Lara Temple - The Earl's Irresistible Challenge

Dedication To the marvellous, generous, creative and all-round wonderful ladies of the Unlaced Historical Romance Group—you are my surrogate family in Romancelandia, and my little world is so much the richer for my having found you…

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Epilogue

Extract

About the Publisher

Blood was thudding in Olivia’s ears, loud in the echoing hollowness of St Margaret’s. She had purposely chosen an hour when there were likely to be few people in the church, but she hadn’t expected it to be empty. Or dark.

She should have realised they wouldn’t waste many candles on a near-empty church on a rainy winter afternoon. The few tallow candles smoked sulkily in their sconces and occasionally shivered in the draught that seemed to come from all directions at once.

Surely if she cried out someone would hear, wouldn’t they? Hans Town might not be a fashionable part of London, but it was respectable. Or perhaps it was best to just tuck tail and run...

Too late.

The strike of boots on the flagstones matched the rhythm in her ears and a man emerged from the darkness at the far end of the nave, his greatcoat rising about him like sweeping wings. She was not surprised they called him Sinful Sinclair. She presumed it was merely a play on his family name and less than pristine reputation, but, as he moved towards her in a swift, gliding motion and she noted his pitch-black hair and uncompromising features, she understood the name better.

‘Lord Sinclair, thank you for coming,’ she said as he stopped before her, pulling a piece of paper from his coat pocket.

‘Don’t thank me, this isn’t a social call. You sent this quaint little note?’

‘I did. Lord Sinclair—’

‘What do you want and why the devil did you have to choose such an inconvenient location?’

‘It is convenient for me. Lord Sinclair, I—’

‘I didn’t see another carriage in the lane outside. How did you arrive?’

She blinked. She had not even begun and already she was losing control of the situation.

‘What on earth does it matter? Lord Sinclair, I—’

‘It matters because I prefer to know what I am up against when I come to meet a silly little miss in an empty church in the middle of nowhere. If this is some kind of plan to entrap me I should warn you, you have very much mistaken your prey...’

Olivia’s confusion disappeared and she couldn’t hold back a laugh.

‘You believe I brought you here to entrap you? Goodness, you are vain.’

His eyes narrowed and she felt a new flicker of alarm. Perhaps laughing at him was not advisable under the circumstances.

‘Lord Sinclair...’ she began again and hesitated. The clear list of points she wished to make faded under the oppressive force of his black eyes. She took another deep breath. ‘Lord Sinclair—’

‘I know my name,’ he said impatiently. ‘Only too well. Stop wearing it thin and get to the blasted point.’

‘I have some information about your father.’

The draught swirled his coat out in a wide arc about him and cut through the thin fabric of her own cloak and she shivered. He didn’t reply immediately, but the impatience was gone, replaced by a rather sardonic smile.

‘So do I and very little of it is good. What of it?’

‘I have evidence that raises some questions about the circumstances of his death. It is possible that he was wronged.’

The only sound was the faint whistling of the wind through cracks in the high windows. She pulled her cloak more tightly about her and waited.

‘Raise your veil.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I prefer to see people’s faces when they are lying to me.’

Olivia considered her options. She didn’t know if involving this man was one of her more intelligent ideas, but he had come and she would have to see this through. She rolled back the thick lace veil attached to her bonnet and his dark eyes scanned her face without any change in their expression of amused contempt.

‘A little miss, but not silly, I think. Now let us begin anew. Why did you summon me here?’

‘I told you, I have some information about the circumstances surrounding your father’s death.’

‘I see. And what do you want in exchange for this so-called information?’

She hesitated.

‘That depends.’

‘Not a very clever bargaining approach. You should have come with a clearer idea of what you think your lies are worth. Or what you think I am worth.’

‘But that is precisely what I am trying to determine.’

He laughed, a low warm sound that did nothing to soothe her skittering nerves.

‘You want a list of my assets? You are by far the most inept blackmailer I have come across, sweetheart, and I have met a few.’

‘I wasn’t talking about your financial worth,’ she replied coldly. She knew he would be difficult, but she had not counted on him being annoying as well. She wasn’t at all certain she wanted to deal with this man.

‘I can think of only one other level on which I might be of any worth. But it’s a bit cold here for that, however tempting the bait. I have a carriage waiting outside, though, if you like.’

‘No, I would not like!’ she said, unable to keep the annoyance out of her voice. Really, if only he would be quiet for a moment and let her think. She knew he was a care-for-nobody, but she had expected a little more interest in her story. Did he really not care at all? If he did not, there was no point in continuing. Except that she very much needed help. Mercer, her man of business, was a treasure, but he was only good when told precisely what to do and she no longer knew which way to direct him.

‘Are you certain? You have a certain charm and I wouldn’t mind seeing just how far—’

‘Oh, would you please be quiet so I may think! I had no idea you would be so provoking!’

At least that wiped the mocking humour from his face. She waited for his anger, wishing she had held her tongue, but he merely took her elbow, turning her towards the exit.

‘Come with me.’

‘No! Let me go!’

Her confusion turned to panic and she tugged her arm out of his grasp. He raised his hands and took a step back.

‘Calm down. I won’t hurt you, but it’s as cold as a witch’s... It is freezing in here and I don’t feel inclined to stand around in this draughty church discussing my family for any busybody to hear while you make up your mind about extorting me. If you wish to speak with me, you may do so in the carriage. If not, goodnight.’

His words were calm, but his brisk stride as he headed towards the exit was a blatant dismissal. Olivia stared at his retreating figure with such a wave of hatred she could hardly believe it originated from her. The temptation to throw back her head and howl at the eaves was so powerful she could almost hear her own voice echoing back at her.

Instead she filled her lungs with cold air, lowered her veil and stalked after Lord Sinclair.

She reached the road and for one panicked moment thought she was too late, but then she saw the dark-panelled carriage on the narrow lane leading past the church. The buildings hung low, blocking out what remained of the late afternoon gloom and she could hardly see his face under the brim of his hat, but felt him watching her as she approached. Without a word he opened the carriage door.