By Samantha James
Can an ideal scoundrel be definitely the right hero? because she used to be cruelly left on the altar on the age of 22, girl Julianna Sterling has resolved to don't have anything to do with males. So she is stunned to find she has unwelcome emotions for the very worst of the breed -- a deadly, unbearably good-looking highwayman who has set upon her trainer within the geographical region and brought her captive. Worse nonetheless, her righteous ire turns speedy to unhappiness while the impossible to resist outlaw units her unfastened. Viscount Dane Granville understands he would not have printed his face to the enthralling girl Julianna -- for he has compromised the key challenge he has undertaken for the Crown within the guise of the infamous Magpie. Now their paths are crossing once again, and Dane aches to style back the wonder of her kiss. yet he needs to withstand what his center calls for, for his or her ardour can purely result in perils past imagining ...
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Extra resources for A Perfect Hero
His smile vanished, as quickly as if it had never been. “Wouldn’t I? You won’t be leaving here, kitten, and I will take whatever means I must to assure that you don’t. The sooner you resign yourself to that fact, the better off you’ll be. For you see, there is a limit to a man’s patience—to my patience—so if you are wise, you will not tempt me. ” His speech was delivered with matter-of-fact ease, yet his countenance was no less than forbid- A Perfect Hero 49 ding, the bite in his tone unmistakable.
As she sated her hunger, her mind continued to race. With outrage. With possibilities. The Magpie was not like any robber she’d ever imagined—not that she had an intimate acquaintance with men of his ilk! But he was right, she decided, finishing the last bite of cheese almost angrily. It was not wise to underestimate one’s enemies. And if he were wise, he would not underestimate her. Wiping her mouth, she eyed the massive cupboard across from her. A search revealed that it was well stocked. It also held the portmanteau she’d packed for the journey to Bath.
The coachman stuttered. “There’s nothing of value aboard, I swear! Mercy,” the man blubbered. ” Even as a decidedly prickly unease slid down her spine, the door was wrenched open. She found herself staring at the gleaming barrels of twin pistols. In terror she lifted her gaze to the man who possessed them. His eyes were all that was visible of his features. Even in the dark, there was no mistaking their color. They glimmered like clear, golden fire, pale and unearthly. The devil’s eyes. ” A gust of chill night air funneled in.