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Wicked Wager
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From Waif to Gentleman's Wife
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Regency Secrets
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Brigade Major Garrett Fairchild’s glance drifted from the colonel’s wife placidly knitting at the table across from him to the door of the chamber where Jenna Montague was packing her father’s possessions. How hard it must be for her, forced now to make a decision that would alter her entire future while still in the first shock of grief over her father’s death.

But there was no help for it. The wife of the neighboring commander who had come to assist Jenna had made it clear she wished to depart for Lisbon as quickly as possible. Jenna must either begin her journey home under the chaperonage of Colonel Anderson’s wife - or if she truly wished to remain with the army, accept one of the offers of marriage that had just been tendered her by several of her father’s officers.

Much as he hated to press her at such a time, perhaps he should coax Jenna to solve her dilemma by taking him to husband, Garrett thought. They’d been drawn to each other from the day he reported to the regiment, and over the months that initial attraction had strengthened. Not that he could tender her his whole heart, shattered beyond mending as it was by Lucinda’s deception, but he could offer respect and affection.

Though in his initial rage, he’d vowed never to marry, he’d lately come to feel he didn’t wish to spend his whole life alone. And if he should decide to wed, he felt sure he might inspect every hopeful debutante in London’s marriage mart without finding a lady as intelligent, resourceful, or courageous as Jenna.

If he were really honest, though, something more than her admirable qualities urged him to lay claim to her. Though until now he’d sternly repressed the memory, the thought of taking Jenna to wife brought it all back, set a hot, guilty excitement simmering in his veins.

It had been one of the last warm days of the previous fall. Rounding a bend in the river as he returned from a solitary scouting expedition, Garrett had happened upon Jenna, bathing on the opposite bank.

He’d frozen in place, not wishing to embarrass her by revealing his presence - or risk taking a shot from her papa’s batman, doubtless standing guard in the rocks behind her. In the instant it had taken him to decide to silently retrace his steps, her image had burned into his brain.

A water nymph totally unselfconscious in her nakedness, laughing as she doused herself in the stream and jumped back up, gasping at the cold.

Before he’d made himself drag his reluctant gaze away, he’d seen beaded droplets glisten on her pale skin, drip from her ebony mane and trickle down plump breasts, their rosy nipples peaked from the chill. Rivulets descended to paint with crystalline lines the curve of her hips and belly before coursing down her slender legs - or losing themselves in the swirl of dark curls at the junction of her thighs.

For an instant he’d stood spellbound….

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