by Lois Greiman
“Forever,” he agreed.
“So you’ll marry me?” she asked, and leaned toward his roguish lips.
He remained perfectly still. “Do you vow to quit dancing for others?” he asked.
“No,” she said, and smiled.
“What of your acrobatics? Will you cease those?”
“I’m an entertainer, Irishman. That you know. But there is one activity I vow to save for you alone,” she said, and pressing lightly against him, curled a hand behind his neck. His muscles tightened…as well as other things.
“And what if I’ve no wish to see others ogling my wife?” he asked.
“Then I would suggest you don’t look.”
“The acrobatics are dangerous,” he said. “I—”
“Oh for God’s sake, man,” Tilmont rasped. “Are you mad? The girl’s far too good for you. Marry her before she comes to her senses.”
Savaana grinned. “What say you, Wickersham?”
“Will you marry me?” he asked, and lifting his hand, produced an antique ruby set with diamonds.
She flicked her gaze to his mother’s ring. “Try to stop me,” she said, and kissed the corner of his mouth.
He sighed, then kissed her in return. “I doubt myself able to stop you from anything.”
“Because you adore me so?”
“That, too,” he said, perhaps remembering the athleticism she’d displayed in the past. “But…” He drew back. “You’re not already wed, are you?” he asked, and she laughed.
“You’re thinking of my sister.”
“’Tis unlikely I’ll ever think of another.”
“Please,” Tilmont pleaded. “You’re going to make me bowke. If you’re going to spout such dreamy foolishness, I’ll have to find another balcony.”
“The baron’s uncomfortable,” Savaana said, and Sean shrugged.
“He did lose two wives in the same week.”
“Bloody hell,” Tilmont said, and rising to his feet, strode stiffly out of sight.
Sean grinned, but Savaana sighed.
“Perhaps he honestly misses her.”
“I thought you met her,” he said, and she smiled wistfully.
“I’ll miss her.”
“Well, she is the sweet one,” he said, tone dry.
“Perhaps she will be,” she said, but he shook his head.
“There’s only one cea dolce.”
“I think she’ll become what her people expect of her. She’s an excellent actress.”
“And I think being nice might very well be the death of her.”
Savaana laughed. “She did return your mother’s ring.”
“I haven’t had it checked yet. Perhaps it’s paste,” he said, and slipped it onto her finger.
“It’s real to me,” she said, and kissed him again, but worry still nagged her.
“What is it, luv?” he asked.
She fiddled with his collar. “It hardly seems fair. I have you and freedom and Grandfather. What does she have?”
“An immeasurable fortune and the fealty of a million enthralled subjects?”
“Maybe. But do you think she might have feelings for Tilmont?” She glanced toward the approaching procession.
“I think she’d eat Tilmont alive. Although, I’ll admit, I’ve an idea he may be more than he appears.”
She nodded, thinking the same. Apparently the baron had given Gallagher a pistol, so the Irishman could defend her. Where would Tilmont have come by a pistol? “It’ll be interesting to see what he does next,” she said.
“I’m more interested in what he did before.”
“When he last spoke to Clarette before the coronation?”
“When he was in your bed.”
She smiled and kissed his jaw. “Are you always so jealous?”
“Jealous, am I, lass?” he asked, and slipped his arms around her.
“It sounds like it.”
“God help me.”
“I think he already has. How are you feeling? Are you well? Are you mended?” she asked, and smoothed a palm over the bandage that still bound the wound in his side.
“Move your hand any lower and I’ll be feeling a good deal more, regardless of the crowd.”
She glanced up through her lashes at him. “Is that a threat, Wicklow?”
“’Tis a promise, lass,” he said, and lifting her into his arms, carried her into their life together.
About the Author
LOIS GREIMAN is the author of more than thirty novels, A two-time RITA® finalist, she has won several much-appreciated Romantic Times awards, including the Tony Bromberg for most humorous mystery, as well as the Daphne du Maurier and the LaVyrle Spencer awards. Lois lives on the Minnesota tundra with her family, some of whom are human.
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By Lois Greiman
AN ACCIDENTAL SEDUCTION
CHARMING THE DEVIL
SEDUCED BY YOUR SPELL
UNDER YOUR SPELL
BEWITCHING THE HIGHLANDER
TEMPTING THE WOLF
TAMING THE BARBARIAN
SEDUCING A PRINCESS
THE PRINCESS MASQUERADE
THE PRINCESS AND HER PIRATE
THE WARRIOR BRIDE
THE MACGOWAN BETROTHAL
THE FRASER BRIDE
HIGHLAND HAWK
HIGHLAND ENCHANTMENT
HIGHLAND SCOUNDREL
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
AN ACCIDENTAL SEDUCTION. Copyright © 2010 by Lois Greiman. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
First Avon Books paperback printing: October 2010
EPub Edition © August 2010 ISBN: 978-0-06-201381-1
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