He showed no reaction, damn him. "And you are a foolish country girl who has no gratitude for the opportunities she's been given."

"Opportunities. What do you know of my dreams?"

"Oh, I know of your dreams but I can't tolerate thinking of you with him."

Markham's jaw snapped shut. His gaze shuttered from surprise to detached to unreadable so quickly Lizzie barely had time to recognize their meanings. Had he not meant to say that out loud? Could it be possible that Markham harbored some feeling for her?

She squeezed her eyes closed but the last sight of his kissable lips lingered in her vision. If only he would move off her. How could she think of Edmund, remain true to him, if this man drove her to such stretches of distraction-or such ranges of passion?

The weight on the cushion shifted, causing the seat to squeak. A terrible sense of emptiness filled her as she expected him to move away. But his scent drew nearer to saturate her senses, his one hand held firm to her arm. Despite the loud rumbling wheels, his breathing echoed in her ears.

Then his warm fingers brushed her cheek and no sound could penetrate the thundering of her heart.

Markham swallowed, certain she could hear his pulse hammering.

Passion flared in his veins. Jealousy, anger, desire careened and shattered within his blood, like a small boat upon a raging river. His flesh throbbed for her, his heart drummed.

If seeing her in the arms of Edmund Greene wasn't enough to begin his quest for her heart, having her slender body beneath him was. And, yet, if his damn stepmother hadn't insisted on calling upon friends this morning, she'd be here. Her presence would keep his wayward urges in check.

But she wasn't here. Not yet. And Markham couldn't help but sweep his gaze down the length of her. The rapid rise and fall of her breasts brought his erection to full attention.

A faint scent of roses hovered, intoxicating him, pulling him under a spell of hazy lust.

Markham lifted one of her vibrant curls and wrapped it around a finger. He envisioned the strand wet, drops of water slipping down his skin. He licked his lips, but then dropped the curl as if it would burn him.

He'd make this girl fall in love with him. He wouldn't fail his father. He'd not allow his heritage to vanish or for Lucas to live in shame. She aroused him in ways he'd never imagined, piqued his curiosities, enlightened his mind and enraged his passions.

Markham released the grip on her wrist and cupped her face with both hands. Before they even reached Oxford, Miss Parker would be under his spell.

Her vivid green eyes burst open. "No."

Markham searched for shadows in her gaze, those secrets that kept him at bay. But anticipation and yearning overpowered her resolution. She revealed herself too easily. Despite any resistance, this fairy craved his touch.

"No, what, Miss Parker?"

Her pink tongue ran along the inside of her lips, moistening them, tempting him. "Whatever it is you're about to do. Don't."

He lifted her chin. "Are you so sure about that?"

"No...yes."

"It seems you are uncertain."

"You can't...you can't do this to me."

"Do what? Kiss you? Do you really wish me to stop?" Markham brushed his thumb across her lips. Her protests silenced as her eyes drifted closed again as if commanded by his touch.

Her lips parted. "Please..."

Her warm breath invited him to lower his mouth to hers. He kissed her lips delicately, tasted her sweetness, swallowed her sighs.

A surrendering whimper escaped from her throat.

Intensity exploded. Swells of need crashed against his skin, into his scorching arousal, even within his very bones. He slid his way inside her mouth, searching for the velvety smoothness of her tongue. She tasted like honey and hyacinth and all that reminded him of the countryside.

Her fingertips brushed his shoulders. The devil. He wanted her to touch him. Touch him everywhere with those tiny hands, graceful as a butterfly's wings.

He ravaged her mouth, drank in her spirit, indulged his desires. She responded with an equal hunger, her tongue stroking his, her back arching. Shudders wracked through him, his nipples puckered.

Markham trailed his lips down her neck, where her heartbeat leaped against his tongue. His hands itched to capture her breasts, knead them with his fingers.

His erection throbbed, desperate for the heat of her body, or even the touch of her tiny hands.

His craving for this tempting pixie bewildered him, and yet he could think of nothing he wanted more. If only he could push her down onto this cushion and remove every piece of clothing, every barrier between his skin and hers. He could thrust himself deep inside and find heaven.

But heaven must wait. He could not take her body, discover her secrets, until he'd secured her heart.

Markham wrenched himself from the nectar in his grasp. He let her go so suddenly that she slumped against the seat, eyes opening in surprise. Stark vulnerability contrasted against the bright flush of her cheeks. Devil, she may have let him continue. And then he would be the very rake he so despised.

Without a word, he slid across to the other side. He waited for her sharp tongue, for the assault. But she only said, "Have-have you retrieved my items from my father?" The words trembled.

He nodded, unable to trust his own voice.

She stared at him. "Why, Markham? Why did you kiss me when you despise me so?"

