The year is 1806. Bastard-born jewel thief David Lambert has few rules in his personal life. Never bed the staff, never more than once with the same man, and never, ever, kiss. Attending an aristocratic party and relieving some of the wealthy of their possessions should be easy, but in the space of a weekend, one by one all his rules are shattered by a footman with a secret.<br><br>Jeremy Naylor thought he had found the man of his dreams, the one man who might understand him. Someone passionate, handsome, and respectable. But in one shocking moment his world is destroyed, and he is forced to run for his life.<br><br>Flung together to escape the hangman’s noose, the passion between David and Jeremy burns fiercely. But Jeremy yearns for respectability, and David refuses to admit what lies in his heart. Will they find a way together, or will their differences lead them to the very brink of disaster and the shadow of the gallows?

Thief of Hearts

“Sorry to hear that, my boy,” Coatsworth said.


Framling persisted. “But who were they? I might have known your father.”


David smiled and set off into his well-rehearsed patter. “My father was Alfred Lambert. The Lamberts from Winchester…”


Framling cut in before he could say any more. “Never heard of him.” He looked David up and down and turned pointedly to Coatsworth. “You might like to see my new pair of bays,” he said. Lady Framling gave him a withering look.


Lord Coatsworth talked horses for a little while, then smiled expansively at David. “So, I’ve a fight on my hands for the piquet title, have I?” The sympathy in his eyes made David uncomfortable. Coatsworth was that rare creature from the upper echelons of society, a decent man. He wouldn’t be visiting their rooms come Sunday, that was for sure. He looked at Framling’s pinched, judgmental face and smiled to himself.


Chapter 12