A Secret Code

by Jacki Delecki

  And Joie realized that in Reggie’s arms, she didn’t care one fig about the scandal.

  The End

  Excerpt from

  A Code of Joy

  The Code Breakers Regency Romantic Suspense Series

  by Jacki Delecki

  Miss Joie Louise James tightened the ribbons on her bonnet to thwart the high winds from blowing her favorite hat straight off. She trudged ahead of her maid and footman, dodging the potholes and muddy puddles. After the last few days, she was surprised by nothing, including the sudden deluge from a cloudburst that sent icy rain down her collar. Nothing in her life was proceeding as planned.

  Unfair and unjust circumstances had forced her to leave London and her friends at Christmastime. With her head down, she pressed on toward the shining lights of the town. After all that had recently befallen her, she’d barely blinked when the carriage axle snapped in the midst of the winter storm. Disaster appeared to be following her…

  How could this time of love and peace be filled with spite, gossip, and bounders who made it a game to ruin the reputations of innocent women? She had looked so forward to the little season—the chance to meet new people, to develop friendships and the possibility of a tendre for an eligible gentleman. How could she know that Lord Ayer was less than eligible—in fact, was a scoundrel?

  Her French maid trailed behind, reciting all of Joie’s failings. She refused to allow Esme’s criticism, or her damp pelisse chafing her neck, to sour her mood. Esme, whom she’d inherited after her mother’s death, acted more like a mother than a maid. The wiry older woman didn’t hold back her feelings that all of this was Joie’s fault.

  “All,” meaning the carriage’s broken axle, Joie’s supposed fall from grace, her father’s immediate insistence that Joie and Esme be sent to the small village of Lydd. Joie would be in the care of his maiden sister, who adhered to the same rigid rules as her older brother. If Esme started again on Joie’s curiosity and gullibility as character flaws, Joie would scream. Who valued being cynical and untrusting?

  Joie slowed her steps as the road narrowed into an uneven cobbled walkway. The inn was not far, and she wanted to run toward the beacon of light and escape the unrelenting rain. She kept her steps slow and steady since she didn’t want to add falling on the slippery bricks to the growing list of calamities.

  “The inn looks very jolly.” The glow of candlelight shone through the misty fog. She refused to allow the awful circumstances to ruin Christmas. It was her favorite time of year, where everyone was in good cheer, possibly even her malcontent aunt. And then, Joie realized that she had been given a reprieve from spending the entire holiday with her aunt—a reprieve from Aunt Eleanor’s stern countenance and her constant demands.

  The storm had delayed their arrival in Lydd, a dismal town that sat on the Romney Marsh. The storm had also postponed her father’s punishment that she suffer her Aunt Eleanor’s company until the season resumed in London. Her father hadn’t become such a curmudgeon until his wife had died five years ago. He’d gradually changed, growing intolerant—as he shouldn’t be as a man of the cloth—of anyone’s fall from grace, especially his daughter’s.

  With a sense of hope and determination, Joie realized she and Esme would have to stay in Rye at least for tonight—and possibly two or three nights, depending on the storm and the time needed to repair her carriage. Instead of listening to her aunt’s doleful sermons, she’d be mingling with strangers. Excitement thrummed through her.

  For the next few days, she would be on her own, away from her father delivering homilies over her head, or from being at the beck and call of her exacting aunt. Instead, she was in the ancient town of Rye, known for danger and mystery as the center of French smuggling. She might catch glimpses of the smugglers who brought brandy and lace from France for English consumption.

  The Mermaid Inn was carved into the wood sign making a thwacking sound each time a gust of wind sent it crashing against the building. The ivy-covered brick inn was two stories with paned windows shining with candlelight.

  Frigid water dripped from her aubergine-and-green bonnet onto her face and neck. And from the way that the olive green plumes stuck to her forehead, her beloved bonnet must be ruined.

  She and Esme had spent hours deciding on the exact shade of green for the ribbons, plumes, and berries. At least Esme didn’t find fault with Joie’s flair for fashion or love of dramatic colors. Joie had inherited her fashion style from her half-French mère.

