By Julie Anne Long
She may seem like an angel . . .
The second orphaned American heiress Titania "Tansy" Danforth arrives on English beaches she cuts a swath via Sussex, enslaving hearts and stealing beaux. She is familiar with she's destined for a extraordinary titled marriage—but the one guy who fascinates her couldn't be extra notorious . . . or much less interested.
But it takes a satan to understand one . . .
A hardened veteran of struggle and inveterate rogue, Ian Eversea retains girls enthralled, his middle guarded and his suggestions open: why should still he succumb to the shackles of marriage whilst devastating beauty and Eversea appeal make seduction so easy?
And Heaven hasn't ever been warmer!
When Ian is compelled to name her on her online game, he by no means desires the unmasked Tansy— susceptible, courageous, achingly sensual—will tempt him past patience. And struggle as he'll, this infamous bachelor who stood down enemies on a battlefield could ultimately hand over his middle . . . and be dropped at his knees by means of love.
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Additional info for Between the Devil and Ian Eversea (Pennyroyal Green, Book 9)
The Normans, as they approached him, threw themselves on their knees, —covered themselves with dust, and implored his pardon and his blessing. There’s a bit of poetry—if you like, —but a piece of steel-clad fact also, compared to which the battle of Hastings and Waterloo both, were mere boys’ squabbles. 44 The Pleasures of England You don’t suppose, you British schoolboys, that you overthrew Napoleon—you? Your prime Minister folded up the map of Europe at the thought of him. Not you, but the snows of Heaven, and the hand of Him who dasheth in pieces with a rod of iron.
Why, “ says Mr. Baker, pointing to it, “there’s the Norman arch of Iffley. “ Sure enough, there it exactly was: and a moment’s reflection showed me how easily, and with what instinctive fitness, the Norman builders, looking to the Greeks as their absolute masters in sculpture, and recognizing also, during the Crusades, the hieroglyphic use of the zigzag, for water, by the Egyptians, might have adopted this easily attained decoration at once as the sign of the element over which they reigned, and of the power of the Greek goddess who ruled both it and them.
Yes; that is true: the Norman arch is never derived from classic forms. The cathedral,  whose aisles you saw or might have seen, yesterday, interpenetrated with light, whose vaults you might have heard prolonging the sweet divisions of majestic sound, would have been built in that stately symmetry by Norman law, though never an arch at Rome had risen round her field of blood, —though never her Sublician bridge had been petrified by her Augustan pontifices. But the decoration, though not the structure of those arches, they owed to another race,  whose words they stole without understanding, though three centuries before, the Saxon understood, and used, to express the most solemn majesty of his Kinghood, — “EGO, EDGAR, TOTIVS ALBIONIS”— 38 The Pleasures of England not Rex, that would have meant the King of Kent or Mercia, not of England, —no, nor Imperator; that would have meant only the profane power of Rome, but BASILEVS, meaning a King who reigned with sacred authority given by Heaven and Christ.