He said nothing. He could not tell her that he feared her heart would remain locked away for the curate, when the stinging ache to have her dulled his reason. Nor could he say that to protect his son's future, she must fall in love with him. He could not give her the answers she sought.

Right now, he could give her nothing.

They stared at one another until rain beat a steady rhythm on the roof. Soon, Markham could see the familiar shadows darkening her eyes. Then, she bit her lower lip and finally turned away.

When the dowager joined them only a short time later, Miss Parker's silence turned into the light, even breaths of sleep.

Love takes no prisoners.

Tiger Eyes.

2010 Kimberly Nee.

Captain Gabriella Markham is accustomed to standing on the deck of her ship, wind in her face. Not rotting in a dank hold on an enemy's ship. There's only one thing on her mind: revenge on the pirate responsible. Until she realizes the seriously injured man sharing the darkness is Captain Diego Cruz, the man she almost married.

When Diego opens his eyes, he finds himself twice cursed. Not only was he attacked and taken, he's marooned on an island with the woman who betrayed him five years earlier. Even worse, the fire between them still burns. And the faster he heals, the harder she is to resist.

Desperation cracks their resolve. Passion consumes them, but it only reopens the wounds of the past. Survival is only the first step in a quest to find out who hired another pirate to see them dead-and why. Only then will they learn if their hearts will survive on the fragile strand of trust that still hangs between them...

Warning: This book may lead to fantasies involving deserted islands, passionate affairs, and a belief in true love.

Enjoy the following excerpt for Tiger Eyes: It was a calm night, with a gentle wind blowing in from the east. The warm air wrapped about Gabby like a tender embrace, and she sighed as she leaned against the quarterdeck railing. The island was still visible, though about the size of her fist, and as twilight stretched across the sky, it wouldn't be long before it was merely a darker mass in a sea of darkness.

After they came aboard the Serena, Gabby was shown to a small cabin, and the order was given for water to be heated. She soaked until the water grew too cool for comfort, and took an oddly great delight in scrubbing both her hair and her body.

Since they were very nearly the same height, with the same rather deceptively slender build, Fiona offered Gabby a gown, though she didn't seem particularly pleased about it. Still, Gabby thanked her anyway, and when she finished her bath, slipped into the clean garment, wanting to cry from the sleek softness of it, and the delicious perfume of clean fabric wafting down over her head. Though she normally shied away from such feminine garments, she reveled in this one now.

Footfalls sounded behind her and she turned to see Diego coming toward her. Gone were the straggly beard and unkempt moustache. Though he was clean-shaven, he radiated the same feral air as he did on the island, and her heart quickened at the sight of him. He still limped, but his black breeches were neither stained nor torn, and his white shirt was almost blinding in its cleanliness.

His sleeve brushed her bare arm, reminding her of her ladylike apparel. She was most unaccustomed to gauzy gowns, as she lived in breeches and tunics like her men. Her hair, free of tangles and snarls, had been tamed into a fall of loose dark curls that brushed her shoulders and danced on the breeze.

"Did Farruco pronounce you healed?" she murmured as he brought one booted foot up onto the bottom rung of the railing and leaned his forearms against the top.

"Not quite healed, but well on my way. And he commended you on your care. Apparently you've the makings of a fine ship's surgeon."

"No, thank you. I'd rather stay at the helm, if it's all the same. I nearly retched each time I cleaned your wounds." An unfamiliar, giddy sort of laugh teased her lips. Why did she feel so dizzy, as if she might swoon? It was uncomfortable and yet, a bit amusing at the same time. Her belly fluttered as if alive with a million butterflies all trying to break free, and as she cast a sidelong gaze up at him, those wings intensified their beating. It was like seeing him for the first time all over again.

He sighed softly, looking out at the silver trail caused by the Serena's wake. "Not exactly my most preferred way to pass several weeks, but nonetheless, not the worst, either."

As he spoke, he turned to give her a slow smile and her heart tripled its beat. The sudden rush of blood to her head made her giddier still, and her instinct was to tighten her grip on the railing, lest her knees betray her and crumple right out from beneath her.

"No, I don't suppose it was the worst," she said as he turned completely sideways to rest on one elbow as he gazed down at her. His eyes glittered like black opals, though she knew they weren't black at all. They were like topaz, a beautiful warm mix of gold and brown. "Tiger eyes," she murmured without thinking.

"What was that?"

His voice cut through her fog and she cleared her throat. "I...uh...that is... It is lovely out here. I've missed being at sea."

"We are heading to St. Phillippe. If you like, I can take you to Port Royal."

