Page 1 of The Tempting of a Devilish Lord

Chapter One

Some things never changed.

Alexander cast his gaze from left to right as he guided his mare down the road and rolled his eyes when he spotted an errant pig snuffling his way through scraps at the roadside.

Mr. Johnson’s fence-making skills still hadn’t improved apparently.

The town of Langmere never changed either. The gray stone buildings lined the curving dirt road down toward the lake, offering no hint of occupants. Many would be busy at the farms or down by the lake or in the few shops that were clustered at the waterside. For as long as he could recall, Langmere had been dull.

Dull gray buildings, dull people. Dull, dull, dull.

Admittedly, the mountains surrounding the lake were at least a little interesting. Despite the weather slowly warming as they moved into spring, snow dusted the tops of the hills that surrounded the generous lake. Sunlight glinted off the water and offered a clear view of the mountains that spent most of winter shielded by clouds.

He supposed if he was going to confine himself to the most boring of towns, at least he had chosen a good time of year for it. Living in Langmere during the winter was more than dull.

More like tediously boring. He shook his head. No, that didn’t cover it either. Mind-numbingly uninteresting perhaps.

Well, if anything it was perfect for him. He knew firsthand there were no attractive women in the town and escaping to the family seat would keep him well away from any temptation.

Yes, Langmere would be—

He scowled and drew the horse to a halt. The stone buildings were clustered so tightly together, he could not see the lake from this angle, but he could hear…something.

People.

No.

Women.

God bloody damn it.

Alex urged the horse on, and he held his breath until they rounded the corner. Lining the lake were little wooden boats tethered to several tired-looking jetties. He spied a large boat farther out by the private island at the center of it, its white sails stark against the green fir trees that clustered atop the spot of land.

To his left were the shops of Langmere. They hadn’t changed. A butcher’s, a chandlery, Mrs. Gleeson’s tea shop, and The Royal Oak. Farther along, the blacksmith’s bilged smoke from the chimney and Mr. Beaumont’s Bazaar remained but had expanded onto the pavement by way of a stall covered with a bright blue canopy.

What had changed, however, was the throngs of women spilling in and out of the buildings and crowding the road. He inched his way through the mob on horseback, not unaware of the various stares that met him.

Added to that were the whispers and not so quiet conversations puzzling over who he was. He nodded his head and offered a smile in greeting to two young women, one of whom had gasped.

She blushed and dropped her head. Alex fixed his gaze ahead and blew out a breath. The one place he could guarantee an escape from women and here he found himself surrounded by them. Many of whom were quite his type indeed.

He stole a look through the beveled windows of the tea room. More women. Young, old, curvaceous, slender, pretty and not so pretty. A brunette exited and offered him a charming smile. He glanced away swiftly.

What the devil was going on?

Langmere had all the appeal of London on a smoggy day when the streets were so thick with yellow, soupy fog that one could scarcely see one’s hand in front of one.

So what on earth could have brought all these women flocking here?

He ground his teeth together and ignored the feminine chatter coursing about him.

Christ, he loved to hear women talk. It was a whole lot more interesting than sitting about in White’s while the men about him congratulated themselves on running the world with their hefty inheritances. Alex would certainly not complain about the wealth that came with being a marquis and all the many, many benefits of rank but he wasn’t foolish enough to pretend he could take sole credit for his circumstances.

Unable to resist, he glanced toward the lakeside, where three women were gathered. Her figure snared his attention first—slender waist and just the tiniest hint of curves, all wrapped up in a simple pale-yellow gown with a high neckline. Prim by anyone’s standards really. However, it was the red curls peeking out from the straw bonnet that really seized his notice.

He bit back a groan. Dear God, he always had a weakness for redheads.

He could look away. It would be easy really. Fix his attention on the road ahead and trot past with all the haste of a lord on important business. If he was to keep his promise to his mother, that was all he needed to do.

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