{"product_id":"the-devils-love-isbn-9780440226314","title":"The Devil's Love","description":"A woman's desire...\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWith dreams of a great romantic love, Abigail Carrington sails to England to marry the man she has loved since childhood, Michael Ingram, Marquis of Darfield.  She believes her betrothed is a generous and noble man who has been longing for her.  But the handsome man waiting for her at the altar is a dark, brooding stranger who rushes her into marriage, then abandons her at his country estate.  Only the passion of Michael's kiss gives her hope that theirs can be more than a marriage of convenience.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003eA man's need... \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWith scandal shadowing his past, Michael, the Devil of Darfield, had no need for a wife.  Remembering only the little hellion who made life miserable for him aboard her father's ship, he resents the agreement he made to marry her so he could save his ancestral home.  Though determined to ignore her, he cannot stop thinking about his lovely violet-eyed bride.  Her beauty tempts him.  Her charm bedevils him.  He tries to drive her away until he almost loses her.  Then he vows to regain her love—before it is too late....Julia London was raised on a ranch in West Texas, where she spent her formative years in the middle of vast wheat fields driving a tractor at the reckless speed of five mph. In spite of her humble beginnings, Julia went on to earn a degree in government and eventually landed in Washington, D.C. There for nine years, Julia had her brush with greatness when one day she actually shared an elevator with a senator from Iowa. She eventually returned to Texas and now lives in Austin with two enormous Labrador retrievers. \u003cb\u003eWicked Angel\u003c\/b\u003e is Julia's second book and a sequel to her first, \u003cb\u003eThe Devil's Love\u003c\/b\u003e. Julia is currently working on her next book for Dell.\u003ci\u003ePortsmouth, 1825\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAbbey Carrington stood at the bow of the luxury passenger ship with her  hands stuffed into a muff. For the last hour she had watched intently as  the coast of southern England grew increasingly larger, as had her  excitement. She had anticipated this day well over half her lifetime.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe could not suppress a faint smile that curled her lips as she recalled  the things her father had told her about her betrothed. Since she was a  girl, Captain Carrington had told her Michael Ingram loved her dearly and  could not wait for the day she would be old enough to be his wife.  Although Abbey had not seen Michael since she was a child, her papa had  seen him often and swore his esteem of her was steadfast.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHis assurances had been constant and had begun when, at the age of nine,  she had been sent to her first school in Rome. Her father, during a visit  the following summer, had gleefully told her of the betrothal, laughing  gaily when he told her how fervent Michael was in his desire to marry her  one day. Abbey had, of course, been surprised by that, since Michael had  grimaced painfully every time she came near him on board the \u003ci\u003eDancing  Maiden.\u003c\/i\u003e Her father had next come at Christmas, bearing a gift from  Michael--a violin. Suspicious, Abbey questioned why her betrothed had not  written. Captain Carrington assured her that Michael wanted a  well-educated wife. He preferred she concentrate on her studies and not be  distracted with letters. At the ripe age of eleven, Abbey had accepted  that explanation without question.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTwo years later her papa had removed her from the school in Rome,  complaining it was too rigid. It was his considerable opinion that a girl  needed to experience life, a sentiment that Abbey wholeheartedly shared.  But apparently a girl did not need to experience life so much as to  warrant sailing all the way to India, and her papa had placed her in the  care of an old Egyptian friend while he continued east. Depositing her in  Cairo, he had ruefully told her that Michael was greatly disappointed he  was detained in Spain and could not visit her as he had planned. In her  adolescent fervor, Abbey was quite touched by Michael's bitter  disappointment; she had felt it rather keenly herself.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhen she was older and had studied deportment and elocution in Paris  until she could improve no further, she had been allowed to sail to the  Orient with her papa. She remembered her father's sad sigh when he  informed her they had missed her betrothed by just a sennight, but he had  waited as long as he could for just a glimpse of his heart's love. He had  left a message for her that she should continue her classical training on  the violin and that he hoped she was enjoying the study of history, a  subject he loved dearly. When she had voiced her doubts several months  later, her father had chastized her for her faithlessness. Michael, he had  reiterated, was quite steadfast in his esteem of her. It wasn't very long  after they returned to Europe that Captain Carrington cheerfully reported  a conversation he had had with Michael in Amsterdam, during which the  young man had professed undying love and impatience for the day he would  be reunited with Abbey.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAbbey pulled her cloak tightly about her and peered up through the masts  at the dull gray sky. At last deemed old enough to marry, she was now only  hours away from seeing the man she had dreamed of and admired since she  could remember. Her father's constant compliments of Michael's military  career, the enormous shipping trade he had built, and the fact that he was  now the very important Marquis of Darfield kept him constantly in Abbey's  consciousness. The captain delighted in relating stories of Michael's  courage in a world of ruthless shipping magnates and pirates, of fair  business practices for which he was exalted among his peers, and of his  relentless chase of unsavory pirates, racketeers, and injustice in  general.