The Mammoth Book Of Regency Romance Part 29

It was a generous offer, for she knew he loved England and was at heart a respectable gentleman. She would wager most of the trouble he'd gotten into in his childhood was due to her instigation. Very lightly she touched his lean cheek. "I don't think my wanderl.u.s.t is quite what it once was. Staying home holds a certain appeal and, for your information, riding a camel really isn't all that much fun. They are rather ill-tempered creatures."

He laughed and kissed her, and then the kiss turned molten and his hands were everywhere, caressing, exploring, evoking small tingles of pleasure. And when he joined their bodies and sank deep inside her, she experienced a bliss that wasn't just due to the physical enjoyment of the moment, but also to the poignant way he whispered her name.

That glorious summit rose, the peak promised rapture and, when she gained it and toppled over, she clung to him and quivered in unabashed erotic release, made all the more intense and satisfying when he went rigid and she felt him shudder.

"I suppose I could marry you to foil Lord Bloomfield's malicious revenge," she teased as they lay in damp contentment afterwards, her head pillowed comfortably on his muscular chest. "Though I do have one stipulation."

"Oh? How clever of you to strike a bargain when I am in my current weakened condition." His lazy smile made him more devastatingly handsome than ever. "Do tell."

"You must promise to continue to seduce me."

"I believe I can make that concession." His grin faded and those crystal grey eyes glimmered with a serious light. "I think you know I would give you anything within my power. I've loved you as long as I can remember. It changed, of course, as we got older, but it was always there."

"I think I have always loved you too," Sabrina said slowly, "though I admit I didn't recognize the difference between friends.h.i.+p and romance. You were just you. It's funny to think I didn't see it. After each trip, the moment I return to England, my very first order of business is to see you. Once I do, I am truly home. And when I am away, though it is all exciting and interesting, I miss you and think of you often."

"Picture me here, worrying over what kind of danger you might be in and myself a continent or ocean too far away to help you." His voice held just a hint of a ragged edge and his long fingers smoothed her hair. "It was torment."

It was galling to think she had Lord Bloomfield's devious machinations to thank for her current state of happiness, but in a convoluted way she supposed she did. "If we are going to marry," she said, snuggling even closer, relis.h.i.+ng the feel of Stephen's arm around her, "Lord Bloomfield's petty threat is foiled, but he could still remain vengeful and isn't without influence. I suppose I could loan him the notes needed to finish the paper he has started if he agrees to credit my father as an equal partner."

"That sounds like a reasonable bargain to me." Stephen brushed a kiss across her forehead. "I am, after all, a solicitor. I could draw up a legal doc.u.ment for him to sign."

"You are, as always, quite handy to have around." Sabrina rose up and her smile was deliberately mischievous. "Who would think such a mild-mannered gentleman would make such a marvellous partner in crime? If it wasn't for your skill with the picklock, we would never have been able to steal back the notes."

Without warning, she was tumbled to her back so quickly she gasped.

"Would a mild-mannered gentleman do this?" Stephen demanded teasingly as his fingers did something very, very wicked between her legs. "Besides, as you've pointed out, we didn't steal anything. The notes were yours to begin with."

"But something was stolen that night," Sabrina whispered, drowning in sensation.

"What?" He went very still.

"My heart."

Softly, he kissed her. "Well, do not expect me to give it back."

Her Gentleman Thief.

Robyn DeHart.

Annalise Petty sat primly on the carriage seat, hands folded neatly in her lap. Outwardly, she probably appeared to be the perfect genteel lady, full of grace and peace. But inside, a battle raged. Her heart beat wildly and her stomach felt like a gnarled mess of knots. In two days she would become wife to the most boring, proper man in all of London. A man she had foolishly fancied herself in love with when he'd first begun to court her. Then he'd revealed his true self. Now she knew he was rather indifferent to her and only interested in the business deal the union brokered.

She chewed at her bottom lip. The carriage rumbled along through the dark night. Her parents had already made the journey to Kent, but Annalise and her younger sister, Penny, had stayed behind for one last fitting of the wedding gown. The dress, in layers of cream-coloured gossamer silk, was the finest garment Annalise had ever owned. Her betrothed had purchased her an entire wardrobe of appropriate clothing, which would be delivered to his estate sometime next week. The wedding gown, though, sat neatly in a trunk on the back of the rig.

