The Outlaw’s Virgin
Lady Margaret Travers is not about to let a train robber Brit steal all her funds and leave she and her sister Millicent stranded in Beaumont, Texas. After all, they are running to their Aunt Gertrude for sanctuary to escape an arranged marriage, and need all the money they have to survive.
Little does Maggie know that outlaw Brit is really Lord Lowndes, Tiernan Spalding, her intended bridegroom! Tiernan has given up his title and everything that goes with it to become a wanted man.
When Maggie follows Brit to his hideout, what's going to happen to the Outlaw's Virgin?
She was shouting and her face flushed with passion. Yes, passion. He was surprised to find so much under that stiff, British exterior. She was supposed to be a cold fish. A woman that lay beneath him and popped out his heirs as needed. Not a woman so full of life and energy that the air around her vibrated.
Never mind, he told his crotch, which was twitching to life at the thought of riding such a filly. He never had that kind of reaction from any woman before. And this one happened to be the one he was supposed to marry.
“How could you!” she shrieked. “You’ve ruined my life! Do you understand that? My sister is stranded in Beaumont alone and you took everything we had!”
“Don’t worry any about your sister. The sheriff in town will take care of her. He’s an honorable man.”
“Unlike you, you mean.”
He ignored her barb and concentrated on her delicate hands that were gripping his shirt hard enough he was surprised the seams hadn’t ripped. What he wouldn’t give to have those fingers wrapped around him.
“What are you yapping about, woman? Where are the rest of your things? I mean, isn’t your father the lord of the manor? There must be more money? You look like you aren’t wanting for much.”
She opened her mouth to speak then closed it. “You don’t understand.”
He sure didn’t. “So make me understand.”
“I was… I was on my way to meet my intended bridegroom, but Millie and I got separated from our chaperone and our luggage. We were going to Corpus Christi to my aunt’s house, and then to Houston to… to my future husband.”
Her story didn’t quite ring true. “And who is the lucky man?”
“The Earl of Lowndes, Lord Tiernan Franklinton.”
It was hard to hear it spoken out loud. He had taken his stepfather’s last name when his mother remarried, and lost his first name when he stormed out of their house two years ago. He had become Brit. But to hear his entire name and title come from her delicate pink lips was too much.
He grabbed her by the arms, forcing her to release her death grip on her shirt. “So you’re going to be a countess?”
“I… yes, I suppose I am.” She didn’t look very convincing. In fact, she looked like she was lying to him. Her little pink tongue darted out to swipe her lips and he couldn’t stop himself from kissing her anymore than he could stop the sun from rising.
The first touch of her lips was like warm honey, sweet and delicious. He groaned low and deep in his throat and pulled her closer. Her curves fit into his hardness so perfectly, it was if she had been made for him. She was taller than most women so they were pressed chest to chest, groin to groin, lips to lips.
Unbelievably, her arms snaked around his neck and pulled him closer. He spread his hands across her ass, learning the dips and hollows. He was hampered by all the damn clothes she had on, and could only feel the shape of it. He wanted to feel it in his bare hands, skin to skin.
God, in another minute, he’d have her on the bed, plunging in deep and panting for more.
Not a good idea if his intention was to get rid of an unwanted bride. Once he crossed the line from bandit to lover, his damnable sense of honor would rear its ugly head and demand that he marry his unwanted fiancé after he ruined her.
He wrenched his lips away from hers and pushed back, grasping her shoulders and taking deep breaths. He could feel her body shudder right along with his.
“That was real nice, honey. Maybe later we can see what else you can do with that mouth of yours.”
He was expecting the slap, but it still stung like a bitch. Harder than she’d slapped his hand on the train. His damn cheek felt like it was on fire. Maybe she took boxing lessons in merry old England.
He narrowed his gaze and injected iciness into his voice. “Don’t do that again. Ever. You won’t get another free shot at me, countess.”
“Don’t call me that! And do not even think about assaulting my person again!”
Her eyes were bright and her cheeks flushed. What an incredibly sexy woman. Her hands were clenched into fists and he wouldn’t put it past her to try a roundhouse punch on him.
“I’ll do whatever the hell I feel like doing, countess. Take off your clothes.”