A tempting offer, the thought of being at sea with him for at least another three weeks. But no. It wouldn't be wise. Her feelings twisted and fought with her head far too much. Regretfully, she shook her head. "No. I thank you for the offer, but I will find my own passage to Jamaica. Or perhaps I will simply go home."

"Where is home these days?"

"London. My brother and I own Markham now. Well, my half-brother, that is."

"Half-brother?"

She nodded. "Did I never mention him? His name is William. His mother was my father's wife, but my mother was his great love." She offered him a wistful smile. "Perhaps I should be ashamed of that, but I'm not. Theirs was a tragic love, but wildly romantic as well."

His eyes softened. "You never struck me as the starry-eyed romantic, Gabby."

"Because I'm not. Their story did not end happily, though I was fortunate my father claimed me as his right from the beginning. It is also fortunate that I shared his love for the seas, while William saw it as dirty work."

She shrugged, her smile fading. "I became the son William was not, but unfortunately, my father could leave me only my financial interest in Markham. I own the Galatea outright, and receive a stipend of Markham's profits, but William owns controlling interest. I'm not at all certain how he managed to do this, but my father was quite the miracle worker, you know, and I don't think he trusted William overmuch." Another shrug. "Not that it matters to me. I prefer not having to deal with all of the rubbish that comes with property ownership and running the company. I am quite happy to sail my ship and watch my bank account fatten. William can't sack me. He can't even touch my ship. Although, since I haven't a clue where the Galatea is right now, that is moot, I suppose."

Her eyes stung with unexpected tears. Her ship. She hadn't realized how much she missed it until that moment. But miss it she did. Much as she loved being at sea on any ship, it couldn't compare to being aboard her ship.

"Perhaps Carmichael has it. He might have returned to Jamaica to file a claim."

"Perhaps. I wouldn't put it past him to claim salvage on it. I only hope he isn't fool enough to sail near Eleuthera. He'd be no match for the wreckers." She pressed her lips together as fresh anger flared in her belly at the thought of her precious Galatea destroyed because Carmichael fell prey to those who made their living from the ships they lured to their shores and then stripped. "If that happened... When I find him, he will be sorry."

Diego reached out his free arm to cup his hand on her shoulder. "Perhaps you'd best concentrate on finding a new ship, first. It'll be difficult to chase Carmichael down without one."

She groaned at that. "Never mind a ship. I'd need a crew as well. And there aren't many willing to serve a woman. I can only imagine where mine has scattered. Surely they've found other crews to join, I've been gone so long."

"Fools, all of them. No loyalty at all."

Gabby looked up to find him gazing down at her, a teasing smile pulling on his lips. "Diego, no..."

"What? I've done nothing."

"I know what you're thinking." She wanted to step back, to put some distance between her. "And trust me, you don't want to do it. It's simply the full moon, and the water, and the-"

"And the beautiful woman standing before me."

She almost shivered at his low growl. "No. Didn't we agree that what happened on the island was a mistake?"

"True. It was a mistake, but it was a rather pleasant mistake as well."

He brought his hand to her cheek and his fingertips swept over it with feather lightness. A flutter of desire rippled through her, despite her best efforts to ignore it. "Diego..."

He caught her face in both hands, tilted her head back as his fingers reached into her hair. Panic rose up as the tension thickened between them, and she wanted to pull away as strongly as she wanted to melt into him.

"Gabriella," he whispered, and her eyes drooped at the promise laced through that one almost breathless word.

Midnight Secrets.

Jennifer St. Giles.

Is he her darkest dream...or most terrifying nightmare?

Cassiopeia's dreams have never been her own. They are harbingers of death. Yet when s he learns her gentle cousin, Mary, has disappeared from a remote castle on the Cornish Coast, the official story doesn't fit with Cassie's prophetic dream.

The mystery compels her to leave the safety and middle-class comfort of Oxford to take a job as a maid in the house of Killdaren. There she discovers more than the daily indignities the working class must endure. There's a darkness surrounding Sean Killdaren, a man born with his hands at his twin's throat. Whispers of the murderous Dragon Curse...and an aversion to daylight that adds vampire to spine-chilling rumors.

When Cassie encounters him in the shadowy corridors, his touch should make her tremble in fear. But that's not what makes her knees shockingly weak. It's the spell of desire he casts with his wicked green eyes...and the small acts of kindness that soften her heart.

The closer she comes to the truth, the greater the danger. Mary isn't the only woman lost to the Killdaren brothers' curse. And as a killer lurks ever closer, Cassie wonders whom she can trust...and if she will be the next victim.

Warning: Contains a prim and proper advice columnist who finds herself in situations not covered by the rules of etiquette, and a deliciously dark hero who sees more than a maid in itchy wool...he sees the only star that lights his tortured life. Lace hankies strongly recommended.

end.