Hildy, their maid, rested quietly across from them, pretending not to nap, though her level breathing and spontaneous snores betrayed her. Penny sat quietly, her expression blank. Sweet and beautiful Penny. Annalise sighed. This should have been her trip, her wedding gown in the back.

As if her sister had read her mind, Penny placed a gloved hand over Annalise's. "You should be excited," Penny said. "Your grin belies your worry." She smiled warmly. "Relax."

Annalise thought to argue, then nodded. "You know me far too well, sister. I cannot help but think that all of this should be for you. This is your season, your introduction to society."

"And you never had either." She put a hand against her chest. "I am so very happy for you. Your union with Lord Benning has no bearing on my finding a good match. Besides, you are older, you should marry first."

Yes, but Cousin Millicent hadn't offered to sponsor a season for Annalise, and, though her father was an earl, they had no money to provide either a dowry or a proper coming-out. So Annalise had neither, which was fine with her. She had resigned herself to never marrying. But when the opportunity had come along for Penny, well, the entire family had moved in with their distant cousin in the hope of a quick marriage. This had not been what any of them had planned.

At three and twenty, Annalise knew she should consider herself lucky to have found a man willing to marry her. She certainly wasn't unattractive, but she was fles.h.i.+er than most society beauties. Still, she hadn't been properly introduced at Almack's. She'd only gone to London at Penny's request to act as a chaperone of sorts. And as she'd sat in the corner at that first ball, she'd seen the tall, handsome Griffin Hartwell, Viscount Benning moving in their direction. She'd even reached over and squeezed Penny's hand in excitement for her younger sister. Then when the rich baritone voice had asked her to dance and the masculine hand had extended not to Penny, but instead to Annalise, it had been scandalous. She'd wanted to decline, had known it would have been the more appropriate thing to do, but as she'd looked up into his handsome face, all her girlish fantasies had come to life and she'd found herself nodding and extending her own hand.

That one dance had led to three more that evening and had tongues wagging all over London. He'd played proper court to her after that scandalous evening, never once seeking time alone with her and only speaking about her, rarely to her. Her parents had eagerly accepted his offer of marriage and in one afternoon Annalise had gone from the una.s.suming sister to betrothed to a viscount. It wasn't that she didn't want to marry she did but she was foolish enough to long for a marriage with love and warmth. All her life she'd been dutiful and obedient, but her parents had not once asked her how she felt about this union. Nor had Griffin, beyond the polite proposal staged perfectly in front of her entire family. An impossible situation for her to say, "No thank you."

She supposed matters could be worse. Griffin could be old or cruel, and he was neither. Instead he was only a few years her senior and polite and so das.h.i.+ng she had nearly choked on her lemonade the first time he asked her to dance. Then had come the proposal and she'd wondered at her great fortune. It hadn't taken long for her to see the truth. A man so handsome and das.h.i.+ng a man so rich he couldn't possibly want her. He'd only asked for her hand because he wanted some property her father owned. Her lack of dowry hadn't been an issue, so they'd brokered a deal and she was the price. She exhaled loudly, but thankfully did not disturb Hildy.

Suddenly the carriage jerked to a stop. Outside she heard muttering, men's voices. Perhaps they'd lost a wheel or taken a wrong turn. She peeled the curtain away from the window, but in the dark of the night, she could see nothing but outlines of the trees lining the road.

Hildy stirred. "Why are we not moving? Have we arrived?"

"I don't believe so," Annalise said, still trying to make something out of the dark shadows. She placed a hand on Penny's knee to offer comfort.

Then the door flew open. "Out, ladies," a male voice said curtly.

"Out?" Hildy said, clearly outraged. "It's dark. If there is a problem with the carriage, we shall sit here until you fix it."

A masked man stepped in front of the opened carriage door. Annalise noted that most of Penny's form remained hidden in the shadows, so she sat forwards, trying to hide Penny. Her heart slammed against her ribcage.

Good heavens, they were being robbed!

Without thought, Annalise tossed her cloak over her sister. "Stay still," she whispered.

He showed them a small pistol. "I said out."

