“Can’t,” said Gabriel. “You’ll need a surgeon to do the deed. That’s the interesting thing about a fish hook, Langford. You have to push it in deeper before you can pull it out. They’re troublesome things, these hooks are. And the one I stuck in you is mighty big; sturdy and well-made, too. My guess is it will have to be cut out.”
Langford let out a long wail. “Damn you, Wylde!” he cried. “Can you have no pity on me? You’ve obviously won the lady’s heart, and you’ve that baggage of a boy to boot. Just cut your line and let me go.”
Gabriel walked around Langford, then knelt in front of him. “Only on a few conditions,” he said, glaring into the man’s face that was contorted with pain.
“Anything!” cried Langford, becoming a quivering mass.
“That you leave this shire and never show your face to me again.”
“Yes! I’ll do it now. This day. I swear it! Just let me go.”
“I’m not finished yet, Langford. Should I ever hear of you pursuing another female for reasons other than love, God’s truth I will hunt you down and make you pay for what you did to Jenny. I’ve blunt enough and the daring to do it, Langford, you know I do.”
“Yes, yes, I know. I believe you. Just cut me free. I’ll never return to Derbyshire. I swear it. And I—I am sorry about Jenny. I am. Whether you believe it or not, I never wanted her to do what she did.”
“Save your breath, Langford. I don’t want to hear you utter her name. And I never, ever want you anywhere near Lissa or my son again. Mark my words. The vows I make, I keep—and I vow now that you will rue the day should you ever attempt to harm my son or my future wife.”
Langford swallowed convulsively, nodding, his eyes wide with fear. “I hear you. I believe you. Go. Go back inside with the lady and your boy, just please let me be.”
Gabriel got to his feet. He drew out his pocket knife, cut the line with a final act, then pushed Langford away from him.
Langford scrambled to his feet, the hook still impaled in his head, and then he ran fast into the woods, heading for his carriage and a hasty flight away from the man he knew he could never best.
Wylde watched him go, then went inside the lodge.
Lissa was sitting on the bench of the worktable, Harry on her lap. She was talking quietly with the boy, soothing away any of the fears still within him.
“Is he gone?” she asked.
“For good,” he answered. “I believe the two of us finally came to an understanding. He will never bother you or Harry again. In fact, I do believe he’ll never dare to return to our shire.”
Lissa glanced up at Gabriel. “Our shire?”
Gabriel nodded. “You heard me a right.” Looking at her, he felt his heart turn over. “What a beautiful sight,” he murmured, “to see my son in the arms of the woman I hope will soon become his mother and my wife.”
Lissa caught her bottom lip between her teeth… and then she smiled, tears gathering in her eyes. “Do you mean that, Gabriel?”
“Aye,” he said softly, sincerely. “With all my heart and soul.”
Lissa visibly trembled, then glanced down at Harry. “What do you think of that idea, Harry? Would you like your papa and you and me to become a family?”
Harry straightened, then threw his arms about her neck. “Oh, yesh, Lisha!” he said, thoroughly slurring all of his S’s.
Lissa laughed and hugged him in return. “Then I guess it shall be a pact between the three of us. But I must warn you, Harry—and Gabriel, you, too—that a pact made near the Dove lasts a lifetime. My father once told me so. Like the river, these pacts are strong and deep and ever flowing. Indeed, they are never ending.”
Gabriel came around the bench, straddled the thing by throwing one leg over it, then settled down beside Lissa and his son, his thighs pressing against Lissa’s body. ” ‘Tis the kind of pact I know best,” he murmured, placing a kiss on her temple, then smoothing one hand over her hair that had been whipped about by her mad carriage ride and even madder dash to the lodge.
He then ran his hand along his son’s cheek, smiling at the boy. “What’s your opinion, Harry? Should we welcome Lissa into our family, move her things across the Dove—or mayhap move our things across the river?”
“I don’t care what we move or where,” said Harry. “I just want Lisha for my mama and for the three of us to be happy.”
Gabriel laughed.
Lissa laughed, too.
Gabriel suddenly nuzzled his face against hers. “You had something to say to me, my sweet, some matter of import to discuss?”
“So you did come here to meet me,” she said.
“Aye, that I did. I would walk to the ends of the world for you, Lissa, and beyond. Never doubt that.”
“I won’t,” she whispered, pressing her face against his, loving the feel of him, the scent of him. “What I wanted to tell you today is that… that I’d come to the conclusion that I am in the mind of marrying—but that I wish to marry only you.”
“So Langford never had a prayer?”
Lissa frowned at mention of the man’s name. “Never. It’s only been you, Gabriel.”
“Ah, there, you’ve said it again; said my name. How I love the sound of my Christian name passing your lips. I love you, Lissa.”
