Circle of Deception (37 page)

His fellow firefighters called him Thor. She could certainly see why. He looked like her idea of a Viking god, though she would imagine the God of Thunder would be more of a loudmouth. Kirk was not a big talker. He didn’t say much, but when he spoke, people seemed to listen.

She certainly did, even though all he’d said to her was, “Black, no sugar,” and “How much are those little Christmas ornaments?” referring to the beaded angels she made for sale during the holidays. It was embarrassing how much she relived those little moments afterward.

Tossing friendly smiles to the other customers, the three men strolled to the counter where she took the orders. They gathered around the menu board, though why they bothered, she didn’t know. They always ordered the same thing. Firemen seemed to be creatures of habit. Or at least her firemen were.

An Excerpt from

A
S
UMMERSBY
T
ALE

by Sophie Barnes

When Mary Croyden inherits a title and a large sum of money, she must rely on the help of one man—Ryan Summersby. But Mary’s hobbies are not exactly proper, and Ryan is starting to realize that this simple miss is not at all what he expected . . . in the second Summersby Tale from Sophie Barnes.

M
ary stepped back. Had she really forgotten to introduce herself? Was it possible that Ryan Summersby didn’t know who she really was? She suddenly dreaded having to tell him. She’d enjoyed spending time with him, had even considered the possibility of seeing him again, but once he knew her true identity, he’d probably treat her no differently than all the other gentlemen had done—like a grand pile of treasure with which to pay off his debts and house his mistresses.

Squaring her shoulders and straightening her spine, she mustered all her courage and turned a serious gaze upon him. “My name is Mary Croyden, and I am the Marchioness of Steepleton.”

Ryan’s response was instantaneous. His mouth dropped open while his eyes widened in complete and utter disbelief. He stared at the slender woman who stood before him, doing her best to play the part of a peeress. Was it really possible that she was the very marchioness he’d been looking for when he’d stepped outside for some fresh air only half an hour earlier? The very same one that Percy had asked him to protect? She seemed much too young for such a title, too unpolished. It wasn’t that he found her unattractive in any way, though he had thought her plain at first glance.

“What?” she asked, as she crossed her arms and cocked an eyebrow. “Not what you expected the infamous Marchioness of Steepleton to look like?”

“Not exactly, no,” he admitted. “You are just not—”

“Not what? Not pretty enough? Not sophisticated enough? Or is it perhaps that the way in which I speak fails to equate with your ill-conceived notion of what a marchioness ought to sound like?” He had no chance to reply before she said, “Well, you do not exactly strike me as a stereotypical medical student either.”

“And just what exactly would you know about that?” he asked, a little put out by her sudden verbal attack.

“Enough,” she remarked in a rather clipped tone. “My father was a skilled physician. I know the sort of man it takes to fill such a position, and you, my lord, do not fit the bill.”

For the first time in his life, Ryan Summersby found himself at a complete loss for words. Not only could he not comprehend that this slip of a woman before him, appearing to be barely out of the schoolroom, was a peeress in her own right—not to mention a woman of extreme wealth. But that she was actually standing there, fearlessly scolding him . . . he knew that a sane person would be quite offended, and yet he couldn’t help but be enthralled.

In addition, he’d also managed to glimpse a side of her that he very much doubted many people had ever seen. “You do not think too highly of yourself, do you?” He suddenly asked.

That brought her up short. “I have no idea what you could possibly mean by that,” she told him defensively.

“Well, you assume that I do not believe you to be who you say you are. You think the reasoning behind my not believing you might have something to do with the way you look. Finally, you feel the need to assert yourself by finding fault with me—for which I must commend you, since I do not have very many faults at all.”

“You arrogant . . .” The marchioness wisely clamped her mouth shut before uttering something that she would be bound to regret. Instead, she turned away and walked toward the French doors that led toward the ballroom. “Thank you for the dance, Mr. Summersby. I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening,” she called over her shoulder in an obvious attempt at sounding dignified.