  Fredrick, her footman, darted ahead to open the door to the inn. Pine boughs hung by red ribbons from the overhead wood beams. A fire blazed in the gigantic brick fireplace, which was also covered in greens and pine. And the scent of cedar, pine, and cinnamon wafted in the air.

  Stepping into the bright and cozy inn, she smiled broadly, eager to embark on an adventure. She had never stayed in an inn among strangers. She was ready to find holiday merriment among fellow travelers. Chairs were positioned around the fireplace where Joie would enjoy sitting and watching the guests’ comings and goings.

  After giving Esme her portmanteau, Joie crossed the room to dry in front of the fire. Fredrick would arrange for her and Esme’s rooms and a private dining room. Her father would have conniptions at just the idea that she was residing at an inn. On their three-day journey, she had only stayed in the homes of distant relatives. He would never countenance her dining in a public room. But he could not interfere at this point.

  A massive man with sandy brown hair, dressed in riding breeches and tall black Hessian boots, approached the fireplace where Joie stood with her hands raised to the fire to warm herself. How had she not noticed him in the crowd of people lingering to avoid the rain? He stood a foot taller than everyone and exuded arrogant confidence, unlike the rest of the weary and sodden travelers.

  From the way that his thick hair was slicked back and damp, he had also been caught in the storm. She expected when his hair was dry that it would be closer to blond, for the firelight caught glimmers of gold. His brows and eyelashes were dark, framing sea-blue eyes.

  He hesitated before he took a position next to her. Not too close. She couldn’t help but notice how the powerful muscles in his thighs flexed when he braced his foot on the fireplace’s andirons. He must spend a great deal of time on horseback.

  As expected of a lady, she didn’t acknowledge him but lowered her eyes after delivering a small smile. She didn’t know the etiquette rules when stranded in a storm or during an unplanned stay in an inn. It seemed remarkably unfriendly not to greet strangers.

  Excerpt from

  Mission: Impossible to Resist

  The Impossible Mission Series

  by Jacki Delecki

  Jordan Dean couldn’t catch a break. There was no escaping the unwanted and, more than likely uninvited, guests this evening. Now Morley Townsend was in the receiving line. Her sister would never have invited Jordan’s ex, because Sophie knew exactly how Jordan felt about the possessive, self-absorbed millionaire. Morley was probably here as part of another of their father’s elaborate realignments of the people he saw as chess pieces.

  How could an evening dedicated to global peace end up seething with such hostility, resentment, and homicidal urges? And she’d only been here about twenty minutes.

  Jordan pivoted—intent on escaping to the balcony before Morley spotted her—and walked straight into a very big, very solid, very muscular wall. The sudden impact set her wobbling. The way this evening was going, she should have stayed in her flats.

  The solid, muscular wall grabbed her elbows with hot, rough hands and held on until she was steadier.

  “Running from a fight?” His voice was polished, smooth, and smoky, like the fifty-year-old Scottish single malt whisky Morley liked to go on about ad nauseam.

  Jordan looked up…and up…into penetrating aquamarine eyes. A darker blue circle rimmed each iris, like a ring around an outer planet.

  “Fight?” Her voice came out high-pitched and strangled
.

  He leaned closer and confided as an aside, as if they were well-acquainted, “First the itsy woman you nailed with your shoe. I was hoping to see more. And now, from the way you’re high-tailing it away from the door, I’d say you’re avoiding Mr. Zippity Slick…” He tipped his head toward her ex.

  She twisted around to see Morley run his hand over his perfect hair, held in place by his designer clay pomade.

  “Zippity Slick?” She could barely contain an unladylike snort, and the simultaneous urge to burst into hysterical giggles. Not the image Morley was aiming for with his pricey hair product.

  Her muscular wall grinned, softening the razor-sharp angles of his cheekbones and making his light eyes even lighter. “An angry ex?”

  Jordan’s mind raced, trying to keep up with their off-kilter exchange. This was the strangest conversation she could ever remember having, made more distracting because here was a man who easily put Chris Hemsworth to shame, with his shredded body and blue-flame-of-intensity eyes surrounded by inky black lashes.

