v1.0

May 2007

Sweetbriar
Jude Deveraux


Devon Pulled Her

Roughly to Him and for the First Time

His Mouth Touched Hers.

His kiss was fire, a startling sensation that started at her mouth and seared its way down her body. Her arms went around his neck to draw him closer, his skin touching hers at the torn shoulder of her dress, sending tremors to the depths of her.

Linnet pressed her body against him. Devon lowered her to the ground and she felt his weight on top of her. She was burning. He ran his lips along her neck and she arched to give him access to any part of her he desired. His hands tore away part of her dress and he touched the beginning curve of her breast.

"Oh, Devon," she whispered.




--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

contents
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24






--------------------------------------------------------------------------------



This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents relating to non-historical figures are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance of such non-historical incidents, places or figures 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 © 1983 by Deveraux Inc.

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

ISBN: 0-671-74382-1

First Tapestry Books printing May 1983
First Pocket Books printing March 1984

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------



Chapter One
^ »



Kentucky Wilderness-October, 1784

The forest closed around the motley array of wagons, horses and people. Four wagons, in good repair, stood to one side, oxen grazing nearby, while two carriages, once pretty things, were barely standing on their high wheels. Tired women went about the chore of preparing supper while the men looked after the animals. A group of children was playing within sight of the adults.

"I can't tell you how glad I am to be rid of some of this heat. It's the sea I miss." Mrs. Watson stood, putting a hand on the small of her back to ease her stomach and the child that would soon be born. "Where's Linnet, Miranda?" she asked the woman across the fire from her.

"She's playing with the children again." The smaller woman's voice had a clear, English accent, so different from her companion's slurred words.

"Oh, I see her now." Mrs. Watson shielded her eyes from the glare of the setting sun. "If a body didn't know better, you wouldn't be able to tell which was the children and which was Linnet." She watched the girl, holding hands in a circle, no taller than the half-grown children for all her twenty years, a loose dress covering the young curves of her body, the same curves that had sent Mrs. Watson's oldest boy to the Tyler wagon so many times. "You know, Miranda, you and Amos ought to talk to Linnet. It's high time she had some young'uns of her own, 'stead of takin' on everybody else's."

Miranda Tyler smiled. "You're welcome to try, but Linnet has her own mind. Besides, to be honest, I'm not so sure young men are ready to take on the responsibility of my daughter."

Mrs. Watson looked away and gave an embarrassed little laugh. "I'm afraid you're right. Not that there's anything wrong with Linnet, she's certainly pretty enough, but it's just the way she looks at a man, something about the way she stares at him and the way she always seems to be able to take care of herself. Mind if I sit a spell? My back hurts more every minute."

"Certainly, Ellen. Amos set a stool out for me."

The heavy woman sat, knees apart, as she tried to balance her huge stomach. "Now where was I?" She either didn't see or pretended not to see Miranda's frown. "Oh yes, I was talking about Linnet, the way she unnerves men. I did try to talk to her once, tried to explain how men like to feel they're somethin' special. Now look over yonder to Prudie James."

Miranda did as she was told before returning her attention to the pot of beans.

"Now there isn't a time of the day when Prudie isn't surrounded by young men," Ellen continued. "She's not near as much to look at as your Linnet, but she always has the boys. Remember last week when Prudie was stung by a wasp? Four boys ran to help her."