“Oh, Gabriel,” she breathed, hugging Harry tightly even as she melted against the man she’d come to love more than anything. “I love you, too. I think I have felt this way since the first time I viewed you at the river’s edge…”
Gabriel kissed her eyes, her nose, her mouth. Harry giggled. Gabriel opened one eye, looking down at his son. “Is this the secret you shared with Lissa while in the tree?”
Harry nodded. “The very one,” he said.
“Hmmm… I thought so.”
Gabriel kissed Lissa again, as Harry, seemingly over the many ordeals of the day, wriggled out of Lissa’s lap, then scurried away, gathering up three of the long poles that were housed on the opposite wall.
“I do believe our son wishes to fish, m’lord.”
“Gabriel,” he growled against her lips.
“Gabriel,” she murmured, her mouth forming a smile even as he kissed it again and again and again.
Long seconds later, Gabriel lifted his face, looked longingly into Lissa’s eyes and said, “Do you know what tomorrow is?”
“A new beginning for the three of us?” she ventured.
“Aye. It is that. And it is also Sunday. What say you that our family heads to the church and finds our own special boxed pew? I should like to pray again, Lissa, and to offer up thanks for the fact that you and Harry are with me, that we’ve found our way to being a family.”
“Oh, Gabriel,” she murmured, emotion choking her, unable to say more.
It was enough. His heart, at last, was full. Life along the Dove would be everything he’d ever dreamt about, with Lissa and Harry, and the many other children he and Lissa would create.
“We shall have the most beautiful life together, Lissa,” he promised. “We’ll begin every day in each other’s arms, and end each day in the same. In between we shall worry over our children and love them, and teach them about flies, and trout, and angling, and about the wonders found alongside the Dove.”
“Children? As in many of them?” Lissa teased.
“As many as you are willing to create with me, my sweet,” said Gabriel sincerely.
Lissa felt wonderfully warm inside. “We shall have as many as we have,” she said, trusting now in the future. “And Harry shall make a famous older brother—or a perfect only child. Whatever our future holds, Gabriel, I wish to share it with you and Harry. Forever. For always.”
Gabriel squeezed her tight. “Mayhap I shall write the definitive book about night angling for trout.”
“How perfectly wonderful. And I shall make the sketches for your book, yes?”
“Yes,” he said, kissing her again. Always he would kiss her, he knew, for Lissa was his soul mate, the life partner he’d been l
acking.
*
Much later, Lissa and Gabriel got up off the bench, then moved to join their son in preparing for a busy day alongside the river.
“Finally,” said Harry, grinning. “I’d thought you had forgotten me.”
“Never that!” both Lissa and Gabriel said in perfect unison.
Together, the three of them headed out of the lodge, toward the river, and into a bright, sun-filled future.
The End
Page forward for a special note from the author followed by excerpts from the other To Woo an Heiress titles
Dear Reader,
I hope you enjoyed your foray into the countryside of England’s rich past. I wanted to write a Regency story not set amidst the drawing rooms of London, but rather one that captured the excitement of fly-fishing during its early stages, that illustrated the fervor with which the true anglers of this time went to the water, and one that also highlighted the passion of two characters who realized the gift of a river surrounded and inhabited by life and the beauty of God’s vast bounty.
The idea for this book was born during several fly-fishing trips to the high mountain streams of Hunts Run in Cameron County, Pennsylvania, with my father and my son.
What a treasure to watch my father pass on his devotion of protecting and preserving nature to my son, and what a pleasure to sit quietly by a clear, tumbling brook and have my father tell me about the origins of fly-fishing, and of how many gentlemen in England’s history found challenges and contentment alongside that country’s rivers and streams.
My father learned to tie flies at the knee of an old mountain man, and was night fishing for trout long before it became popular. He was also crusading to preserve nature years before doing so became politically correct. A fly-fishing historian of sorts, and a definite defender of nature, it is my father’s knowledge I’ve sprinkled throughout this tale of an angling lord and a spirited, nature-loving lady.
I would like to take this opportunity to thank him for sharing his vast collection of rare books on trout and angling, and for being so generous with his time and knowledge. I will always remember the many hours we spent sitting at his kitchen table as he talked about the woods he loves so much—and I’ll never forget his warning that life, as we know it, hinges on the preservation of our planet’s precious water bodies.
Thanks so much for choosing to read the story of Lissa and Gideon (and little Harry!). I loved writing this book—and I absolutely treasured every second spent in the woods with my father and my son.
Lindsay Randall
Page forward and continue your journey with an excerpt from
MISS MARCIE’S MISCHIEF
To Woo an Heiress
Book Two
Excerpt from
Miss Marcie’s Mischief
To Woo an Heiress
Book Two
by
Lindsay Randall
MISS MARCIE’S MISCHIEF
Reviews & Accolades
“A warm, tender Valentine’s treat of opposites attract… Ms. Randall displays a wonderful talent for writing humor. I caught myself laughing out loud several times.”
