After a sheltered upbringing, Lady Lucinda Sutcliffe is finally embarking on her first season, eager to experience everything she’s missed. When Lucy realizes that her uncle plans to quickly marry her off in exchange for a slice of her fortune, she begs a favor of a new acquaintance, Ciaran Ramsey. If Lucy remains single until she turns twenty-one, she—and her money—will be out of her uncle’s power. All the charming Scot needs to do is woo her for six weeks, and then jilt her . . .   The Ramseys don’t need the scandal of a false engagement attached to their name. But Lucy’s older suitor is both distasteful and dangerous, and Ciaran can’t allow his lovely friend to be forced to marry such a man. And besides, the more time Ciaran spends with his new “betrothed,” the more their ruse begins to feel very much like the real thing. Passion like this is impossible to feign, but how much is a rogue willing to risk for love?. . . "I don't know Lord Vale well, of course, but Lady Felicia was speaking of him, and I couldn't help but think he sounds like just the sort of gentleman I need." Need? She needed Vale? Something dark and tangled rose in Ciaran's chest and crowded into his throat until he was struggling to breathe past it. "I know he's a bit of a rake, but he's warm-hearted, I think, and Lady Felicia says he loves mischief. He might think a pretend courtship was good fun." Ciaran's hands clenched into fists. Oh, he'd find it good fun, all right. A pretend courtship with a beautiful lady was just the sort of fun Vale would appreciate. He knew he wasn't being fair to his friend. Vale might get up to some questionable behavior now and again, but he was no worse than Ciaran was. Lucy was right about him--Vale was a good fellow. He'd never hurt Lucy. Would never dream of taking advantage of her. Ciaran knew that. At the moment, however, he didn't give a bloody damn. Courtships meantdances, stolen touches, longing glances. Courtships meant whispers, and secrets, and soft smiles. Anything could happen during a courtship, even a pretend one. Two people who had nothing in common could find themselves falling in love... Lucy was still talking, unaware of the spark she'd lit, oblivious to the fact it was about to burst into a conflagration. "We'll have to careful. I won't have every gossip in London whispering that Lord Vale's a scoundrel who jilted a young lady. It's sufficient if my uncle and Lord Godfrey believe the courtship is real. The rest of London doesn't need to hear of it." Heat burned up Ciaran's neck, flooded his chest. Why was he so angry? Why-- "So, I thought I might..." Don't say it. "Ask him if he..." Don't say it, Lucy. "...would pretend to court me. It would be the easiest thing in the world, really, given myand Eloisa's friendship with Lady Felicia. We're sure to spend all our time with Lord Vale anyway, so you see it's..." "No." Ciaran pushed the word through tight lips. She didn't appear to hear him. "It's just the thing. I'll speak to Lady Felicia about it first,of course, to make sure she approves. Eloisa won't like it, but nor would she like to see me married to Lord Godfrey. I think I can bring her around."Ciaran came to a dead stop in the middle of the street. He turned Lucy toward him, and raised her face to his with a firm finger under her chin. "Ciaran?" She stared up at him, baffled. "What's wrong? You look...strange." "You are not ," he said, biting off each word through clenched teeth. "Asking Sebastian Wroth to pretend to court you." Her eyes went wide."I'm not?" " No ." He took a step closer, raising herchin higher so she had no choice but to meet his gaze. "Let me make myself perfectly clear, Lucy. Vale isn't going to be your pretend suitor. Not Vale, and not any other man." "Well, why not?" Two bright spots of color burned in Lucy's cheeks. She was falling into a temper. Her dark eyes flashed, and her mouth turned down at the corners, exaggeratingthat stubborn lower lip. Ciaran's gaze darted from her eyes to her lips, and for one wild moment he felt himself leaning closer, and tilting her mouth up to his...He didn't get very far.Lucy jerked her chin out of his grasp, and planted her hands on her hips. "Well, Ciaran? Why shouldn't Lord Vale be my pretend suitor?" "Because I'm going to do it." Anna Bradley writes steamy, sexy Regency historical romance--thinkgarters, fops and riding crops! Readers can get in touch with Anna via herwebpage at annabradley.net. Anna lives with her husband and two children inPortland, OR, where people are delightfully weird and love to read.