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  Critical acclaim for the marvelous romances of

  Jude Deveraux

  TEMPTATION

  “An exciting historical romance that centers on the early twentieth-century women’s rights movement…. Filled with excitement, action, and insight…. A nonstop thriller.”

  —Harriet Klausner, Barnesandnoble.com

  “[A] satisfying story.”

  —Booklist

  “Deveraux[’s] lively pace and happy endings…will keep readers turning pages.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  HIGH TIDE

  A Romantic Times Top Pick

  “High Tide is packed full of warmth, humor, sensual tension, and exciting adventure. What more could you ask of a book?”

  —Romantic Times

  “Fast-paced, suspenseful…. [A] sassy love story.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “Exciting…may be Jude Deveraux’s best novel in her stellar career…. Fans of romantic suspense will gain much pleasure.”

  —Midwest Book Review

  Books by Jude Deveraux

  The Velvet Promise

  Highland Velvet

  Velvet Song

  Velvet Angel

  Sweetbriar

  Counterfeit Lady

  Lost Lady

  River Lady

  Twin of Fire

  Twin of Ice

  The Temptress

  The Raider

  The Princess

  The Awakening

  The Maiden

  The Taming

  The Conquest

  A Knight in Shining Armor

  Wishes

  Mountain Laurel

  The Duchess

  Eternity

  Sweet Liar

  The Invitation

  Remembrance

  The Heiress

  Legend

  An Angel for Emily

  The Blessing

  High Tide

  Temptation

  The Summerhouse

  Forever…A Novel of Good and Evil, Love and Hope

  Published by POCKET BOOKS

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  An Original Publication of POCKET BOOKS

  POCKET BOOKS, a division of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

  1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020

  Copyright © 1984 by Deveraux Inc.

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Pocket Books, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020

  ISBN-13: 978-0-7434-5926-6

  ISBN-10: 0-7434-5926-1

  POCKET and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

  Visit us on the World Wide Web:

  http://www.SimonSays.com

  Dear Readers,

  Years ago, long before it was fashionable, I researched the family tree of both my parents back to the time when our ancestors arrived in this country, some during the American Revolution, some years before. Always a romantic, I was hoping to find a dashing highwayman or a disowned duke. Instead, what I found were generations, hundreds of years, of American farmers. There were no fascinating criminals that I could find, but only an embarrassing number of illegitimate children.

  When I was older, I realized that passion that resulted in out-of-wedlock children was far more romantic than robbers, dashing or not. And when I started writing I began to think of all my farmer ancestors and their uncontrollable passions and wondered if a series of romances could be written about men who didn’t control armies or fight with kings, but written, instead, about plain men and women whose lives revolved around spring crops.

  I hope you like my stories about ordinary people with ordinary problems and the ordinary needs for love that we all have.

  Jude Deveraux

  Santa Fe, New Mexico

  September 1983

  Chapter 1

  IN JUNE OF 1794, THE ROSES WERE IN FULL FLOWER and the lawns were of a green lushness that is known only in England. In the county of Sussex stood a small, square, two-story house, a plain house surrounded by a short iron fence. The house once had been part of a greater estate, an outbuilding for a gardener’s or gamekeeper’s family, but the rest of the estate had been subdivided long ago and sold to pay off the Maleson family’s debts. All that was left of this once great family was this small, neglected house, Jacob Maleson, and his daughter Bianca.

  Jacob Maleson now sat before the empty fireplace in the parlor on the ground floor—a short, corpulent man, the lower buttons of his vest unbuttoned over the expanse of his large stomach, his coat carelessly tossed over another chair. His plump legs were encased in broadcloth breeches, reaching to just past his knees where they were fastened with brass buckles, his calves were covered with cotton stockings, his feet were bulging from thin leather pumps. A large, sleepy Irish setter leaned against one arm of the old wing chair, and Jacob idly fondled the dog’s ears.

  Jacob had grown used to his simple country life. Truthfully, he rather liked having a smaller house, fewer servants, and less responsibility. He remembered the big house of his childhood as a place of wasted space, a place that took up too much of his parents’ time and energy. Now he had his dogs, a good joint of meat for dinner, enough income to keep his stables going, and he was content.

  His daughter was not.

  Bianca stood before the tall mirror in her second-floor bedroom and smoothed the long muslin dress over her tall, plump body. Every time she looked at herself in the new French fashions, she felt a touch of disgust. The French peasants had revolted against the aristocracy, and now, because those weak Frenchmen could not control their underlings, all the world had to pay. Every country looked at France and worried that the same thing could happen to them. In France, everyone wanted to look as if they were part of the commoners; therefore, satins and silks were practically banned. The new fashions were of muslins, calicos, lawns, and percale.

  Bianca studied herself in the mirror. Of course, the new gowns suited her perfectly. She was just worried about other women less fortunately endowed than herself. The gown was cut very low, with a deep scoop across her large breasts, hiding very little of their shape and whiteness. The pale blue India gauze was tied with a wide ribbon of blue satin just under her breasts, the gown falling straight down from the ribbon to the floor where a row of fringe ran along the hem. Her dark blond hair was pulled back from her face and held with a ribbon, and fat sausage curls hung over her bare shoulder. Her face was fashionably round, with pale blue eyes like her dress, light brows and lashes, her little pink mouth forming a perfect rosebud, and when she smiled there was a tiny dimple in her left cheek.

  Bianca moved away from the tall mirror to her dressing table. It, like nearly everything else in the room, was decorated with pale pink tulle. She liked pastels around her. She liked anything that was gentle, delicate, and romantic.

  There was a large box of chocolates on the dressing table, the top layer almost empty. Peering into the box, she wrinkled her nose prettily. The horrible French war had stopped the manufacture of the best chocolates, and now she had to make do with second-rate English chocolate. She chose one piece of candy, then another. When she was on her fourth piece and licking her dimpled fingers, she saw Nicole Courtalain enter the room.

  The inferior chocolates, the thin fabric of the dress, and Nicole’s presence were all a result of the Revolution in France. Bianca chose another chocolate and watched the young Frenchwoman as she moved quietly about the room, putting away the gowns Bianca had strewn