"Do not leave this carriage," she warned her sister in a whisper. Annalise made haste to climb down the carriage steps. Hildy promptly fainted at the sight of the gun. An excellent chaperone, that one. The lanterns hanging off the carriage afforded her enough light to take in her surroundings. Annalise noted their driver and footman were both blindfolded and tied to a tree.

"Sir, we don't have many valuables with us, but what we do have is yours," Annalise said. "If you would simply let us be on our way." She fought the urge to glance behind her to the carriage. She knew Penny would obey Annalise's instructions and stay hidden.

"Indeed." The masked man came to stand in front of her. If she hadn't known any better, she would have sworn recognition flickered in his eyes. The carriage door remained open and Annalise knew the robber could see Hildy's large body slumped over inside. Eventually the woman would awaken, but for now her silence kept Penny safe and unseen. "You ladies are out quite late this evening."

Annalise bravely looked up to meet the highwayman's gaze and found herself arrested by the most stunningly beautiful green eyes. And were it not for the black silk domino mask obscuring part of his face, she might have forgotten who he was and what was happening. The lantern light flickered off his features and she could clearly see a strong jaw, sculpted lips, a hint of a day's growth of whiskers. It was quite evident that he was devilishly handsome.

The highwayman leaned against the carriage, crossing his feet at the ankles. The pistol dangled from his hand, almost as if he held nothing more than a handkerchief. There was a casual air about him, as if this situation were a perfectly normal occurrence for a Monday evening.

His sensual lips curved into a smile. "And where are you going at this hour?"

"My wedding," she said.

But as the words left her mouth a realization surged through her. After this incident, there would be no wedding. No one here could attest to the fact that this man, this thief, had not ravished her. Hildy had not roused and the other two servants were blindfolded and tied up. There was no one save Penny to vouch for her and, if she were to speak up, she too would be ruined. Simply being stopped by this highwayman was enough to sully her reputation and her virtue. And who was to say he wouldn't ravish her still? But Penny could be saved. She needed only to get Penny to safety.

Before she could further think on the matter, she reached out and placed a hand on the highwayman's chest. "Take me with you," she said.

If she didn't know better, she would have thought he looked affronted. "I beg your pardon," he said.

"Please, I won't be a burden, you can simply take me and drop me off in London," Annalise said. Her heart pounded so rapidly, so loudly, her very ears seemed to vibrate.

One eyebrow rose above his mask. "What of your wedding?"

What to say? There was no reason to tell this man that her fiance was no more interested in her than he was her meagre collection of coloured ribbons. He might even know Griffin though that seemed unlikely considering this man's profession. She did not believe Griffin consorted with such fellows. Though if she didn't know better she would have sworn this man was a gentleman too. The way he spoke, the way he moved there was something utterly genteel about him. But that was foolish. Gentlemen were not thieves. She shook her head. "My parents arranged the marriage. To a dreadful man, boring, priggish and only interested in the land my father offered him."

The highwayman's lips tilted in a slight smile. His head quirked. "So not a love match, then?"

"No, most certainly not," she said. Though she had once thought hoped it might be. She'd been a fool. A mistake she would not make again.

"And you want me to help you run away?" he asked.

She heard stirring in the carriage behind her. She stepped forwards, closer to the highwayman, and nodded. "Yes, please. Help me run away."

He stepped closer, so that he stood but a breath away from her. His gloved fingers ran down her cheek. "Are you not afraid of me?"

She steeled herself, straightened her shoulders to stand taller. This was precisely why she'd had to hide Penny to protect her sister's reputation, but more so to protect her actual virtue. Penny was not a woman most men could resist, with her lithe figure and pale blonde hair. She was a cla.s.sic beauty, unlike Annalise who was rather easy to ignore. It seemed unlikely Annalise would get ravished. "No." She reached into her reticule and pulled out the jewellery she had been given to wear on her wedding day: a lovely pearl and diamond set necklace with matching drop earrings. "I'll pay you." She cupped the jewellery in her hand and held it out to him.

"I am a highwayman in case that has escaped your attention. I would take that regardless," he said with a grin as he pocketed the jewels. He didn't wait for her to answer, instead he leaned over, picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder as if she weighed no more than a child. "You will regret this."