~Rendezvous
They sat side by side atop the coachman’s bench.
“I think of you as ‘Mistress Mischief,’ for obvious reasons,” said Cole.
Marcie bowed her head, quickly hiding the shimmer of tears that suddenly sprang to her eyes. Only one other person had ever called her Mistress Mischief.
“I have offended you,” said Cole, misunderstanding her reaction.
Marcie blinked away the wetness from her eyes. She looked up at him. “Quite the opposite. You see, my father used to call me Mistress Mischief.”
“It seems I am forever stirring up memories for you.”
“Yes,” she whispered. “It does seem that way, doesn’t it?” And as she spoke, she felt a tiny tremor of feeling inside her breast, a feeling she could not quite express. Happiness at the memory of her father? Yes, it was that… and yet it was so much more complicated, and had more to do with the man seated beside her.
Cole Coachman reached over with one gloved hand to pull up her carriage rug. “Wouldn’t want you to catch your death,” he murmured.
His gloved hand brushed against her own, and Marcie felt a shiver tingle up her spine. Of a sudden, she could not help but notice how very near he was. She could smell the crisp, clean scent of him, and the delicious smell of cedar emanating from his greatcoat and red scarf. The world sped past as the coach whisked over the road, and to Marcie it seemed as if there was only just herself, Cole Coachman, and Prinny the owl alive in the universe. What a very cozy place it was.
Miss Marcie’s Mischief
To Woo an Heiress
Book Two
by
Lindsay Randall
~
To purchase
Miss Marcie’s Mischief
from your favorite eBook Retailer,
visit Lindsay Randall’s eBook Discovery Author Page
www.ebookdiscovery.com/LindsayRandall
~
Discover more with
eBookDiscovery.com
Page forward and complete your journey with an excerpt from
A DANGEROUS COURTSHIP
To Woo an Heiress
Book Three
Excerpt from
A Dangerous Courtship
To Woo an Heiress
Book Three
by
Lindsay Randall
A DANGEROUS COURTSHIP
Reviews & Accolades
“Ms. Randall captures the Gothic ambiance and sends eerie shivers up and down your spine.”
~Romantic Times Book Reviews
Julian moved toward her, depositing his hat on a side table near one of the chairs before the cold hearth as he went. He opened his hand and turned it palm up as he drew nearer to her. “Veronica,” he said softly.
“What?” she demanded, furious, pausing only momentarily in her tirade as she whirled to face him. When she saw how close he was, she clamped her mouth shut tight and took a wary step back.
He smiled, loving the spark in her beautiful eyes, the daring in her brave but injured soul, and the lengths she would go for a friend.
“I am sorry—that is what,” he said simply. And then, reaching for her hand, he gently unclasped her fist and laid the package atop her palm. “Does this help lessen your anger in any way?”
She blew out a small, ragged breath, seemingly struggling against a sudden urge to cry. “Drat you, Julian. You… you can be so unexpectedly tender at times. I—” She let forth another small breath, then said, “You continually surprise me.”
“Do I? Pity that. What I want to do is please you, Veronica.”
She blinked, amazed at his confession, confused by it, too. “Julian… you—you must cease speaking to me in such a-a familiar way, especially now that we are at Wrothram House. You—you are here as my guard. Do try to remember that.”
“Aye,” he whispered, tamping down the urge to gather her in his arms and hold her tight. “I shall try, my lady. But there may come a time, I hope, when you see me in a different light.”
A Dangerous Courtship
To Woo an Heiress
Book Three
by
Lindsay Randall
~
To purchase
A Dangerous Courtship
from your favorite eBook Retailer,
visit Lindsay Randall’s eBook Discovery Author Page
www.ebookdiscovery.com/LindsayRandall
~
Discover more with
eBookDiscovery.com
Lindsay Randall officially began writing in the third grade. “I remember the moment vividly,” Lindsay says. “Every year my family would head to the New England states for two weeks of vacation. It was in Brattleboro, Vermont, that my mother bought me my first diary. By the end of those two weeks, I’d nearly filled the pages. I was hooked. Writing became my passion.
”
It was during her second year in college that Lindsay turned from journal writing to novel writing. “I was supposed to write a paper about eminent Victorians, but what I actually wrote was the beginning chapter of a romance novel.” She sold this—her very first manuscript—to Kensington Publishing at the age of 25.
Since then, 12 other romance novels have followed, as well as dozens of magazine articles. In 2009, she received a Reviewers Choice Award from RT BookReviews.
Lindsay is a member of the Authors Guild of America, the nation’s oldest and largest society of published authors, and is a founding member and first president of Pennwriters, a multi-genre writers’ organization based in Pennsylvania and beyond.
By day she is a development writer for a private university, while her late nights and weekends are reserved for pursuing her passion—writing romances.
Lady Lissa's Liaison (To Woo an Heiress, Book 1) Page 20
