Biography Only With Your Love Lisa Kleypas Pdf


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Only With Your Love Lisa Kleypas To Pamela Bergeron with love Carpe Diem! Contents:Chapters Prologue Together th. Celia Vallerand fears for her life as she stares into the deep, arresting eyes of the dashing man who purchased her from the brigands who had abducted her. B. Only With Your Love book. Read reviews from the world's largest community for readers. The newlywed bride of a Creole aristocrat, Celia Vallerand pra.

Only With Your Love Lisa Kleypas Pdf

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Editorial Reviews. About the Author. After Graduation from Wellesley College with a political Only With Your Love (Vallerands Book 2) - Kindle edition by Lisa Kleypas. Romance Kindle eBooks @ Read “Only With Your Love”, by Lisa Kleypas online on Bookmate – Celia Vallerand fears for her life as she stares into the deep, arresting eyes of the dashing. The story begins with an introduction to the herione, Celia Vallerand, as she is currently embarking on the voyage from France to New Orleans with her.

For a moment she could not think of the right words in English, and then she formed a reply. He lifted her off his knee and stood up. They were all animals bellowing coarsely, with threatening fists and bloodlust on their faces. Occasionally there was a break in the crowd and she caught sight of the flashing of knives in the shifting circle. Risk did not bother to restrain a few vigorous shouts of his own. She strained away from him, but his arm was firm around her waist, and his guard did not slacken.

Pounce was a hulking giant, with a shaggy mane of dirty brown hair. Griffin ducked underneath the arc of a knife swing and aimed a kick at his midsection. As his opponent tumbled to the ground, Griffin launched himself forward. Rolling as soon as he hit the ground, Griffin scrambled to his feet. They faced each other once more, breathing heavily, their clothes soaked with sweat.

Pounce attacked with a series of knife thrusts, and Griffin leaped backward several times to avoid the bite of the blade. Shifting their weight with lightning speed, the opponents advanced and retreated in a fight that proved to be a game of balance. The other man died instantly, his large body crumpling to the floor. There was a moment of astonished silence. Then the onlookers began to cheer and exclaim. Laughing exultantly, Risk gave Celia a friendly jostle. Her face was stiff and drained of blood.

She wrapped her arms around herself.

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There was no difference between him and the men who had killed Philippe. He was a cold-blooded murderer who would destroy anyone or anything that stood in the way of what he wanted. Dominic, I will…I will! You know I would not let him take away my gift to you.

Griffin looked at him sardonically. And as we agreed, the woman will be yours. But tomorrow morning, not tonight. Griffin looked down at the exhausted woman. Her gossamer hair spilled over his shoulder and chest. Strain had caused her skin to take on a brittle whiteness.

It was obvious that the delicate strength he had admired before was fading quickly. He tried to assess how much more she could take before the ordeal broke her.

Dominic Legare gave him a smile of malicious amusement. But tonight she will service Andr. And if you care to begin a quarrel…so be it. The crews of both camps were already eager for an excuse to battle—their small jealousies and rivalries had simmered a long time. An argument between their two leaders was all it would take to begin a war. Your men would not forgive that—nor should they.

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In short, Captain Griffin, you know as well as I that you cannot afford the prize you have won. Dominic caught her by the shoulders. How was it that she could feel betrayed by him? She had not really believed he would take her to New Orleans, but some part of her had dared to hope there was a chance.

His blue eyes had lost their snapping intensity, seeming cold and flat. Until tomorrow. She did not give a sign that she had heard. Until tomorrow, she thought bitterly, when he knew that for her there would be no tomorrow. His gaze held hers for a chilling second, and then he looked away, seeming to lose interest.

She fell to the floor, raised herself up on her forearms, and looked at the scarred Aubusson carpet beneath her with astonishment.

It was not what she would have expected to see in the ruins of an ancient fort. Dust, rotting food, and liquor stains were everywhere.

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A ripe, sickly-sweet odor filled her nostrils, and she nearly gagged. Andr bent over her with a leer. All of it presents from Dominic. Like you. Oui, toujours, always. Since we were boys in Guadeloupe. Orphan boys.

