Scandalous Miss Brightwells [Book 1-4]

Fanny was not going to deny it. Having realised the futility of her struggles, she simply gave up. Why not enjoy the intimate warmth for a few minutes of someone who wasn’t a whey-faced bounder like Alverley? Someone who would actually whisk her out of Alverley’s orbit.

Perhaps she shivered, for suddenly the arousing, mellifluous tones of this pirate stranger sounded intimately in her ear as he stepped back from the supper house where she and Alverley had arranged their assignation. “You are cold, madam, and this man has caused trouble enough. I think it’s time we took our leave.”

“Sir, I must object!”

It wasn’t Fanny who said this but she made no attempt to respond to Alverley who sprang forward as she was swung wide, her bare arm feeling the brush of Alverley’s vainly grasping fingers before she was borne into the gloom.

A crowd of revellers rounded the bend, sweeping Alverley into their midst as Fanny was carried in the opposite direction. Still she did not struggle as his shouts faded into the distance.

“I’m surprised you didn’t scream?” The stranger’s voice was conversational as he rapidly traversed the serpentine walk that led to the river; as if it were a normal occurrence for a pirate to bear a damsel in his arms.

The strong beat of his heart through her fine muslin gown made Fanny’s beat all the more erratically, as he went on, “Isn’t that what ladies do when they’re kidnapped?”

“I thought you were rescuing me.” Despite her doubt regarding his intentions, she found his sardonic humour appealing. She consoled herself with the thought that she need only scream and he would set her back upon her feet. She would be free.

It was not a liberating thought. Free to tell her mother she had misjudged matters? Free to become an object of pity—if not ridicule—to her so-called friends?

She decided to surrender herself to fate for the moment, clinging to him more tightly as he negotiated a hazard upon the footpath. Trying to sound bolder than she felt, she added, “Besides, bringing attention to my predicament might injure my reputation.”

“While my attentions won’t?” They were by the river now. A short crossing would take them out of the gardens. Almost disappointed, she acknowledged she’d been in good hands after all. Her rescuer was going to put her in a hackney carriage when they got to the other side.

Lord, what was she thinking? Of course that was what must happen. If she wasn’t home before her mother took herself off to bed, Fanny would be marching up the aisle to join Lord Slyther before the week was finished.

Her rescuer signalled to a waiting ferryman by the river’s edge who navigated his vessel towards them and then deposited her upon the bench of the barge. After issuing instructions, he leaped into the vessel, the corners of his mouth turning up at her obvious embarrassment when he sat so close their thighs touched.

Fanny raised her face to the moon and closed her eyes as a cool, gentle breeze caressed her heated skin. Soon she would be home to face an uncomfortable confrontation with her mother. Right now the unknown was far more enticing.

“My Lady of Troy is an enigma,” the handsome man beside her murmured while he rearranged the sword and scabbard of his costume. “Cavalier enough of her reputation to cavort alone with gentlemen in secluded supper boxes and offer no resistance when a better offer comes along, but suddenly so prim.” He raised an eyebrow and his mouth quirked.

What could she say? Fanny initial refutation of his assessment was truncated by the jolt of the boat as it pushed off from the river bank, which threw her closer against her companion. Drawing back, she said icily, “I am not from the ranks of the Fashionably Impure, sir.” She was rapidly doubting the wisdom of having accepted his assistance. Alverley, though he’d let her down, was too lily-livered to pose a threat. This man was an unknown quantity. She glared. “Might I remind you that you tore me from the arms of a serious suitor—”

“—whose marital criteria I believe you failed to meet—?”

“His mama’s marital criteria!”

“I beg your pardon.” With a chuckle, he flashed her an infuriating smile before cautioning the ferryman who smelled of drink and appeared to be making straight for a boat crossing their boughs. He was a gentleman—his voice, his bearing left her in no doubt about that. He was also a very well built gentleman. One who was amusing himself at her expense. After the night she’d had, Fanny was in no mood for his lightheartedness.

As soon as she was on dry land, she should take to her heels and escape whatever else he might have in mind for her.

Yet when he caressed her cheek, the most extraordinary sensations fizzed through her. Though she pressed herself against the far side of the river craft in a futile attempt not to touch h

im, she couldn’t help running an admiring gaze the length of his leather-booted feet and calves, up his long, outstretched legs and lean hips. They were as impressive as the hard, flat chest against which she’d so recently been pressed. So different from Alverley’s.

So different from Lord Slyther’s. Uugghh!

Unlike Alverley’s weak chin, his was strong and well-sculpted, which had her locking gazes with him when another surreptitious study ended with an approving assessment of his treacle-brown eyes. She slid her own away in embarrassment. Confident eyes, she thought. Like hers, his demi-mask sufficiently concealed his identity for an amour such as this, but the eyes were pools of information and she was satisfied that his conveyed all the attributes she considered essential in a man—humour, decisiveness, confidence and, just briefly, kindness. Perhaps he was not a swaggering ‘Johnny-take-all’, after all.

The moon was high in the sky now, a golden orb above the revellers in masquerade who promenaded along the river’s edge. Others lolled in boats upon the water.

As Fanny’s pique dissipated and her good humour returned, she began to shiver. Not from the cold, or the disappointment over the events already played out with Alverley—they were best forgotten—but as a result of the sudden anticipation of what might happen during the next few minutes in the river barge with this handsome stranger…if she was bold enough.

She sucked in a breath as she slid a glance his way. He was gazing across the river, apparently lost in thought for one brief moment. She wondered what he was thinking. Was he as excited as she? Would he kiss her?

Having experienced her first kiss in Alverley’s thin-armed embrace this evening, Fanny wasn’t sure such an unsatisfactory mingling of tongues deserved the title kiss when she’d always dreamed of it as a magical, life-changing moment. But an opportunity had been handed to her on a platter. If Fanny was destined to become the wife of Lord Slyther, the handsome pirate beside her, she decided, would provide the benchmark of comparison.

The voice of reason perched upon her shoulder.

If Mama were ever to find out…