She thought he was probably right, but for some reason she felt no fear, only excitement and expectation. Penny would be safe. Eventually Hildy would awaken and she'd untie their driver and ensure Annalise's sister got home safely. She'd always wanted an adventure. Well, now she'd all but stumbled head first into one. Perhaps her wedding day would not be so dull after all.

Griffin Hartwell breathed in the heady lemony scent of his bride's hair as she sat nestled against him on his mount. The mask he wore itched and p.r.i.c.ked at his skin, but he didn't dare remove it. Not now. Instead he was forced to ponder his situation in physical discomfort. He'd lost a d.a.m.ned wager and because of that he'd ended up out here on this road playing the thief. He was only meant to steal a single piece of jewellery, a piece that would have been mailed back to the rightful owner as soon as he'd returned to London. But as his rotten luck would have it, he'd stopped the carriage carrying his own betrothed and she'd begged him no, not him, the highwayman he was pretending to be to save her from a marriage to a bore. That was what she'd called him. Perhaps it hadn't been poor luck at all, but a boon considering she would have made the same request of an actual thief. No, he could at least ensure she remained safe.

The irony was not lost on Griffin, but he was too addled to enjoy it at the moment. He shouldn't have complied with her wish to take her along, but as he saw it, he didn't have much choice. Her reputation would have already been in shambles simply by being alone in the woods with a highwayman, and since her silly maid had succ.u.mbed to a fit of the vapours, and he'd conveniently tied up the driver and footman, they'd been hopelessly alone. He and his betrothed.

He'd ruined his own would-be bride. He nearly chuckled.

Of course he'd still marry her, convince her parents that he believed her tale of not being ravished. That would work only, though, if she fought for herself. And evidently she had no real desire to marry him. She found him to be a bore. And priggish. And that was an irony even more profound than the first. He'd only pretended to be righteous and proper to prevent further scandal. When he'd first asked her to dance he'd not known she hadn't been properly introduced to society and was only acting as a chaperone to her younger sister. But shock waves had rocked through the ton as they'd danced not once, but four times that night.

She'd been utterly enchanting: charming and witty and easy to converse with. Her laughter had come easily and had been authentic. She'd been sincere, not at all like the pretty, but empty sh.e.l.l that was most marriageable women he'd encountered. Annalise had been different and he'd been intoxicated by her.

It would seem he'd done such a convincing job that he was at the very height of propriety. Annalise was not interested in him in the least. Though he would have sworn that hadn't always been the case.

Her full bottom pressed against his inner thigh stirring his desire. It would have been impossible for her to ride side-saddle, as was customary for ladies, so he'd snuggled her against him, her position mirroring his own. Annalise Petty was a desirable woman. It was why he'd sought her out at the Draper Ball. Why he'd first noticed her in that shop on Bond Street the day before when she'd turned her righteous anger on Lady Henwick and given the matron more than one afternoon's worth of gossip. The woman had had it coming. She'd been ruthless towards Annalise's younger sister. Still Annalise's behaviour was shocking. She'd intrigued him, so different when compared to all the rest of London's marriageable misses. So when he'd seen her the following evening at the ball, he'd been unable to resist crossing the ballroom to ask her to dance. Because of the ensuing scandal, he'd pursued her and had eventually asked her parents for her hand, but that initial attraction had not yet faded for him.

She was lovely, with her large brown eyes and wide mouth, her honey-coloured locks and rounded figure. Griffin loved her fuller curves. Though her modest dresses didn't give too much away, he knew she had lush hips and shapely legs to match her bountiful b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Where some girls had to dampen their petticoats to p.r.o.nounce their a.s.sets, Annalise's figure demanded attention. And he'd imagined every inch of her, and precisely what he would do to her on their wedding night. She would be worth the wait, worth the sacrifice he'd made in not enjoying her company these past few weeks.

If Annalise didn't marry him, his mother would select a bride for him. She'd given him a deadline and he knew, as wonderful as his mother could be, a bride of her choice would not match his own desires. She'd select someone pretty and sweet and demure, and he'd be in for a lifetime of boredom. Much the same as what Annalise clearly expected from him.

Clearly he had only one option. The highwayman who had just abducted Annalise would have to convince her to marry her bore of a fiance. He wouldn't take her to London at all. In fact their current location was rather perfect. There was a small cottage on the edge of his property that would give them safe shelter for the night. The cottage was empty this time of year, generally used as a hunting cottage in pheasant season. It was the perfect place for them to hide and rest until morning light when he could send her on her way to Kent. On her way to their wedding.

