The Black Sheep and The English Rose. Donna Kauffman

      KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

       http://www.kensingtonbooks.com

      Contents

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

      Chapter 8

      Chapter 9

      Chapter 10

      Chapter 11

      Chapter 12

      Chapter 13

      Chapter 14

      Chapter 15

      Chapter 16

      Chapter 17

      Chapter 18

      Chapter 19

      Chapter 20

      Chapter 21

      Chapter 22

      Chapter 23

      Chapter 24

      Chapter 25

      Chapter 26

      Epilogue

      Chapter 1

      Someone else had gotten to her first.

      It. Someone else had gotten to it first. She had nothing to do with it. Or shouldn’t have. But then, he could be forgiven for being slightly distracted. He’d just broken into one of New York City’s finer five star hotel suites expecting to be dazzled by a sapphire sparkler…only he’d thought the gorgeous gem would come in the form of a priceless Byzantine necklace. Not a stunning redhead tied to a bed in little more than midnight blue satin and lace.

      If she was surprised to see him, her scowl didn’t let on.

      The last time Finn Dalton had laid eyes on Felicity Jane Trent, she’d been dripping in diamonds. Someone else’s diamonds. Two years had passed since that stormy winter night in Prague. Her penchant for hot gemstones, however, apparently had not.

      The only difference was that this time, someone else had gotten to her first. So, rather than rescuing a priceless antiquity, Finn was left with the option of rescuing Felicity Jane.

      He leaned against the doorway of the elegantly appointed bedroom and folded his arms. “Hello, Jane.” He smiled when she bristled. He was certain she felt that was far too common a name for a woman like her, which was mostly why he’d used it. Jane was a strong, no-nonsense moniker, much like its owner. Felicity, on the other hand, was a name that conjured up images of a beautiful, innocent sprite whose most pressing problem was attempting to find the heels she’d kicked off the night before.

      The only resemblance Felicity Jane bore to a beautiful, innocent sprite was the beautiful part.

      “I didn’t steal it,” she informed him, her crisp English accent reflecting both her Oxford education and a pedigree that would make even the royals gush in approval. Not that they would approve of her if they knew. Knew what only Finn knew.

      “Well, not to state the obvious,” he said, “but whatever it was you didn’t steal is clearly no longer in your possession, so it’s rather a moot point now, isn’t it?”

      “Whatever it was?” She all but spat his words back at him.

      But then, he already knew from personal experience how much she hated to lose.

      “You’re honestly going to stand there and pretend that we aren’t here for the same purpose?” She laughed then, but there was little humor in it.

      “Actually, I’m standing here wondering why he didn’t gag you. And why you aren’t screaming bloody murder. Given that, you know, you weren’t here to steal anything.”

      “Rather a sexist observation, don’t you think?”

      “What, that I assumed you were outsmarted by a man?” He smiled. “Again?”

      “Not outsmarted. Everything was perfectly planned. I merely turned my attention away for a single moment and—” She’d instantly leapt to defend herself, then, realizing the trap, wisely clammed up.

      “Not sexist,” he went on, nodding at her clothing. Or lack thereof. And enjoying the moment far more than he knew was wise. “I simply deduced that it wasn’t likely you’d been entertaining someone of the same sex.” He cocked his head. “But I’ve been wrong before.”

      She sniffed. “Pig.”

      “Just a man. I hope you don’t mind if I take a brief moment to imagine…” He closed his eyes and let his smile slowly spread to a grin.

      “A pig and a scoundrel, but then I learned as much in Prague.”

      He opened his eyes, his smile not wavering so much as a tic. He wondered if she’d noted his heightened awareness, though. She didn’t miss much. “Funny, I don’t recall you using either of those terms to describe me that night. In fact, as I remember it, the terms you used were more along the lines of life-altering and—”

      “Nothing more than an ego stroke, I assure you. Men like to hear what they want to hear, after all.” Her tone had become quite clipped, but her skin tone had warmed. And she couldn’t seem to keep her gaze from dipping below his chin. Possibly recalling, as was he, that last night they’d been together. It had been rather…memorable. And for far more reasons than the manner in which it had unfortunately ended.

      “Had it only been my ego you were stroking at the time, perhaps I’d agree, but that kind of sincerity—and, well, the word ‘awe’ comes to mind—really can’t be faked.”

      Her gaze jerked to his. This time she looked him up and down quite insolently. “You’d be amazed by what can be faked.”

      He gave her the same once-over. “Perhaps.” He smiled. “I don’t believe I’ve ever had the opportunity to learn much about that, however.”

      “So certain of your prowess, are you? Or is it simply a lack of experience?”

      He pushed away from the door frame. “Why don’t I let you be the judge of that.”

      She didn’t so much as squirm when he walked into the room, despite being at a very distinct disadvantage. In fact, she easily held his gaze as he approached, her own demeanor far more that of someone conducting a boardroom coup than a woman presently shackled to a bed with little more than an ounce of silk keeping her dignity intact. Hell, Felicity Jane could have been completely naked, and somehow she’d still manage to appear as unruffled and in control as if she were the one doing the interrogating.

      He should know.

      It was one of the many complexities about her that he used as his excuse for acting so completely out of character whenever he got within five feet of her. He paused at the foot of the bed.

      “I would be happy to recite the terms of endearment I used after we parted,” she informed him. “Nothing you haven’t heard before, I’m certain.”

      He sighed then. “At least I had the foresight to gag you. Although your uses for that bow tie from my tux were certainly more creative, I must say. Still, I’d thought myself so original, leaving you as I did.” He let his gaze slide slowly down her body, then just as slowly back up again. He was rewarded with a gleam