By Christina Dodd

Unique ebook: 1997

Prim, simple, desperately virtuous girl Mary Fairchild stared on the seductive gentleman and questioned -- did he have in mind the weather of the evening they met? definitely now not. within the ten years because, she had deserted her younger impetuousness and reworked herself right into a housekeeper -- disguising her attractiveness underneath a servant's dour garments decided to overcome the passions of the past.

But Sebastian Durant, Viscount Whitfield, did realize her as a Fairchild, one in all his family's sour enemies. whilst he demanded her aid getting better a stolen diary, she dared now not refuse him. while he proposed they masquerade as a betrothed couple, loyalty pressured her to agree. And while the restraint among them shattered and delight turned an obsession, Mary needed to belief a strong guy who may well ship her to the gallows ... or love her via eternity.

 

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Once within its portals they were greeted by the owner; he knew them both, but Charlie—his lordship, the earl—clearly commanded extra special attention. They were shown to a table in a private nook by a window from which they could see the harbor. The meal was excellent. Sarah had expected their conversation to falter, but Charlie quizzed her on local affairs and the time sped by. It was only as they were leaving the inn that it occurred to her that he’d been using her to refresh his memory; much of what he’d asked he wouldn’t have seen over the last ten years—the years he’d spent mostly in London.

Unfortunately, he didn’t have time to speak with Skilling now; the sun was already slanting low. He needed to get Sarah home before the light faded. He leapt up to the pier and lashed the craft securely. Sarah finished furling the sail, then reached up and gave him her hands. He lifted her easily, balancing her until she steadied, her soft curves pressing fleetingly against him. Desire leapt. He felt it surge and sweep through him, urging him to lock her against him, bend his head and take her lips—and plunder.

He shifted closer, leaning as he tacked; she moved nearer the better to hear. “I’ve always loved the feeling of running before the wind, when the sail fills and the hull lifts, then slices through the water. You can feel the power, you can harness it, but it’s not something you can control. ” He met her eyes. ” She smiled back, restraining her whipping hair as they reached the end of their eastward leg and he shifted to tack. And then they were racing away again, faster, farther. She leaned back and laughed, looking up at the clouds that careened overhead, then gasping as a larger wave struck and they jolted, then flew anew.

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