The bastard son of a viscount and a Cheyenne shaman's daughter, Wolfe Lonetree agrees to rescue the pampered Lady Jessica from an unwanted impending wedding -- but only if she will be his wife.
Na ' ve and shockingly innocent, Lady Jessica Charteris tricked a rugged, handsome stranger into a marriage in name only in order to escape a union with a vile British lord. Totally unprepared for the hardships awaiting her in America, she is terrified by the prospect of life in the harsh and magnificent land at the edge of the Rockies. But even more frightening is Wolfe himself -- a man whose raw sensuality leaves her breathless.
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May 27, 2003
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Excerpt from Only Mine by Elizabeth Lowell
St. Joseph, Missouri
"Do be reasonable, my Lord Wolfe. It wasn't my idea to dismiss Betsy and the footmen."
I'm not your lord. I'm a bastard, remember "
I find my memory improving with each moment Jessica said under her breath. "Ouch! That pinched."
"Then stop wiggling like a worm on a hook. There are twenty buttons left and they're as small as peas. Damnation. What silly idiot made a dress that a woman has to be helped into "
And out of.
That was the worst of it. Wolfe knew the time would come eventually when he would have to undo each of the glittering jet buttons, and each undoing would reveal more warm, fragrant skin and fine lace lingerie. She was an elf who barely came up to his breastbone, but she was bringing him to his knees with raw desire. Her back was supple and elegant as a dancer's, graceful as a flame; and like a flame she burned him.
"I'm sorry," Jessica whispered unhappily as Wolfe's words scorched her ears. "I had hoped. . ."
"Stop whispering, damn it. If you have something to say, say it and damn all this aristocratic foolishness about talking so softly a man has to bend double to hear you."
"I thought that you would be glad to see me," Jessica said with great clarity. "Until this morning, I've not seen you once in the months since we exchanged vows. You haven't asked me how my voyage was, nor about the train trip across the United States, nor --"
"You said you wouldn't complain if I left you alone," Wolfe interrupted curtly. "Are you complaining, Lady Jessica "
Jessica fought against a wave of unhappiness. This wasn't how she had imagined her reunion with Wolfe. She had been looking forward to riding over the Great American Desert with him on eager blooded horses. She had been looking forward to long days of comfortable silence and lively conversation, to nighttime fires beneath the blazingly clear American sky. But most of all, she had looked forward to seeing Wolfe.
"When your letter came asking me to meet you here," she said, "I thought you had gotten over your pique."
"Pique. Now there's a mincing, aristocratic kind of word." His fingers fumbled and touched warm flesh. With a savage curse he jerked his fingers back. "You don't know me very well, lady. I wasn't piqued. I was bloody furious. I will remain that way until you grow up, agree to an annulment, and return to England where you belong."
"Nor do you know me very well. You thought I would give up and beg for an annulment at the prospect of traveling alone to America."