Captain Corcoran's Hoyden Bride by Annie Burrows

Author:Annie Burrows
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781408923252
Publisher: Harlequin Mills & Boon Ltd
Published: 2011-02-28T23:00:00+00:00

Septimus had calmed down considerably by the morning. He knew he would have to go and apologise for shouting at her. He should not have repudiated her misguided attempt—to reward him, he supposed—quite so roughly. He had upset her, storming out like that, when all she had been guilty of was trying to make the best of a circumstance he had imposed on her.

Aimée was a plucky little thing. And she meant well. Yes, he was sure she had no intention of insulting him by offering her body in return for what she must have seen as his generosity.

He would apologise for pawing at her like some ravening beast while he was at it, and make it quite clear she had no need to do anything she found unpalatable. Explain that he would wait until she was more accustomed to him. His proposal had come as a shock to her; she’d had serious misgivings about taking the plunge, and, once she had said yes, he had rushed her to the altar before she had a chance to change her mind again. He was not going to rush her into anything else. Particularly not once he had recognised how highly she prized her virtue. Dammit, she had run out into the night in just the clothes she stood up in, because she had mistaken his clumsily-worded proposal for the worst kind of proposition!

He only hoped, once he had made it all clear, they could make a fresh start.

He knocked on the door of her room, twitching his neckcloth into place. He did not think he had felt so unsure of himself since he had been a young midshipman, sent to meet the captain of his very first ship.

She came and opened the door herself, her cheeks colouring when she saw who it was. He supposed that was only to be expected, after the way he had left things the night before. Before he could say a word, she had turned away from him and returned to the packing of her trunk, which his arrival had interrupted.

No tears and sulks and moping about in bed for his Aimée! He had noted before that she was always up and busy quite early, and was always efficient with her packing. He liked that about her. Some women, he had heard tell, made a great production about moving to a new place, but not her.

‘I need to apologise,’ he began, then found something lodged in his throat as she bent to retrieve something from the bed. The silk of her gown had draped provocatively over her delectable rear end, making speech quite impossible for a moment or two.

Eventually he managed to look away and focus on the jumbled pile of belongings that lay on the bed, to distract himself from the base urges that were surging through him. And form the words, ‘I should not have spoken to you so roughly last night.’

She straightened up, and turned to look at him in surprise, at the

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