The Last Time We Met - By Lily Lang Page 0,39

of his ex-mistress. It's the only way she can face the man she loved. The man whose memory of her was telepathically wiped—at her request.

Sebastian knows a lie when he sees one, and it doesn't take long to strip the disguise of the unfamiliar woman he believes is his assassin. But before he can use his formidable Gift for illusion to wring the truth from her, bullets fly and they are both on the run.

Surrounded by traitors and spies, Tessa and Sebastian fight to thwart the scheme to plunge England back into the darkness of war. And, as their powerful attraction brings them closer and closer, Tessa fights to protect the man she still loves more than life—by keeping the secret of their shared history buried deep in her heart.

Warning: This book contains sexy war heroes, submarines, bedrooms on fire, an evil Frenchman, and a shape-shifting heroine who will stop at nothing to protect her true love.

Enjoy the following excerpt for The Impostor:

In the cool blue twilight, Tessa was sitting by his bedside, an unread book in her lap, when Sebastian finally woke.

At first, consumed by worry for her father, she did not notice, but gazed unseeingly out the windows at the great green park below. She had struck her father hard. She had intended to render him unconscious, but the sharp, sickening crack had still made the bottom drop out of her stomach.

She furled and unfurled her hands at the memory.

Sebastian’s utter stillness troubled her as well. The physician that Coleman, Sebastian’s butler, had sent for earlier in the day had tended to the numerous cuts and scrapes and bruises Sebastian had received in the secret chambers beneath Somerset House, but been unable to pronounce judgment on his state of unconsciousness.

Nor had Tessa expected him to produce a diagnosis. Her father’s particular brand of telepathic assault had killed men before. She did not know what he had done to Sebastian. She could only hope that, as he was still breathing, Sebastian would sustain no permanent damage.

It was only as she reached to pour herself a glass of water from the pitcher at his bedside that she looked at him again. He was awake, his eyes intent as he watched her. His hair and olive skin were dark against the sharp contrast of the crisp white sheets.

She stilled, her hand dropping back into her lap and knocking the book to the floor with a crash.

Her voice, when she spoke, was hoarse and nearly inaudible.

“How do you feel?”

“Like a coach and four ran me over,” he said.

Her lips curved slightly. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“It is hardly your fault that Sevigny is a madman and a murderer.”

She gave another half smile. “I suppose not,” she said. She hesitated, uncertain of how to frame her question. “But my father… What did he… What happened?”

“He gave me back all my worst memories.”

Even in the half darkness, she could sense the intensity of his gaze as he studied her. She pretended not to notice and instead reached again for the pitcher to pour him a glass of water. She held it out to him. He took it and set it aside, reaching out to grasp her wrist instead.

She could not meet his gaze.

“He gave me back something else, Tessa,” he said. “Something that I do not think he intended to give me.”

“I don’t understand.”

“While searching my mind for my worst memories,” said Sebastian, “he unlocked one that had been buried years ago—and not by me. Can you guess which memory, Tessa?”

Her head jerked, an involuntary gesture, and his eyes followed the movement.

“What do you remember?” she whispered.

“Everything,” he said.

She sat very still, her hands linked together in her lap. Her mouth trembled.

“Why, Tessa?” he asked hoarsely. “Why did he take my memories of you? Why did you do nothing to stop him?”

She looked at him. He was pale and drawn in the half light, the skin of his scar tight and puckered. He had not been handsome even before his injury, but it did not matter. She had never stopped loving him, and knew now that she never would. He had branded her for life, and she would carry this mark to her grave.

Her eyes slid shut on a spasm of pain.

“Stop him?” Tessa repeated. “Why would I stop him, when I was the one who asked him to do it?”

In the silence that followed, time seemed to cease entirely. She opened her eyes again, holding his lightless, still gaze.

“You asked it of him?” Sebastian