Jacquie ’Alessandro - The Bride Thief

Mine. Mine. Mine.

Nothing existed except her… This woman in his arms. This woman he loved so much he trembled with it.

This woman who loved him.

Ending their kiss, he gently cradled her face… The unique, imperfect face that had captured him, fascinated him from the start.

Her eyes slowly slid open and their gazes collided. She blinked several times, then frowned. Very slowly she lifted her hand and touched his face. His masked face.

At that instant sanity returned, and he recalled where he was. Who he was.

Damn it to hell! What was he thinking? Obviously he wasn't thinking. But what the hell was she thinking? Kissing another man like that, seconds after she'd professed to love him.

He released her as if she'd turned into a column of fire and took two hasty steps backward. "Forgive me, lass," he rasped. "I don't know what came over me."

She simply stared at him, eyes round with shock, somehow managing to appear still as a statue yet limp as an overcooked noodle at the same time.

He braced himself, waiting for her outrage, for a barrage of angry words. But she merely looked at him with tears slowly rolling down her cheeks, and whispered one word.

"Eric."

Sammie had to fight to pull a breath into her lungs. The edges of her vision blurred, and for an instant she actually believed she might faint.

This masked man standing in front of her, the Bride Thief, was Eric. There was not a trace of doubt. The instant he'd pulled her into his arms, her body, her mind had recognized him.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to apply logic, but her brain seemed frozen. How was this possible? Why? She needed to ask him, but she could barely form a coherent thought, let alone speak.

Opening her eyes, she looked at him, standing motionless, swathed from head to toe in black, only his eyes and mouth uncovered. Even so, now that she knew the truth, she recognized him instantly. His height, the breadth of his shoulders, his commanding air. How could she not have realized the truth sooner? Because you had no reason to believe he was anything more than what he appeared. You had no reason to suspect he was lying to you.

And indeed, that one fact pushed its way through the morass of thoughts jumbling her brain. He'd lied to her. Repeatedly.

Anger smacked her like a two-fisted blow, and she nearly reeled from the impact. Clenching her hands at her side, she approached him on shaking legs.

"Take off that mask," she demanded, proud that she managed to keep her voice steady.

When he hesitated, her anger turned to full-blown fury, and for the first time in her life she had to fight the urge to hit someone. Unable to completely suppress the impulse, she jabbed his chest with her index finger. "I know it is you behind that mask, Eric. I would recognize your kiss, your taste, anywhere. Take. It. Off." She punctuated her demand with three more sharp jabs to his chest.

They stared at each other for what felt, to Sammie, like an eternity. Finally, he reached up and slowly pulled off the black silk that covered his head and face.

Shock sizzled through her even though she knew she'd see Eric's face. He watched her, his dark hair mussed from the confines of the mask, his countenance unreadable. Silence stretched between them until she felt as if her head would explode.

Fighting to control the tumult roiling through her, she asked, "Can you please explain this to me?"

"What more do you wish to know?"

"More? I know nothing! Except that you've deceived me."

He stepped toward her, and she backed away from him. A frown creased his brow, but he ventured no closer. "Surely you can understand the necessity to protect my identity, Samantha."

"Does anyone else know?"

"Only Arthur Timstone. And your brother."

She felt as if the ground moved beneath her feet. "Hubert? "

"He followed you the night I rescued Miss Barrow and sprinkled a special powder he'd concocted on the Bride Thief's saddle and stirrups. When I-Lord Wesley-came to your home the next day, my boots and saddle still bore traces of his powder. I couldn't deny it when he confronted me with such irrefutable evidence."

She locked her knees to keep from sinking to the ground. "I cannot believe he did not tell me."

"I asked for his word to keep my identity a secret. If I'm discovered…"

His voice trailed off and an image of him with a noose around his neck flashed through her mind.

