When her son’s life is threatened, Anissa, Marchioness of Overton, seeks refuge by sailing to America. Before the ship reaches the high seas, sparks fly between her and Captain Alex Hawks. Although the young widow may be lonely, and afraid, she cannot risk the diversion a romantic entanglement could bring, no matter how much she wants to lose herself in the captain’s embrace.

The Captain vows to protect the young Lord Overton, but can offer no assurance that the marchioness will leave his ship with her virtue intact. Alex is drawn to Anissa’s beauty and courage, as a hummingbird is to the nectar of a flower. How long he can fight a losing battle before he surrenders and makes her his own?

Will Alex be able to keep this remarkable woman and her child safe? Will his passion for Anissa be enough or will their differences keep them apart?

The heavy brass statue dropped from her hand, and Anissa, the Marchioness of Overton, touched her lips with a shaking hand. She glanced down at Lord Howard and stifled a gasp. Blood poured from the wound on his head as he lay sprawled out on the Aubusson carpet. The smell of fresh blood assailed her nostrils, causing her stomach to roll.

Oh no, what have I done?

Anissa remained frozen, as stiff and unyielding as the statue she had dropped on the carpet. Finally pulling herself out of her moment of terror, she knelt beside him and gingerly touched the side of his neck with trembling fingers. She felt a weak pulse. At least she had not killed him.

Never in a million years had she expected him to attack her in such a horrid way. Shock waves of fear raced through her heart, and she pulled the remnants of her bodice together as images of the struggle flashed through her mind. Thank goodness, she had grabbed the statue before he could ravish her.

Of course, he had tried to corner her countless times. She had always managed to evade him before. If she had known he had arrived home, she would never have chanced coming down for a book. A good thing she had, or she would never have overheard him talking to his son. Without this knowledge, she would have been dead the next day, and then there would have been no one to keep him from carrying out his diabolical plan.

The fright she had experienced when Lord Howard caught her still had her heart jumping in her chest. If his son had caught her, she could have been able to convince Bernard she had come from the kitchen after having a glass of warm milk. The poor young man was a bit slow-witted. With the die cast, she could not stop the turn of events her actions had started. She would have to get away before someone found Lord Howard and raised the alarm.

Anissa stood, went over to Lord Howard’s desk, and rummaged through the drawers, looking for the money pouch he kept hidden there. As she felt around the bottom drawer, her fingers closed around the purse. Pulling it out, she dropped it on the desk, then reached inside and pulled out a wad of bank notes.

Anissa counted the money and found well over two hundred pounds, plus dozens of guineas, and a fistful of other coins. She slipped the notes back into the pouch, along with the rest of the money, and then slipped it into the pocket of her gown. Looking back at Lord Howard, she tiptoed across the room. She opened the library door and peeked out to the darkened hall, making sure the coast was clear before she left the room.

All the servants should be in bed, although she was not sure where Bernard had gone. She prayed he had gone upstairs to his room. The last thing she needed was to run into the boy. His father had him under his thumb, scared to death of going against him in any way. After all, the lad was barely seventeen. She truly could not blame him.

As silent as a crouching cat ready to spring on an unsuspecting mouse, Anissa climbed the stairs to her bedchamber as the hall clock’s soft chime of the eleven o’clock hour followed her. After reaching her room, she sagged against the door, her fear-soaked clothing clinging to her clammy skin.

Anissa rushed over to the wardrobe and threw it open, pulled out her valise, and stuffed several black gowns, undergarments, and her nightclothes into it. She unearthed the breeches she wore when riding by herself. Thank God she had kept them all these years. After donning the boy’s clothing, she grabbed her black cloak to hide her masculine attire.

She went over to her dressing table and dumped the contents of her jewelry box into her valise. Her emerald necklace, a gift from her late husband, landed on top. Tears gathered in her eyes as she remembered Kendall fastening it around her neck for the first time, and something squeezed her heart like a vise.

Gathering her wits and dismissing the distracting thoughts from her mind, she could not give into her emotions now, not when the life of her son was held in the balance. She opened up the hidden compartment in the bottom of her jewelry box and pulled out some letters tied together with a pink satin ribbon. These letters were more precious than gold to her. Kendall had written them to her whenever they had been apart. Some might think her silly to save them. However, she gained comfort from reading them late at night when she missed him most.

Oh, why did Kendall have to die?

Anissa forced these thoughts from her mind. She could not afford to think of these things now. She needed to get to her son. She had to protect Harry and get him safely away. After she added the letters to the valise, she took one last look at the room she had lived in for seven years. Despair threatened to consume her, but she refused to give in to her terror and hurried out the door.