The Bride Thief

safely to the door. I'll lead your mount home when I depart.'

Lady Darvin looked as if she were going to refuse, but then she jerked her head in acquiescence. After saying good-bye, Mr. Straton extended his elbow toward her. Lady Darvin rested her fingertips on his sleeve, and they headed down the path leading toward the stables.

The instant they disappeared from view, Eric grabbed Sammie's hand and tugged her toward the Chamber. Good. She did not want to risk their conversation being overheard. She followed him inside the laboratory. He closed the door behind them, then leaned against the wood, watching her through hooded eyes. She returned his stare, ignoring the heat pulsing through her. How did he manage to affect her so with a mere look? 'Twas most illogical. And most vexing.

He pushed off from the door and approached her slowly, not stopping until only several feet separated them. 'You wished to speak to me?'

Forcing herself to concentrate despite his disturbing nearness, she nodded. 'Concerning what you said to Mr. Straton just now about the Bride Thief.'

'I see. And is the Bride Thief what you and Mr. Straton discussed during his visit?'

'Yes. He made much the same manner of queries as the night I was mistakenly abducted. Naturally I was unable to throw further light on the subject. But about what you said to him regarding helping him to capture the Bride Thief, and offering to make inquiries…'

'Yes?'

Reaching out, she laid her hand over his heart. 'Please do not.' Some emotion she could not identify flashed in his eyes, disappearing as quickly as it had appeared. 'I would not ask you were it not important to me. I know most people believe the Bride Thief is a criminal-'

'He is a criminal, Samantha. Kidnapping is against the law.'

'But he is not kidnapping! He does not force women to go with him. He does not hurt them or demand a ransom. He returned me safely home when he'd realized his error in taking me, at great risk to himself I might add.' She searched his face, dismayed by his cool expression. 'Trust me when I say he is not the brigand people make him out to be. He is honorable and seeks only to help those women he takes. To offer them a choice. I know I have no right to ask you not to aid in his capture, but I'm asking you anyway. Please don't.'

Eric looked at her, her eyes so earnest behind her spectacles, and fear iced his blood. Damn it to hell, didn't she realize the danger she placed herself in by making such a request? What if she asked someone else the same thing and Adam Straton heard of it? What if Straton discovered her involvement in the Bride Thief's last rescue? That she'd purchased a passage to America? The consequences were too horrible to even contemplate. Her family would be utterly destroyed. She would be destroyed. And that would destroy him

Grasping her shoulders, he looked into her eyes and resisted the urge to shake her. 'Samantha. Listen to me. You must leave this matter of the Bride Thief alone. The man is dangerous.'

Blue fire flared in her eyes. 'He is not.'

'He is. His very life is dangerous, in ways you do not understand. There is an enormous price on his head, and anyone around him, anyone who might try to help him could find themselves in danger as well. I want your promise that you shall do nothing to aid him.'

'I am not trying to aid him. I am merely asking that you not assist in capturing him.'

'Do you not see that is helping him, however indirectly?' He tightened his hold on her shoulders. 'Promise me you will leave this matter alone.'

She studied him for several seconds, her gaze searching and serious. 'Will you promise me not to assist the magistrate any further?'

'I cannot make such a promise.'

The hurt and disappointment shimmering from her eyes nearly undid him. 'Then I'm afraid I cannot make any promises to you.'

The trembling finality in her voice struck him like a blow. She attempted to step away from him, but he held on to her shoulders. He couldn't let her go. Not like this.

'Don't you see,' he said, fighting the desperation gnawing at him, 'that I'm concerned for your safety? I cannot stand the thought of you in danger.'

Before she could reply, a distant call came from outside. 'Samantha… where are you?'

Her eyes widened. 'Good heavens, that's Mama. Come quickly.' Pulling from his grasp, she walked swiftly to the door. He followed her outside, closing the Chamber door softly behind him. Samantha led him toward the gardens. They'd barely set foot on the path when Cordelia Briggeham came upon them.

'There you are, dear! And Lord Wesley, too.' She dropped into a curtsy in front of Eric. 'The instant Hubert mentioned you'd stopped by with your sister, I knew I had to find you. You both simply must stay for tea, especially since you begged off during your last visit.' She craned her neck around. 'Where is Lady Darvin?'

'I'm afraid you just missed her,' Eric said, injecting just the right amount of regret into his voice. 'She was fatigued from her long journey and returned home to rest.' Knowing he was trapped into staying, he commanded his mouth to smile and extended his elbow. 'I, however, would be delighted to take tea with you.'

Mrs. Briggeham's sharp gaze bounced swiftly between him and Samantha, then she smiled. 'Well, that would be lovely, wouldn't it?'

If the heaviness dragging on his heart was any indication, he suspected that 'lovely' was most likely not going to be the case.

Adam's curricle moved slowly along the tree-lined path. Sunlight dappled through the leaves, casting shadows that cooled the afternoon warmth. The only sound breaking the silence was the twittering of birds and the faint squeak of the leather seat. From the corner of his eye, he stole a glance at his passenger, trying his damnedest to think of something, anything, to say to her, but his tongue remained as tied as a knotted string.

By God, she was lovely. He had not laid eyes on her in five years. Five years, two months, and sixteen days. He wouldn't have believed it possible that she could be more beautiful than the image he held in his heart, but she was. Yet he could easily see that the carefree young girl he'd fallen so deeply in love with was gone. Losing her husband had clearly left her bereft.

He inhaled, then pressed his lips tightly together. Damn, she still smelled of roses. In his foolish youth, when he'd tortured himself with useless dreams that an untitled man like him could court an earl's daughter, he'd planted a dozen rosebushes in the corner of his mother's garden. Every year he'd wait impatiently for them to bloom, then he'd sit on the stone garden bench with his eyes closed, breathing in their delicate scent, picturing Lady Margaret's smiling face. After he'd learned she was to marry Lord Darvin, he'd never visited that part of the garden again.

'It is good to be home,' she said, her soft voice breaking through his thoughts.

Relieved that she'd started a conversation, he seized the opportunity to ask, 'How long are you planning to visit?'

'I'm here to stay.'

His heart slammed against his ribs at those four simple words. Elation pumped through him, only to be instantly replaced by dread. He turned toward her and their eyes met. Feelings he'd thought he'd successfully buried rushed through him like a brushfire. Want. Need. And a love so fierce and hopeless it nearly choked him. He hadn't managed to forget her, even after she'd moved to her husband's estate in Cornwall. How could he possibly hope to function normally when she was here? Close enough to see. To touch. Yet never to claim as his own.

Tearing his gaze from hers, he returned his attention to the road. Having her return to Tunbridge Wells would only mean torture for him. The years had changed nothing. He was still a commoner, she a lady. A viscountess.

Realizing the silence between them had grown heavy, he asked, 'Did you enjoy living in Cornwall?'

'I hated it,' she said in such an implacable tone, he turned back to her in surprise, not quite certain how to respond. She stared straight ahead, her face pale, her gloved hands fisted in her lap. 'I used to spend time on the cliffs, looking out at the sea. Wondering…'

'Wondering what?'