He had to convince her she was making a mistake running away. And he'd have to do all of that while keeping his ident.i.ty hidden.

Half an hour later they pulled up to the cottage. It was dark, though Griffin knew it would be well stocked with candles and blankets.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"Looks to be an abandoned cottage," he said. He jumped down from the horse, then helped her to the ground. "We 'll stay here for the night. It's far too late to ride all the way back to London."

"Is this your hiding place? Where you keep all your stolen goods?" she asked, her voice an odd mixture of intrigue and horror.

He led her to the front door, then made a show of breaking the lock to make it appear as if he didn't already know there was a key concealed within the hanging fern. "I have no such hiding place," he murmured.

"Well, I would think as a thief you would need some place such as that," she said. "Unless you are not successful in your wicked endeavours."

He quickly found two candles and lit them. A soft glow permeated the darkness and illuminated the lovely Annalise. He met her gaze. "I can a.s.sure you that when given the opportunity I can be appropriately wicked." He'd imagined this very scenario, only on their wedding night, with her wearing a filmy robe, her golden hair cascading down her back, her feet bare.

Now though she stood before him fully clothed. Her travel gown was basic and brown, with matching boots. While her dress remained intact, her hair was windblown from the ride, the remaining pins still holding her curls but several tresses had escaped and now framed her face. He noted that she wore no cloak or outer garment. "You do not wear a cloak in this chill weather?"

She chewed at her lip and shrugged. "I must have left it in the carriage."

He eyed her. He knew Annalise to be fiery and bold, but never impractical.

"Are you going to take that mask off?" she asked.

His heart thundered. Had she recognized him? He didn't think so, but it was a possibility. The sound of his voice or perhaps his eyes? Any of that could clue her into his true ident.i.ty. They hadn't spent much time together, but she had certainly seen him, stood close to him, had heard him speak. He eyed her, searching her face for signs of recognition, but her blank expression gave him nothing.

"Unless you tell me your name, it is not as if I can lead authorities to you," she reasoned.

So no, she did not recognize him. "No, I'm perfectly comfortable just as I am."

She shrugged. "Very well." She turned around slowly, surveying the cottage. They stood in the seating room, which consisted of three wooden chairs and a worn sofa. She rubbed her arms, obviously chilled.

He made quick work of getting a fire going in the hearth. The flames crackled to life and warmth began to spread through the small cottage.

She swallowed visibly. "And we are to sleep here? Together?"

Her eyes widened as she lowered herself to the worn green and brown sofa, as if the weight of the situation had just crashed down upon her. To her mind, she was alone in an abandoned cottage with a dangerous highwayman. Highwaymen had dreadful reputations as thieves who preyed upon carriages of the wealthy, stealing jewels and money and virtues as they prowled the countryside. Yet she hadn't seemed afraid of the situation as she'd climbed down from the carriage, nor when she'd asked him to take her with him. And even now, although she seemed hesitant, perhaps cautious, he saw no actual fear lining her lovely face. Perhaps she feigned bravery.

But she should be afraid.

She was to be his wife. He certainly couldn't allow her to ride through the countryside befriending miscreants and thieves. What if he hadn't been the one to pull over her carriage? What if a true blackguard had taken her with him? Perhaps she needed to see the full weight of the situation, feel the repercussions of her reckless behaviour.

He took a step towards her. One finger at a time, he pulled his gloves off. "Yes, this is where we will sleep for the night." He trailed a hand down her cheek. "I suspect we'll find an appropriate bed in one of the rooms down that hall."

Her eyes followed his nod to the darkened hallway.

"Rethinking your request to come along with me?" he asked.

She inhaled sharply and took a steadying breath. "I am merely coming to terms with my reputation."

"You weren't too worried about your reputation back on the road when you begged me to rescue you."

Defiantly she crossed her arms over her chest. It did little to hide the curves of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, but instead drew closer attention to their fullness. "Perhaps I was a measure too hasty in my request. But it is far too late now. My reputation is already in tatters." She pushed out her chin. "I a.s.sume you intend to ravish me, then?"