Thursday, April 18, 2019


Wicked Wager
By Beverley Oakley

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About Wicked Wager:

Can innocence survive the machinations of a malevolent society beauty and a
charismatic rake?
Two weeks before her nuptials to her cold, harsh cousin, virtuous Celeste Rosington finds herself
in the arms of notorious libertine, Lord Peregrine.

The unexpected encounter is, at first, shocking, but as Peregrine’s charm weaves its magic,
becomes a welcome distraction from Celeste’s troubles. Isn’t she already the subject of whispers
due to her involvement in the mysterious disappearance of a wealthy plantation magnate? It was
a role orchestrated by her demanding husband-to-be in which Celeste had failed spectacularly.

Nevertheless, Celeste has no intention of sacrificing all of her scruples for a man she knows is
only toying with her. One kiss from handsome, charismatic Viscount Peregrine will surely be
enough to give her the strength to fulfil her marital obligations?

But what if one kiss is not enough?

With her reputation in the balance, Celeste must navigate the treacherous waters of envy,
intrigue and deadly secrets, unaware she’s the unwitting pawn in a wicked wager between
a ruthless society beauty and delicious, dissolute Lord Peregrine.

Could Peregrine really be a party to such perfidious plans? Will his reckless charm be the
final undoing of a young woman once respected for her virtue and piety?

Or will Peregrine discover that true love is more powerful than greed and ambition in time
to save Celeste from the terrible fate that otherwise awaits her?

Genre: Georgian Historical Romance

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The last of the applause drifted away and for a few seconds the shrill cries of the orange sellers
held sway. Rising from his ironic bow for the benefit of his companion, Lord Peregrine held back
the red velvet curtain that had afforded them privacy so that Xenia could pass through and join
the throng of theatregoers descending the sweeping staircase.

He saw that she had fallen into conversation with a club-footed general whose more than
interested eye swept appraisingly over Xenia’s abundant assets, and once again Perry felt
again the familiar heating of his loins that only Xenia could inspire with a mere incendiary glance.
The contours of her sack-back gown, adorned with a row of bows the length of her stomacher,
recalled the more lascivious of those thoughts he’d entertained for the past decade: what it would
be like to undress her, layer by layer by layer. He could only imagine how many layers there might
be, but the prize would be worth the exquisite torture of restraint. He’d not revealed quite how
much her proposition tonight had taken him by surprise, and the fact he’d agreed fuelled him
with an odd combination of conflicting sensations: raging lust tempered by the knowledge that
he’d just sunk to depths of moral depravity that might make even his uncle squirm in his grave:
seduce an innocent on the eve of her nuptials.

Except that Xenia maintained the young woman’s ingenuousness was a ploy. Still, Miss
Rosington retained her standing in society as a paragon of virtue. What right had he to assume
otherwise, just because it was convenient?

He was diverted by a squeal to his left. Xenia was moving ahead, caught up by the crowd, her
head bent to absorb the admiration of her club-footed general. Peregrine meanwhile found
himself unable to continue, due to the fact the young woman in front of him had snagged her
skirts on what appeared to be a nail or splinter protruding from one of the supporting beams.
No one could move until she’d freed herself, and as Peregrine was directly behind her it was
incumbent upon him to act the gentlemen and so enable the rest of the pulsing crowd to forge ahead.

‘Please be careful, sir, it’ll tear and it’s the first time I’ve worn it,’ the young woman warned as
he took a handful of stiff silk in one hand. ‘It’s my finest.’ She twisted her head round to address him.
As her lips parted, revealing a set of near perfect small white teeth, and her worried blue eyes
bored into his, Peregrine felt a jolt of something unidentifiable plummet like a stone to the pit
of his stomach. No, further than that, for without a doubt his groin was reacting with something
akin to roiling hunger. And, surprisingly, with an intensity that exceeded the dull throb of ten
years of wanting Xenia like a frustrated schoolboy.

Close to, Miss Rosington was exquisite, her pale white and rose-blushed skin far more lustrous
than when seen from a distance through opera glasses. Her powdered coiffure, dressed to
fashionable heights, accentuated high, rounded cheekbones; and with growing excitement he
followed the sweep of her graceful neck to a bosom that was rising and falling with surely greater
rapidity than fear of what peril her gown might face. He liked to think that was so, as her candid
look met his and the connection between them seemed like the sharp tug of some inner cord, forcing
him forward, his hand brushing hers, nestled beneath a froth of silken furbelows, as they both
reached for the undamaged silk petticoat, now released.

‘No harm done,’ he murmured as she drew herself up, her companion, the black-eyed viscount
to whom she was affianced, returning to claim her, drawing her away with the barest of thanks.

All over in a matter of seconds, and at what cost? For while silk skirts and dignity had escaped
with minimal damage, Peregrine was the first to concede, as he watched her graceful back with
pounding heart and aching groin, that a great deal of harm had indeed been done.


About the Author:

Her Scandalous Miss Brightwell series was nominated Best Historical Romance by the Australian
Romance Readers Association. She is also the author of the popular Daughters of Sin series, a
Regency-era ‘Dynasty-style’ family saga laced with intrigue and espionage.

Under her real name Beverley Eikli, she writes Africa-set romantic suspense, and psychological
historical romances. The Reluctant Bride won Choc-Lit’s Search for an Australian Star competition
and her Regency tale of redemption The Maid of Milan was shortlisted in the Top Ten Reads of
2014 at the UK Festival of Romance.

Beverley lives north of Melbourne (overlooking a fabulous Gothic lunatic asylum) with the same
gorgeous Norwegian husband, two daughters and a rambunctious Rhodesian Ridgeback.

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