Edmund Lindsey held the glass of ratafia, frowning as he searched for any sign of Joanna Lennox in the ballroom. He'd gotten used to finding her quickly in a crowd over the last few months. She was taller than most ladies, and her pale-blonde hair was like a shining beacon beneath the chandeliers."Lindsey, you continue to disappoint me," a cold voice said from behind him. Edmund spun to face a handsome aristocrat with dark hair and even darker eyes. The man had appeared from a shadowed corner of the ballroom, unseen by the nearby guests. Edmund glanced about, expecting to spot a door or some pathway to explain the man's sudden appearance, but there was no such place from which he could have emerged. It reminded him of just how skilled the man was and that he was not to be trifled with."Sir Hugo." He bowed his head at the man who had been sending him his orders for the last three months. Those orders had been clearthat he must seduce and marry Joanna Lennox. How he had found himself
Joanna slipped into the silent, still house. Everyone was likely still at the ball. Her shoulders dropped in relief. She would have some time alone to collect herself after the disaster she'd created after that last dance with Brock. She thanked the footman who met her at the door and snuck down to the kitchens where their cook, Mrs. Copeland, was kneading some bread for the next day. The cook's dark-brown hair, streaked with gray, was tucked beneath a white cap, and her cheeks were red with her exertions as she kneaded dough on a counter."Miss Joanna!" The cook grinned and retrieved a small wet cloth to wipe the flour off her hands before she hugged Joanna. Mrs. Copeland was like a favorite aunt to her. She'd always taken good care of the Lennox children and had been their cook for more than fifteen years."Mrs. Copeland, do you have any peach tarts?" Joanna glanced about the tidy kitchen, hoping to find at least a little something to eat before bed. She, like some ladies, was ofte
Brock woke late, the sun pouring through the sash windows of his bedchamber. He rather liked the multipaned glass of the windows. They were commonplace in England, but not back home. He blinked, bleary-eyed, as he remembered he was not in Scotland. He was in England for Rosalind's wedding. He winced as he remembered last night at the ball. Joanna. She'd slapped him, and then he'd tossed her into a coach and almost brought her here to this residence.If Rosalind ever found out what he had tried to do, she would toss him and his brothers out on their ears. She had helped him and their two younger brothers, Brodie and Aiden, secure this townhouse. She called it decent. He called it extravagant. It would indeed have been a fine place to bring Joanna last night, but alas, he'd decided against compromising her to get what he wantedher as his wife.Brock lay still, staring up at the dark green brocade canopy of the expensive bed he'd slept in. The furnishings were new and fashionable, the h
This was madness. Joanna knew she ought to protest, to push Brock away, but all she could hear was her mother and brother's conversation from the previous night, haunting her. Her melancholy thoughts soon faded beneath the hum of her blood under her skin as she surrendered to Brock's kiss.She was not wanted, not desiredyet here was a man who did want her. He not only wanted her but he wanted to know her. And she wanted to know him, this quiet, brooding man who showed her a world of passion whenever he touched her. Perhaps lust could turn to love given enough time?She closed her eyes as their mouths met in a soft, slow kiss. She gripped his massive shoulders, admiring the way he stretched the coat he wore. He towered over her and she couldn't help but feel small and delicate, in a purely feminine way that she liked immensely.The gentlemen at the ball last night were nothing compared to him. He moved with a masculine, nonchalant grace that spoke of years of working every part of hi
Brock watched the rain droplets travel down the glass window of the coach as he and Rosalind rode toward the chapel in Hampshire. She looked resplendent in her fine gown as she laced and unlaced her fingers nervously. Brock reached over and covered her hands with one of his."You don't have to do this, Rosalind. I can help you escape."She laughed, her eyes suddenly brightening. "I want to do this, Brock. I have no doubts about marrying Ashton. I am feeling nervous, though. What if he changes his mind? What if he does not want me?""If he tries to flee the church, Brodie, Aiden, and I will hunt him down." He smiled as he said this, but he was completely serious. He'd be more than happy to drag that blond bastard down the aisle at pistol point to wed Rosalind if that's what she wanted."I'm sure that won't be necessary." Rosalind chuckled but then grew serious. "I heard you and Ashton quarreled yesterday during the tea. What did you fight about?"Brock slid a finger under his colla
Joanna stared at the bag on her bed. The leather had been oiled by one of the footmen so as to prevent rain from soaking into it and damaging any of the bag's contents."Will it do, miss?" her maid asked. Julia had talked discreetly to one of the footmen she knew, asking him for a bag that would travel well during poor weather. The young man had smartly insisted on preparing the bag for any rain, and Joanna had been incredibly grateful."I think so." Joanna's heart gave a nervous flip as she opened the bag's mouth wider so she could review the contents again. Three days' worth of dresses with ankle-length skirts to avoid mud and dust from the road, and one riding habit, which she'd wear tonight along with her best cloak. Even though it was a warm summer, rain could make anyone cold. Two pairs of sensible boots, one pair of black slippers, three fresh pairs of stockings, and two pairs of chemises and petticoats. She could survive with one set of stays until they reached Scotland and b
Brock woke just after dawn. He glanced down the length of his body with a slow smile. Joanna was pressed flush against him, her womanly curves fitting his body in a way that made him tighten with hunger, but he pushed aside the natural arousal that came from holding a beautiful woman in his arms. There would be plenty of time for that later, once they were married. She was still nervous, as was he. He vowed that when he took Joanna to his bed, they would be far more acquainted and comfortable with one another. Soon they would be tied together for the rest of their lives, yet they barely knew each other. Marriages like this were common enough, of course, but Rosalind had been right. He wanted to know his wife, wanted to truly understand her, and he hoped she felt the same about him.He carefully slipped from her arms and wrapped her up in the rest of his coat before he walked away to relieve himself. When he returned to the grove, he untied the horses and took them to the meadow to gra
Joanna screamed and fought against her captor as Brock crumpled to the ground. The man who had struck him tucked his pistol back into his coat."I'm happy to admit I like this bloke better unconscious," the man grumbled, and then he glanced at Joanna, his dark-brown eyes curious."Pretty bird," he commented, still assessing Joanna. She shivered."And not for you." The man who held her now dragged her forcefully into the room behind them and slammed the door shut. She was shoved into a chair by the fire, and her wrists were freed from the rope. Then the man poured her a glass of wine and pushed it into her shaking hands. She took it, staring down at the contents, and started to raise it up to throw it back in his face, but then he spoke."Just drink, Joanna, for God's sake. You've put me through hell tonight."She blinked, her gaze frozen in confusion as the man removed his hat and mask. Her mouth dropped open."Rafe?"Her brother grinned as though a magician had conjured him out