"There are other 'a' words one might use, such as-"

"Aggravating?"

He sizzled a mock frown at her. "I was going to say 'amiable.'"

A noise that could only be described as a snort escaped her. "If it is any consolation, I'm certain most people think you are, my lord."

"Yet, I distinctly recall you telling me last evening that you are not most people."

"I fear that is true."

A grin tugged at his lips. "Well, then, I shall simply have to change your mind and make you see the error of your ways."

She laughed, a delightful sound that spread warmth through him. "You're welcome to try."

"See how well our truce is working? Already you've issued me an invitation." He paused, drawing them to a stop, and gazed down at her. The sunlight coaxed deep reds and burnished golds from her hair, and her eyes sparkled from her laughter.

His gaze moved downward, settling on her extraordinary mouth and that alluring freckle dotting the corner of her upper lip. The warmth her laughter had inspired, instantly turned to heat.

"Here's to our truce," he murmured. Taking her hand, he raised it to his lips and lightly kissed her fingers. The scent of honey filled his senses, and he barely resisted the overwhelming desire to touch his tongue to her skin to see if she tasted as sweet as she smelled. Their eyes met, and he watched all vestiges of humor slowly ebb from hers, as he continued to hold her hand a hairsbreadth away from his lips.

Surprise flashed across her features, then turned to confusion that painted her cheeks a delightful rose. Her skin looked petal soft, and his fingers suddenly itched with the need to feel that beckoning smoothness. With his free hand, he reached out, slowly, like a man in a trance, toward that enticing blush-hued skin. Her eyes widened and her breath caught, an utterly feminine sound that charmed him.

"Are you coming, Sammie?" Hubert's voice boomed from just beyond the rose hedges.

Miss Briggeham gasped and stepped back, snatching her hand from his grasp as if he'd burned her. "Yes," she called, in a slightly breathless voice. Clasping her hands tightly in front of her, she indicated the path with a jerk of her head. "This way, Lord Wesley."

Eric fell into step beside her, his height allowing him to match her brisk strides without much effort. He made no attempt to offer her his arm, instinctively knowing she wouldn't accept it, and not at all certain he should touch her again anyway. The woman had the oddest effect on his senses.

Damn it all, the desire to touch her had nearly overridden his common sense. What the devil was wrong with him? He wasn't here to court Samantha Briggeham. He merely wanted to ensure she wasn't hatching some crazy scheme to aid the Bride Thief. And while she was clearly protective of the man, a fact that oddly pleased him, she was also obviously an intelligent, logical young woman. There was no need for him to be concerned about her welfare. In fact, as soon as he finished looking at the telescope, he would take his leave.

Sammie carefully observed Lord Wesley as Hubert conducted a tour of his Chamber of Experiments for their guest, waiting to see any signs of boredom or ridicule directed toward her brother.

Instead, his lordship appeared fascinated by Hubert's Chamber and its vast array of glass beakers, jars, and experiments in progress. He asked Hubert dozens of questions, intelligent questions, she had to admit. Clearly the man possessed not only an interest but a knowledge of chemistry. And he never once looked askance at Hubert or spoke to him in a tone that suggested he thought either her brother or his laboratory odd. In fact, no matter how she looked at it, his lordship was acting in a way that could only be described as…

Amiable.

Her brow collapsed in a frown. Blast it all, she did not want to find the man amiable. She much preferred to think of him as annoying and arrogant. But seeing him bend over to apply his eye to Hubert's microscope, then look up at the boy with a grin creasing his handsome face, she couldn't deny that another "a" word to describe Lord Wesley was… attractive.

"Sammie, why don't you show Lord Wesley your section, where you prepare your honey and beeswax lotions?"

Hubert's question jerked her from her disturbing musing, and she pressed her hands over her stomach to quiet the jitters fluttering through her insides. As much as her scientific nature urged her to join the gentlemen across the room, her feminine instincts warned her to stay where she was, as far away from Lord Wesley as she could be while they stood in the same room.

Forcing a smile, she pointed toward the far corner of the room and said, " 'Tis nothing exciting to see, my lord. Just those burners, pots and molds, and my few remaining jars of honey."

"She is being modest, Lord Wesley," Hubert said. "Sammie is a first-rate scientist and teacher as well. Indeed, she sparked my interest in my own studies, and she is my greatest source of encouragement and inspiration. Her experiments with creams and lotions are fascinating, and she may soon see a breakthrough."

