The Bride Thief

in deliberately keeping their pace at a near crawl to counteract Miss Briggeham's not-as-subtle-as-she-believed attempts to hurry him along. Noting Hubert was far enough ahead of them not to be able to hear their conversation, the devil inside him prompted him to say, 'You didn't want me to join you. May I ask why?'

She turned quickly, peering at him through her thick spectacles before turning her attention once more to the path in front of them. When she didn't answer for several long seconds, he prompted, 'Tell me. Do not fear you will hurt my tender feelings. I'm quite impervious to verbal barbs, I assure you.'

'Very well, my lord. Since you insist, I shall be perfectly blunt. I don't believe I like you.'

'I see. And therefore you do not relish the thought of my company.'

'Precisely.'

'I must say, Miss Briggeham, I don't believe anyone has ever said such a thing to me before.'

She sent him an arch, sidelong glance. 'I find that very difficult to believe, Lord Wesley.'

He should have been appalled at her temerity-and at the unmistakable insult that was only slightly tempered by the glint of deviltry in her eyes. Instead, he was unexpectedly amused.

'Hard to believe or not, I'm afraid it's true,' he said. 'In fact, so many people so often make it a point to tell me how much they like me and enjoy my company, I often find myself suspicious of their motives. I find it rather refreshing that you think I'm…'

'Annoying?' she supplied in a helpful tone.

'Exactly. However, since your brother's invitation forces you to endure my company for a bit longer, I propose we call a truce of sorts.'

'What do you mean?'

'Clearly any mention of the Bride Thief raises your hackles, and believe it or not, it distresses me to be thought of as an annoyance.'

She turned toward him and cocked a brow. 'You did ask for the truth, my lord. And I cannot imagine that my opinion of you would affect you one way or another.'

You're right. It shouldn't. But damn it, for some inexplicable reason, it does.

Before he could reply, she continued, 'So am I to understand that this truce you are proposing would require you not to express your opinions about the Bride Thief, and me to refrain from calling you annoying?'

'You've summed it up quite nicely, Miss Briggeham.'

Unmistakable mischief glinted in her eyes. 'May I continue to think of you as annoying?'

'Of course. However, you should be aware that by doing so, you present me with an irresistible challenge.'

'Indeed? What is that?'

'Why, the need to prove you wrong, of course.'

Laughter erupted from her lips, and her eyes twinkled up at him. 'Do you think there's any chance of that?'

He clutched his hand over his heart. 'You wound me, Miss Briggeham, I'll have you know I'm rarely wrong. In fact, now that I think upon it, I don't believe I have ever been wrong.'

She made a tsk-ing sound and shook her head. 'Dear me. Annoying and arrogant. So many words beginning with 'a' to describe one man. And that is just the start of the alphabet.'

'There are other 'a' words one might use, such as-'

'Aggravating?'

He sizzled a mock frown at her. 'I was going to say 'amiable.''

A noise that could only be described as a snort escaped her. 'If it is any consolation, I'm certain most people think you are, my lord.'

'Yet, I distinctly recall you telling me last evening that you are not most people.'

'I fear that is true.'

A grin tugged at his lips. 'Well, then, I shall simply have to change your mind and make you see the error of your ways.'

She laughed, a delightful sound that spread warmth through him. 'You're welcome to try.'

'See how well our truce is working? Already you've issued me an invitation.' He paused, drawing them to a stop, and gazed down at her. The sunlight coaxed deep reds and burnished golds from her hair, and her eyes sparkled from her laughter.

His gaze moved downward, settling on her extraordinary mouth and that alluring freckle dotting the corner of her upper lip. The warmth her laughter had inspired, instantly turned to heat.

'Here's to our truce,' he murmured. Taking her hand, he raised it to his lips and lightly kissed her fingers. The scent of honey filled his senses, and he barely resisted the overwhelming desire to touch his tongue to her skin to see if she tasted as sweet as she smelled. Their eyes met, and he watched all vestiges of humor slowly ebb from hers, as he continued to hold her hand a hairsbreadth away from his lips.

Surprise flashed across her features, then turned to confusion that painted her cheeks a delightful rose. Her skin looked petal soft, and his fingers suddenly itched with the need to feel that beckoning smoothness. With his free hand, he reached out, slowly, like a man in a trance, toward that enticing blush-hued skin. Her eyes widened and her breath caught, an utterly feminine sound that charmed him.

'Are you coming, Sammie?' Hubert's voice boomed from just beyond the rose hedges.

Miss Briggeham gasped and stepped back, snatching her hand from his grasp as if he'd burned her. 'Yes,' she called, in a slightly breathless voice. Clasping her hands tightly in front of her, she indicated the path with a jerk of her head. 'This way, Lord Wesley.'

Eric fell into step beside her, his height allowing him to match her brisk strides without much effort. He made no attempt to offer her his arm, instinctively knowing she wouldn't accept it, and not at all certain he should touch her again anyway. The woman had the oddest effect on his senses.

Damn it all, the desire to touch her had nearly overridden his common sense. What the devil was wrong with him? He wasn't here to court Samantha Briggeham. He merely wanted to ensure she wasn't hatching some crazy scheme to aid the Bride Thief. And while she was clearly protective of the man, a fact that oddly pleased him, she was also obviously an intelligent, logical young woman. There was no need for him to be concerned about her welfare. In fact, as soon as he finished looking at the telescope, he would take his leave.

Sammie carefully observed Lord Wesley as Hubert conducted a tour of his Chamber of Experiments for their guest, waiting to see any signs of boredom or ridicule directed toward her brother.

Instead, his lordship appeared fascinated by Hubert's Chamber and its vast array of glass beakers, jars, and experiments in progress. He asked Hubert dozens of questions, intelligent questions, she had to admit. Clearly the man possessed not only an interest but a knowledge of chemistry. And he never once looked askance at Hubert or spoke to him in a tone that suggested he thought either her brother or his laboratory odd. In fact, no matter how she looked at it, his lordship was acting in a way that could only be described as…

Amiable.

Her brow collapsed in a frown. Blast it all, she did not want to find the man amiable. She much preferred to think of him as annoying and arrogant. But seeing him bend over to apply his eye to Hubert's microscope, then look up at the boy with a grin creasing his handsome face, she couldn't deny that another 'a' word to describe Lord Wesley was… attractive.

'Sammie, why don't you show Lord Wesley your section, where you prepare your honey and beeswax lotions?'

Hubert's question jerked her from her disturbing musing, and she pressed her hands over her stomach to quiet the jitters fluttering through her insides. As much as her scientific nature urged her to join the gentlemen across the room, her feminine instincts warned her to stay where she was, as far away from Lord Wesley as she could be while they stood in the same room.

Forcing a smile, she pointed toward the far corner of the room and said, ' 'Tis nothing exciting to see, my lord. Just those burners, pots and molds, and my few remaining jars of honey.'

'She is being modest, Lord Wesley,' Hubert said. 'Sammie is a first-rate scientist and teacher as well. Indeed, she sparked my interest in my own studies, and she is my greatest source of encouragement and inspiration. Her experiments with creams and lotions are fascinating, and she may soon see a breakthrough.'