Crossing to the decanters, he poured a finger of brandy, then stared at the amber liquid as if it held the answer to this extremely vexing puzzle.

Very well, he found her unusual looks intriguing. Pleasing. But that did not fully explain this… thing he could not name… this preoccupation with her. Leaning his hips against his mahogany desk, he sipped his drink, enjoying the trail of warmth easing down his belly. A series of images of Miss Briggeham flashed through his mind. Hiding behind Mrs. Nordfield's potted palms. Laughing as they'd examined Mrs. Nordfield's dreadful paintings. Her initial fright when he'd kidnapped her, her wistful expression when she'd confided her longing for adventure to the Bride Thief… her desire to swim in the Adriatic…

Bloody hell, perhaps that was the problem. He knew things about Miss Samantha Briggeham that he shouldn't, wouldn't know if he hadn't met her as the Bride Thief. And not just her yearnings for adventure. He knew how she felt in his arms, her soft body pressed against him, the heady sensation of galloping through the darkness with her, her honey-scented skin teasing his senses.

Then there was her anger… no, her annoyance… when he'd dared utter a word against the Bride Thief, a man she clearly admired. Her obvious love for her brother, and indulgence toward her mother. Her ambition to develop a medicinal cream to help her friend. She was intelligent, kind, loyal, amusing, horribly outspoken, and…

He liked her.

He was about to enjoy another swallow of brandy when the realization dawned, halting his hand halfway to his lips.

Bloody hell, he liked her.

Liked her smile, her laugh, even her indignation. She in no way exuded the supercilious attitudes of so many women of his acquaintance. She harbored dreams of scientific success and adventure that went far beyond which gown to wear, or which bonnet to purchase.

And her eyes… those extraordinary aqua eyes were filled with hopes, unfulfilled desires, and they hinted at feelings and vulnerabilities that he wanted to learn about. Yes, that's all this preoccupation was: simply a desire to learn more about an interesting woman. Converse with her. Discover all those fascinating thoughts he sensed lurked behind her thick spectacles.

He savored another sip of brandy while employing the decision-making processes he'd honed in the Army. He'd identified the problem-half the battle right there: He couldn't dismiss Miss Briggeham because he liked her and wished to learn more about her.

But how to solve this problem?

Clearly he had two options. He could force her from his mind, but since he'd been unable to accomplish that since he'd met her, he quickly discarded that option. Therefore, the only other possibility was to see her again, to speak with her and discover more about her. Once he did, his curiosity would be satisfied. Then he'd be able to put this preoccupation with her in its proper perspective. Perfect.

He raised his glass to salute his brilliant logic and toast his infallible plan.


Eric reined Emperor to a halt behind a copse of oaks near the fringe of the woods. Squinting against the glare of the early-afternoon sun, he watched Miss Briggeham approach from the direction of the village. Instead of the brisk strides she'd employed when last they met, she walked slowly across the verdant clearing, lifting her face to the sun, clearly savoring the warm weather. Her bonnet hung down her back from its ribbons, and her chestnut hair glinted in the sun, as if capturing its golden glow. A smile lit her face, and she twirled once in a circle, swinging the basket she carried with a joyful abandon, then bent over to smell a grouping of wildflowers.

He suddenly envied the carefree, relaxed picture she made. When was the last time he'd simply enjoyed the sunshine? Taken pleasure in a lovely day, savored the scents and sounds of nature without the gravity of his responsibilities and obligations weighing on his mind?

Not since that last summer before he'd entered the Army, he realized after a moment's thought. He and Margaret had enjoyed long rides around the estate, often bringing bundles of food with them. On several occasions, they'd ventured no farther than the stables, spending the afternoon grooming horses with Arthur.

It had been too bloody long since he'd passed a free and easy afternoon, and the urge to join Miss Briggeham, to lift her in his arms and swirl in lighthearted circles with her, share in her delight, tugged at his insides.

Pushing away the desire to indulge in behavior totally unsuitable for an earl, he continued to watch her, a smile pulling at his lips when she leaped over a pile of rocks with an exuberance that reminded him of a puppy.

He remained hidden until only a short distance separated them. Then, touching his heels to Emperor's flanks, he stepped onto the path.

"Why, Miss Briggeham, how nice to see you again."

