by Monica Burns
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Acknowledgements
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Epilogue
OBSESSION Preview
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Other Amazon Titles by Monica Burns
Kindle Readers - Please Don't Forget
About Monica
Redemption Blurb
Redemption
by
Monica Burns
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for third-party websites or their content.
This digital book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This digital book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. To obtain permission to excerpt portions of the text, please contact the author at [email protected].
Copyright ©2012 by Kathi B. Scearce
ISBN 978-0-9971592-1-9
Cover Design: Viviana Izzo, Enchantress Design & Promo
Copyeditor: Debbie Sansom-Fitts
Kathi B. Scearce DBA Monica Burns - Maroli SP Imprints
P.O. Box 75072
Richmond, VA 23236
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
Publishing History
Digital 1.0 edition / November 2016
Acknowledgements
Special thanks to Viviana Izzo, Enchantress Design and Promo for an extraordinary cover. Viv, thank your being such an awesome friend and for the wonderful covers you do for me. You take my abstract vision and just do magic! And the fact that you listen to me whine ad nausem makes you a saint!
To the wonderful Debbie Sansom-Fitts. Thank you! You are an exceptional cheerleader, and no matter how many times I think I’ve caught all the typos to make your life easier, you’re able to find ones I’ve missed. I can’t thank you enough for all you do for me. I’m truly blessed to know you.
A special shout out to Kathryn Tesh who came up with the title for Percy’s and Rhea’s book. She pulled it out of thin air for me, and I love it. It so fits the theme of the book. Thank you Kathryn
Last, but never least, to all my readers. The fact that you love my stories is humbling. I am doing what I love to do, and I’m so grateful that with your help, I’m able to continue doing so.
Prologue
June 1898
“Damn it to hell,” Percy Rockwood muttered under his breath as he emerged from the softly-lit New Library into the near darkness of the British Museum’s main reading room. In the shadows he made out the night watchman sprawled on the floor a short distance away.
Quickly crossing the carpeted floor of the large room, he knelt beside the man. Fingers pressed into the side of the policeman’s neck, Percy breathed a sigh of relief. Alive, but out cold. A small sound in the distance echoed in the large, oval-shaped room museum patrons used daily.
It was the same noise he’d heard while reading the latest Coptic scrolls Wallis Budge had brought back from Egypt. Although how he’d not heard Smythe crash to the floor was surprising. The officer was quite a burly man. He could only surmise that the guard’s assailants had eased him to the floor after subduing the man.
Once more the sound whispered through the air. Percy cocked his head to one side and determined the noise was coming from the Egyptian wing. Without thinking twice, he pulled a small pistol out of his coat pocket. He’d taken to carrying the weapon since he’d had his vision two weeks ago. The vivid imagery of his body lying prone in a dark place wasn’t the type of omen a Rockwood who possessed the an dara sealladh ignored.
Over the years, he’d learned to accept the fact that he’d inherited a small amount of the family’s gift of sight. But the an dara sealladh rarely offered up as much detailed, graphic information as his latest vision had. The vision of the woman had haunted him for the past two weeks. With the exception of her eyes, the woman’s features had been hazy at best. But it had been impossible to forget her eyes. They’d been the dark color of wild violets that grew in the meadows around Melton Park.
He had no idea what the vision meant. Even now, he wondered what the woman and the vision of him lying on a dark floor had to do with each other. But it was the hopelessness Percy had seen in her beautiful eyes he couldn’t forget. She was in trouble. He was certain of it. His tread quiet and cautious, Percy approached the wide archway leading into the Egyptian section of the museum. With his back pressed against one of the ceiling-high columns marked with hieroglyphics, he peered around the cylindrical architecture.
At the far end of the north wing, he saw a light where the pendant of Nephthys was displayed. The jeweled necklace that was said to have once been worn by Nefertiti had only recently been put on display. Other than a glass enclosed display case and the police who guarded the museum night and day, there was no other protection for the precious artifact.
Anger made his jaw hardened. He’d warned Budge this might happen, and the director had agreed. Percy didn’t like being right, but he would love to be a fly on the wall when Budge lambasted the board for their resistance to reinforce security. As Director of the Egyptian and Assyrian Antiquities, Budge would not withhold one iota of his contempt for the men who’d blithely discounted his request for more policemen on duty during the night hours. Aside from Smythe, there was only one other policeman on duty tonight as the third one had taken sick and gone home for the night.
A sharp pop followed by the brittle sound of shattering glass confirmed his worst fears. Someone was stealing the pendant. Slowly, he made his way past one of the mummy displays as he headed toward the end of the exhibition hall. The soft murmur of voices drifted toward him, but it was impossible to hear what was being said.
