Part 30 (1/2)
”No.””Come on. There must be something.”He shook his head. ”No. And no, and no. I told the cops all this already.””Well, now tell me,” she snapped.”Don't boss me!””I'll boss you if I like! If it wasn't for me, you'd still be rotting in jail!””The h.e.l.l. My lawyer would have vouched for me.””Yeah, I could tell what a great job he did by the way it took him hours and hours to not show up.””Listen-mmph!”She had kissed him again. What was wrong with her?”Not that I mind,” he gasped, extricating himself from her grip, ”but, again, don't you think this is a little inappropriate? Given the circ.u.mstances?”
She got up to pace. ”Of course it's inappropriate-it's nine kinds of inappropriate! What the h.e.l.l iswrong with me?”He opened his mouth, but she beat him to the punch. ”I'll tell you, it's this f.u.c.king holiday! It's killing me!
It's making me act in ways I would never normally act! G.o.d, I hate it, I hate it, I hate Valentine's Day!”
Here's a scintillating peek at Sylvia Day's ”Stolen Pleasures” in her new anthology BAD BOYS AHOY.
Available February 2006 from Brava.
British West Indies, February 1813.
H e'd stolen a bride..
Sebastian Blake gripped his knife with white-knuckled force and kept his face impa.s.sive. If the beauty in
front of him was to be believed, he'd stolen his own bride.
He watched as her chin lifted with defiance and her dark eyes met his without fear. She was tall and slender with blond curls tumbling down from a once-stylish arrangement. Her lovely watered-silk dress
was torn at the shoulder, revealing a tempting display of creamy breast. There was a sooty hand-print marring her flesh, and unable to stop himself, Sebastian reached out and rubbed the offending mark away with gentle strokes of his thumb. She stiffened and lifted her bound hands to knock his away. He met her gaze and held it.
”Tell me your name again,” he murmured, his hand tingling just from that simple contact with her satin skin.
She licked her bottom lip and his blood heated further. ”My name is Olivia Blake, Countess of Merrick.
My husband is Sebastian Blake, Earl of Merrick and future Marquis of Dunsmore.”
He lifted her hands and stared at her ring finger, noting his crest etched in the simple gold band she wore.
He scrubbed a hand over his face and turned away, striding to the nearest open window for a deep
breath of salt-tinged air. Staring out at the water, he spied the debris from her s.h.i.+p bobbing in the waves. ”Where is your husband, Lady Merrick?” he asked, keeping his back to her.Hope tinged her voice. ”He awaits me in London.””I see.” But he didn't, not at all. ”How long have you been married, my lady?””I fail to see-””How long?” he barked.”Nearly two weeks.”His chest expanded with a deep breath. ”I remind you that we are in the West Indies, Lady Merrick. It is impossible that you were married only a fortnight ago. Your husband would not be able to await you in
England if that were true.”
She was silent behind him and finally, he turned to face her again. It was a mistake to have done so. Her beauty hit him with the force of a fist in his gut.
”Would you care to explain?” he prodded, relieved he sounded so unaffected.For the first time her bravado left her, her cheeks flus.h.i.+ng with embarra.s.sment. ”We were married by proxy,” she confessed. ”But I a.s.sure you, he will pay whatever ransom you desire despite the unusual circ.u.mstances of our marriage.”
Sebastian moved toward her. His calloused fingers caressed the elegant curve of her cheekbone and
entwined in her hair. Her breath caught, and her lips parted in response to his gentle touch. ”I'm certain