Author: Lily Riley
Publisher: Mystic Owl
Print Length: 282
Language: English
Genre: Paranormal Historical Romance
Publication Date: May 19, 2022
Buy Link: mybook.to/AgentandtheOutlaw
Check out the series: mybook.to/LesDamesDangereuses
The murder of a marquis, an accidental kidnapping, an elite vampire death squad, and a beast stalking the French countryside? All in a day’s work for a member of the les Dames Dangereuses.
As the most enviable comtesse of the tonne, Charlotte de Brionne was almost satisfied with her wealth, power, and rather tepid marriage, until her murderous husband betrayed her.
Now she has seized the chance to make a more adventurous start with les Dames Dangereuses, an order of women spies in service to the French crown. But her latest assignment is rudely interrupted when she is kidnapped by a crossbow-wielding madman, who turns out to be not at all mad only rather surly and annoyingly handsome.
Lieutenant Antoine de Valle has no idea what to make of the exasperating, untrustworthy, and frustratingly beautiful woman he’s suddenly saddled with, but his honor demands he see Charlotte safely home. Especially since it’s his fault she accidentally witnesses his murder of a marquis, ends up on the wrong end of a brutal vampire death squad, and barely survives an encounter with the Beast of Gévaudan.
In fact, the more Antoine tries to keep Charlotte safe, the more trouble they find themselves in. And the harder it is for Antoine to remember his honor in the face of Charlotte’s dangerous charms.
As the most enviable comtesse of the tonne, Charlotte de Brionne was almost satisfied with her wealth, power, and rather tepid marriage, until her murderous husband betrayed her.
Now she has seized the chance to make a more adventurous start with les Dames Dangereuses, an order of women spies in service to the French crown. But her latest assignment is rudely interrupted when she is kidnapped by a crossbow-wielding madman, who turns out to be not at all mad only rather surly and annoyingly handsome.
Lieutenant Antoine de Valle has no idea what to make of the exasperating, untrustworthy, and frustratingly beautiful woman he’s suddenly saddled with, but his honor demands he see Charlotte safely home. Especially since it’s his fault she accidentally witnesses his murder of a marquis, ends up on the wrong end of a brutal vampire death squad, and barely survives an encounter with the Beast of Gévaudan.
In fact, the more Antoine tries to keep Charlotte safe, the more trouble they find themselves in. And the harder it is for Antoine to remember his honor in the face of Charlotte’s dangerous charms.
Excerpt Two
CHARLOTTE
When I came to, several sensations assaulted me. The rhythmic gallop of dull pain inside my skull. The roiling of this evening’s oysters swirling inside my guts. The earthy scents of sweaty horseflesh, leather, and mud tangling in my nose. Then, the slow and damnable realization that my hands and feet had been bound and I’d been thrown—rather indecorously, I might add—facedown across the ass of some idiot’s cantering horse. The nerve!
I opened my mouth to protest, but the horse pulled up short, dangerously shifting the oysters. I choked out a groan as the bile started to rise.
“For the love of God, let me off of this animal, or I shall cast up my accounts all over you!”
My captor slid off the horse and lifted me easily. He—yes, certainly it was a he, and a rather splendid specimen of he, as I started to recall—set me on my feet, and I unsteadily hopped to the side of the road to be sick. I heaved and, tied as I was, began to pitch forward over the frost-covered leaf litter.
Calloused hands grasped my wrists and pulled me upright. I attempted to get a look at his face, but the low hood of his cloak and the darkness of the late evening—or was it early morning?--prevented me from doing so. The only part of him I could see was a strong, stubbled jawline and some very fine lips set in a tight line of annoyance.
“Easy, lad,” he said softly, his voice as rough as his work-hewn hands. Chills danced up my spine.
Lad?
Ah, yes. A jumble of memories began to unravel. I frowned down at my Cupid costume. The once-pristine toga and breeches beneath were rumpled and stained with--mon dieu, please let that just be dirt. The small, feathered wings and golden circlet were gone, but I noted with relief that my wig was still secure.
What happened?
I’d been at Versailles for the king’s All Hallow’s Eve masquerade. My cousin Daphne and her fiancé Étienne had been with me. I was on assignment for les Dames Dangereuses—the Order’s cadre of female agents. But what had I been doing?
I furrowed my brows to try and recall but immediately regretted it. The steady beat of pain in my head became a symphony of agony, and I vomited. I was dimly aware of a humiliating dribble down the front of my toga.
“Hell, lad, how much did you have to drink? Did Sade slip you something? Or are you just in your cups?” The soothing tone was gone, replaced by one of clipped irritation.
“I’m never eating another oyster again,” I wheezed, feebly trying to wipe my mouth with my shoulder. Wait…he said--
Sade. The Marquis de Sade. My target. Yes. Yes. That was right—I was at the masquerade, dressed as a young man so I could lure Sade out into the garden and dispatch him there. Strangle him. It should look like an accident, the Order had said. A lover getting too carried away during a tryst, an incident too scandalous to be thoroughly investigated. Not that anyone would press for an investigation. Between Sade’s crimes, the rumors, and victims from every social class, few—if any—would mourn his loss.
I remembered seeing Sade in the ballroom at Versailles. I’d successfully attracted his attention and plied him with a glass of drugged champagne, which had made him docile and willing. He’d followed me into that absurd hedge maze in the gardens and had been fumbling with the buttons on his breeches, when…thwip! An arrow—straight to the heart. That doesn’t seem right. An arrow? Sade is supposed to be strangled to death. I’m supposed to be the one to do it. Wait, that’s it…
I hadn’t been able to complete my assignment. Someone had intervened, shot an arrow through Sade with, what, a crossbow? Yes, that was it. And there it was, hanging from the side of my captor’s saddle. My captor. I tensed. This man had interrupted my assassination attempt and had murdered the Marquis de Sade. Who was he? Why did he want Sade dead? Why has he kidnapped me and what does he want with me? And mon dieu, why does that last thought send a perverse shiver of pleasure through me?
