by Amelia Grey
His gaze focused fully on hers. “Tell me what I can do for you, Your Grace.”
“I’m here because you possess something that belongs to my family, and I would like it back now.”
Race went still. That proclamation raised Race’s eyebrows and the hair on the back of his neck, too. He couldn’t have been more taken aback if she had suddenly slapped him. What kind of accusation was that? You have something that belongs to my family and I’d like it back.
Race grinned, and then he laughed. She was truly a strong-willed lady who didn’t mind speaking her mind. He liked the courage he sensed in her, but he couldn’t let her get away with being so brash.
His laughter caused the first crack in her overconfident demeanor. She bristled noticeably. It made him feel damned good to see her rattled.
“I’m sorry for laughing, Your Grace.”
“No, you aren’t.”
Her voice was taut and steady. He could tell she strained hard to keep her face stoic.
“All right, I’m not. You have amused me greatly.”
Her chin and shoulders lifted a fraction. She didn’t like what he had said any more than he had liked her accusation.
“I wasn’t aware I had the capacity to be so humorous,” she said.
“Then let me enlighten you.”
A couple of steps took him close enough that he could have touched her if he’d lifted his hands. He caught the scent of freshly washed hair and lightly perfumed skin. His body reacted strongly to her feminine draw.
He had expected her to back away from him, but she stood her ground without flinching. He heard her labored breathing and, for a moment, he watched the rise and fall of her chest. She was so fascinating he found it difficult to concentrate.
Yet, he couldn’t let her accusation go unchallenged.
His gaze swept up and down her face before settling on her gorgeous green eyes. “First, I’m amused that you were so blunt. If you truly thought I had something that belonged to you, there are nicer ways to say it than ‘It’s mine and I want it back.’ Second, I’m amused because I don’t have anything that belongs to your family, and third, if I had anything you thought belonged to your family, I wouldn’t turn it over to you simply because you demanded it.”
He bent his head closer so that his nose almost touched hers. The fragrant scent of mint tea lingered in the air. With great effort, he resisted the impulse to rest his lips against hers and feel their softness.
In a husky voice, he said, “And finally, Your Grace, just who the hell do you think you are to imply that I have stolen anything from your family?”
A light blush tinted her cheeks, but she didn’t shrink from his nearness. Rather than his forward advancement intimidating her, she relaxed. Only a little, just enough to hint that he might have caused her a moment of compunction before she summoned an inner strength to carry her forward.
Her face remained dangerously close to his. Her courage didn’t waver. “Your points are well taken, and I must apologize once again. I didn’t intend for you to feel I was accusing you of stealing anything from my family. I assure you that is not the case. I merely said you have it in your possession.”
He heard sincerity in her voice, and that gave him some measure of assurance that she wasn’t just trying to trick him.
“What is it that you think I have?”
Her eyes sparkled. “Oh, I know you have them. The Talbot pearls.”
Race’s mouth tightened. His grandmother, Lady Elder, had left him the priceless antique necklace in her will. Five thirty-two-inch strands of perfectly matched pearls.
His gaze scanned her face once again, looking for deception. “My grandmother’s necklace?”
“My grandmother’s pearls,” she insisted.
Her courage was impressive and her beauty undeniable, but her assertions were troubling. Her gaze stayed locked on his. He liked the fact she looked him in the eyes and didn’t cower under his nearness. She obviously wasn’t lying—she actually believed what she was saying.
“Your audacity is almost as priceless as the pearls, but stand in line, Your Grace. You are the fourth person this month to approach me about the pearls. Though, I admit, none have come forward with as creative a story as yours.”
Concern flashed in her glinting eyes. “What do you mean?” She reached down, picked up some papers from the table beside her, and extended them to him.
“I have documents proving the necklace belongs to my family.”
Race didn’t offer to take the folded sheets of aged parchment from her. “Interestingly enough, the gentlemen who have come before you are not as clever as you. They are not claiming ownership of the pearls. They all want to buy them.”
Her fan-shaped brows furrowed, and alarm etched her face. “Who are these men?”
For the first time, Race felt anger rise inside her, and it was seductive. Desire for her filled him. He wanted to pull her into his arms, crush her against his chest, and feel her soft, pliant lips beneath his in an eager kiss.
Instead, he kept control of his thoughts and said, “The first person to approach me was Mr. Albert Smith, a one-armed antiquities dealer who wants them for an unnamed buyer. Does that unnamed person happen to be you?”
“Absolutely not. I’d never pay for what already rightfully belongs to my family.”
“Then perhaps you are acquainted with Sir Harold Winston. He is employed by the Prince Regent himself. It seems Prinny has long had his eyes on the Talbot pearls. He wants to add the collar to His Majesty’s Crown Jewels.”
“That’s absurd. The Crown already has more pearls, diamonds, and gems than all other countries put together, including Rome and the Catholic Church.”
“Ah, then that only leaves the mysterious buccaneer, Captain Spyglass.” He tilted his head in consideration. “Perhaps you have formed an alliance with him?”
“I have heard of the man, but know this, My Lord, I have formed no alliance with anyone. Moreover, Captain Spyglass is nothing but a pirate.”
“So some say,” Race admitted.
“What does he want with the pearls?”
“No doubt to add to his collection. He’s been buying up pearls from all over the world and garnering quite the collection, from what I understand.”
“Why is he buying pearls?”
Race bent his head closer to hers once again. “Are you sure you don’t know, Duchess?”
“I can only tell you the truth. I have never met nor have I ever had dealings with Captain Spyglass or any of these men you speak of. These documents prove the Talbot pearls belong to my mother. They were stolen from my grandmother fifty years ago.”
He refused the papers yet again. He didn’t know if he should believe her about any of the men. Though in truth, it hardly mattered. He didn’t know what kind of madcap scheme she had mulling around that pretty head of hers, or why she had brought it to his door, but he wasn’t interested.
“Documents are easily forged to look old and authentic, Your Grace. There is no way I’m selling the pearls to a one-armed man, a pirate, or the Crown. And I’m sure as hell not going to be bluffed out of them by a beautiful duchess.”
About the Author
Amelia Grey grew up in a small town in the Florida Panhandle. She has been happily married to her high school sweetheart for more than twenty-five years.
Amelia has won the Booksellers Best Award and Aspen Gold Award for writing as Amelia Grey. Writing as Gloria Dale Skinner, she has won the Romantic Times Award for Love and Laughter, the Maggie Award, and the Affaire de Coeur Award. Her books have been sold in many countries in Europe, in Russia, and in China, and they have also been featured in Doubleday and Rhapsody Book Clubs.
Amelia loves flowers, candlelight, sweet smiles, gentle laughter, and sunshine.
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Praise for Michèle Ann Young’s No Regrets
“ Dark heroes, courageous heroines, intrigue, heartbreak, and heaps of sexual tension. Do not miss this fabulous new author.” —Molly O’Keefe, Harlequin Superromance
“ Readers will never want to put her book down!” —Bronwyn Scott, author of Pickpocket Countess