The Bride Thief

Miss Briggeham-induced erection.

With a grimace he adjusted his confining breeches, then all but limped back to the sofa. Lowering himself to the cushion, he grabbed the newspaper and strategically arranged it across his lap. 'Come in.'

A footman entered, extending a silver salver bearing a sealed letter. 'This just arrived, your lordship. The messenger indicated it was urgent and that he would wait for a reply.'

Eric took the letter, his insides freezing when he recognized his name written in Margaret's distinctive, elegant hand. He dismissed the footman with a nod. 'I'll ring when my reply is ready.'

The instant the door closed behind the footman, Eric broke the wax seal. His hands trembled with dread as he unfolded the thick vellum. Had that bastard Darvin dared to hurt her again? If so, he's a dead man.

His heart beating hard, he quickly read the letter.

My dearest Eric,

I am writing to inform you that Darvin is dead, killed Wednesday last during a duel. His younger brother Charles will move into Darvin Manor as soon as his affairs are settled. Charles has indicated I may continue to live here, but I wish to leave as soon as possible. I am hoping the offer you made me still stands and that I might be welcome to stay at Wesley-at least until I can make other living arrangements.

I anxiously await your reply.

Yours, Margaret

The tension slowly eased from Eric's shoulders, and he blew out a long breath. Crossing to the desk, he extracted a piece of stationery bearing the Wesley crest and carefully penned two words to his sister.

Come home.

Sammie sat on her favorite flat rock, her chin resting on her up-drawn knees, her bare feet peeking out from beneath the hem of her comfortable old dark green gown. She contemplated the calm lake water for several seconds, then skimmed a handful of pebbles across the glassy surface. Dozens of rings fanned out, marring the indigo stillness, crisscrossing each other in a watery echo of the myriad emotions rippling through her.

Vivid images of last evening flashed through her mind, filling her with a contradictory combination of elation, disappointment, and embarrassment-emotional ingredients that mixed to create a recipe for aching confusion.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to erase the memory of him… him touching her. Looking at her. Kissing her. Making her feel more alive than she ever had, while never-before-experienced sensations whirled through her, heating her body in that exhilarating way that rendered her breathless. Aching. Burning. Wanting more.

Then the cold slap of disillusionment.

With a groan, she turned her head, resting her cheek against the sun-warmed muslin of her gown. Perhaps 'I' words would be better. I was thinking of luscious… and lovely.

He had flattered her, very much like the false admirers who had spent the last several weeks seeking out her company under one pretext or another to question her about the Bride Thief. Nearly all of them had slathered ridiculous compliments on her, calling her everything from adorable to gorgeous. She'd endured them all, somehow managing not to roll her eyes.

Lovely. Why, oh why, had he called her lovely? It was such a blatant lie. Did he think she didn't know she was as plain as a white wall? But somehow, hearing him utter that single word had had the effect of a bucket of icy water on her, bringing her abruptly, cruelly, to her senses.

Lovely. Yes, Lord Wesley had chosen the very word one of her new admirers, a Mr. Martin, had used to describe her at the very beginning of her newfound popularity. For one insane, surprised, pleased instant, she'd believed the young man… until she'd overheard him an hour later, laughing with another gentleman near the French windows, where she'd stepped outdoors for a breath of much-needed air.

'Homely as a burlap sack, that Miss Briggeham is,' Mr. Martin had said.

'Oh, but I heard you call her 'lovely,'' his companion said with a chuckle.

'And never has a more glaring lie ever passed my lips,' said Mr. Martin. 'Nearly choked me to utter it.'

And now the earl had called her lovely.

A single tear slipped down her cheek, and she impatiently rubbed it away. She simply hadn't expected such falsehoods from him… from the man who had set her foolish heart aflutter almost from the start. She'd thought he was different, but clearly insincere words dripped from his lips as easily as they did from all the others'.

For the first time in a long while, she indulged in the useless exercise of wishing she actually were lovely. The sort of woman to attract the attention of a man like him. She'd ruthlessly buried such futile feelings long ago. It was illogical to waste time wanting the impossible.

A frown pinched her brow as a thought suddenly occurred to her. While she questioned the sincerity of his compliment, there was no doubt that he had actually desired her. She was scientifically aware of the workings of the human body, and there could be no doubt as to the physical evidence of his arousal. Lovely or not, he had desired her. And heaven knows she'd desired him.

Sitting up straight, she pursed her lips and applied logic to the facts. Yes, he'd muttered untrue statements regarding her appearance, but should she fault him for being kind? Polite? Heavens, what was the man supposed to say? That she resembled a toad?

Until last evening, no man had ever indicated he desired her. Wanted to kiss her. Touch her. But this man had. And God help her, she wanted him to desire her again. She'd never dared hope that she might feel a man's passion. This might well be her only chance to ever experience an adventure her heart had always secretly yearned for-to know a man. In every way a woman could.

Could she truly contemplate becoming Lord Wesley's lover? Her heart skipped a beat and heat suffused her. Yes. This is my chance to experience something I've always dreamed of. Passion. With a man who sets my blood on fire.

Of course, marriage was out of the question. Lord Wesley would never consider marrying someone like her. He would marry a diamond of the first water. A fresh, young, malleable miss from the peerage, who possessed a beautiful face and a dowry to match. But his physical reaction last evening clearly indicated he was not adverse to making love to her.

Making love. The adventure of a lifetime. Her eyes drifted closed, and a long sigh escaped her. She'd always dreamed of adventure, but since her abduction by the Bride Thief, it seemed as if the floodgates had opened. Her previous vague yearnings had blossomed into deep aches of want. Yes, her work in the Chamber fulfilled her, but as she'd grown older, she'd recognized that although her mind was satisfied, something inside her wanted more. And she knew exactly what she wanted.

Lord Wesley.

She pressed her hands to her stomach to calm its wild fluttering. Lord Wesley's lover. Dear God, did she dare? Every long-suppressed desire inside her screamed yes!

But there was much to consider. Certainly much discretion would be needed to avoid a scandal for herself as well as her family. And what if she became with child? Even though their affair might remain secret, she couldn't very well hide a child. Of course, there were ways to prevent pregnancy. While she didn't know what they were, surely one of her sisters would. Best to only ask one of them, however. The fewer people she involved in her plan in any way, the better. Perhaps Lucille would be best. She always knew all the London gossip and seemed particularly fascinated by wicked liaisons. I'll claim I merely wish to know for scientific research. Certainly Lucille would never suspect I want the information because I intend to take a lover.

A thrill of exhilaration zinged through her at the prospect of such an adventure. She wanted to discover the ways of passion… and at no one else's hands but his. Heavens, his kiss had nearly dissolved her knees. What would it be like to share further intimacies with him? Caress each other… join their bodies? She didn't know, but she desperately wanted to find out.

Would she find herself in his arms again? If so, she would make the most of the opportunity. She'd allow her desires… and his… to lead her.

The snap of a breaking stick startled her. She turned around and heat flashed through her.

Lord Wesley stood directly behind her.