Once Tempted by Elizabeth Boyle

long.
    Jemmy grumbled something under his breath about overbearing blackguards, which both Olivia and the imposter chose to ignore.
    “Come on then, Olivia,” Jemmy said, stalking out of the bushes toward the path. “Mother is in rare form this morning and sent me out to find you before you came to a bad end.” His final words he shot directly at her companion.
    “Until we meet again, Miss Sutton,” the faux marquis said, with a polite nod. As he passed her, he added one last warning, low enough to exclude Jemmy from its hearing. “Don’t think this is finished.” His hand shot out and caught her by the arm, holding her in place. “I will have what I came to London for—one way or another.”
    “We shall see, sir,” she told him as tartly as she could muster, shaking off his grasp and her own reaction to his touch.
    The heat of his fingers seared her skin with the memory of the passionate fire his lips had kindled to life.
    So lost in the remembrance of it, she almost didn’t hear him say, “My name is Danvers. Robert Danvers.”
    Danvers. The name whispered over her ear, teasing her to try it out with her own lips.
    “I don’t care who you are,” she said instead. “I won’t help you.”
    His brows arched over his cold green eyes, lending him a wicked, unforgiving air, while his gaze raked over her as if he was once again assessing her like some great conundrum. “We’ll see about that.”
    Olivia had the uneasy feeling that there was more to his quest than just the treasure, something deeply personal that had to do with her and her alone. Something that should leave her fearful and wary of his wrath. But for now, she did the only thing she could—she fled from his side.
    He’s not so different from Robert after all, she tried telling herself as she retreated to where Jemmy stood waiting impatiently. No, he’s not that different whatsoever.
    Oh, but he was. Very different. Her hand went once again to her lips, where the heat of his kiss still lingered, one that had burned away everything she’d known about men and women and kissing.
    She redoubled her flight toward Jemmy, who stood, boot tapping on the grass, his jaw set with a determination that rivaled his mother’s well-known obstinacy. With every hurried step, she did her best to forget that she’d kissed this stranger—this Robert Danvers.
    “What the devil were you thinking, coming out alone?” Jemmy began. “That bastard could have killed you, or worse.” His tone implied all kinds of ominous occurrences that she as a lady could never imagine.
    But Olivia wasn’t a lady, not in that sheltered oh-so-proper sense, and she knew only too well what happened in the world Jemmy was so darkly hinting around the fences about.
    “And to think I let him go,” he continued blustering. “I should have done the world a favor and just—” He held the pistol out and trained it on a hapless squirrel dashing across the green. “Why, I’d have just—”
    “You would have done no such thing.” She took the pistol away from him and continued toward the house.
    Robert Danvers could be just as murderous as the man he was impersonating and Jemmy would end up losing his life protecting her long-lost honor.
    But do you really believe that ? The question haunted her with memories of his kiss and her body’s betrayal under his touch.
    Then an even worse thought hit her, leaving Olivia quaking in her boots.
    What if she had killed him last night?
    She would have sent an innocent man to his grave.
    The guilt that assailed her passed quickly. For truly, how innocent was a man who was impersonating a peer of the realm and obviously out to steal a king’s ransom?
    Robert Danvers returned to Bradstone House with more questions than answers.
    And with the realization that perhaps he’d made an error in kissing Miss Sutton.
    And it wasn’t the fact that she’d then been able to determine that he wasn’t the marquis but what it had done to his carefully