind.
Damn Napoleon. Damn him to hell for starting this war with his plans of world rule. Damn him.
If it were not for Napoleon’s escape from Elba, they would not be here. But the Little Emperor never quit.
Even now, there were occasions when Dev could see Napoleon just over the next hillock as the bastard urged his troops to victory. Because of him, Britain’s finest were ready to give up their lives. He was the reason they had been fighting for four days, and the massive losses on both sides were devastating.
Smoke lay like fog over the churned, bloody dirt. Death was a miasma Dev waded through while stifling the urge to vomit. Bodies, human and equine, littered the ground, grotesque in their death dance.
The rain started. Again.
Still, Dev made himself grin at his fellow officer and friend, Captain Patrick Shaunessey. ‘We are almost through this, Pat. Don’t give up now.’ The words were for himself as much as for his comrade, and he was honest enough to realize it.
Pat grimaced, his carrot-colored hair sweat stained. ‘Never say die,’ he said, bitterness tingeing the words.
Dev shrugged and shook his head like a dog, sending drops spattering out from his light brown hair. ‘You’d say the same, Pat, except you are more tired