The Bride Thief

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Briggeham,

I write this note for the purpose of allaying your fears for your daughter Samantha. Rest assured she is perfectly safe and no harm shall come to her at my hands. I've simply given Samantha the opportunity for freedom, for a life of her own, without the prospect of having to marry a man she doesn't wish to wed. I hope you will find it in your hearts to wish her the happiness she deserves.

The Bride Thief

Cordelia's gaze fixed on the signature, her thoughts in turmoil.

The Bride Thief.

The most notorious, sought-after man in England had absconded with her baby.

'Dear God, Charles. We must call the magistrate.'

Lightning flashed, followed by a clap of thunder that rattled the cottage windows. Seconds later rain splattered against the roof. Eric smothered an oath. The last thing he needed was a storm to delay his and Miss Briggeham's departure from the cabin.

Reaching down his hand, he whispered in his Bride Thief voice, 'Please allow me to assist ye to your feet.'

She cast his hand a baleful glare. 'I can manage on my own, thank you.' Keeping a wary eye on him, she rose to her feet.

He studied her as she brushed dust from her plain gown, then hastily adjusted her bonnet, shoving several tangled curls beneath the material. She was petite, the top of her head rising no higher than his cravat. The little he could see of her disheveled hair under the bonnet appeared thick and glossy. With the room illuminated by only the low-glowing fire, it was impossible to distinguish her exact eye color, but they were pale-blue, he'd guess-and very large in comparison to her small features. Except her lips, which, like her eyes, seemed too big for her face. While she could not be described as beautiful, he found her face, with those too-large eyes and too-full lips, intriguing.

His gaze wandered down her form and his brows rose beneath his mask. Quite the curvaceous piece, this Miss Briggeham. Even her dowdy gown could not hide the generous swell of her breasts. His gaze dipped lower, and he wondered if her hips matched the ripeness of her bosom.

The thought slapped him like a pail of cold water in the face. Bloody hell, man, get hold of yourself. You've got to get the chit home without getting hanged for your trouble.

Snapping his gaze back to her face, he saw she regarded him with clear suspicion. 'I demand to know what you plan to do with me.'

He had to admire her show of bravery. The only thing that ruined it was the rapid rise and fall of her chest. 'Fear not, lass. I shall return ye home to the bosom of your family.'

A bit of the wariness left her eyes. 'Excellent. I'd like to leave immediately, if you don't mind. I've no doubt my family is concerned.'

Eric glanced toward the window. ' 'Tis raining. We'll wait a few minutes to see if it passes.'

'I'd prefer to leave now.'

'As would I, but I want to get ye home in one piece.' To ease the tension in her stance, he added, 'I'll strike a bargain with ye. We'll stay here for another quarter hour. If the rain hasn't let up by then, we'll leave regardless.'

'How do I know you're telling the truth?'

'You've my word of honor, lass.'

An unladylike snort escaped her. 'Coming from a man named 'Thief,' I'm not certain that's a comfort.'

'Ah, but surely you've heard there is honor even amongst thieves, Miss Briggeham.' Bending his knees, he settled himself on the floor, scooting back until he leaned against the wall. 'Come sit by me and we'll have a chat,' he invited in his husky brogue, patting the space next to him. 'I promise not to bite. As long as we're stuck here for a wee bit, we might as well be comfortable.'

When she hesitated, he rose, then walked to the opposite side of the fireplace. Pulling the fire poker from the brass stand, he held it out to her. 'Here. Take this if it will make ye feel safer.'

She squinted first at the poker, then at him. 'Why would you give me a weapon?'

'As a show of faith and trust, lass. I took ye by mistake and it's back to your home I'll bring ye. In all honesty, have I hurt ye in any way?'

'No. But you frightened me half to death.'

'I'm truly sorry.'

'I also lost my spectacles during the fray, and dropped my pouch.'

'Again, I offer my sincerest apologies.' He indicated the poker with a nod. 'Take it. I give ye permission to cosh me should I attempt to harm ye.'

Sammie ignored the hint of amusement lacing his voice and snatched the poker from his outstretched hands. Stepping hastily back, she gripped the warm brass tightly, ready to render him senseless if he didn't keep his word. Instead of pouncing on her, however, he merely lowered his tall frame to the floor, propped his back against the wall, and watched her.

Sammie held the poker and pondered what to do next. Rain slashed against the windows and she had to admit that attempting to make their way through the woods in the rainy darkness was not a wise idea.

But how could she possibly consider trusting him? True, he'd given her the poker, but he no doubt believed he could disarm her should she attack him. Drawing a deep breath, she forced her thoughts to align in logical order.

The Bride Thief. She searched her memory and realized that she might have heard mention of such a person, but as she almost always turned a deaf ear to the gossip that her sisters and Mama delighted in, she couldn't be certain. Still, now that she thought upon it, the name did sound vaguely familiar.

Surely her best course of action was to engage him in conversation. Perhaps she could glean some information that would help her decide if he could be trusted-or clues that would assist the authorities.

Still gripping the poker, she sat on the floor on the opposite side of the empty room, then squinted at the blurry black blob that was her abductor. Keeping her tone light, she asked, 'Tell me, Mr., ah, Thief, have you stolen many reluctant brides?'

A deep chuckle emanted from the black blob. 'Aye, 'tis a blow to my pride, to be sure, that ye've truly never heard of me. I've helped more than a dozen brides, lass. Unfortunate women, each one on the brink of being forced to marry against her will.'

'If you don't mind me asking, how exactly do you 'help' them?'

'I provide them with passage to the Continent or to America, and with enough funds to establish them in their new life.'

'That must be quite costly.'

She fancied that he shrugged. 'I've enough funds.'

'I see. Do you steal those as well?'

Again he chuckled. 'Suspicious sort, aren't ye? No, lass, I've no need to rob anyone of their baubles or gold sovereigns. The money I give is my own.'

Sammie couldn't hide her surprise. Heavens, what manner of man was he? After taking a moment to assimilate his words, she nodded slowly. 'I believe I'm beginning to understand. You're rather like Robin Hood, only instead of robbing jewels, you steal brides. And instead of giving monetary spoils to the poor, you offer the gift of freedom.'

'I never thought of it quite like that, but yes.'

Realization dawned and Sammie's breath puffed out. 'And you were prepared to offer that gift of freedom to me… to save me from marrying Major Wilshire.'

'Indeed I was. But clearly you're a lass of strong convictions and took care of the problem on your own.' He muttered something that sounded suspiciously like if only I'd known I'd have saved myself a bloody lot of trouble, but she couldn't be sure. 'Tell me, lass, why did ye not wish to marry the Major?'

Heavens, a full explanation could take hours. Clearing her throat, she said, 'We've little in common and would