A Valentine from Harlequin

enough to end his life anyway.”
    “Then you no longer love this man you wrote about?”
    “I thought I did not,” she said, her gaze searching his face. “I thought he did not love me.”
    Willing himself to feel nothing—not envy as he had felt for John when he had announced his engagement, or remorse for keeping his feelings buried for so long—James turned to stare out the window. “I’ll order Charles to return you to your uncle’s house. Our engagement is officially over, and I’ll leave you alone. You are free, Charlotte.”
    “Oh, James,” she cried, moving to sit beside him and taking his face between her chilly palms as the letter fluttered to the floor. “It was you I wrote about in the diary. After you went away, I thought I could forget you and what I felt for you, that I could love John, that we could be happy. I was devastated when he died. You must believe me, James.” Her hands dropped limply to her lap. “But now I see that you are right, too. I did deceive him.” She raised her stricken eyes to look at him. “Yet I didn’t know it, because I was deceiving myself, too. I didn’t realize that I agreed to marry John because he was so much like you.”
    Finally, she had confessed—but it was not at all what he had expected. Nor was she the only one guilty of keeping secrets that had led to such disastrous consequences.
    Full of remorse for all that he had done and not done, James grabbed her hands and clasped them between his. “I do believe you, Charlotte, and I’m so sorry for how I’ve misjudged and mistreated you. I’ve loved you for years, but I was too shy to say so. You always seemed so bold, so confident, I thought you would laugh at me. And then when I realized how John felt about you, I was sure I didn’t stand a chance, so I went away. If I had stayed home and made my feelings known, how different things might have been! John would still be alive and we could have been married.”
    “While we cannot bring John back, we are engaged now,” she reminded him.
    By God, she was right. They were engaged. They could be married. There would be scandal and gossip and rumors, but he didn’t care. All he cared about was Charlotte as he pulled her close and kissed her. All the passion and desire and yearning he had been trying to hide and destroy for years burst free. She returned his kiss with the same heated passion, the same fierce desire, the same anxious yearning.
    “Poor uncle!” she murmured a few moments later, arching her neck as James’s lips slid slowly lower. “He will be so disappointed.”
    “Right now, I don’t give a damn about the man.”
    “And if it hadn’t been for dear Dulcie…”
    James drew back, a slight frown darkening his face. “I must say, Miss Duncan, I am not pleased that you can ignore my kisses.”
    “I’m not ignoring them,” she said, putting her finger between his cravat and his shirt as she gave him a devilish smile. “I’m enjoying them very much. I’m just feeling rather sorry for Dulcie.”
    He watched her proceed to pull off his cravat. “If it will make you feel better, there’s a fine young gentleman I know I can invite to the wedding and make sure your cousin meets. I think they would make a lovely couple.”
    “That does make me feel better,” Charlotte whispered as she gathered a fistful of his shirt and pulled him to her. “Now let me see if you can ignore my kisses.”
    He didn’t even try. Indeed, they would have made love then and there if the coach had not tottered to a halt.
    “If you come into my house now with your gown in such a state, it will cause a great scandal, Charlotte,” he panted, his words grave, but his eyes dancing with joy as they moved apart.
    Charlotte laughed merrily, and not a little breathlessly. “You are in a state of dishabille yourself, Your Grace,” she said as she threw open the carriage door and caution to the wind. “And I don’t care if all the world knows we are in love.”
    * * *
    Click here to read another story, or find another read from this author here .

Dead Man’s Woman
    By Maggie Shayne

Chapter One
    Charlotte winced as an inebriated party-goer stepped on her foot, but she kept moving determinedly toward the doors that led to the balcony. The Duncans would be delighted with their party; it was clearly the event of the season, and their daughter had been successfully launched into society.
    Unfortunately, the noise, the heat, and the crowd combined with