Putain. Now is not the time, Charlotte. Focus!
CHARLOTTE
When I came to, several sensations assaulted me. The rhythmic gallop of dull pain inside my skull. The roiling of this evening’s oysters swirling inside my guts. The earthy scents of sweaty horseflesh, leather, and mud tangling in my nose. Then, the slow and damnable realization that my hands and feet had been bound and I’d been thrown—rather indecorously, I might add—facedown across the ass of some idiot’s cantering horse. The nerve!
I opened my mouth to protest, but the horse pulled up short, dangerously shifting the oysters. I choked out a groan as the bile started to rise.
“For the love of God, let me off of this animal, or I shall cast up my accounts all over you!”
My captor slid off the horse and lifted me easily. He—yes, certainly it was a he, and a rather splendid specimen of he, as I started to recall—set me on my feet, and I unsteadily hopped to the side of the road to be sick. I heaved and, tied as I was, began to pitch forward over the frost-covered leaf litter.
Calloused hands grasped my wrists and pulled me upright. I attempted to get a look at his face, but the low hood of his cloak and the darkness of the late evening—or was it early morning?--prevented me from doing so. The only part of him I could see was a strong, stubbled jawline and some very fine lips set in a tight line of annoyance.
“Easy, lad,” he said softly, his voice as rough as his work-hewn hands. Chills danced up my spine.
Lad?
Ah, yes. A jumble of memories began to unravel. I frowned down at my Cupid costume. The once-pristine toga and breeches beneath were rumpled and stained with--mon dieu, please let that just be dirt. The small, feathered wings and golden circlet were gone, but I noted with relief that my wig was still secure.
What happened?
I’d been at Versailles for the king’s All Hallow’s Eve masquerade. My cousin Daphne and her fiancé Étienne had been with me. I was on assignment for les Dames Dangereuses—the Order’s cadre of female agents. But what had I been doing?
I furrowed my brows to try and recall but immediately regretted it. The steady beat of pain in my head became a symphony of agony, and I vomited. I was dimly aware of a humiliating dribble down the front of my toga.
“Hell, lad, how much did you have to drink? Did Sade slip you something? Or are you just in your cups?” The soothing tone was gone, replaced by one of clipped irritation.
“I’m never eating another oyster again,” I wheezed, feebly trying to wipe my mouth with my shoulder. Wait…he said--
Sade. The Marquis de Sade. My target. Yes. Yes. That was right—I was at the masquerade, dressed as a young man so I could lure Sade out into the garden and dispatch him there. Strangle him. It should look like an accident, the Order had said. A lover getting too carried away during a tryst, an incident too scandalous to be thoroughly investigated. Not that anyone would press for an investigation. Between Sade’s crimes, the rumors, and victims from every social class, few—if any—would mourn his loss.
I remembered seeing Sade in the ballroom at Versailles. I’d successfully attracted his attention and plied him with a glass of drugged champagne, which had made him docile and willing. He’d followed me into that absurd hedge maze in the gardens and had been fumbling with the buttons on his breeches, when…thwip! An arrow—straight to the heart. That doesn’t seem right. An arrow? Sade is supposed to be strangled to death. I’m supposed to be the one to do it. Wait, that’s it…
I hadn’t been able to complete my assignment. Someone had intervened, shot an arrow through Sade with, what, a crossbow? Yes, that was it. And there it was, hanging from the side of my captor’s saddle. My captor. I tensed. This man had interrupted my assassination attempt and had murdered the Marquis de Sade. Who was he? Why did he want Sade dead? Why has he kidnapped me and what does he want with me? And mon dieu, why does that last thought send a perverse shiver of pleasure through me?
Putain. Now is not the time, Charlotte. Focus!
Review from Publisher's Weekly for The Assassin and the Libertine:
Scandal, seduction, and supernatural secrets animate Riley’s deliciously decadent debut and Les Dames Dangereuses series launch. In 1765, a blood plague is spreading among the Parisian poor, turning them into vampires. For many, it’s a better fate than starvation as a human. As one of few courtiers infected, “legendary rake” Étienne de Noailles is appointed the vampire emissary to His Majesty. Though he tries to advocate for vampire rights, he’s treated as little more than a threat and a lust object at Versailles.
Read more here>
Scandal, seduction, and supernatural secrets animate Riley’s deliciously decadent debut and Les Dames Dangereuses series launch. In 1765, a blood plague is spreading among the Parisian poor, turning them into vampires. For many, it’s a better fate than starvation as a human. As one of few courtiers infected, “legendary rake” Étienne de Noailles is appointed the vampire emissary to His Majesty. Though he tries to advocate for vampire rights, he’s treated as little more than a threat and a lust object at Versailles.
Read more here>
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Lily Riley is a romance novelist currently focused on historical paranormal books that feature a little bit of cheek and a lot of steam.
Her second novel, The Agent and the Outlaw, publishing under the Mystic Owl imprint of City Owl Press, comes out May 19, 2022.
When Lily isn’t writing about dreamy supernatural beings in 18th century France, she enjoys sipping champagne, eating cake, and dancing naked by the light of the full moon.
Find out more about her on her website at www.lilyriley.com or on social media:
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Love!
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