Eric arrived back at his stables needing two things: a miracle and a stiff brandy. Miracles, he knew from experience, were impossible to come by. Luckily he possessed an abundance of brandy.

Arthur emerged through the stable's double wooden doors just as Eric dismounted. "We need to talk," Eric said, handing him Emperor's reins. "Meet me in my study in thirty minutes."

By the time Arthur arrived, Eric was working his way through his second brandy. After the stableman settled himself in his favorite chair along with a glass of whiskey, Eric tersely related the afternoon's conversation with Adam Straton. When he finished, Arthur shook his head.

"Looks to me like yer rescuin' days are done. We knew ye'd hafta quit someday, and 'tis too risky now for ye to go on. Even though Champion's stall is hidden behind the false door in the stables, someone real sharp like Straton-someone who was lookin'-might find him."

Arthur rose and crossed the few steps to where Eric leaned his hips against the edge of his desk. Clamping a work-worn hand on his shoulder, he said, "Lady Margaret ain't married no more. Ye've saved many women and should be proud of yerself, as I'm proud of ye. Ye've paid yer debt. 'Tis time to let go of yer guilt and stop. Now." He tightened his grasp. "I've no desire to see ye hang."

A humorless laugh puffed from Eric's lips. "I've no desire to see me hang, either."

" 'Tis decided then." Arthur lifted his glass in salute. "Here's to yer retirement. May it be prosperous. And lengthy."

Eric did not raise his snifter. "I've more news, although between your connection to the Briggeham household and the way gossip travels, you may have already heard. Samantha Briggeham is getting married."

Arthur's brow creased in a puzzled frown. "Wot's this? Miz Sammie gettin' married? Bah, must be another mistake. I'd have heard tell of it."

"Trust me, there's no mistake."

Anger bristled from Arthur. "And just wot idiotic dolt is her pa foisting on her this time?"

This time Eric did raise his glass. "That idiotic dolt would be me."

If the situation hadn't been so dire, Eric would have laughed at Arthur's stunned and utterly bewildered expression. "You! But… but… how? Why?"

"Earlier this evening her mother and Lydia Nordfield discovered us in a compromising position."

Surely if Arthur's eyes bugged out any farther they would simply pop from their sockets. "Ye compromised Miz Sammie?"

Eric tossed back his brandy. "Thoroughly."

Arthur stepped backwards until the backs of his knees hit his chair. Then his legs folded and he flopped down with a plop, staring at Eric with amazement that quickly turned to anger.

"Devil take me, we talked about this very thing," Arthur ground out. "Wot the hell were ye thinkin'? Why didn't ye just seek out one of yer actresses or widows?"

"I'm in love with her."

If he'd thought his softly spoken admission would garner him any sympathy from Arthur, he was sadly mistaken. "Then ye should have done the honorable thing and married her first."

Eric slammed his empty snifter on his desk. "And condemn her to a life of danger with a husband who could be dragged off in chains to the gallows at any moment? A life where she could be suspected of conspiracy simply by her association with me?"

"Then ye should have kept yer damn hands off her. But since ye didn't, now ye'll make it right and marry her."

Eric met Arthur's outraged glare, then dragged his hands wearily down his face. "I want to. More than anything. If my situation were different, I would gladly wed her and spend the next several decades making heirs." A humorless laugh scraped his throat. "Although a difference in my situation wouldn't even matter as the lady does not want to marry me."

"Bosh. Why wouldn't she want to? Any woman would trade her teeth to marry ye."

"I think we can agree that Samantha falls well outside the category of 'any woman.' Just before her mother discovered us, she'd made it clear she did not wish to see me anymore. In any capacity. She wants to devote herself to her scientific studies and travel abroad."

"Don't matter no more wot the gel wants. She's gotta marry ye or be ruined."

"Damn it, what she wants does matter. More than anything. She shouldn't be forced into a marriage she doesn't want, any more than any woman should…"

His voice trailed off and he froze.

Arthur's eyes narrowed. "Ye've got that look about ye that shivers a chill down me spine. Wot are ye thinkin'?"

"I'm thinking that there will be one more rescue before I retire," Eric said slowly, his mind whirling.

Arthur scratched his head, a puzzled frown creasing his forehead. "Another rescue? Damnation, 'tis too dangerous with Straton and that damnable posse sniffin' about. Why risk it?"

Eric met his gaze. "Because Samantha Briggeham is worth the risk."

Understanding dawned, and Arthur's brows disappeared into his hairline. "Ye're mad! Just marry her."

Pushing off from his desk, he paced in front of Arthur. "Think about it. The easy thing, the selfish thing, would be to simply marry her. Force her into a union she doesn't want. Love her and enjoy her until my past catches up with me, then go to the gallows and leave her, and perhaps some children, behind to face Society's scorn. I cannot take that chance."

He paused by the windows and looked out at the darkness. Laying his forehead against the cool glass, he closed his eyes, trying not to think about the dark, bleak days facing him once she was gone. "I love her enough to let her go. The Bride Thief will rescue her." Hurt stabbed him like steely blades, and his voice lowered to a husky whisper. "Free her from a marriage she does not want. Give her the adventure she does want."

Turning away from the window, he faced Arthur, looking into his old friend's troubled eyes. "And I am, or rather the Bride Thief is, the only man who can free her. I refuse to force her. And I cannot stand the thought of her in danger. If Straton were to ever discover that she aided me during my last rescue, she'd be charged with conspiracy."

"As her husband, ye could protect her."

"As her husband, I could destroy her."

