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Giles Corliss, Lord of Trahern, races through the streets after the sapphire-eyed Brazen Angel, determined to catch London's most audacious thief. Unknown to the lord, the masked mistress leads a double life as the beautiful, fragile Lady Sophia d'Artiers...Giles' intended.
From the Paperback edition.
kiss sealed her reply, as if he knew what her body had already decided. She tried to breathe but there was no time. His lips encircled hers, daring them to open under his assault. When his tongue parried forward, his arms pulled her closer; a blazing circle of passion whisked away any protests. In that hasty moment, she felt as if he’d stripped her of her mask, bared her to his sight, as if he sought to see her very soul. Dedication To my husband, Terry, who every day brings love and romance
sword from its scabbard and pointed it at Lord Trahern’s heart. “You know my fascination with Americans, but this one holds the most alarming viewpoint on land ownership. I told him if he left immediately I wouldn’t hold his views against him, nor would I kill him outright.” Louis seemed to relax at her explanation, an indulgent smile spreading across his lips. “You are too extreme in your ideas, citizeness. This new regime is about freedom of expression for all men.” He caught her by the elbow
And the fact that he needed her was something he still had to come to terms with. “Who did she leave with?” he asked in a quiet, steady voice. “Selmar.” Stunned, Giles didn’t reply at first. The carriage began picking up the pace, having reached a wider street. “He’ll kill her, given the chance,” Monty said despondently, clinging to his seat, his rain-soaked wig drooping. “He won’t have the opportunity if I have anything to do with it,” Giles said. “That privilege belongs to me.” NOTHING
aristocrat seeking a new identity. “I may have something to interest you,” the man said, his eyes twinkling with the challenge and the opportunity to show off his more prized books. He hobbled from the front desk back to the high back wall, which was lined with books from floor to ceiling. He climbed up a small ladder, his narrow thin fingers latching on to a thick book. “Here it is.” Carrying it over to the counter, he carefully turned the brittle pages of vellum. Giles leaned over, stunned
then, having discarded it next to the forgotten wrap, her fingers plied the buttons of his shirt. Splaying her fingers over the warmth of his chest, she ran them through the dark mat of hair. Sophia allowed herself to fall into the incredible passion rising between them. It was exactly how it had been in Paris. And just as easy to allow the fire of his touch to engulf her senses, his hands running over her shoulders, his fingers trailing a tingling path down her arms. The more he caressed her