Series: Runaway Desires #1
Published by Lyrical Press on August 16, 2016
Genres: historical romance
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In this captivating new series set in Georgian England, a disgraced woman hides from her marriage—for better or worse…
Sarah Pevensey had hoped her arranged marriage to St. John Sutliffe, Viscount Fairfax, could become something more. But almost before it began, it ended in a scandal that shocked London society. Accused of being a jewel thief, Sarah fled to a small fishing village to rebuild her life.
The last time St. John saw his new wife, she was nestled in the lap of a soldier, disheveled, and no longer in possession of his family’s heirloom sapphire necklace. Now, three years later, he has located Sarah and is determined she pay for her crimes. But the woman he finds is far from what he expected. Humble and hardworking, Sarah has nothing to hide from her husband—or so it appears. Yet as he attempts to woo her to uncover her secrets, St. John soon realizes that if he’s not careful, she’ll steal his heart…
To Kiss a Thief
Sarah smiled inwardly at Mrs. Potts’s insistence on such a grandiose label for the small cottage’s plain sitting room, but curiosity quickly redirected her thoughts. The only strangers who called at Primrose Cottage were those seeking some kind of assistance. Her own means, albeit meager, were still beyond many in the little fishing village. But if Mrs. Potts described him as a gentleman, he was unlikely to be a vagrant begging alms or an itinerant laborer looking for work. “I’ll see what he wants,” she said. Three steps took her down the narrow passageway that ran beside the staircase. She stopped in the doorway to the parlor to observe her visitor.
The stranger stood looking out the window toward the sea, his back to her. He was tall and well-dressed, his dark blue riding coat and snug buff breeches hugging broad shoulders and well-muscled legs. Puddles had collected around the soles of his boots, and his great – coat had been flung unceremoniously—almost proprietarily—over a nearby chair. Mrs. Potts had indeed been most remiss in the duties of a hostess.
Sarah stepped forward. Soft as her footsteps had been, the sound evidently attracted the man’s notice. As he turned his head, the fading light struck a momentary sheen of dark gold.
Her vision blurred as the blood rushed from her head to her pounding heart. The handsome, blond-haired gentleman offered a stiff bow. “Ma’am.”
“My lord,” Sarah whispered. She curtsied automatically, though a moment’s reflection would have forestalled the gesture. As she felt her knees bend, she very much feared she was going to go right on sinking to the floor.
She had no desire to display such weakness to the man who stood before her.
St. John Sutliffe, Viscount Fairfax.
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