Celia gasped and stepped back, avoiding the heavy, grasping hand. Laughing delightedly, he caught her tangled hair in his fist and dragged her to the disheveled mahogany bed. Celia screamed as she was thrown halfway across the mattress. In spite of his portly size, Andr had more than enough strength to force her to his will. The bedclothes were unwashed and foul.

Before she could move, he had pulled her wrist to the bedpost and fastened it with a leather strap already hanging there. Breathing fast from excitement and exertion, he took hold of her other arm. Celia began to scream without stopping as he reached for the strap on the opposite side of the bed. She struggled violently, but she was too weak.

Having rendered her helpless, Andr took the top of her dress in his hands and ripped it open, exposing the pale beauty of her body. His huge belly pressed against hers as he leaned over her.

Celia felt herself plummeting through endless depths of horror, and her mind began to turn inward, refusing to acknowledge what was happening. Suddenly the crushing weight of his body was gone. Her screams faded into astonished silence as she saw a knife making a quick pass around his throat, a spurt of dark red blood.

He dropped to the Aubusson rug, clutching his throat, making a peculiar gurgling noise.

His body writhed and shuddered. Slowly the pudgy hands relaxed. Dark bruises marred her skin. She needed fattening—she was slender enough that the points of her hipbones were sharply prominent. But something about her awakened a primal urge that nearly undid him. Griffin was troubled enough by the momentary loss of self-control to waste precious seconds looking at her.

Her breasts were small but perfectly curved, adorned by tiny pink nipples. He wanted to put his mouth on them.

Slowly his gaze moved down her flat abdomen to the triangle of delicate golden curls. He dropped his shirt on the bed and put his sleeveless jerkin back on.

She watched with a vacant stare while he untied the leather straps around her wrists. Her skin felt downy and cool underneath his fingers. She was pliant and motionless. He repeated the question more harshly, wondering if her mind had snapped. He was relieved by the fact that she was able to answer him. Cursing, he searched the room, found a half-empty bottle of rum, and brought it back to her. As he raised it to her lips, she recovered enough to protest and push it away.

Griffin cupped his hand around the back of her head and brought the bottle close again. Another two gulps, and she felt as if she had been set on fire, inside and out.

Color rushed over her white skin. He set aside the bottle and helped her off the bed. As soon as her feet touched the floor, she tried to twist away from him. He pulled her against his body and pushed her head back, glaring into her terrified eyes.

He could kill her with a mere twist of his wrists. Shaking uncontrollably, she glanced at the floor, at the crumpled, bloodied mass that had once been Andr Legare. Celia did not move. Gathering the folds of the gaping shirt together, he tied the cord around her waist. The garment hung on her slight frame like a tent, reaching to her knees. And no one takes what is mine. The tender soles of her feet were accustomed to the protection of shoes.

Going barefoot over rough surfaces had caused several painful scrapes and blisters. Every step felt as if she were walking on broken glass. Swiftly Griffin pulled out his long knife, and she covered her head with her arms, cowering against the door. Muttering something about idiotic females, he picked her up and hoisted her over his shoulder. He used one hand to hold her in place and grasped the knife with the other. He carried her through the dark passageways of the aging fortress, moving with the grace of a lion, stealthy and sure.

Celia dangled helplessly from his shoulder, dizzy and half-drunk.

Miserably she wondered what would be in store for her at the end of this journey. Griffin seemed to know the maze of corridors well, ignoring fake entrances and blind alleys, cutting through empty rooms and bypassing the longer routes to an exit.

The sound of voices alerted him, and he ducked into an unlit passageway. He let Celia slide down his front until her feet were on the ground. The voices drew nearer until Celia could discern two different men and the sultry tones of a woman.

Evidently she was taking them to a place where she would entertain them both. The conversation was vulgar and explicit. He concealed his knife in his belt so that no stray gleam from its surface would betray them.

Terrified, Celia pressed herself tighter against Griffin as the three figures passed by the entrance to the passage. His body was tough and hard. Although he made no move to comfort or hold her, she felt her fear lessen. Celia knew the seaman had seen them and was going to call attention to them. Panic-stricken, she wondered what Griffin would do, if he might kill the three of them right before her eyes.

