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balance, Annie began to move in earnest. Her spine arched with heated pleasure as he worked with her, lifting his lean hips to meet her downward drives. Beneath the onslaught of sensation, her body moved as a thing separate from her mind, the need to ride his pumping cock too potent for moderation. An approaching orgasm drummed through her blood, coaxing wrenching cries from her with every desperate thrust.
    He pushed the low table aside with a powerful sweep of his arm, then rolled her beneath him. Fisting the thick Aubusson rug in his mechanical hand, he anchored her by the shoulder and pounded his lust into her with heavy, rhythmic lunges. Her legs fell open, inviting him deeper, her neck arching with the brutal rush of desire.
    “Bella,” he growled, an instant before he jerked inside her. The first hard pulse of semen made her gasp, spurring the climax that joined with his. She tightened around his spending cock, milking his seed with rippling spasms. He groaned with
every clinging grasp, circling his hips to hit the end of her.
    Her arms encircled him as he lowered his chest to hers, his back slick with sweat and his muscles quivering like a stallion run hard and long. Her eyes closed on a shuddering sigh. She contemplated possessing such a lavishly splendid creature as the baron and being possessed by him in return. The endeavor, when committed to so early in their association, was not without tremendous risk. But the rewards… Already she felt like a butterfly newly emerged from its cocoon.
    He pulled her tighter against him and breathed her name. Turning her head, Annabelle claimed him with a kiss.

HEART OF THE DAEDALUS
    Saskia Walker

    M oonlight carved an eerie path through the low-lying landscape of the Romney Marshes, solidifying the patches of mist that gathered over the sodden ground. The area was riddled with inlets of water and bog, making a treacherous journey for anyone who dared go there. Nina Ashford scanned the ground ahead and soothed her mount, encouraging the horse along the narrow path. It was a familiar track to Nina for she had grown up in a nearby village, but it was dangerous nonetheless. Her mount huffed on the cold night air, picking its way carefully.
    The clear sky was in her favor, which was some mercy, but her attire was not. She’d come straight from a formal supper and hadn’t had time to change out of her best gown. Word had reached her of the whereabouts of the Daedalus and she’d grasped the opportunity to view it in secret. Fetching her cloak, she’d paused only to strap her pistol to her ankle boot and her sword to her flank—wary of brigands and smugglers on the marshes—then raced out into the night lest the Daedalus be moved elsewhere.
The man who had so callously stolen her designs for the machine had enormous wealth at his disposal. He could easily toy with it, then cast it aside. The knot in her chest tightened as she thought on it, but this only served to strengthen her resolve. She had to see her beloved creation, now. Pursing her lips, she pressed on determinedly.
    Up ahead she spied her quarry, a smuggler’s den—a long and low shelter in a dugout pit, built from old planks covered over with slabs of peat and tufts of grass to conceal the moorings and storage space within. It was here that she’d been told the prototype had been hidden. The machine had been engineered and built elsewhere, so why was it here? The question went unanswered as the lure of the Daedalus drew her on. A steady plume of smoke rose from the rear of the shelter, making her wary. Her informant, an old friend, had told her no guards had been employed. Apparently it had been deemed unnecessary in this lonely, barren place. However she approached with caution. Dismounting, she secured her horse beneath a cluster of trees and edged closer to the ramshackle building by foot.
    At the entrance she peered inside the gloomy interior. Somewhere a light shone. As she became accustomed to the limited