A "New To Me" Author- Tracy L. Ranson

Now Available from Siren-Bookstrand: Desires Promise.

Note: This is the prequel to The Warlord's Woman also available at Siren-Bookstrand.



Erotic Historical Romance

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Isabeau of Artenzia intends to punish Kendrick, Duke of Kent, for atrocities committed against her country. She captures him in the heat of battle and seduces him, keeping him at arms length so he knows he'll never have her fully. But when the tables are turned and Kendrick captures Isabeau, the heat and desire smolders between them. Can Isabeau keep her heart from falling beneath DESIRE'S PROMISE?

Adult Excerpt:
Dawn approached, prompting revelers to drift away for secret trysts in unoccupied chambers or search for a place to sleep off the effects of the ale. Isabeau longed for neither. The only thing she desired was her bed—alone. Exhausted to the point of near collapse, Isabeau trudged to the stairs, the neat folds of her scarlet gown in her hands. She had one limb on the balustrade when a hand shot out of the shadowy recesses next to the stair, clamping hard onto her wrist. The strong grip dragged her into the shadowy darkness. Before she could scream, a wide callused palm slipped around her mouth. “Be quiet, my dear, and I will remove my hand,” the seductively low voice warned.


She nodded with a swift motion. The hand slipped away. “Who . . . who are you?” Moisture seemed to dry up in her mouth as blood pounded through her veins. Who dared to accost her like this?

A thick leather-clad arm locked around her waist drew her back to the tall form behind her. “Do you not realize who I am, duchess? I am Kendrick of Kent.” His thumb caressed the soft outline of her ribcage and came threateningly close to the base of her breast. Tingles of anger mixed with an unknown emotion burning through her, causing gooseflesh to break out under the taut claret material.

Her heart pounded like a drum. “Only you would be low enough to do something of this nature. Let go of me, scoundrel, or else I shall have to call the guard to throw you in the dungeon,” she warned. Maybe the ice in her voice would be enough to deter his intentions.

Unfortunately, it had no effect on him. The duke merely smirked and moved his hand to her hair, stroking softly. His tender motion sent shivers of excitement through her body. “You do not wish to do that, Isabeau.” His warm breath against her ear sent strange tingles through her. Her pussy convulsed excitedly. “How else would you have me at your disposal?”

“I do not wish to have you at my disposal. I wish to be in my own bed.”

“That can be arranged, sweet girl.” His fingers danced in the hollow of her neck and stroked tenderly. Growing embers of desire ignited inside of her, inviting her to get lost in his touch. Isabeau closed her eyes, her inner core near meltdown.

Isabeau’s eyes flew wide open as her better sense pushed its way through the haze of passion clouding her vision. “Let me go, milord. I am a chaste woman and not about to fall for the first man to utter seductive promises.” Her fingers curled tightly against her palm as anger rose. Why did he not understand what she told him?

“I do not issue promises I do not intend to keep, Isabeau. Come. Let me bring you into the full blossom of womanhood.” Long fingers trailed the underside of her chin with a sensuous motion and stroked her cheek as though he sculpted it from clay.

Isabeau turned sharply at the intimate mention of her name. Heat from her fury crept into her cheeks and warmed them. “How dare you address me by my Christian name when I have not asked you to do so? You are the rake all the rumors purport. Leave this house this moment and never return!”

Invitation smoldered in the depths of his dark eyes as he brought her closer. “Nay, Isabeau. I will not leave when you wish me to stay so badly.”

“I do not wish you to stay.”

The Duke watched her with smug delight. Without warning, his gaze dropped from her face to her bosom. “I think you do. Let me prove it to you.” Before she could answer, the duke encased her in his arms, with her hands locked into the small of her back, his thumb caressing the divot created where her hips and backside met. Then, without warning, he drew her deeper into the shadows and sank low. He seated himself on a stool and drew her closer.

“Let go of me,” she ordered through clenched teeth, keeping her voice low, lest anyone hear her.

“Not until I have given you a taste of what I offer.” He pulled her into his lap so she straddled his strong legs. His hands clamped onto her waist and refused to let go.

Isabeau tried to pull away. “Unhand me!”

The Duke’s legendary strength could not be denied. “Not yet,” he said huskily as he drew her down farther.

His hard bulging cock pushed at her sex and she gasped.

“That is what I thought,” he said in a hushed whisper as he drew her gown up over her legs. He pushed aside anything hindering his way to her sex. Holding her captive against the thick mounds of his cock, he ground his shaft against her damp nether lips, arching his hips higher. Despite the chaste warnings in her head, Isabeau remained motionless as spears of illicit desire raced up and down her spine. “Please stop this. I am a chaste woman.”

“Ah, we have finally agreed on something. You are a woman, a most beautiful one at that.” He bucked his hips up as his hands held her hips steady. “One who is full of passionate heat.” His cock pushed her pussy lips apart and rubbed the blossoming pleasure nub. She gushed instantly.

