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“So you really are not going to lay information against us?” Lady Scalby persisted, anxiety finally creeping into her voice.

“No. Not if you never trouble me or mine again. But that could change. I caution you to stop your games now. I’ll keep the papers, and use them if I must. I suggest you pray for our continued good fortune and health, too, because should anything happen to me or mine, those papers will be made public instantly. Keep your Name then, and may it bring you joy. I leave you to live, or die, in peace. At least from me. I’m done with you. Good evening, good-bye.”

The lady inclined her head in a semblance of a bow. She was close enough to the candlelight for it to show her smile. Kate shivered, because that smile was a reptilian thing to match the bright, flat eyes of its wearer. A turtle’s grin, etched in flesh, but not by emotion, made only of lines and creases. Now the lady wasn’t capable of more. Kate wondered if she’d ever been.

Alasdair took Kate’s hand, and they left her cousin sitting in her chair, staring blindly into the candlelight.

They stepped out of the town house into the night, and it seemed brighter than where they’d just been.

Alasdair shifted his shoulders. He stretched. “Lord! I actually feel lighter now that I’ve put down that burden. And cleaner, out in the fresh air. I know it’s midnight, but I need a walk. And you?”

“Oh, me too,” Kate said.

“Go on,” he told his coachman. “The night’s advanced, but the weather’s fine, so we’ll walk. But this
is London, so follow behind and keep watch.”

“If it were just me, I wouldn’t care,” he told Kate, as he took her hand, “but I take no chances with you.”

They strolled home to the sound of the carriage horses’ steady clumping along the cobbles just behind them. They held hands, walking in thoughtful and companionable silence.

“I worry,” Kate finally said.

“About what?” he said quickly, turning to her. “It’s done. She won’t trouble us again.”

“Oh, I know that,” she said softly. “It’s not that.”

“Then what?” he asked, coming to a halt, holding both her hands and gazing down into her face. “What worries you?”

“Oh, well,” she said sadly, looking everywhere but at him. “The thing is, this walk is very pleasant, but it’s getting later. I worry about how long it will take us to get back, because there’s not much left of our wedding night, and I so was looking forward to it!”

He gave a shout of laughter, swept her up into his arms, and waved to the coachman. When the coach came abreast, Alasdair laughing, carried his laughing bride inside.

“Home!” he called to the coachman, “And hurry! We’ve a lot of time to make up for,” he told Kate as he settled her on his lap, “and only a lifetime left to do it in.”

“Not long enough,” she whispered, touching a hand to his lips.

“No, not nearly long enough,” he agreed, then found a better use for their lips.

About the Author

EDITH LAYTON wrote her first novel when she was ten. She bought a marbleized notebook, her goal being that the story fit between the covers. Now, an award-winning author with more than twenty-five novels and novellas to her credit, her criteria have changed. The story has to fit the reader as well as between the covers.

Graduating from Hunter College in New York City with a degree in creative writing and theater, Edith worked for various media, including a radio station and a major motion picture company. She married and went to suburbia, where she was fruitful and multiplied to the tune of three amazingly creative children. She also shares her life with the gorgeous Bernese Mountain Dog, Georgette; a foundling parakeet, Little Richard; and assorted pond fish, which too often provide impromptu sushi for wandering herons at her Long Island home.

Ms. Layton purely loves anyone who visits her website at
www.edithlayton.com.

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Copyright

This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

THE DEVIL'S BARGAIN
. Copyright © 2002 by Edith Felber. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

ePub edition June 2007 ISBN 9780061747922

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