She halted as if she'd walked into a glass wall. Color rushed into her already pinkened cheeks, and a host of expressions streaked across her face. But while she was clearly surprised to see him, she did not appear displeased. "Lord Wesley," she said in a breathless voice. "How do you do?"

"Very well, thank you. Are you returning home from the village?" he asked, as if he hadn't been informed by Arthur that Miss Briggeham walked this path to the village nearly every day.

"Yes. I visited my friend, Miss Waynesboro-Paxton."

"And how is her joint pain today?"

"Worse, I'm afraid. I brought her another jar of my honey cream. I massaged some into her hands, and it offered some temporary relief to the aches in her fingers." Shading her eyes with her hand, she looked up at him. "Are you going to the village?"

"No, I was just exercising Emperor, enjoying this beautiful day." He smiled down at her. "As I believe Emperor has tired himself running, may I walk with you?"

Emperor laid his ears back, huffed out a whinny, then pawed the ground once. She chuckled and said, "Of course. But it appears Emperor does not appreciate you casting aspersions on his stamina. In fact, I never knew a horse could look indignant until just now." Patting the gelding's neck, she said, "If you'd like, we can detour toward the lake so Emperor can enjoy a drink."

"A marvelous suggestion." Eric dismounted, then turned toward her intending to offer to carry her basket, but the words died in his throat as he looked at her. The sunlight reflected an enticing array of vibrant reds and hidden golds from her shiny hair. Her chignon was more than a little disheveled, obviously from all her twirling about. Yet it looked as if the strands might have been mussed by a man's hands… a man who'd given in to the impatient need to run his fingers through those silky-looking curls.

The bright light glinted off her spectacles, drawing his gaze to her eyes… eyes that looked at him with a mildly expectant expression, as if she were waiting for him to say something, a feat he seemed unable to perform.

Her skin glowed with sun-kissed color that bloomed on her cheeks like roses. His gaze lowered to her full lips, where a half-smile lingered, and he had to force himself to look away. He noted she wore a pale blue muslin gown, completely modest and unadorned, but from the slow roll his heart performed, she might have been wearing a lace negligee.

Instantly, an image of her wearing a lace negligee popped into his mind, her enticing curves barely covered with sheer material. Heat shot to his groin, and he barely suppressed the frustrated growl that rose in his throat.

Bloody hell, what was wrong with him? He shook his head to clear the disturbing image.

"Is something amiss, Lord Wesley?"

"Er, no."

She stepped closer to him and squinted up at his face.

The subtle scent of honey filled his head, and he clenched his teeth.

"Are you certain? You appear somewhat… flushed."

Flushed? Surely she was mistaken, although he did feel as if someone had lit a fire in his breeches. "It's merely rather warm. Here. In the sun." Damnation, was that gravelly sound his voice? Offering her his arm, he inclined his head toward the path leading into the woods. "Shall we?"

"Of course. It will be much cooler in the shade."

Yes, cooler. That was simply all he required. For some inexplicable reason, the sun seemed to be having an odd effect on him. Holding Emperor's reins in one hand, and with Miss Briggeham's hand resting lightly on his sleeve, they walked into the forest.

He exhaled in relief when the shade provided by the soaring trees swallowed the heat, offering the much needed coolness. Gentle sounds surrounded them as they strolled, the quiet rustle of leaves, the trill of a bird, the crunch of twigs beneath their feet, Emperor blowing out a soft breath.

He searched his mind for something to say, something clever to make her laugh or smile, but for reasons he could not decipher, he felt like a tongue-tied, green schoolboy. The only thing he could think to ask her was Do you taste as sweet as you smell? and he certainly couldn't say that. For the first time he could recall, his normally smooth sophistication abandoned him. If he'd had a free hand, he would have raked it through his hair. He'd wanted to see her, to talk to her, to find out more about her. Yet here she was, and he'd all but swallowed his tongue.

He was saved from trying to think up conversation, as they had arrived at the lake. The water shimmered dark blue, reflecting golden ribbons of sunlight. He released Emperor's reins, allowing the gelding to walk to the water's edge to drink. Miss Briggeham released his arm, leaving him with the urge to snatch her hand back. She strolled several yards away to lean against the trunk of a huge willow.