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Emma Hibbert will never again trust a good-looking man. They offer nothing but heartbreak and humiliation. But her conscience won’t let her abandon a sinfully handsome stranger needing help—even if he ignites an unwelcome passion in her. She soon realizes she should have left him in the mud where she found him, for he has the power to ruin everything…
Viscount Tidworth is anything but grateful for being rescued after a tumble from his horse. His pretty savior may be well-meaning, but forcing him to delay his journey completely wrecks his engagement plans. And Tidworth cannot let that stand. But when he discovers Emma’s true identity, he must choose between his desire for revenge…and his baffling attraction to her.
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EXCERPT
James said
quietly, "You seemed to be in difficulties when I arrived, Miss Hibbert. I
thought I'd rescued you, but you still seem uncomfortable."
She gave a
little shrug. "I believe I can deal with Mr. Charles. He was just teasing
me."
"We
both know what he is. You heard it for yourself that evening his papa rang a
peal over him. Don't let him take advantage of your inexperience."
Did that sound
pompous?
Yes. It
did.
She said
tartly, "You're very liberal with your advice, my lord."
"Please,
call me James, or Tidworth if you prefer." There was too much sarcasm in
the way she said my lord.
"I
know my place, my lord."
Clearly,
this wasn't going to be easy.
"Forgive
me," he said. "But going on past evidence, it seems you do not. However, I didn't come here to
cross swords with you. I came to make amends."
She turned
and looked up at him, surprised. "To me? I thought you came to see
Charles."
"His
father, actually. But I was hoping to snatch a few moments alone with you. I've
been in an agony of guilt since last Saturday. The way I accused you was
inexcusable. I pray I might be forgiven."
Her eyes
locked with his, and he couldn't help but notice how brightly the golden irises
glistened, and how long her dark eyelashes were.
She bit
her lip and said slowly, "Sir, there is nothing to forgive. I now know
what I did to you when first we met, and can only say how sorry I am for being
so indomitable about your injury. It is I
who should ask to be pardoned, not you."
He blinked
at her, then looked down at the dusty toes of his riding boots, awash in a
mixed knot of emotion. She knew about Belinda. Charles must have told her.
Probably
for the best it was out in the open, even if he didn't like the idea of his
friend sharing his personal troubles with strangers. A governess, at that.
Though,
she'd said she came from an ancient noble family. No doubt true. He could see
it in her manners, her looks, and the way she held herself. It would be a crime
if Charles decided to seduce her.
The idea
of any man seducing her threatened to
send his thoughts galloping off in completely the wrong direction. He couldn’t
help but flush as he said, "You are forgiven, Miss Hibbert, on one
condition."
"Which
is?"
"That
you must say you forgive me, and agree we'll say no more about it. Let's turn a
new page, Miss Hibbert, and try to be friends."
She
nodded, and smiled at him, unleashing an intriguing warmth in his gut. That
smile…those lips…
"Is—
Er, is this your sketchbook I'm
carrying?"
He sounded
like a stammering idiot. What had happened to that sangfroid?
Elizabeth Keysian felt destined to write historical romance due to her Cornish descent, and an ancestral connection to the Norse god Odin. Being an only child gave her plenty of time to read, create imaginary worlds, produce her own comics, and write sketches and a deplorably bad musical for an amateur dramatics group.
Three decades spent working in museums and archaeology fired Elizabeth’s urge to write, as did living on a Knights Templar estate, with a garage full of skeletons, a resident ghost and a moat teeming with newts.
Elizabeth lives near Bath in England with her partner and cats.
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