Perfect Bride by Samantha James Page A

greenery. Passing beneath a wooden arch way, she followed a grassy walkway to a stone bench angled in the far corner. Tilting her head back, she let the sun wash over her face, feeling the breeze swirl around her, watching sunbeams skitter through the treetops. When dusk began to fall, she reluctantly re turned inside.
    She took dinner in her room, then ventured down to the library. She had just seated herself in the leather chair that had beckoned so invitingly last night when she heard a low male voice.
    “Hello there.”
    It was Justin. Something akin to disappointment shot through her, and she almost found herself wishing it were Sebastian. Dear God, what the deuce had come over her, to find herself yearning to see Sebastian again? It made no sense, no sense at all, especially considering his opinion of her. For some reason she’d yet to figure out, when she was in his presence, her state of mind was a maelstrom of emotion. She felt uncertain of herself, of her feelings, for they swirled in every direction. She wasn’t afraid of him, indeed she had no qualms about standing up to him.
    If the truth be told, she was in awe of him. It wasn’t just his height, though she’d never encoun tered a man of such size. Nor was it his dark, dash ingly handsome good looks. He was different from all the men she’d known in her life. At the Crow’s Nest, the men swaggered and crowed and bragged about themselves and their achievements. She’d al ways found it vastly annoying.
    But clearly Sebastian had no need of it. He exuded an air of almost careless confidence and poise. Why, he need not say a word. One need only look at him and know he was a cut above—a man of supreme ability in whatever endeavor he might choose.
    He fascinated her, even as she fiercely resented his air of commanding superiority.
    But last night he’d been so nice. Even...sweet. He hadn’t wanted to, but he’d let the dog stay. He hadn’t been angry that she’d been nosing around his house in the dead of night, like the thief he was con vinced she was.
    She couldn’t help but recall the night she’d stag gered from bed and announced her intention to leave his house. She’d ended up toppling into his arms instead...Her memory of what followed was hazy, but she could have sworn he caressed her face, her lips, a touch so infinitely gentle it made her want to cry out just thinking of it . . .
    Pushing the disturbing image from her mind, she focused on the man before her. She liked Justin, she told herself stoutly. His manner conveyed an almost careless self-confidence, but he wasn’t pretentious— at least not with her—and Devon liked that. She’d known him but a short time, but unlike Sebastian, with whom she was forever tongue-tied, Justin was remarkably easy to talk to. Only the day before he’d blithely stated his days were spent gambling and riding and racing, his nights in pursuits that, as he put it, weren’t quite fit for feminine ears.
    Devon, of course, was all ears.
    “So you are a rake,” she’d pronounced. She couldn’t say that she approved.
    He clicked his heels and gave her a wink. “The handsomest man in all England, or so it’s said.”
    Devon didn’t even have to consider. Handsome, yes. But handsom est ? Not so, for in her mind Sebas tian was surely the handsomest man in all England.
    She eyed him. “Are you quite full of yourself, sir?”
    He chuckled. “That’s the most flattering thing that’s been said about me. Truth be told, I’m also known as a reprobate. A rascal, as well as some names I fear I cannot repeat in your company.”
    “Oh, I doubt you’re as bad as all that.”
    “Oh, I am, I assure you. Sebastian is the gentleman of the family. He was quite the war hero, you know, tending the wounded under fire in the Peninsula. I daresay he’d have made a fine physician. He has the patience of a saint.”
    Devon wasn’t surprised to learn he was a hero. A man of intensity, that was what she sensed about