by Julia Quinn
The Neeley mystery solved at last!
Or is it?
Lady Neeley claims that she has received a cryptic letter saying that her bracelet has been found and it will be delivered “in good time.”
In good time? When is that?
Where could it be, and who do you, Dear Readers, suppose has found it?
LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, 24 JUNE 1816
The firelight flickered over Max’s bedchamber, casting teasing shadows. Sophia lay on the rich red coverlet spread before the fire, the delicate light licking across her warmed skin, caressing each hollow, teasing each curve, and sparkling over the ruby bracelet clasped about her arm.
Max had never beheld a more sensuous, delicious sight than his wife, lying so naked, so lush, a woman well loved and in love. Max set the dish of raspberries beside the coverlet and gently lowered himself beside her.
She lifted on her elbow and looked at the dish. “No crème?”
“Not this time.” He picked up a berry and placed it in her mouth. As soon as she bit into the plump fruit, he kissed her, savoring her berry-sweet kiss.
The heat between them built until he broke the kiss. “I believe we should adjourn to the bed, my sweet.”
She chuckled, the sound rum smooth over the sharp crackle of the fire. “I suppose I can give up some of this warmth”—her hand closed over his manhood—“for another kind of heat.”
He caught his breath. She was so beautiful, so passionate. And so his. Without a word, he bent down and lifted her, cover and all, and carried her to the bed.
She settled against the pillows and gathered him close. They lay that way, entwined, savoring the closeness. After a moment, she lifted her arm, the ruby bracelet twinkling in the light. “I suppose we should return this to Lady Neeley.”
“We will. As soon as we’ve enjoyed it enough to make up for the misery her allegations have caused.”
“Every day we wait, she casts even more aspersions against your name.”
He turned his head so that his cheek pressed against her silky hair. “It will make her seem all the more the fool when you tell her where you found it and offer her own nephew as witness. I have to say, Brooks was all too willing to let us take the bracelet and give it to her when we were ready.”
She nodded. “I think he feared that if he was present when she got it back, his cousin Percy would try to connect him to the lost bracelet in some way. Whatever it was, I owe him a glass of port for his kindness. It was fortunate he was at Lady Neeley’s house when we arrived, for her butler would not have given us entrance otherwise.”
He lifted a hand to trace the line of her wrist where it disappeared beneath the heavy line of rubies. “To think that the bracelet was in that wretched bird’s nest all the time.”
“The parrot was trying to impress Lady Neeley’s companion.”
Max rolled up on one elbow and smiled down at her. “M’love, you are brilliant.”
“It was the only thing that made sense. If no one at that horrid dinner stole it and the servants were all trustworthy as Lady Neeley vowed, then it had to be the bird.” She sighed her satisfaction. “Shall we return the bracelet in the morning?”
“Of course. And as soon as that is done, we are returning here. I have developed an aversion to seeing clothing on your luscious body.”
She slanted a glance at him that stole his breath. “I get the feeling I am not going to spend much of our married life wearing clothes.”
“Not if I have anything to do with it.” Max leaned down and captured her mouth for a deep, promising kiss. Happiness swelled and filtered over them.
Sophia sighed with happiness, though a moment later she lifted on her elbow and looked down into Max’s face. “I have been thinking…”
“More plotting?”
“No.” She smiled. “Not this time. This time I was thinking we needed some Rules of Engagement. Something to buffer our tempers when we argue.”
“You think we are going to argue frequently?”
She raised her brows and lay back on the pillow.
He laughed softly, rubbing his palm over her flat stomach. “You are right. As much as I hate to admit it, there are bound to be many arguments in our life. You are, after all, very stubborn.”
She frowned at him. “We are stubborn.”
“Oh. Of course. We are stubborn.”
“And because of that,” she continued, “we need Rules of Engagement so that our fights are fair.”
“I see.” He moved his hand to her breast. “What are these rules?”
She moved his hand back to her stomach. “The first rule is: All arguments must take place in the nude.”
Max blinked. “In the nude?”
“Yes. You and I seem more…levelheaded when we’re naked.”
His mouth lifted in a smile. “I don’t know about that.”
“Furthermore, any argument where there is no clear winner will be settled by a wrestling match.”
“A what?”
“Wrestling. Like the ancient Greeks.”
“Did they wrestle in the nude?”
“I believe so. From what I’ve seen, they were not much in the way of clothing.”
He put his hand back on her breast. “Tell me more about the Greeks.”
She placed her hand over his and smiled. “The third rule is that all arguments must end in a kiss.”
“Just a kiss?” He looked a little disappointed.
“A good kiss. A toe-curling kiss. The kind of kiss that—”
He kissed her. A good while later, he lifted his head. “Like that?”
Blinking in a bemused way, she nodded. “Yes. Exactly like that.”
Sophia couldn’t contain a satisfied sigh. Their union would not be all pleasure; they were too strong in opinion for that to happen. But it would be fiery. And passionate. And loving. And that, she decided, her heart so full that it ached, was all that mattered.
Karen Hawkins
USA Today bestselling author Karen Hawkins was once an instructor of political science at a small college in Georgia. She now writes. A lot. At home. In a chair. In her living room. While eating Cheez Doodles and drinking Diet Coke. In the nude. Okay, she’s kidding about the “in the nude” part. But she does write humorous Regency-set historical romances for Avon Books. For more information on Karen (and pictures of her chasing a Krispy Kreme donut down the street) check out her website at www.karenhawkins.com.
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Copyright
This is a collection of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the authors’ 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.
The First Kiss copyright © 2004 by Julie Cotler Pottinger.
The Last Temptation copyright © 2004 by Mia Ryan.
The Best of Both Worlds copyright © 2004 by Suzanne Enoch.
The Only One for Me copyright © 2004 by Karen Hawkins.
All Lady Whistledown excerpts written by Julia Quinn, copyright © 2004 by Julie Cotler Pottinger.
LADY WHISTLEDOWN STRIKES BACK. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, 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 June 2005
ISBN 9780061746475
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