You really shouldn’t have come,” Lord Blackthorne said, his hand slipping across my face to cup my jaw, fingers brushing my cheek. I shrieked, shrinking back and kicking at my captor with stocking-covered feet. “Such a pretty child, in such an ugly place. Tell me, do you think your dear husband would mind if I stole a kiss from the bride?” Kicking him in the shin, I spun, making him release me. I climbed off whatever I’d landed on, aiming my palms out and wishing that I could see what the heck was happening. Flames from dozens of candles blinked at me as they lit with the power of my mind. Lord Blackthorne touched my shoulder, his other hand curving around the bodice of my gown, toying with the beading along the neckline.