Griffin turned in an unexpected movement, pressing her back against the wall. Confused, she looked up at him, just as his long fingers sank through her hair and clamped around her scalp. His dark head bent, his bearded face swooping down to hers.

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There was the shock of his mouth on hers, a hard mouth that plundered hers ruthlessly. She made a small, frightened sound and caught at his wrists. As she gasped for air, his scent filled her nostrils, a salty, masculine smell. At first the kiss was nothing but brutal domination, but at the feel of her mouth under his, he angled his head and eased the crushing pressure. His tongue swept between her lips, exploring her mouth with savage hunger.

Quivering, she gulped in a deep breath, forgetting where they were. Everything faded away except the assault on her senses. Her lungs seemed to fill with fire, and she thrashed in vain to escape the scorching heat. His knee pressed between hers, wedging them apart. Inexorably he pulled her forward until she straddled his sturdy thigh. Celia groaned in agony as she felt a terrible pleasure invading her body.

It betrayed everything she was, everything she held dear, and still she could not hold it back. His hand covered her breast completely, his thumb rubbing gently over her nipple until it contracted to a point.

Shivering, she arched her back, her body responding wantonly to his caresses. Somehow her arms were around his neck and her fingers were tangled in his thick hair…Somehow his hands were soothing her aching breasts, his thumbs stroking over the hard peaks, and her hips were pressing harder against his thigh in response to the gentle rhythm he had begun. The whore peered at the outline of two writhing figures in the shadows, and she smiled knowingly.

There was a dangerous note of warning in his voice. Wisely the woman backed away to avoid the prospect of trouble. She motioned for her two companions to follow her. Celia watched until they had disappeared. She could not look up at his face, not when she was suffused with humiliation. She was no better than the whore who had just passed by them. How could she have behaved in such a way? The feelings that had flamed inside her were unfamiliar and painfully confusing.

She knew there was such a thing as lust, a desire that had nothing to do with love, but until now she had thought herself incapable of such a thing. Her eyes stung sharply. It took all her strength to hold back her tears. Neither of them moved until Celia forced herself to raise her chin.

His face was sheathed in darkness. She could see little but the glitter of his eyes. The silence deepened. He bent his head again. His muscular arms wrapped around her struggling body, one hand pushing her slim hips against the bulging ridge that strained against his breeches. Rage exploded in her chest. She fought him viciously, using her nails, her elbows, her knees. But he muffled her screams with his lips and slid his hand over her bottom in an insolent caress.

Celia groaned and shivered, her resistance crushed by his strength, her senses careening. He kissed her as Philippe never had, his mouth uncivilized, voluptuous, barbaric. The tip of his tongue slipped underneath her top lip, finding an excruciatingly sensitive nerve, teasing gently until she moaned in protest. He drew her trembling breath into his mouth, wet her inner cheeks with his tongue, traced the line of her teeth. When he broke off the kiss and eased her away from his aroused body, she was too stunned to move.

Gasping for air, she leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes.

His voice was mocking. Griffin laughed and picked her up, slinging her over his shoulder. Carefully he drew her to the corner of the building. The air was filled with merrymaking, fist-fights, drunken quarrels, and the sounds of prostitutes entertaining their customers on the beach.

There were pools of light shed by the torches, and a sea of shadows. A pirogue is waiting on the other side. All right? He took her elbow firmly. Stealthily Griffin pulled her along the moss-covered wall of the fort and across a short stretch of sand to a group of worn boulders.

Celia stopped with a gasp as she saw a scrawny figure propped up against one of the rocks. The man stirred and gave a contented snore, loosening his grip on the small jug of whiskey in his lap. Griffin sank to his haunches before the sleeping figure. Bewildered, she took the whiskey as Griffin stood and handed it to her.

Valiantly she tried to keep up with his long strides. As they rounded the corner of a building, a rough voice broke from the darkness. After one glance, he bellowed for help and rushed toward them with an upraised sword. Celia froze like a frightened rabbit. She started as she felt the stinging slap of his hand on her buttocks. Without thinking she began to run toward the open water. Before the attacker could extract the buried blade, Griffin pounced on him with a snarl, making short work of him with a deft thrust of his sword.