“No,” she gasped.

“Aye, you are,” he repeated.

His hands slipped beneath the confines of her gown and traveled up her thighs, pausing to touch the skin here and there. “No, I am not, my lord,” she said breathlessly. “Please let me go.”

“Not until I have given you something to dream about on nights when your bed is empty.”

His thumbs caressed her inner thighs lightly and brushed against the heated skin. Isabeau‘s breath caught in her chest. She needed to stop, but the emotions he evoked were like a potion pulsing through her veins, intoxicating her to the fullest. Instinctively, she rocked back and forth against the hard mound of his cock, her pussy creating more juice than she had ever imagined.

The Duke chuckled lightly as his thumbs moved farther in and threatened to invade her sex. “You like this, do you not, vixen?”

Isabeau could say nothing as heady feelings washed over her again, making her forehead bead with perspiration. She arched her hips forward as if her body begged for his touch on its own.

Isabeau threw her head back as she lost herself in the sensation of his thumbs pulling her wet lips apart and caressing her clit. The callused pad, in addition to the calculated pressure, was more than enough to entice her. Back and forth he massaged her core. Flick, touch, flick, touch. His fingernail scraped against her swollen flesh and she bit her lip against the pleasurable pain.

The tip of his index finger stroked the edges of her wet folds, teasing her into submission. Before she could react, he slipped one finger in and drew a sharp breath. “Your pussy feels so good and wet. You are wet for me and me only, correct?”

She said nothing. He plunged deeper. “Your pussy belongs to me and only me?”

Isabeau gritted her teeth against the out of control feelings soaring through her. “I belong only to myself.”

“Not anymore,” he whispered against her throat. “You are mine and always will be. No other man will be able to bring you pleasure as I can.”

Another finger joined the first, stretching the walls of her virgin sex to the limit. She gasped at the full feeling of Kendrick’s fingers inside of her. Instantly, she wished his cock resided inside of her instead, wet and ready to take her to paradise and back. Her channel clamped onto him, holding him hostage. She rocked with his rhythm as he fucked her with his fingers. In and out he pumped her. “Your pussy is mine. Say it.”

“No.”

He stopped. “Say it or I stop right here. Say it is mine to do with as I please.”

Her hips rocked, begging for more of his deep fucking. “Don’t stop,” she begged in ragged breaths.

“Say it.”

Isabeau leaned forward, her hands on his wide chest. “My sex is yours to do with as you please.”

“Good girl. You deserve a reward.”

His fingers plunged deep again and kissed the mouth of her womb. Drunk on pure pleasure, Isabeau accepted him full, despite shards of pain as her walls stretched. A slow burn rumbled in her belly and urged her hips to move faster. Back and forth, she pumped and milked his fingers as if it were his cock. The feeling swelled and burst through her veins in a raging force. She bit her lip hard to keep from crying out.

“Yes, little one. Come on my fingers.”

Juice drenched her thighs as she collapsed against the Duke. “What happened?”

“Your first taste of womanhood.” The duke’s musky-scented fingers swept out from underneath her gown. He slipped the drenched digits into his mouth. “Your sex is delicious. I look forward to when I can taste its essence the moment it leaves your body.” He captured the sides of her face, tilting it up to meet his eyes. “I have given you the first taste of heaven,” he told her. “Perhaps there is more you wish to taste?”

Before she could answer, the duke took her hand and guided it down his flat belly and beneath her gown covering them both. He placed it on his hardness, a pulsing staff waiting for release. “Touch me, Isabeau.”

“No, I cannot.” She wanted to pull her hand away, but she found him too enticing.

“Aye, you can, little one. Feel the man I am. Undo my breeches.”

Intoxicated by her new-found sexuality, Isabeau complied. The edges of the fabric parted. His cock, solid and thick, sprang forth from a dark nest of curls. She put her hand forth in an attempt to touch it, but drew back as fear entered her. She was a chaste woman. How could she do this?

The Duke grabbed her wrist and pulled it forward. “There is no to be frightened. Touch me as I have touched you.” His sensual command propelled her to do as he bid.

His taut skin reminded her of the finest velvet. Raised ridges, created by thin ropes of vein, swept up and down his shaft. Moisture dotted the perfectly formed head. Out of curiosity, she traveled down farther and marveled at the length of his silken member. “Move your hand like this, Isabeau.” He wrapped her hand around his organ and tightened her fingers into a firm grip. “Ahhh, that is it...”

He groaned as she moved her hand around his manhood, his crisp fleecy private hair yielding as it brushed against her knuckles. Her excitement grew as his did, producing the wetness between her legs as much as before. The scent of their juices mingled in the air, adding a certain ambiance to the shadowy den.