Brock smiled as he felt Joanna fall asleep in his embrace. He moved her only once to fix his trousers and her dress before he pulled her back into the cradle of his arms. He had bruised ribs and an aching jaw, but it all had been worth it. His English lass had saved him, and while he did not like to think that he had been unable to protect her, he was glad he had married a woman with a warrior's heart. He would never forget the sight of Ewan Campbell on the ground, clutching his bollocks.My sweet Joanna, you are indeed sent from the heavens.He held her tightly until the coach stopped at the castle entrance. He carried her out, whispering thanks to the driver before he took the coach and horses around to the stables. Brock carried his sleeping wife inside. Duncan held the door for them, and the lad's eyebrows rose as he saw Joanna's torn skirts and Brock's bruised face, but he didn't ask any questions."Get some rest, Duncan. We will see you in the morning.""Aye, my lord." The yo
The moment Joanna realized Brock would not be able to get out, she screamed his name. Duncan found her trying to claw her way back up the stone walls. The heat of the blaze was fierce, and the castle seemed to swell with the heat beneath her hands, but it didn't stop her. Her husband was going to die if she couldn't find a way to save him."My lady! Be careful!" Duncan shouted. Pieces of wood and stone fell from the battlements, landing with heavy thuds on the grass around her."Duncan! Thank God! Brock is trapped up there. We must find a way to save him!""How? We canna get back inside." Duncan stared up at the cloud of smoke billowing out from the window above them, his face ashen. Joanna watched the flames lick along the stones in terror. She'd never thought stones could burn, but the amount of timber inside the castle was feeding the fire.If only they hadn't run out of rope. If only he'd been able to get out the window and jump. But it was too high. If only A sudden burst of i
Two months later"They're here!" Brock bellowed from upstairs.The castle rebuilding was almost finished. It was no longer a crumbling ruin, even the way it had been before the fire. His tenants had worked hard, and Joanna had hired many more local men to help. The promise of decent wages along with noon and evening meals had drawn men from miles.Now the castle was a source of pride, not something which drowned him in guilt and shame. Each night he and Joanna had stayed up late in the new library, which was quickly filling with books, reading to each other, sharing food and smiles before they retired to histheir bedchamber to make love.Joanna rushed downstairs, wearing a dark-blue gown accented with a tartan sash bearing his family's pattern of red and green. "They're here already?" She had taken to wearing his family's colors whenever she had the chance. He smiled as she flew into his arms. He caught her, and she kissed him hard, laughing as he swung her around."I admit, seein
BOOK TEN: The Earl of KentLondon, December 1816Fifteen-year-old Ella Humphrey was caught in a dream as she leaned over the wooden banister overlooking the entryway to her home. Two young men had come in through the door, shaking snow off their Hessian boots and removing their hats as they talked jovially. One was her older brother Graham, and the otherthe other was a man she'd never seen before. Tall, dark haired, with a deep rich laugh that sent butterflies fluttering inside her stomach."It's rather tragic, don't you think?"Ella jolted and turned to find her mother, Violet, the Dowager Countess of Lonsdale, behind her. She looked sad as she too looked down at the pair of young men."What's tragic?" asked Ella."Graham's friend, Lord Kent. His parents both died of typhus a month ago I heard, while visiting relatives in Scotland. He's only twenty-three, far too young to be an orphan." Violet stroked Ella's blonde hair as Ella gazed down at the handsome man in the entrance hall
London, December 1821Phillip had always had the devil's own luck, but not tonight. At the moment, he sat at a green baize tabletop playing faro and losing badly.Faro was a game partly of skill and partly of chance, and tonight both were failing him. His opponent, a dark-haired man who'd introduced himself as Daniel Sheffield, was racking up debts against him with an ease that worried Phillip."Another hand?" Sheffield challenged. "One good hand would set me right."Phillip jerked slightly as Graham gripped his arm in warning, but he took no heed."Another," Phillip said. He watched the dealer lay out thirteen cards and placed his bet as to which card the dealer would turn up next. Sheffield doubled Phillip's bet, and Graham stiffened beside him.Phillip tried to keep calm, but the fact was his debts were too high to turn back. But if he won this hand, everything would be fine.Sheffield's lips twitched a moment before the dealer turned the card over. Phillip's stomach dropped.
Ella was tired of being treated as though she were a fragile flower. Yes, she had been a weak child, always catching ill, but she hadn't been ill in years."Mother, I really wish to go to Lady Amelia's ball. She said that many handsome young men have been invited." She didn't add that she wasn't interested in any of them, but her mother might believe that and be more inclined to let her go.Her mother paused in her reading of the Morning Post and sighed thoughtfully. "Dancing too much tires you out, my dear. I don't wish to put you at risk.""I'm not made of spun glass. One dance will not shatter me.""I distinctly remember that you had a coughing fit at the last one, only a month ago."Ella rolled her eyes. "That wasn't my fault. Lady Casterly smothered her entire body in some overripe eau de cologne. More than one person succumbed to a coughing fit when they found themselves within breathing distance of her. Lord Evanston even knocked over a tray of ratafia when he started cough
Ella arrived at Charles's townhouse two hours later, hastily thanking his butler, Mr. Ramsey."Good afternoon, Ramsey. I've come to see my brother and Lord Kent."The butler nodded. "This way. His lordship mentioned you may come by," Mr. Ramsey replied, and his eyes deepened with concern. "Your brother and Lord Kent are resting upstairs. Which do you prefer to see first?""My brother," she added, and Ramsey showed her to an upstairs chamber. Graham was sleeping, but Ramsey assured her that the doctor had said he would be better in a few days."I must warn you, Miss Humphrey, Lord Kent is in a bad way, a very bad way indeed. Best to brace yourself.""Thank you." She followed him to another bedroom. The room was dark, but a few lamps had been lit. Ella's heart skipped a beat as she glimpsed a figure lying on the bed."Is there anything I can do for him?" she asked."Be with him," Mr. Ramsey said. "Just let him feel your presence. The doctor told us that if he can survive the week,
Phillip hurt everywhere. There was not one bit of muscle, sinew, or bone that didn't ache, tighten, or scream in agony. His thoughts were broken, mere fragments as a pulse pounded inside his throbbing skull. He tried to speak, but the breath in his lungs was too shallow. His limbs were like dead weights at his sides as he fought in vain to move, even an inch in any direction.What happened? What?He struggled to catch hold of his last memories.Cardswagerstunnelsblood.He'd lost a wager to a man and agreed to fight in the Lewis Street tunnelsand he'd been attacked, outnumbered and beaten near to death."Rest now. You're safe." A soft voice drifted through his head. A sweet scent filled his nose. A familiar scent"Help" The word was barely a rasp."Are you thirsty?" the voice asked.He tried to nod, but his head throbbed. Only a whimper escaped his lips."Don't move. The doctor said you must rest. Here, take some water." A glass was pressed to his mouth, and he sighed as cool w