Arthur heaved out a long breath. "Bloody bit of an irony, that is."

Eric's throat tightened. Unable to speak, he merely nodded his agreement. He knew what he had to do. For her. He'd arrange for her to explore all of Italy, the entire damn Continent if she wished. Set up a laboratory anywhere she chose. She'd have the adventures she'd always longed for, and he'd see to it that she never lacked for anything.

All he needed to do was supply the passage and funds, a simple enough task. But by God, he didn't have any idea where he'd find the strength to let her go.


Sammie descended the stairs at ten the next morning, tired beyond compare but filled with resolve. After spending a sleepless night punctuated by several useless bouts of tears, she'd decided upon a course of action. Even though she did not feel the least bit hungry, she headed toward the dining room, knowing she would require all her strength for the battle that would erupt when she spoke to her parents.

Hubert greeted her when she entered the dining room. "Good morning, Sammie. I say, are you all right? You look peaked."

She forced a smile. "I'm fine. Have you seen Mama and Papa?"

"Yes. They're in the drawing room with Lord Wesley."

Her stomach tumbled over. "Lord Wesley is here? So early?"

"Arrived over an hour ago. I saw him from my bedchamber window. He looked quite grim I must say."

Over an hour ago! Good heavens, this was a disaster. She fled from the room, racing down the corridor. She skidded to a halt when the drawing room door opened. Out stepped Papa bearing a contented expression, followed closely by Mama who resembled a cat just presented with a bowl of cream and a rasher offish.

Eric then emerged. His gaze collided with Sammie's and her heart shattered. He was so beautiful. So trapped. And so clearly unhappy.

"Samantha, darling," Mama cooed, lacing her arm through Sammie's. "How delightful you're awake. We have dozens of plans to make and very little time. How I shall manage to arrange a wedding in less than a week I cannot say, but-"

"I need to discuss that very matter with both you and Papa," Sammie said, "but first, I would like a word with Lord Wesley."

Mama made a tsk-ing noise. "Well, I suppose we can spare a few moments-"

"A private word, Mama."

Mama blinked several times, then she inclined her head in her most gracious manner. "Well, I suppose it wouldn't be too improper for you to spend several moments alone with your fiancé." Turning toward her husband, she said, "Come along, Charles. We shall enjoy a cup of tea while the earl and his future countess conduct their first conversation as a betrothed couple." She glided down the corridor as if floating on air, Papa following meekly in her wake.

Sammie walked quickly into the drawing room, crossing to the center of the room. With her hands clasped tightly at her waist, she stared out the window, waiting until she heard Eric enter and close the door behind him. She drew several bracing breaths then turned to face him, startled to find him standing only several feet away from her.

His gaze locked onto hers and sorrow washed through her at his obvious fatigue. Sunlight poured through the window, bathing him in a golden glow that highlighted the weary lines bracketing his eyes and mouth.

He stepped closer to her, out of the column of sunshine. He reached out and ran a gentle finger across her cheek, a tender gesture that nearly brought tears to her eyes. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"In truth, no. I'm sorry I was not about when you arrived, but I did not expect you until later this afternoon."

"I saw no reason to delay meeting with your father. I set the necessary proceedings to procure a special license in motion early this morning."

"Those proceedings are precisely what I need to discuss with you," she said, proud that her voice sounded so steady. "I wish for you to cancel them."

A tired smile touched one corner of his mouth. "I'm afraid that is impossible, as we shall need the special license to marry on such short notice."

Dear God, did he have any idea how exhausted and resigned he appeared? "I'm sorry," she whispered. "So incredibly sorry-"

He brushed two fingers against her lips, cutting off her words. "You have nothing to apologize for, Samantha."

"But you are so upset, and rightfully so."

"Not at you." He clasped her shoulders and looked into her eyes. "Never at you."

"Well, you should be. This entire debacle is my fault."

"On the contrary, it is completely my fault. I never should have stolen your innocence."

"You took nothing that I did not freely, willingly give you. And that is why I cannot accept your offer."

A frown formed between his brows. "I beg your pardon?"

She squared her shoulders and raised her chin. "I am releasing you from your obligation to marry me."

He slowly released her shoulders, his dark eyes wiped clean of all expression. "I see. Even facing ruin you don't wish to marry me."

Her heart went numb at that flatly spoken statement. Her throat burned with the words aching to burst forth, that she loved him and wanted more than anything to be his wife, but she forced them back. "You made your position on marriage quite clear before our liaison began, my lord."

"As did you."

"And my views have not changed. Neither of us wishes to marry, most especially under these circumstances."

"Be that as it may, I'm afraid our actions leave us with no choice."

"That is why I am releasing you from your obligation. I refuse to force you."

"Your parents and I have already agreed to terms."

"Then you can all simply un-agree."

"Un-agree?" An incredulous sound rumbled in his throat. "Have you considered your reputation would be irrevocably ruined?"

"I shall plan an extended trip to the Continent… The sort of trip I've always wanted. By the time I return, the gossip will have died."

"The gossip will never die. The scandal will shadow you your entire life and attach itself to every member of your family. Clearly you have not thought of that. Nor of the blight it would cast upon my honor should I not marry you."

"It would not impugn your honor if/were the one to cry off."

He advanced a step, and she forced herself not to back up. "And how many people," he asked in a soft voice completely at odds with the dark emotions flickering in his eyes, "do you think would believe that you turned down the opportunity to become my countess?" Before she could reply, he continued, "I'll tell you how many. None. It would not matter what you claimed, everyone would believe that I'd ruined you, then refused to marry you."