  What he was he playing at?

  “Nailed it, didn’t I?” His warm, minty breath brushed against her cheek when he chuckled.

  Jordan stared up into the enormous man’s piercing eyes, practically baking in his heat and virility. “Let go of me, or I’ll call over my bodyguard.” She hated that her voice came out puny and tinny.

  He waited a second too long to release her arms, then moved in close, too close, further invading her private space. “You’ve got to be kidding.” He crossed his arms and grinned, his eyes alight with amusement and a challenge. “Go ahead. Call him.”

  She quickly scanned the hall, looking for Harry and the crew who guarded her and her sister 24/7.

  “Your bodyguard is sick. And you haven’t noticed that he isn’t here, have you?”

  Her heart kicked into tachycardia speeding out of control. “Harry is sick?”

  “Not Harry…Pete, the man who regularly guards you. You didn’t notice, did you?”

  Jordan searched for Pete, a middle-aged, retired policeman who was a regular member of her security detail. He hadn’t been at his post, which this evening was at the door downstairs, vetting everyone who entered the building.

  Relief surged through her when she spotted Harry, who was standing by the door wearing his rumpled navy blue suit and the burgundy Armani tie she gave him for his birthday.

  Mr. Mountain shook his head. “Unbelievable. You have absolutely no situational awareness.”

  “Shows how much you know.” Situational awareness. She had it in spades—no, in sharp-edged diamonds. She was hyper-aware of Sophie’s discomfort when greeting Rob Boyer, an associate of their father’s and married man who had been hitting on Sophie since she was sixteen…and of Laura Stuliley cornering Sarah Sorenson’s husband…and the tension between the elderly Dr. Levin and his hottie young bride.

  Jordan wanted to defend herself, but she had a feeling he wouldn’t be impressed.

  And she had noticed Pete was absent from the downstairs entrance earlier. But, honestly, how much risk could there be while socializing in a private room, in a private club, guarded by her family’s private security firm?

  And who the hell was this man to criticize her…situational awareness…anyway?

  “Who are you? I know you weren’t invited tonight.”

  “Stand out, do I?” The edge was back in his voice, his granite jaw getting tighter with every word.

  Interesting. Mr. Chiseled was sensitive?

  Also by Jacki Delecki

  The Grayce Walters Series

  Contemporary Romantic Suspense

  An Inner Fire

  Women Under Fire

  Men Under Fire

  Marriage Under Fire

  A Marine’s Christmas Wedding

  The Impossible Mission Series

  Contemporary Romantic Suspense

  Mission: Impossible to Resist

  Mission: Impossible to Surrender

  Mission: Impossible to Love

  Mission: Impossible to Forget

  Mission: Impossible to Wed

  Mission: Impossible to Protect

  Mission: Impossible to Deny

  The Code Breakers Series

  Regency Period Romantic Suspense

  A Code of Love

  A Christmas Code

  A Code of the Heart

  A Cantata of Love

  A Wedding Code

  A Code of Honor

  A Holiday Code for Love

  A Code of Wonder

  A May Day Code for Love

  A Code of Joy

  A Secret Code

  To find all of Jacki’s books, visit her website.

  About the Author

  Jacki Delecki is a USA Today bestselling romantic suspense author whose stories are filled with heart-pounding adventure, danger, intrigue, and romance.

  Her books have consistently received rave reviews for her three bestselling suspense series: Contemporary romantic suspense The Impossible Mission Series, featuring Special Force Operatives; The Grayce Walters Series, contemporary romantic suspense following a Seattle animal acupuncturist with a nose for crime; and The Code Breakers Series, Regency suspense set against the backdrop of the Napoleonic Wars.

  Jacki’s stories reflect her lifelong love affair with the arts and history. When not writing, she volunteers for Seattle’s Ballet and Opera Companies, and leads children’s tours of Pike Street Market.

  To learn more about Jacki and her books and to be the first to hear about giveaways join her newsletter found on http://www.JackiDelecki.com.

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