Percy crept forward, avoiding the small stream of moonlight that had found its way past the clouds and through the glass ceiling of the long room. Ahead of him, he saw a small movement in the dark recesses of the exhibition room.
“Whoever you are, come out now before I shoot,” he said quietly.
The sudden loud click of a pistol being cocked made Percy draw in a sharp hiss of air between his teeth. Whoever they were, they’d just called his bluff as nicely as if they were playing a competitive game of brag.
“Then you and I are at an impasse, sir. There are three of us, and only one of you. I think th
e odds are considerably more in my favor than in yours.”
The disembodied voice sounded different from what one might expect a thief to sound like. He frowned in puzzlement. The voice echoed with the cultured inflections one might expect to hear from someone of noble birth.
A shadow emerged from the pitch dark into the area just on the edge of the patch of moonlight. Percy narrowed his gaze at the dark figure. The fellow stood just a foot shorter than him, and seemed more round than angular. A youngster no doubt, but he knew better than to discount his opponent. Age had nothing to do with criminals and their street savvy. The boy would do what he had to do in order to survive.
“If you’re willing to leave the necklace you’ve taken, I’ll not stop you from leaving.”
“Unfortunately, that’s not possible.” The shadow’s voice reverberated softly in the darkness with a distinct note of regret. Percy scowled in the direction of the voice.
“You’ll find it incredibly difficult to sell the pendant.”
“Perhaps, but that’s my employer’s problem. Not mine.” Despite the nonchalant note in the thief’s voice, Percy could have sworn there was a significant amount of regret as well.
Muscles taut with tension, Percy watched the dark figure slowly walk toward him. Overhead, the clouds opened more widely, and the narrow stream of moonlight widened its path across the museum floor. Almost as if he knew it was dangerous to stand in the moonlight, the other man hesitated. The increased amount of light outlined Percy’s opponent more clearly.
A black mask covered half the man’s face, and although he was in process of committing a crime, there was a politeness to his manner that said he regretted his actions. In fact, the thief projected an image of respectable gentility, despite the patches covering his coat and pants.
In his swift appraisal of the man, Percy realized the distance between them was smaller than he thought. The moment he took a step forward, the other man leveled his gun at him. The light from the moon danced off the barrel of the pistol pointed in his direction.
“Do not mistake me for a fool, sir.” The sharp words made Percy stiffen. A woman—a well-bred woman. The familiarity he’d recognized in her voice earlier was rooted in his knowledge of the female sex. He’d heard the soft, womanly cadence and pitch of her voice, but had unconsciously dismissed them. He took a step closer.
“Stop.” Was that a hint of fear in her command?
“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” he murmured with growing irritation. “I can’t allow the pendant to leave the museum.”
“Then you’re a fool. Your life is far more valuable than a trinket, no matter how old.” Her sharp words made him frown. She almost seemed worried for his safety.
“Nevertheless, I have no intention of allowing anyone to leave the museum with the pendant,” he said grimly.
He’d no more finished speaking than his senses alerted him to a new threat, and the instant the premonition sailed through him, he uttered a soft oath beneath his breath. Someone was approaching him from behind. In a swift move, Percy sprang forward. Behind him a pistol shot cracked loudly in his ears. Surprisingly, the bullet was more of a sting than anything else as it entered his back. The impact of the bullet made him stumble and his gun flew out of his hand. He sank to his knees, and she was there to catch him.
“You are a reckless fool,” she chastised him in a voice filled with agonized regret.
“It’s a family trait,” he rasped as pain slowly seeped its way across his back. He looked up at her and went rigid.
“Bloody hell, it’s you.” The tension in her body pulsed its way into his. He understood her fear. Murder, or even just accessory to the crime, carried a stiff penalty.
“How do you know me,” she whispered as her violet eyes widened with horror.
The dark purple hue of her eyes was even more beautiful than in his vision. His thoughts were suddenly cluttered with all manner of images. The fire at Westbrook Farms, his grieving family at the cemetery at Caleb’s and Devin’s funerals. Sebastian glaring at him. Patience’s bandaged face, Aunt Matilda with an expression of dismay on her lined features. One by one the faces of his family drifted past his eyes. They’d been through so much in the last four months. Now another Rockwood would be dead soon. The thought surprised him somehow. He was dying. He’d never actually believed his vision would have such a negative outcome. Percy had simply expected to be knocked unconscious, not shot. A violet gaze met his. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears.
“I’m so sorry. This wasn’t supposed to happen.” The sorrow in her voice equaled the pain in her eyes.
