The Lady's Tutor
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Cowards sleep alone, night after night…Cowards do nothing, not women.

Married young to a man hand-picked by her father, Elizabeth Petre is an ideal Victorian lady.  She has borne two sons and endured sixteen years of selfless duty in a passionless marriage.  Craving a man’s loving touch yet loyal to her wedding vows, Elizabeth is determined to seduce her coldly indifferent husband.  She knows of only one man who can teach her the erotic arts of love…The bastard son of an English countess and an Arab sheik, Ramiel Devington was reared to embrace both Western culture and Eastern pleasure.  Scorned by society and challenged by prim Elizabeth’s request, he undertakes her instruction in the art of sensual delight.  But when the lessons become a temptation neither can resist, Elizabeth is forced to choose between obligation and forbidden passion…

Praise for The Ladys Tutor

Takes the reader on a sweeping adventure into the very heart of sensuality and the nature of passion. ~RT Book Reviews Top Pick

Takes the reader on a sweeping adventure into the very heart of sensuality and the nature of passion. ~RT Book Reviews Top Pick

The Lady’s Tutor is a beautifully written and original story that takes its cues from no one. ~All About Romance

The Lady’s Tutor is a beautifully written and original story that takes its cues from no one. If you need a comparison it has more in common with Anthony Trollope’s Palliser novels (which follow the career of a Chancellor of the Exchequer and Prime Minister in Victorian England) or D.H. Lawrence’s Lady Chatterly’s Lover (for its daring portrayal of women’s sexuality in a repressed time) than any recent romance novel. I swallowed it whole, sat up til 2:00 AM and would have been up until 4:00 if I’d been able. This is one terrific book. ~All About Romance

Eroticism with a difference. [The Lady’s Tutor] is intelligent, refined, never harsh or distasteful. ~The Romance Reader

Eroticism with a difference. [The Lady’s Tutor] is intelligent, refined, never harsh or distasteful. Some parts even have an elegant feel. [Schone] doesn’t give us sex for sex’s sake, but each interlude builds to a wonderful level of trust and awakening. We’re given dialog that’s more erogenous than some love scenes I’ve read. If you’ve read some well-known authors and have been dissatisfied, then be prepared for romantic erotica the way it should be written. ~The Romance Reader

Robin Schone singlehandedly brought the word clitoris to the [romance] business. ~Author Susie Bright

Robin Schone singlehandedly brought the word clitoris to the [romance] business, and it’s just never been the same. ~Susie Bright

The Lady’s Tutor Excerpt

Now, tell me again what you want, he murmured silkily.

She did not flinch at the smell of brandy and perfume and sweat and sex that he reeked of.

I want you to teach me how to give a man pleasure, she repeated calmly, tilting her head back that she might meet his gaze.

She did not stand more than five feet three inches tall—she had a long way to look up.

Mrs. Elizabeth Petre had very white skin, the prized white that on an Arabian auction block represented a woman’s bondage. She was not young. Ramiel judged her to be in her early thirties. Faint lines radiated outward from the corners of pale hazel eyes. The face lifted up to his was more round than oval, the nose more pug than aquiline, and her lips were too thin. Her pupils were dilated, but otherwise her face was devoid of the fear that she surely must be feeling.

A muscle ticked in his jaw. And what makes you think I am capable of teaching you such a feat, Mrs. Elizabeth Petre?

Because you are the— She briefly faltered over his nickname, the Bastard Sheikh, bold enough to blackmail him for sex but not bold enough to call him a bastard to his face.

Because you are the only man who— Nor could she finish that sentence, that he was the only man in England reputed to have been given a harem on his thirteenth birthday.

She notched her chin up higher. Because I overheard a … a woman say that if husbands had only half of your skill, there would not be an unfaithful wife in all of England.

Ramiel’s savagery erupted into biting sarcasm. Then send me your husband, madam, and I will instruct him on how to keep you faithful.

Elizabeth Petre’s lips tightened in a spasm of emotion—fear, anger, it was impossible to tell by looking at her; the woman had a face like a sphinx. I see that you will leave me no pride. Very well. I love my husband. It is not he who needs instruction on how to prevent me from straying, but, rather, the opposite. I do not desire to bed you, sir. I only want you to teach me how to give my husband pleasure so that he will bed me.

All the heat in Ramiel’s body dissipated.

You do not care to be dirtied by the hands of an Arab, Mrs. Petre? he asked softly, dangerously.

I do not care to be unfaithful to my husband, she replied evenly.

Ramiel’s nostrils flared with reluctant admiration. Elizabeth Petre did not lack courage.

There were rumors that the Chancellor of the Exchequer had a mistress.

Edward Petre was a commoner. Were he of the peer, society would not be interested in his extramarital affairs, but his voters were the middle class and the middle class expected their political representatives to be as sternly moral as was their queen.

No doubt Elizabeth Petre was more concerned over the potential loss of her husband’s career than she was of losing his services in the bedroom.

“Women who love their husbands do not ask strangers to teach them how to please a man, he said caustically.

No, cowards who love their husbands do not ask strangers to teach them how to please a man. Cowards sleep alone, night after night. Cowards accept the fact that their husbands take their pleasure with another woman. Cowards do nothing, not women.”

Cowards echoed in the sudden silence.

Short, quick spurts of gray mist warmed Ramiel’s face—her breath. Long, even spurts of gray mist mingled with hers in the winter-chilled air—his breath.

Elizabeth Petre blinked rapidly.

For one timeless moment Ramiel thought she batted her lashes in a gauche parody of flirtation; then he saw the sheen of tears filming her eyes.

I refuse to be a coward. She squared her shoulders. The motion elicited a creak of whalebones—a corset too tightly laced. Therefore, once again I ask you to teach me how to give a man pleasure. 

The Lady’s Tutor Series

Did You Know? …
The Lady’s Tutor is a NPR Swoon-Worthy Romance!