“May I call on you sometime?” he asked, ignoring her abrupt dismissal of him as he thought of the task that Percy had given him. It really wouldn’t do for him to muck things up so early in the game. And besides, he wasn’t sure he’d ever met a woman who interested him more than Lady Steepleton did at that very moment. He had to admit that the woman had character.

She paused in the middle of her exit, turned slightly, and looked him dead in the eye. “You most certainly may not, Mr. Summersby.” And before Ryan had a chance to dispute the matter, she had vanished back inside, the white cotton of her gown twirling about her feet.

An Excerpt from

A
S
UMMERSBY
T
ALE

by Sophie Barnes

Lucy Blackwell throws caution to the wind when she tricks Lord William Summersby into a marriage of convenience. But she never counted on falling in love . . .

“D
o you love her?” Miss Blackwell suddenly asked, her head tilted upward at a slight angle.

Lord, even her voice was delightful to listen to. And those imploring eyes of hers . . . No, he’d be damned if he’d allow her to ensnare him with her womanly charms. She’d practically made fools of both his sister and his father—she’d get no sympathy from him. Not now, not ever. “You and I are hardly well enough acquainted with one another for you to take such liberties in your questions, Miss Blackwell. My relationship to Lady Annabelle is of a personal nature, and certainly not one that I am about to discuss with you.”

Miss Blackwell blinked. “Then you do not love her,” she said simply.

“I hold her in the highest regard,” he said.

Miss Blackwell stared back at him with an increased measure of doubt in her eyes. “More reason for me to believe that you do not love her.”

“Miss Blackwell, if I did not know any better, I should say that you are either mad or deaf—perhaps even both. At no point have I told you that I do not love her, yet you are quite insistent upon the matter.”

“That is because, my lord, it is in everything you are saying and everything that you are not. If you truly loved her, you would not have had a moment’s hesitation in professing it. It is therefore my belief that you do not love her but are marrying her simply out of obligation.”

Why the blazes he was having this harebrained conversation with a woman he barely even knew, much less liked, was beyond him. But the beginnings of a smile that now played upon her lips did nothing short of make him catch his breath. With a sigh of resignation, he slowly nodded his head. “Well done, Miss Blackwell. You have indeed found me out.”

Her smile broadened. “Then it really doesn’t matter whom you marry, as long as you marry. Is that not so?”

He frowned, immediately on guard at her sudden enthusiasm. “Not exactly, no. The woman I marry must be one of breeding, of a gentle nature and graceful bearing. Lady Annabelle fits all of those criteria rather nicely, and, in time, I am more than confident that we shall become quite fond of one another.”

The impossible woman had the audacity to roll her eyes. “All I really wanted to know was whether or not anyone’s heart might be jeopardized if you were persuaded to marry somebody else. That is all.”

“Miss Blackwell, I can assure you that I have no intention of marrying anyone other than Lady Annabelle. She and I have a mutual agreement. We are both honorable people. Neither one of us would ever consider going back on his word.”

“I didn’t think as much,” she mused, and before William had any time to consider what she might be about to do, she’d thrown her arms around his neck, pulled him toward her, and placed her lips against his.

Copyright

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
Circle of Desire
copyright © 2011 by Carla Swafford.

Excerpt from
Circle of Danger
copyright © 2012 by Carla Swafford.

Excerpt from
Nights of Steel
copyright © 2012 by Nico Rosso.

Excerpt from
Alice’s Wonderland
copyright © 2012 by Allison Dobell.

Excerpt from
One Fine Fireman
copyright © 2012 by Jennifer Bernard.

Excerpt from
There’s Something About Lady Mary
copyright © 2012 by Sophie Barnes.

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

CIRCLE OF DECEPTION
. Copyright © 2013 by Carla Swafford. 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 JANUARY 2013 ISBN: 9780062225337

Print Edition ISBN: 9780062225344

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