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547 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 1989
Elizabeth Cameron, with her angelic beauty, golden hair and shining green eyes, had taken London by storm.
She was not a rage She was the rage
”Look, Elizabeth, isn’t he divine in a sort of mysterious, wicked way?”
”I think,” he said softly, “that you are magnificent.”
“Elizabeth’s entire body started to tremble as his lips began descending to hers. and she sought to forestall what her heart knew was inevitable by reasoning with him. “A gently bred Englishwoman,” she shakily quoted Lucinda’s lecture. “feels nothing stronger than affection. We do not fall in love.”
His warm lips covered hers. “I’m a Scot,” he murmured huskily. “We do.”
”Dance with me, Elizabeth.”
“Because,” he said quietly as she stood up, “until you walked into it, this was an ordinary garden.”
Puzzled, Elizabeth tipped her head. “What is it now?”
“Heaven.”
The sight that Ian beheld when he looked up make his grin fade as tenderness and awe shook through him. Spread out before him in colorful splendor were the most magnificent flower gardens I an had ever beheld. The other heirs of Havenhurst night have added stone and mortar to the house, but Elizaebeth had given it breathtaking beauty.”
It was the longest three weeks of his life.
It was the shortest of hers
There are four steps separating us and a year and a half of wanting drawing us together,” he said. Elizabeth swallowed. “Couldn’t you meet me halfway?”
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“Elizabeth,” he said in a tone of tender finality, “you’re here because we’re already half in love with each other.”
“Whaaat?” she gasped.
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“What is it you want?”
“You.”
Ian’s breath froze in his chest, and he stared down at her lustrous hair. “What did you just say?”
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They had wanted each other from that first night in the garden. They had wanted each other every time they’d been together since then. She was innocence and courage; passion and shyness; fury and forgiveness. She was serene and regal in a ballroom; jaunty and skillful with a pistol in her hands; passionate and sweet in his arms. She was all of that, and much more.
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she tried to ask him why this was happening to her. “Why?” she whispered against his chest.
Ian heard the shattered sound in her voice, and he understood her question; it was the same one he’d been asking himself. Why did this explosion of passion happen every time he touched her; why could this one English girl make him lose his mind? “I don’t know,” he said.
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suddenly she hated all the restrictions of the stupid social system that was trying to enslave her.
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Do you have any other extraordinary skills I ought to know about, my lord?” she whispered, holding him as tightly as he was holding her.
The laughter in his voice was replaced by tender solemnity. “I’m rather good,” he whispered, “at loving you.”
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