Even the mask of an expert spy is no defense against his own heart.With a reputation as dark as his appearance, Greydon Sharpe, the Marquess of Ainsley, ought to have been the last agent assigned to the daughter of a well-respected Member of Parliament. However, when she is brutally attacked and left for dead, it becomes clear he is the only one with the skills to keep her alive. All it will take are a few lies to keep her breathing long enough to capture the villain. Then he can send her on her way. If she would only behave herself, he might be able to complete his mission before she turns his contentedly miserable life into a chaotic mess.Marriage is not an option … until it is.Lady Kathryn Bryant, the adventure-seeking socialite, has no plans to behave. Kathryn would much rather spend her time in subterfuge, nabbing villains and finding clues. However, when her memory is lost in an attack, she has little choice but to trust the handsome Marquess. Though she is almost certain he is hiding something, she is helpless against his disarming smile and warm touch. Eventually, his lies will come to the surface, leaving only one question: Is England’s deadliest spy equipped to save a broken heart?
He stopped short a few feet from her, and every inch of her insufficiently clad body came into focus. She was dressed for bed with her auburn hair plaited over her shoulder.
“You understand what I do, then.” Grey began unbuttoning his shirt at the neck. “Good. Now I can brag about my exploits. Do you know the worst part about being an unsung hero? It’s the unsung bit by far.”
“You lied to me,” she accused, those blue pools glaring up at him.
“I would be a sad excuse for a spy if I were honest,” he returned, swallowing the self-disgust. His fingers moved, deftly unfastening the buttons halfway down his chest. “I hope you appreciate the lengths I went through. I have dragged you out of a myriad of sticky situations, but this is the first time I have ever had to marry you to keep you alive.”
Her eyes narrowed as her hands fisted in her lap.
“A simple ‘thank you’ would suffice,” he suggested.
By the time the last word was out of his mouth, Kathryn had flung herself off her chair with her arm raised.
The prickly thing was about to strike him.
Grey caught her wrist then grabbed the other just in case she had similar ideas in mind for that one. Then she was wriggling to get free, bringing the pea-brain in his trousers to attention. It was frustrating. He hauled her into him, pinning her arms to his chest, and wrapping his tightly around her. It stopped the wriggling, but now she was glaring up at him with those giant, blue pools a man could drown in. He could feel every curve of her luscious body except where her little fists were pressed against the ugly scar peeking out from the opening in his shirt.
Pea-brain was suddenly the only brain he remembered having.