Timeless Deception by Susanne M. Knight

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A contemporary woman, Alaina Sawyer, finds herself thrust into the past to assume the identity of the unhappy Countess of Saybrooke. The Earl of Saybrooke, Richard Cransworth, believes Alaina is his unfaithful wife and treats... or mistreats her accordingly. After Alaina learns that her only way back to her own time is gone forever, she must convince the Earl to set aside his anger for his wife, and view her, Alaina, as his one true love.

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Alicia did not keep him waiting long. Good. He was in no mood to enact a scene so she would dance attendance on him. Entering the room, she glided as Aphrodite might, poised and confident in her beauty. She wore a simple gown with ivory ruffles high on the neck. Matching ruffles encased her slim wrists. As always, she looked exceedingly lovely and feminine. Indeed, she appeared as if she passed a restful night. Would that she had passed it with him.

For some reason, a knot developed in his throat. Clearing it, he indicated a seat next to him on the settee. "Have a seat, Alicia."

To be contrary, she chose a straight-backed chair.

Words seemed to escape him. Realizing he was in the wrong made matters even more difficult. "Alicia, I must beg your pardon for my behavior last night. I was a trifle disguised."

"Disguised? What does that mean?" She fussed with the folds of cloth at her wrists, refusing to look at him.

Devil take it, he longed to shake the indifference from her. She was not making it easy for him to apologize. "Foxed, one sheet into the wind, bosky, feeling the tipsy ... does that explain it?"

"Oh, drunk," she said with understanding.

Unable to contain himself, he jumped up and forcibly pulled the ivory frills from her fingers. "Keep your hands still, damn it and pay attention."

She lifted her gaze to meet the cold of his eyes. "You wanted to apologize, I believe," she said calmly.

"I just did," he answered through gritted teeth. "Now with that matter behind us, I demand to know what you were doing at the Dilettani meeting yesterday."

He turned his back to her and walked over to the fireplace. Picking up a uselessbric-a-brac from the mantle, he continued, "The rules you were to obey forbid attending any such event."

"Any social event ... there's a difference."

Perhaps she was right, however he could not admit that to her. Indeed, he could not admit any of his true feelings to her. He set the ornament back on the mantle, then faced her. "You twist my words."

In one fluid motion, Alicia stood. "This has gone far enough. I've followed your rules. You stressed events of a social nature and, guess what? I've complied."

She folded her arms against her enticing breasts. "As to why I was there yesterday, it's no secret--I do have an interest in archaeology. I was curious to hear your speech."

Now she whipped her hands through the air, punctuating her sentences. "That's it--no hidden rendezvous, no ulterior motives. Quite frankly, Richard, I'm fed up with the way you've been treating me. I can't go anywhere, I can't do anything I want to do. For heaven's sake, I can't even talk with people without a time limit!" Silencing her hands, she also dropped her voice. "I've ... I've had enough."

"What do you mean?" He did not like the sound of those words.

Her agitation was visible by the rise and fall of her bosom. She avoided his gaze. "I've decided to return to Saybrooke Hall. I would like to stay here one more month to hear Mr. Boggs' presentation. However, if you have a problem with that, I'll leave immediately."

His wife's counterattack caught Richard off guard. She was right, so right in everything she said. Blast, he truly was the biggest ass in the world. He sat down at the very edge of a chair. Lord help him but he did not want her to leave. After all his invectives against Alicia and her behavior, he did not want her to go.

Running his hand through his hair, he exhaled slowly. "This is a surprise, Alicia. What about Mother? She still is not herself yet."

"Oh, please, I can't believe she will fall into a decline, missing my daily ten minute visits." The irony in Alicia's voice was unmistakable.

He glanced around the room for inspiration. "And what about Terrence? He adores his mother."

Alicia skewed her lips. "Richard, get real. What happened to my not being an 'appropriate example' for him? Next, you'll be telling me to stay for the good of our marriage. Now, that's a laugh." She choked on her last word.

She fiddled with the material around her wrists again--most likely in defiance.

Suddenly Richard understood. "I see. You are anxious to resume your wanton ways at the Hall. You will be freer there from my censure."

His wife laughed but it had a bitter quality to it. "God, yes! The pickings are too slim in London. How astute of you to realize. I find country men so much more ... virile."

Rage built up inside him, bubbling over like a witch's cauldron.

Alicia quickly made her way to the door. "I never thought you could be so blind ... or so stupid."

But he was faster and barred her exit. "More virile?" he thundered. "How do you find this?"

He pressed her against the door, imprisoning her in a fevered embrace. With his lips burning hot, he cruelly took possession of her mouth. He was mad with jealousy, mad with desire, mad with years of submerged longing for her.

She did not resist him. Indeed, he would not have allowed it. Tasting her infinitely sweet lips, he darted his tongue deep into her mouth. This was better, so much better than he remembered. In fact, kissing her was somehow different....

Without conscious thought, his hands explored her sensuous curves, unfairly hidden by the cloth of her dress. The smooth skin on her back, her slim hips, her rounded bottom--cherished treasures to a man who was finally coming home.

Instead of pushing him away, her arms wound around him, gripping him tightly. Her fingers became entangled in his hair. She moaned with undisguised pleasure.

By the good Lord above, she was aroused--passionately aroused!

But still, the feeling that something was different persisted. Breaking contact with those delicious lips, Richard stared into her eyes. Her eyes were moist with the promise of fulfillment. But it was not Alicia gazing back at him; it was a stranger. A complete and utter stranger.

This woman was not his wife!

A full second, or perhaps a moment in eternity passed. Although the woman's lips were bruised and swollen, she smiled seductively at him. "Don't stop now," she almost purred.

He closed his eyes, reeling from her ardent desire and from the realization she was not Alicia. By all that was holy, he needed time to think. Self-preservation overtook his other emotions. To lose his heart to a stranger! Who the devil was she?

Stepping away from her was like closing the door to paradise. Every inch of his body physically hurt. He gazed one last time into her liquid eyes, then bowed. "Madam."

To her surprise, as well as his own, he retreated from the Blue Salon as if the hounds of hell were nipping at his heels.