Authors: Phoebe Conn
She sniffed. “I’m not that desperate.”
His face must have been close to her ear, for when he whispered, “Neither am I
,”
she heard him distinctly. Then he went on to say, “But then, a kiss is perhaps too much to ask of a white woman.”
A kiss?
She spun around so quickly, she wheeled off-balance. He caught her, his hands grabbing hold of her waist to steady her. “That’s all you’ve been speaking of? A kiss?”
He gave her a devilish grin, his lips close to her own, before he said, “Maybe two, if you please.”
She took a step backward, out of his arms, watching as his arms fell to his sides.
“What kind of kiss?”
Darn. There it was again, that dazzling smile. It made his face light up as though mood alone ruled his countenance. Worse, when she looked at him, her insides went all soft and warm, as though she were made of nothing but butter and rum. He said, “Should I show you the kind of kiss that I like?”
“Sir!”
He chuckled, closed one eyelid and winked at her. “It would be a simple kiss, two pairs of lips squeezed against each other.” He leaned down to her, but simply pressed his lips against one of his own fingers, which he then placed over her lips.
At the contact, her body reacted as though it was ready for so much more. She shut her eyes, feeling slightly faint.
“But I would reserve the right…” He paused, causing her to open her eyes. Drat! His handsome face swam in front of her, and at the sight, a smoldering fire fanned to life within her; her stomach somersaulted. He stood close; so close, she could smell the scent of mint on his breath, the musky fragrance of his skin, the fresh odor of buckskin.
“The right,” he continued, “to hold you in my arms when I kiss you.”
“Oh, I see. I…I’m not sure.”
“Are
you
afraid, then? Afraid you might start to feel something besides a white woman’s contempt for an Indian?”
“You know that’s not true,” she whispered. “You know from speaking to me tonight that I don’t hold this opinion.”
He drew in a deep, ragged breath. “yes,” he said. “You are right, and I apologize for saying that. You are not the kind of person to feel scorn for another, are you? Simply because he is different than you are. So if not that, what are you afraid of?”
Aa
,
“I…I’m afraid that I might…” She didn’t finish the sentence. She wasn’t certain that she herself understood what she’d been about to say. Although there was one thing she knew she could count on…her mind’s ability to reason. She said, “Y-you are correct. The stakes should be something we are unwilling to part with. You, to aid something alien to you. Me, to give up my work, and a kiss.”
He nodded. “Seems fair.”
“All right, then I…I believe we have a venture, Mister, ah…Soaring Eagle. Sh-shall we shake on it?” She would have held out her hand, except that he stood too close to her to do so.
“We could,” he said, “or perhaps we could do something better.”
And before she could stop him, he gathered her hand in his, bringing it, glove and all, to his lips. She gasped. Not because of what he was doing, but because…
He glanced up at her and smirked. “When I was at the white man’s school,” he said, “I learned an odd custom. At first I thought it was a strange practice, but the more I thought about it, the more and more I appreciated the wit of the white man.” And turning her hand palm up, he pressed another kiss against her wrist.
Kali’s heartbeat raced out of proportion to the action, and it was all she could do to stand upright at the moment, for her knees threatened to collapse beneath her. And truth to tell, she had little time to hide her reaction from him, for when he raised his head and said, “I believe we have a wager, Little Miss Redhead,” his look was so full of mischief, she wondered if she had, perhaps, made a tactical error…
Swept Away
Phoebe Conn
His quest to win her love could cost his life.
When the wealthy family of Virginia belle Eden Sinclair sends her to London to escape the horrors of the Civil War, it isn’t far enough to escape heartbreak. In a whirlwind, she is courted by the Earl of Claiborne, married—then widowed soon after her wedding. Her head hasn’t even stopped spinning when the Earl’s heir, dashing sea captain Raven Blade, offers the comfort of his arms.
Raven never wanted a wife, until Eden. Honor kept him from competing with the Earl for her love, but now that her marriage bed is empty, there is nothing stopping him from making her Lady Claiborne—again—and taking her home to his Jamaican plantation to shield her from the resulting gossip.
In a dangerous quest to win her heart, Raven volunteers to captain one of her father’s ships, the Confederate commerce destroyer
Southern Knight.
Even as he risks his life, he harbors a dangerous secret. And his absence from the plantation leaves Eden—and the growing child in her belly—vulnerable to someone who would rather see her dead than take her rightful place beside the Earl of Claiborne…
Warning: Contains a dashing hero who doesn’t stand on tradition, and a vulnerable young heroine who must sort through a tangle of volatile emotions—and raw desire that could teach even tropical Jamaica how to steam.
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
11821 Mason Montgomery Road Suite 4B
Cincinnati OH 45249
Swept Away
Copyright © 2013 by Phoebe Conn
ISBN: 978-1-61921-401-9
Edited by Linda Ingmanson
Cover by Kim Killion
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
electronic publication: January 2013
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