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Victory is sweet—but England’s triumph was Georgie’s rout. Now that she’s widowed, the loathsome marriage her father first arranged has simply been renegotiated. With neither money nor rights, and nowhere to flee, all she can do is cherish her last weeks of freedom. . . . Until a band of ruffians overtake her carriage and kidnap her. When she escapes in seaside Brighton and encounters her brother’s rather wild friend, Lord St. Just—whom she suspects aspires to be a pirate—she’s prepared to entertain more of his adventurous suggestions than usual . . .
St. Just knows his mind and his duty, and he loves a challenge. Helping a fair lady make her farewells to hoodlums suits his talents well. Within the hour he has Georgie, her lady’s maid—and her little dog too—sailing for his castle in Cornwall. Meanwhile, the lady’s entire family, her kidnappers, and her scheming intended are in pursuit. But as he and the indomitable Georgie grow closer, he begins to suspect that together they will prove a match for them all . . .
A key grated in the lock. Lulu growled and stalked toward it, the fur on her back rising straight up.
“Not yet, Lulu.” Georgie gathered the leash. “Don’t bite him quite yet.”
Her dog stopped advancing on the door; however, the growling did not abate. Better be safe. She gathered Lulu into her arms. “I’ll give you the signal.”
The cabin door swung open, revealing Lord St. Just, an impossibly broad grin on his face. “Wait until I tell you what my men and I just did.”
“You don’t have to tell me, my lord. I already know.” Georgie glared at him and held Lulu tighter. The little animal was shaking, and Georgie was sure if she loosened her grip Lulu would launch herself at the unwary marquess. Serve him right too.
“You do?” He frowned and cocked his head, which made him look like a puzzled puppy. Lulu looked just like that whenever she was unhappy. But what did he have to be unhappy about? He was the one who had kidnapped her.
“You have set sail, my lord, with me and my maid aboard against our wills. Many sensible people call that kidnapping.” She’d always known this man was a pirate. In fact, she’d told her brother so. She handed Lulu to Clara before the dog could leap out of her arms and tear at his lordship’s throat. If anyone was going to attack the marquess, it would be Georgie herself. Plant him a facer and see how he liked being set upon.
“Oh.” The impossible man was all smiles again. “Yes, we had to put out or miss the evening tide.” His grin had returned, showing many straight, white teeth. “But we did manage to steal your trunks, Lady Georgina. If you will consider yourself abducted again, at least rejoice in the fact that you will have clean linen throughout the ordeal.”
She has equated her writing to an addiction to chocolate because once she starts she just can't stop.
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