There's Something About Lady Mary (39 page)

“One doesn’t learn
that
in finishing school,” he murmured appreciatively into her ear, when he could speak. She giggled, hiding her face in his shoulder.

“I suppose you think me utterly wanton?” she said. “Isn’t that a word you use these days, to describe women like me?”

“There are no women like you,” he said, tucking a damp curl behind her ear.

“Not here,” she agreed, snuggling against him.

“Not anywhere,” he said.

Laura smiled and pressed her lips to his chest. He ran his fingernails slowly up and down her back, and she nearly purred. He loved the way their skin stuck together, as though they were truly fusing into one person. His eyes grew heavy, and he blinked, afraid that if he fell asleep, she would simply disappear. He didn’t know the rules. He didn’t know if there were any. They seemed to be making them up as they went along.

“In this time,” he said, “are you truly not yet born?”

“Not for years and years.”

“Then how is it you can exist, here and now, with me?”

She looked up at him, her head arched against the pillow. “I really don’t know, Alaric. I only know that I do, and that I have never felt more alive than when I’m with you.”

“If you . . . stayed, here, with me, what would happen when you
are
born?”

Laura rolled onto her back, her leg still hooked around him and her body pressed alongside his. She cradled her head on her arm, the sinuous curve of her underarm upraised. Tiny beads of sweat pearled her collarbone, a necklace of her own making. “I don’t know. But my time isn’t a good one, Alaric. It’s a dangerous time, when the whole world has been at war with itself. I’ve seen things I can’t erase from my mind. People have done things that take away their humanity—and now they are expected to carry on like decent citizens.”

“I know what war is,” Alaric said.

“Not war like this,” Laura said quietly. “We can never be the same, any of us. Being here with you makes me feel like none of that could ever happen.”

“Maybe it won’t,” he said gently, running his palm over her sweet flesh.

“Oh, it will,” she said. “And then it will happen again. Time isn’t the only endless cycle.”

 

An Excerpt from

by Eloisa James

In Eloisa James’s companion story to
The Ugly Duchess
, Sir Griffin Barry, captain of the infamous pirate ship
The Poppy
, is back in England to claim the wife he hasn’t seen since their wedding day . . . but this is one treasure that will not be so easy to capture.

 

“Y
ou’re married to a
pirate
?”

Phoebe Eleanor Barry—wife to Sir Griffin Barry, pirate—nearly smiled at the shocked expression on her friend Amelia Howell-Barth’s face. But not quite. Not given the sharp pinch she felt in the general area of her chest. “His lordship has been engaged in that occupation for years, as I understand it.”

“A pirate. A real, live pirate?” Amelia’s teacup froze, halfway to her mouth. “That’s so romantic!”

Phoebe had rejected that notion long ago. “Pirates walk people down the plank.” She put her own teacup down so sharply that it clattered against the saucer.

Her friend’s eyes grew round, and tea sloshed on the tablecloth as she set her cup down. “The
plank
? Your husband really—”

“By all accounts, pirates regularly send people to the briny deep, not to mention plundering jewels and the like.”

Amelia swallowed, and Phoebe could tell that she was rapidly rethinking the romantic aspects of having a pirate within the immediate family. Amelia was a dear little matron, with a rosebud mouth and brown fly-away curls. Mr. Howell-Barth was an eminent goldsmith in Bath, and likely wouldn’t permit Amelia to pay any more visits once he learned how Sir Griffin was amusing himself abroad.

“Mind you,” Phoebe added, “we haven’t spoken in years, but that is my understanding. His man of business offers me patent untruths.”

“Such as?”

“The last time I saw him, he told me that Sir Griffin was exporting timber from the Americas.”

Amelia brightened. “Perhaps he is! Mr. Howell-Barth told me just this morning that men shipping lumber from Canada are making a fortune. Why on earth do you think your husband is a pirate, if he hasn’t told you so himself?”

“Several years ago, he wrote his father, who took it upon himself to inform me. I gather he is considered quite fearsome on the high seas.”

“Goodness me, Phoebe. I thought your husband simply chose to live abroad.”

“Well, he does choose it. Can you imagine the scandal if I had informed people that Sir Griffin was a pirate? I think the viscount rather expected that his son would die at sea.”

“I suppose it could be worse,” Amelia offered.

“How could it
possibly
be worse?”

“You could be married to a highwayman.”

“Is there a significant difference?” Phoebe shrugged inelegantly. “Either way, I am married to a criminal who stands to be hanged. Hanged, Amelia. Or thrown into prison.”

“His father will never allow that. You know how powerful the viscount is, Phoebe. There’s talk that Lord Moncrieff might be awarded an earldom.”

“Not after it is revealed that his son is a pirate.”

“But Sir Griffin is a baronet in his own right! They don’t hang people with titles.”

“Yes, they do.”

“Actually, I think they behead them.”

Phoebe shuddered. “That’s a terrible fate.”

“Come to think of it, why is your husband a baronet, if his father is a viscount and still living?” Amelia asked, knitting her brow. Being a goldsmith’s wife, she had never been schooled in the intricacies of this sort of thing.

“It’s a courtesy title,” Phoebe explained. “Viscount Moncrieff inherited the title of baronet as well as that of viscount, so his heir claims the title of baronet during the current viscount’s life.”

Amelia digested that. Then, “Mrs. Crimp would be mad with glee if she found out.”

“She
will
be mad with glee,” Phoebe said, nausea returning.

“What do you mean?”

“He’s back,” Phoebe said helplessly. “Oh, Amelia, he’s back in England.”

 

C
OPYRIGHT

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Excerpt from
The Secret Life of Lady Lucinda
copyright © 2012 by Sophie Barnes.

Excerpt from
Three Schemes and a Scandal
copyright © 2012 by Maya Rodale.

Excerpt from
Skies of Steel
copyright © 2012 by Zoë Archer.

Excerpt from
Further Confessions of a Slightly Neurotic Hitwoman
copyright © 2012 by JB Lynn.

Excerpt from
The Second Seduction of a Lady
copyright © 2012 by Miranda Neville.

Excerpt from
To Hell and Back
copyright © 2012 by Juliana Stone.

Excerpt from
Midnight in Your Arms
copyright © 2012 by McKinley Hellenes.

Excerpt from
Seduced by a Pirate
copyright © 2012 by Eloisa James.

THERE’S SOMETHING ABOUT LADY MARY
. Copyright © 2012 by Sophie Barnes. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

EPub Edition NOVEMBER 2012 ISBN: 9780062225375

Print Edition ISBN: 9780062225382

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

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