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THE LADY'S TUTOR

The Lady's Tutor Series Book 1

40 WAYS TO LOVE...

“Cowards who love their husbands do not ask strangers to teach them how to please a man.

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Cowards sleep alone, night after night.

 

Cowards accept the fact that their husbands take pleasure with another woman.

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Cowards do nothing, not women.

LET ME LOVE JUST ONCE.

THE LADY'S TUTOR PAPERBACK COMING SOON!
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THE LADY'S TUTOR EXCERPT ... 
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“Now, tell me again what you want,” he murmured silkily.

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She did not flinch at the smell of brandy and perfume and sweat and sex that he reeked of.

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“I want you to teach me how to give a man pleasure,” she repeated calmly, tilting her head back that she might meet his gaze.

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She did not stand more than five feet three inches tall—she had a long way to look up.

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Mrs. Elizabeth Petre had very white skin, the prized white that on an Arabian auction block represented a woman’s bondage. She was not young. Ramiel judged her to be in her early thirties. Faint lines radiated outward from the corners of pale hazel eyes. The face lifted up to his was more round than oval, the nose more pug than aquiline, and her lips were too thin. Her pupils were dilated, but otherwise her face was devoid of the fear that she surely must be feeling.

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A muscle ticked in his jaw. “And what makes you think I am capable of teaching you such a feat, Mrs. Elizabeth Petre?”

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“Because you are the—” She briefly faltered over his nickname, the Bastard Sheikh, bold enough to blackmail him for sex but not bold enough to call him a bastard to his face.

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“Because you are the only man who—” Nor could she finish that sentence, that he was the only man in England reputed to have been given a harem on his thirteenth birthday.

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She notched her chin up higher. “Because I overheard a … a woman say that if husbands had only half of your skill, there would not be an unfaithful wife in all of England.”

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Ramiel’s savagery erupted into biting sarcasm. “Then send me your husband, madam, and I will instruct him on how to keep you faithful.”

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Elizabeth Petre’s lips tightened in a spasm of emotion—fear, anger, it was impossible to tell by looking at her; the woman had a face like a sphinx. “I see that you will leave me no pride. Very well. I love my husband. It is not he who needs instruction on how to prevent me from straying, but, rather, the opposite. I do not desire to bed you, sir. I only want you to teach me how to give my husband pleasure so that he will bed me.”

 

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