The Bride Thief

She regarded him with pleased surprise. 'Precisely. Hubert quite worships the man.'

'My telescope is a Herschel.'

'A Herschel? Oh!' She pushed her spectacles higher on her nose and gazed at him with an awed expression. 'It must be wonderful.'

'Indeed it is,' Eric agreed. 'I was fortunate enough to meet Sir William several years ago, and purchased it directly from him.'

'Heavens, you've actually met him?'

'Yes. Fascinating fellow.'

'Oh, he must be! His theory of binary star systems is utterly brilliant.' Her entire face lit up as if he'd just presented her with a handful of pearls… or rather, stars. 'Tell me, can you see Jupiter with your Herschel?'

'Yes.' Ducking his head to avoid the hanging leaves, he joined her under the shady tree. 'And last evening I observed several falling stars as well.'

'As did I! Were they not marvelous?'

Nodding his agreement, he said, 'They remind me of diamonds, streaking across the heavens, leaving a trail of jewel dust in their wake.'

She smiled at him. 'A very poetic description, my lord.'

Captured by her enchanting smile, he took several steps closer to her. 'And how would you describe them, Miss Briggeham?'

She didn't answer right away. Rather, she tipped her head back against the tree trunk and looked up at the ribbons of blue sky visible through the veil of willow leaves. 'Angels' tears,' she finally said, her voice soft. 'I watch the stars fall and wonder who in heaven is weeping, and why.' She lowered her gaze back to him, and his throat tightened at her wistful expression. 'Why do you suppose an angel would cry?'

'I can't imagine.'

The hint of a self-conscious smile flashed over her lips. 'Angels' tears. Completely unscientific and illogical, I know.'

'Yet a very apt, clear description. The next time I see a falling star, I too shall wonder if there's an angel who weeps.'

Their gazes locked for the space of several heartbeats, and he swore some manner of invisible spark all but crackled in the air between them.

Did she feel it as well? Before he could decide, she averted her gaze and said, 'I cannot wait to tell Hubert that you've met Sir William Herschel, and that you own one of his telescopes.' A smile touched her lips. 'Of course, perhaps I'd best not tell him. If I do, he'll ask you a thousand questions. And whichever ones he might not think of, I will.'

'I'd be pleased to answer them,' he assured her, surprised that he meant it. 'I've no one who shares my interest in astronomy. In fact, perhaps you and Hubert would like to come to Wesley Manor to see my Herschel?'

Her eyes widened behind her glasses, and he clenched his hands to keep from plucking those spectacles from her face.

'Hubert would all but expire from the excitement, my lord,' she said, her voice breathless.

'And you, Miss Briggeham… would you also all but expire?'

'Indeed,' she said, her expression perfectly serious. 'I never thought to have such a rare opportunity.'

'Excellent.' He looked toward the glimpses of cloudless, azure sky visible through the leaves. 'It looks as if tonight might be clear. Are you free this evening?'

'Well, yes, but are you certain…?' Her voice trailed off and she sent him a searching look.

'You appear quite astonished at my invitation, Miss Briggeham. And here I thought 'a' words were to be used to describe me.'

Amusement flickered in her eyes at his teasing words, then she smiled-a shy, pleased smile that for some ridiculous reason set his heart thumping.

'I assure you,' he said, 'I'd enjoy having you and Hubert as my guests this evening.'

'In that case, my lord, I can only thank you for your most 'agreeable' invitation. Hubert… and I… shall look forward to it.'

'Excellent. I'll send my carriage for you. Shall we say at eight?'

'That would be lovely. Thank you.'

He watched her full lips form the words, his attention fixed on that fascinating freckle gracing the corner of her mouth. Her lips puckered when she said 'you'… as they might if she were about to be kissed.

Kissed. The word slammed into him like a punch to the gut. Bloody hell, her mouth was incredible. The most kissable he'd ever seen. Awareness pulsed through him, and those moist lips beckoned him like a siren's call. The urge to touch that alluring mouth with his own, just once, for an instant, overwhelmed him, overriding his normally fine-tuned common sense.

Like a man in a trance, he walked slowly toward her. She watched him, her eyes growing rounder with each step he took. When he paused directly in front of her, she looked up at him with confusion.

He braced one arm on the willow's trunk, next to her shoulder, and allowed his gaze to roam over her. His nearness obviously unnerved her, a fact that shouldn't have pleased him, but did. Clearly he was not the only one experiencing this… whatever it was.

Her magnified eyes reflected uncertainty, and her cheeks bloomed with color. Her pulse beat visibly at the base of her delicate throat, and her chest rose and fell with her increasingly rapid breaths. Her delicious scent filled his head, and he leaned closer to better capture that elusive fragrance.

'You smell like… porridge,' he said softly.

She blinked twice, then her lips twitched. 'Why, thank you, my lord. However, I'd best warn you that such flowery words might swell my head.'

His brows pulled down. Had he just compared her to porridge? How did this woman manage to strip him of all his finesse? Unable to stop himself, he leaned closer, until only several inches separated them.

Breathing deeply, he murmured, 'Porridge with honey drizzled over it. My favorite morning meal.' His lips hovered a breath away from the fragrant curve of her neck. 'Warm. Sweet. Delicious.'

He inhaled once more, and his entire body tingled. God, she smelled good enough to eat. The desire pulsing through him was so strong, so unexpectedly heated, it smacked him like a brick to the head, rousing him from his stupor. What the hell are you doing? He'd clearly taken leave of his senses.

Beating back his desire, he pushed himself away from her, backing up several steps. Damn it, he hadn't even touched her, yet his breath puffed from his lungs as if he'd run a mile. And one look at her confirmed that she was as affected as he. Her eyes were aqua saucers, staring at him in dazed wonderment. Rapid breaths whooshed from her slightly parted lips, her chest rising and falling in a way that drew his gaze to her ample curves. He barely managed to swallow the groan that rose in his throat.

Why hadn't he kissed her? Simply pressed their lips together, taken a quick taste to satisfy his curiosity, and been done with it? Obviously because his common sense had come back to life and reminded him that Miss Briggeham was a respectable young woman, not one to be trifled with. But just as his common sense had spoken up, so now did his pesky inner voice. You didn't kiss her because you know, deep down, that a quick taste wouldn't be enough.

Bloody hell. Best to leave now, before he did something he'd regret. Like take her up on the almost irresistible invitation he doubted she realized glowed in her eyes. Forcing himself to take several more steps backwards, he offered her a formal bow. 'I must go,' he said, managing to ignore the beguiling blush that colored her silky cheeks. 'But I shall see you this evening.'

A frown yanked at his brows. Perhaps having her in his home was not a wise idea. But he instantly pushed aside the worry. They would be properly chaperoned by her brother, and surely he'd have no problem resisting whatever mild attraction he felt for her. Whatever odd notion had come over him moments ago was gone, and he was totally in control of himself. Miss Briggeham was perfectly safe with him.

She pushed her glasses higher on her nose and cleared her throat. ' 'Til this evening,' she said in a calm voice that somehow irked him. Of course, he had sounded perfectly calm… but he hadn't expected her to.