The Naked Prince
“ Never jump to conclusions.
—Venus’s Love Notes The March wind stung his face, but the Marquis of Ashton, heir to the Duke of Greycliffe, still paused when he rounded the curve in the drive that led to Blackweith Manor.
Zeus, he loved this house, especially with the late afternoon sun limning its classical facade. It was so orderly and controlled. No one could look at it and not feel calm— Oh, God.
The image of Jess’s milky white thighs—and Percy’s naked arse between them—shoved to the front of his thoughts. Again. He’d been battling the memory every minute of every hour on this blasted journey.
He shifted on his horse, making the animal toss its head. The jangling of its bridle sounded unnaturally loud in the quiet.
There was nothing calm or controlled about the place. It was a wasp’s nest—smooth and beautiful on the outside, but a mass of stinging, painful chaos on the inside. He should go back to Greycliffe Castle. A wise man didn’t poke a wasp’s nest.
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