By Tessa Dare
"** *When a devilish lord and a bluestocking trigger at the highway to ruin... time isn't really on their side.* **
Minerva Highwood, one in all Spindle Cove's proven spinsters, should be in Scotland.
Colin Sandhurst, Lord Payne, a rake of the 1st order, must be... anyplace yet Spindle Cove.
These not going companions have one week to
• pretend an elopement
• persuade friends and family they're in ""love""
• outrun armed robbers
• live to tell the tale their worst nightmares
• commute 400 miles with out killing each one other
All whereas sharing a really small carriage through day and a fair smaller mattress via evening.
What they don't have time for is their becoming appeal. less wild ardour. And heaven forbid they spend beneficial hours baring their hearts and souls.
Suddenly one week appears like precisely sufficient time to discover a global of difficulty. And maybe... simply maybe... love.
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Extra info for A Week to Be Wicked (Spindle Cove, Book 2)
So this is goodnight, my lord. ’ Before he could muster a suitably caustic reply to that valediction, the lady highwayman had bent and kissed him full on the lips. No swift peck, but a long, lingering kiss. One of her tumbling blonde curls stroked his cheek, a soft tickling somehow redolent of strawberries, while her free hand lay warmly on his chest. Her tongue teased him until his mouth opened under that persuasion, when it darted inside, playing against his own. Certainly no innocent, this one!
The animals reared up in a panic. Not entirely unspooked himself by this apparition, but too busy dealing with the matter in hand to act the idiot, Trajan leant back and hauled on the reins, calling out to the pair in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. ‘Wooa there, Pepper! ’ As soon as the pair of high-strung greys had jerked to an unsteady and reluctant halt, Trajan jumped down from the carriage to investigate what had frightened them. Sure enough, a heavily-built woman in a white gown lay prostrate on the road before him, her head wrapped in a thick veil.
His captor straightened, her mouth curving into a smile again as she reached for her cloak and pistol. ‘My horse has been saddled and I am bound for town. So this is goodnight, my lord. ’ Before he could muster a suitably caustic reply to that valediction, the lady highwayman had bent and kissed him full on the lips. No swift peck, but a long, lingering kiss. One of her tumbling blonde curls stroked his cheek, a soft tickling somehow redolent of strawberries, while her free hand lay warmly on his chest.
A Week to Be Wicked (Spindle Cove, Book 2) by Tessa Dare