"You shall hang," she finished for him, her stomach churning at the mere thought. "You know I believe strongly in your cause, but what made you-?" But even as she started to ask the question, the answer came to her. "Your sister," she whispered. "You told me someone you loved was forced to marry-"

"Yes. I failed to save her. But there were so many others I could help." He raked his hands through his mussed hair. "But now, with the magistrate's investigation tightening, it seems I shall have to retire."

"Yet in spite of the danger, you came here tonight."

A muscle ticked in his jaw. "Yes."

The significance of that trickled into her brain, slowly at first, then gaining momentum until it galloped at her full speed. A half-laugh, half-sob rose in her throat, and she forced her lips together to contain the cry. She'd known he hadn't wanted to marry her, but God in heaven she hadn't suspected the lengths he would go to to keep from doing so. In spite of the threat he faced from the magistrate and the Bride Thief Posse, he'd risked his life to offer her freedom.

And by freeing her, he would liberate himself.

Eric looked down at her, trying to make sense of his wildly conflicting emotions. She loved him. He briefly squeezed his eyes closed as warmth coursed through him, and he savored the incredible feeling. A series of images flickered through his mind, of what their life might have been like… sharing their love, making each other's dreams come true, raising their children.

He nearly exploded with the need to tell her he loved her, loved her so much he ached with it, but he forcibly clamped down the desire. The danger he faced was still all too real, and now that she knew his identity, the threat to her had worsened. If he told her he loved her, as loyal as she was, she would never leave him. He would never be able to get her away from him to safety. Indeed, he knew without a doubt that she would walk through fire for him, a fact which simultaneously pleased, humbled, and terrified him. He had no right to love her or marry her. But to not marry her would ruin her. He dragged his hands slowly down his face. What the bloody hell was he going to do?

Sammie looked at his tortured expression and her insides curdled. He was clearly torn and confused; didn't know what to say or do. He didn't want to marry her, but he wouldn't, couldn't honorably send her away. He didn't want her, yet he did not wish to hurt her. And now that she'd blurted out her feelings…

Humiliation settled on her with a weight so heavy she nearly collapsed beneath the burden. Their conversation rushed back at her like a river raging out of control. How she'd bared her heart and soul. Confessed her love for him. And her response when he'd asked if she wanted to marry the earl. Desperately.

Her entire body turned cold with mortification. He reached out a hand toward her, but she took a shaky step back from him. Wrapping her arms around herself, she whispered, "Don't touch me."

He slowly lowered his hand, looking shaken, but she could do nothing, say nothing to comfort him. Not when it took every last ounce of her strength and concentration to keep from falling apart in front of him. And she could not do that. She would not do that.

A soft nicker drew her attention and she looked toward a nearby thicket.

"Don't worry," he said. "It is only my horse, Champion."

Her mind whirled, and further realization fell upon her like a downpouring of rain. "Champion… your horse… you offered to help Mr. Straton locate your own horse. All those things you said, suggestions you made to help capture the Bride Thief, they were merely more lies. Every word from your mouth is nothing but a lie."

"I do what I must to keep myself free, Samantha."

Those softly spoken words knifed directly through her heart. "Yes," she agreed tonelessly. "That much is obvious."

"I came here tonight to give you your freedom."

Sammie inwardly cringed. Yes, which in turn would give you your freedom.

He stared off into the darkness for several seconds, his brows bunched in thought, then began pacing in front of her. Just when she didn't think she could stand the silence any longer, he said, "An idea has just occurred to me… Perhaps there is another way," he said. He paced several more times, frowning, clearly working something through his mind. Then he nodded decisively and paused in front of her.

"I believe I have arrived at a solution. We can marry, and go abroad immediately after the ceremony. Live on the Continent or in America-somewhere the magistrate can't find us. Somewhere no one has ever heard of the Bride Thief."

Despair clutched her. Dear God, now that he knew she loved him, he was nobly offering to give up everything-his home, his birthright, his place in Society, his entire way of life-all in the name of honor. For a woman he didn't love.

"I know it is a great deal to ask of you," he said in a quiet voice. "You'd have to leave your family, your home-"

"As would you."

"Yes. But us marrying and leaving the country would solve the problem."