“I don’t understand…my vision…” he mumbled as the pain intensified and continued its way across his back. He tried to move, but only managed to increase the searing pain slashing through him. Unable to help himself he closed his eyes and slumped deeper into her arms.
“Leave him.”
The harsh, uncultured voice penetrated the cloud of pain slowly pulling Percy under. Desperately, he fought to remain conscious. If he lived, he needed to remember the man’s voice and everything he could about this miserable incident.
“Why did you shoot him?” The woman’s question reverberated with a fierce anger. “You could have knocked him out like you did the guard.”
“Don’t matter none now, does it? The bloke is dead.”
“You’re a bastard, Ruckley.”
“So you keep saying, my poppet,” the man said in a salacious manner. It made Percy long to get up and pummel the son of a bitch until the man begged for mercy. The thought evaporated as pain tugged him closer to the abyss.
“I’m not your poppet or anything else.”
“Go easy now, dearie. We both know I have a soft spot for you, but unless you want the little ‘uns to suffer ye’ll let me call ye whatever I please.”
“One day I will kill you Ruckley.”
The anger and hopelessness in her voice was the last thing Percy heard as a yawning hole opened up. He struggled not to fall off the cliff into the darkness below. But it was the touch of a warm hand on his cheek that told him he had to live. She needed his help. It was the last thought sinking its way into his head before the black engulfed him.
Chapter 1
Melton Park
June 1899
“You look lovely, Rhea. I’m glad I insisted we take an extra day to visit Madame Solange before we returned to Green Hill House two months ago,” her aunt said quietly as their carriage rolled up the long drive to Melton Park Manor.
“It was an unnecessary extravagance.” Rhea softened her reply with a smile. “But thank you. At least I have the opportunity to wear it.”
“It was nothing of the sort. It makes me happy to see you looking so beautiful. When I think about the day Mr. Ashford brought you and Arianna to Fremont Place…” The moment her aunt’s voice faded into nothing, Rhea reached across the space between them to touch her hand.
“It’s in the past, Aunt Beatrice. All of it,” she said firmly as she smiled at her aunt. The older woman nodded as she squeezed Rhea’s hand.
“Agreed,” Beatrice Fremont said with quiet determination. “With Arianna firmly settled in her role as Viscountess Sherrington, I think it’s time we concern ourselves with your prospects.”
Rhea ignored the comment and turned her head away to look out the carriage window. A small lake shimmered beneath the moon, while the rolling landscape made her believe daylight would reveal magnificent green pastures with wild flowers adding splashes of color.
Arianna had been fortunate to find a man willing to love her in spite of the horrific years they’d spent under Ruckley’s thumb. Rhea had done her best to protect her sister while Ruckley had controlled their lives, but their past was grim enough to prevent even a commoner from marrying her sister let alone the viscount. In spite of all the odds, Arianna had found happiness and that was all that mattered. She, on the other hand, had no intention of surrendering to a man ever again.
“You might
wish to ignore me, Rhea, but I don’t believe your heart is made of ice. It can’t be when I see you with the children.” Her aunt’s words made Rhea slowly turn her head to eye her relative with annoyance.
“I thought we’d settled this. I will never marry,” she replied coolly.
“No matter how terrible the past, denying yourself happiness is wrong, Rhea.”
“I’m quite happy with my life the way it is now,” she bit out between clenched teeth before she looked back out the window and into the darkness.
Obviously, it would take a great deal of time to convince Aunt Beatrice that marriage was out of the question. Nothing would change Rhea’s mind when it came to the subject. The thought of her every move being controlled again made her skin grow cold. She refused to ever go back to that type of servitude.
Marriage would be no better than what she’d experienced at Ruckley’s hand. It didn’t matter how many times she’d stood up to the man, Ruckley had found a way to torment and control her. His threats to Arianna and the children had always made her yield to whichever of his dictates she’d failed to circumvent.
She’d seen how married women in the East End were treated by their husbands as well. They’d been little more than chattel with bruises and marks to prove it. A small voice reminded her that there had been two or three men she’d seen who’d clearly loved their wives despite the hardships they experienced. The past charged out to engulf her, and Rhea closed her eyes in an effort to stop the vivid memories.
The image of Ruckley taking coin from a man who had paid to bed her made Rhea’s stomach lurch as a familiar queasiness swept over her. Fingers curled into tight fists in her lap, she fought back the nausea that always came when thinking about the past.
The soft summer night’s air filled her lungs as she drew in a deep breath. That life was behind her now. She and Arianna had escaped. She’d even made progress beginning to bring several of the children with them to Green Hill House. They were out of Ruckley’s reach. A voice in the back of her head told her none of them would be safe until Ruckley was dead.
