He kept stealing glances at Celia that were filled with longing and perhaps desire.
Jackson didn’t like that one bit. When he gave her his report he would emphasize the viscount’s utter unsuitability as a suitor. Devonmont’s, too.
Lyons’s unsuitability was more murky. But Jackson could still make a case against the man, and he fully intended to do so as soon as he could get her alone. Preferably in a public area where what happened between them last night couldn’t occur again.
Liar. You want to kiss her so badly you can taste it.
It was a wonder he could shoot straight with her standing so near. She’d dressed to entice again today, this time in a heavy redingote the color of the forest. It turned her hazel eyes just green enough to remind him she was a Sharpe, with the same eyes as most of them. The expensive tailoring of her wool attire, a cross between a gown and a coat, reminded him she was a lady and an heiress, especially since she’d refrained from wearing her usual smock.
He’d never seen her shoot and had assumed that her prowess must be exaggerated. It was not. He hadn’t been able to keep track of her kills while focusing on his own, but he was fairly certain the number came close to his. He noted her concentration, the care she took in aiming, the way she compensated for wind and other variables. He’d never met another woman like her. She was magnificent.

Auteur: Sabrina Jeffries