Too Wild to Hold

“Just how far are you willing to take this?” Michael asked.

“As far as we have to,” Claire said, breathless, even as her voice hitched when he pressed his lips to her neck. Suddenly, she didn’t care that they were being watched. “You?”

“As far as you want to go,” he replied. He pressed her full against his body, so that she could not mistake the feel of his erection against her, even through the layers of her gown. “I came here with no intention beyond getting you to safety as soon as possible. But I’d be lying if I denied how beautiful you are or how hot you look in that dress, especially now that it’s half-off. Making love to you would not be a hardship. In fact, it would be my pleasure.”

Her jaw dropped open momentarily, then she lifted her chin and laughed. “Then I think I’m going to like working with you, Special Agent Murrieta.”

“If we do it right, it won’t be work. And please, call me Michael.”

“By all means, Michael. Let’s give those pervs behind the camera something worth watching.”

Dear Reader,

I love old movies. Not all old movies, mind you. I prefer the epic, swashbuckling films where swordplay rules the day and the heroes survive not only because of their skill and speed, but also because of their irrepressible charm with the ladies. Pirate movies are a personal favorite, but I also adore stories set around the exploits of a certain black-masked bandit who rode around colonial California and fought for the rights of the downtrodden. And at the same time, he somehow managed to win a beautiful woman who really shouldn’t have had anything to do with him.

Over the years, this hero has been played by many great actors, each giving him their own spin. So I thought, why not do the same with the heroes of my series, who are all fictionally descended from the real-life outlaw who supposedly inspired the legend? Three brothers couldn’t be more different than wealthy, educated Alejandro (hero of Too Hot to Touch, August 2011), FBI agent Michael and their black sheep brother, Daniel. Each man has inherited some of their infamous ancestor’s daring, bravado and charm, but all in a different way.

Recreating a historical legend in order to fit my own imagination was a true pleasure. I hope you enjoy Claire and Michael’s story as much as I did writing it.

Happy Reading,

Julie Leto

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Over the course of her career, New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author Julie Leto has published more than forty books—all of them sexy and all of them romances at heart. She shares a popular blog—www.plotmonkeys.com—with her best friends Carly Phillips, Janelle Denison and Leslie Kelly and would love for you to follow her on Twitter, where she goes by @JulieLeto. She’s a born and bred Floridian homeschooling mom with a love for her family, her friends, her dachshund, her lynx-point Siamese and supersexy stories with a guaranteed happy ending.

This book is dedicated to

Smarties and Kit Kat bars.

(Which means my next book will be dedicated,

once again, to Jazzercise.)

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Epilogue

“DON’T MOVE. I’VE come for you—and only you.”

With the whispered threat came the clamp of a man’s gloved hand on the back of Claire Lécuyer’s neck. She commanded herself not to flinch or alter her features, which she’d schooled into relaxed amusement. She’d entered this crowded ballroom of her own free will and she meant to leave that way, even if she had to take a madman with her.

She started to turn, but he tightened his grasp.

“You don’t take orders very well,” he chastised.

He didn’t know the half of it.

Despite the rush of adrenaline pumping through her veins, Claire willed her voice to remain light and lilting, in keeping with the character she’d created. Tonight she wasn’t just a former cop turned private investigator searching for a missing person—she was, in this undercover incarnation, a sweet Southern belle looking for her lover among the throng.

“But the night has just begun,” she said. “Who knows who is going to end up with whom?”

Two hundred years had passed since the first quadroon ball, but two weeks ago, Claire had learned that the traditions of old New Orleans had been reintroduced to modern Louisiana by sexual fetishists who called themselves Nouvelle Placage. In a leased plantation over an hour away from the French Quarter, the group recreated the grand ballrooms and strict rules of a system that had once been the means by which rich white landowners arranged for long-term affairs with women of the gens de couleur libre, a light-skinned French Creole class native to pre-Americanized New Orleans.

But the people here tonight weren’t re-enactors like the ones who showed up at Chalmette National Park every January to recreate the Battle of New Orleans. These modern men paid outrageous entry fees for women who would fulfill their every fantasy. They came from across the country to enjoy a weekend of anonymous sexual encounters dressed up with proper manners, old-world moral codes and romanticized dominance and submission.