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHer papa had been so admiring of Michael Ingram for the last twelve years  that Abbey could not imagine another man who could possibly compare to  him. That he wanted her as a wife thrilled her. That she might not measure  up mortified her. But her occasional doubts were easily erased with a new  letter from her father. The fact that Michael had never written her  \u003ci\u003edirectly\u003c\/i\u003e or that she had not actually \u003ci\u003eseen\u003c\/i\u003e him in all that  time did not daunt her. He had been too busy building a fortune, her papa  had said, so that Abbey would never want for anything. And naturally the  responsibilities of his very important title did not leave him time for leisurely correspondence.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThree years ago her father's consumption had taken a turn for the worse,  and he had sent her to live in America with her aunt Nan. She had been  waiting patiently since then, believing the captain's letters explicitly  when he told her Michael would soon send for her and their days would be  filled with love, laughter, and strong, healthy children. She believed  everything Captain Carrington told her about the man who was to be her  husband.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFortunately, in Virginia, it had been easy to wait for Michael. Abbey  loved living on her aunt Nan's farm with her cousins, Virginia and  Victoria. She loved working in the fields by day and tending her small  garden in the evening. With no men about the house--except for a few freed  men and occasional gentleman callers--life on the farm had been idyllic.  At night, while her cousins sewed and Aunt Nan painted, Abbey would play  her violin. Or they would sit and talk. And when they grew tired of  talking about the farm, the people in town, and the various men that  called for them, they would talk of Michael.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIn truth, they \u003ci\u003eall\u003c\/i\u003e dreamed of Michael. They would take turns  imagining him standing at the stern of his ship, his open shirt blowing in  the breeze, his long, dark hair tousled by the wind. They imagined him,  his crew incapacitated, fighting off wave after wave of pirates by  himself, and boasted to one another that his skill with the sword was the  greatest in all of Europe. They imagined him spurning the attentions of  dozens of beautiful women with the excuse that his heart's true love was  in Virginia. That particular daydream always had Victoria swooning.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAbbey dragged her gaze from the sky and looked at the coastline where  Portsmouth was beginning to take shape. It wasn't until her father's  solicitor sent word of his death that Abbey had her first pangs of serious  doubt. The solicitor, Mr. Strait, was adamant that Abbey leave for England  right away, as the will demanded she settle her father's estate by  marriage. Heartsick by the news of her father's death and privately uneasy  that she had not heard anything about Michael in more than eighteen  months, almost immediately Abbey had begun to fight waves of doubt. What  if he had changed his mind and her papa had not had opportunity to tell  her?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe pulled her cloak tightly about her as she recalled the day she had  pleaded with her aunt to let her remain in Virginia.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e\"Nonsense,\" Aunt Nan had said. \"Are you going to leave that poor man  standing on the dock in Portsmouth waiting for you, his arms laden with  two dozen roses\u003c\/i\u003e?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e\"Yes!\" Virginia had cried, \"he'll have his best coach, at least the  size of Mama's parlor, with four grays waiting to take you away!\"\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAunt Nan had added he would probably sweep her to the altar that very  day, for he would not be willing to wait for her one more moment. Abbey  had paled at that remark. Aunt Nan had read her expression and cuffed her  on the shoulder, sternly reminding her it was \u003ci\u003eevery\u003c\/i\u003e woman's duty to  follow their husband to the marriage bed, \u003ci\u003ewithout complaint\u003c\/i\u003e, and  lie there patiently while he did \u003ci\u003ethat.\u003c\/i\u003e Virginia and Victoria had  snickered behind their hands as Abbey's expression had turned to horror,  but Aunt Nan had insisted, \u003ci\u003e\"You are not the first and you certainly  won't be the last woman to make do with it.\"\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOtherwise oblivious to the bitter cold, Abbey unthinkingly pulled her  hood up over her dark head as a steady rain began to fall, and recalled  how her emotions had warred during the voyage. Part of her doubted that  Michael esteemed her as her father had claimed. But then again, her papa  would never lie to her, so it had to be true on some level. Part of her  doubted he was the heroic figure she had dreamed about. After all, how  many pirates could one man fell? But her papa had said he was that and  more. Perhaps the stories had been embellished, but surely they were  grounded in truth.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe sighed quietly as she absently counted the masts bobbing in the port  ahead. The part of her that had seen Michael through her father's eyes all  these years had finally won out over the doubts. She had nothing to fear.  Michael Evan Ingram, Marquis of Darfield and Viscount Amberlay, loved her  with all his heart and even now, was standing on the dock, waiting for her  with two dozen roses in his arms.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe abruptly turned on her heel and marched back to her cabin. She was  not going to meet the love of her life in anything less than her best  traveling clothes.","brand":"Dell","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46299984494821,"sku":"NP9780440226314","price":6.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780440226314.jpg?v=1767739005","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/es\/products\/the-devils-love-isbn-9780440226314","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}