Just as the man underneath him shuddered in a death throe, Griffin heard sand-muffled footsteps.

This time Griffin had no chance to avoid the swing of the blade. He swerved, feeling the bite of the sword on the side of his shoulder. Breathing heavily, he rose to his feet. Celia stumbled across the beach, her lungs aching from her tortured gasps.

Lisa Kleypas

There was a blurred shape before her eyes, a small craft on the water. She stopped as she saw the group of men gathered in and around the pirogue. Should she approach them? Was this the pirogue Griffin had intended her to reach, and if so, would the men help her or prove to be another set of cruel captors?

A large man with gleaming black skin strode toward her purposefully. A colored kerchief was wrapped around his head, and loose cotton garments covered his muscled body.

His features were hawklike and expressionless. Dropping the whiskey jug, she began to back away, then turned and ran in panic. Darkness and danger whirled around her, and she no longer felt human, only a frightened animal hunted by a pack of wolves. Chapter 3 S wift footsteps sounded behind Celia.

Suddenly she was hauled off her feet and held in a pair of brutal arms. She put her arms around his neck, her groping hands finding the locks of thick black hair. It was Griffin. Without a word she buried her face in the crook of his shoulder and neck. She had no more thoughts of escaping him. He was her only chance of survival. The black man Celia had seen before joined them. How goes it with Risk and the rest of the crew?

As he set Celia down, Griffin found it difficult to pry her arms from around his neck. It was only when she still refused to move that he realized how afraid she was. He made his voice as soft as possible. Now be a good girl. Do as I say. Reluctantly she unwrapped her arms from around his warm neck and huddled alone on the wooden planking.

Griffin and Aug pushed the pirogue deeper into the water and hoisted themselves over the sides. Finally the island disappeared from sight and they ventured into the sea marsh, a vast plain of water and marsh grasses dubbed the trembling prairie. It was a smuggling route they used regularly, and it took skill to navigate it without becoming hopelessly lost. His wounded shoulder aching, Griffin left off rowing and joined Celia at the front of the pirogue. They worked silently, rhythmically, as if they were all part of some great machine.

Dropping the cap to the floor of the pirogue, she gulped the water down greedily, reveling in the cool rush of liquid down her parched throat. Immediately the canteen was ripped away from her. She struggled to grab it back, her whole being concentrated on gaining more of the precious water.

Griffin held the canteen out of reach and pulled her onto his lap to restrain her. Did not care for this book and here is why. Alpha, arrogant son of Maximillan Justin Vallerand aka The Griffin starts of tough, strong, a born leader with an attitude and a woman turns him into a spineless, brainless, snivvling worm. Then you have Celia who is his brothers wife by the way, who is killed in route home and she is still a virgin, really???

She is a fearful, airhead, who will always do the stupidest thing and always brings him danger aka harm. I got a headache rolling my eyes so much and I could not wait for the book to be over, I kept hoping it would improve. Then the dead brother is found living, from the description of his death, that would not have happened and then they get a divorce so they can wed others, again that would have never happen in that day and time. So read it if you are bored, but be really bored and desperate.

And though she knows she must resist him, she fears she may be unable to do so. But the magnificent adventurer is a man trapped in a perilous deception.

And the shocking secrets he guards could deny him the love of the fair captive lady who has enslaved his reckless heart. General Format: English Number Of Pages: HarperCollins Publishers Australia. Help Centre. My Wishlist Sign In Join. Only With Your Love By: Lisa Kleypas. Be the first to write a review. Share This eBook:. Add to Wishlist.She doesn't realize who Justin is since Philippe had never spoken of him, which I found odd.

She clenched her teeth and held herself immobile while his mouth brushed over hers. Devil in Winter 4. It's OK though, you guys - heroine totally has a good time once she gets over her resistance and the whole 'clawing his face off doesn't work' thing. His eyes were closed, his mouth frozen in a deathlike grimace.

It was too fast—there was no time to think.