Heat rose in Sammie's cheeks, and she fought the urge to clap her hand over Hubert's mouth. While she appreciated his enthusiasm and kind words, she had no desire to see the inevitable expression on Lord Wesley's face-the one showing his dismay, horror, disgust, boredom, disdain, or any combination thereof regarding her work. She turned to him, determined to adroitly change the subject, and was surprised to see him regarding her with unmistakable curiosity.

"What sort of experiments are you conducting, Miss Briggeham?"

Not a bit of mockery or sarcasm in his voice. Just keen interest. She hesitated a few seconds, then led him to her work area. "Last night I mentioned one of my friends, a Miss Waynesboro-Paxton-"

"The lady who could not attend the soiree due to illness," Lord Wesley broke in.

"Yes," Sammie said, surprised he remembered. "She suffers from severe joint pain, mostly in her fingers and knuckles. I noticed that two things help alleviate her pain: wrapping her hands in warm, moist towels, and massaging my honey cream into her hands. I am attempting to discover a way to make my honey cream self-heating."

Lord Wesley stroked his chin and nodded slowly. "Thus incorporating the wanning properties directly into the cream. And you're close to success?"

"I've recently made some progress, but I fear I've still much work to do. Still, I am determined to succeed."

She raised her chin a notch, silently daring him to mock her, to dismiss her as nothing more than a bluestocking, but only admiration shone in his eyes.

"Ingenious idea," he said, his gaze shifting to roam over her supplies. "I offer you my sincere best wishes for success. Tell me, do you harvest your own honey?"

"Yes. I keep a half-dozen skeps behind the Chamber."

"She's hoarding those last few jars like a miser," Hubert said in a teasing voice. "But once she harvests her skeps next month, I'll be able to nip off with a jar without her noticing it's missing. I fear I have a weakness for honey."

Lord Wesley returned his gaze to her, studying her with an unfathomable expression that tightened her stomach. "Yes, I fear I do as well," he murmured. He then once again focused his attention on Hubert, and Sammie nearly groaned with relief.

Good heavens above, the man had the strangest effect on her senses. It was as if his nearness brought them all alive and into sharp focus. The feel of his strong arm beneath her palm as he'd escorted her down the garden paths; the woodsy, clean scent of him that made her want to lean closer to him and simply breathe him in. Disturbing feelings she'd managed quite well to ignore.

Until he'd stopped walking and looked at her with that intense expression that had curled her toes inside her slippers, and heated her from the inside out.

Until he'd brushed his.lips over her hand.

Warmth rushed into her cheeks, and she quickly walked to the telescope and pretended to inspect the instrument, to hide her confusion. And there was no denying the man confused her. She'd started out angry with him, but after he'd apologized, he'd somehow managed to disarm her and amuse her, just as he'd done at Mrs. Nordfield's soiree. She'd enjoyed their verbal sparring, but once they'd ceased talking, and he'd looked at her in that way… suddenly she hadn't felt like laughing. Suddenly she'd wanted nothing more than for him to touch her face, as he'd been about to do.

She caught herself in the act of heaving a long sigh, and mentally slapped herself. Heavens, what was she thinking? She couldn't possibly entertain romantic notions toward Lord Wesley. To do so would be the same as extending an engraved invitation to Heartbreak. She needed to keep her romantic fantasies focused on make-believe gentlemen who could not ever hold her heart in their hands. Or even on a man like the Bride Thief-one that existed only in her memory, and even there more as a heroic figure than a flesh-and-blood man.

The rumble of masculine voices drew her attention to the other side of the room where Hubert and Lord Wesley were engaged in conversation. Hubert's face was alight with the pleasurable glow that always suffused him when he discussed one of his experiments or inventions. It was a look normally focused on her, and an odd pang clutched her that it was currently focused on a man she wasn't certain she liked… A man she wasn't certain was worthy of the admiration shining from Hubert's eyes. Or perhaps the problem was the niggling fear that she could like him, if she allowed herself, and that Hubert's admiration wasn't misplaced.

Her gaze shifted to Lord Wesley, who was nodding, his serious expression riveted on the liquid-filled beaker Hubert held aloft. She tried to pull her gaze away, but she found herself admiring the man's profile-the sweep of his forehead, his high cheekbones, straight nose, firm lips, and the strong line of his jaw. As if he felt the weight of her regard, he turned and looked directly into her eyes. Heat washed through her and she barely refrained from smacking herself on the forehead. Dear Lord, he'd caught her staring! Coughing to cover her embarrassment, she quickly applied her eye to the new telescope, praying her cheeks were not as red as they felt.