The Chance of Love (The Book of Love 7)

by Meara Platt

  The Chance of Love

  Book of Love, Book Seven

  Meara Platt

  Copyright © 2020 Myra Platt

  Text by Meara Platt

  Cover by Dar Albert

  Dragonblade Publishing, Inc. is an imprint of Kathryn Le Veque Novels, Inc.

  P.O. Box 7968

  La Verne CA 91750

  ceo@dragonbladepublishing.com

  Produced in the United States of America

  First Edition June 2020

  Kindle Edition

  Reproduction of any kind except where it pertains to short quotes in relation to advertising or promotion is strictly prohibited.

  All Rights Reserved.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  License Notes:

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook, once purchased, may not be re-sold. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it or borrow it, or it was not purchased for you and given as a gift for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. If this book was purchased on an unauthorized platform, then it is a pirated and/or unauthorized copy and violators will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law. Do not purchase or accept pirated copies. Thank you for respecting the author’s hard work. For subsidiary rights, contact Dragonblade Publishing, Inc.

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  Dearest Reader;

  Thank you for your support of a small press. At Dragonblade Publishing, we strive to bring you the highest quality Historical Romance from the some of the best authors in the business. Without your support, there is no ‘us’, so we sincerely hope you adore these stories and find some new favorite authors along the way.

  Happy Reading!

  CEO, Dragonblade Publishing

  Additional Dragonblade books by Author Meara Platt

  The Book of Love Series

  The Look of Love

  The Touch of Love

  The Taste of Love

  The Song of Love

  The Scent of Love

  The Kiss of Love

  The Chance of Love

  Dark Gardens Series

  Garden of Shadows

  Garden of Light

  Garden of Dragons

  Garden of Destiny

  The Farthingale Series

  If You Wished For Me (A Novella)

  Also from Meara Platt

  Aislin

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Publisher’s Note

  Additional Dragonblade books by Author Meara Platt

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Excerpt from The Gift of Love

  Also by Meara Platt

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  London, England

  October 1820

  “Had I known I was to have company, I would have dressed for the occasion,” Captain Joshua Brayden said as he stepped naked out of his bath only to find Holly Farthingale staring at him wide-eyed, and her lovely mouth dropped open in shock.

  “What?” She blinked like mad, her eyes resembling two blue flames flickering on a gusting breeze, as she tried to expunge the sight of him unclad.

  They were standing in the kitchen of his cousin Romulus’s home on Chipping Way, a home that was supposed to be unoccupied save for him. Or so he thought, or else he would not have started a fire in the kitchen hearth at midnight, boiled water for his bath, and rolled the tub before the fire to soak in it after his long journey.

  Although the steaming water had helped relieve the tight coil of his muscles, his body still ached from days of hard riding. As he watched Holly by the golden glow of firelight, he worried his body would begin to ache for completely different reasons. “Turn around, Holly.”

  “Holy crumpets,” she muttered, still staring at him. “What are you doing here?”

  He glanced at the drying cloths stacked across the kitchen on one of the tables, then turned back to meet her gaze. “Trying to maintain my dignity. If you’re not going to turn around, then close your eyes while I wrap that towel around me. Not that I particularly mind your staring. The towel is for your sake, not mine.”

  She gasped.

  But still hadn’t turned away.

  Still hadn’t shut her eyes, which were not the typical vibrant Farthingale blue. No, her eyes were an incredible swirl of blues, greens, and sadness.

  “No one’s supposed to be here,” she said, sounding quite breathless.

  He arched an eyebrow. “Then why are you?”

  Since it appeared she wasn’t going to close her eyes or turn around any time soon, he strode to the table and wrapped the cloth around the lower half of his body before approaching her.

  She glanced at the door that was still ajar, allowing cold wind to blow in. He blocked her path and shut the door. Not that she seemed to want to flee, quite the opposite, she was rooted to her spot. “What is that you’re clutching in your hands?” he asked.

  It looked like a book with a faded, red-leather binding.

  “Nothing.” She tried to hide it behind her back, but the book was too big for her small hand. It slipped out of her grasp and fell to the floor.

  He bent to pick it up and read its spine. “The Book of Love.”

  She groaned. “I came in here to hide it. Please give it back to me, Joshua…er, Captain Brayden.”

  “No need for formality, I should think.” He wanted to laugh, but Holly was ashen except for her cheeks, which were a fiery pink. Odd, really. She was a young widow. Surely, she’d seen a naked man before.

  But the girl looked as though she was coming undone.

  The way she stared at him one would think she’d never been with a man before. “Why do you wish to hide it?”

  She tore her gaze from his and looked down at her toes. “My family thinks it is time for me to consider marrying again.” She shook her head furiously. “But I don’t want to.”

  “Because you’re not over the pain of his loss?” He couldn’t even remember the man’s name. She’d mentioned it once or twice.

  Not that he cared to recall the name of the man who still held Holly’s heart.

  Sorrow radiated off this girl…woman…young and fragile beauty. He considered reaching out to take her in his arms but resisted the urge. His body was still wet since he hadn’t bothered to dry himself off before wrapping the towel around his waist. Droplets trailed down his neck, chest, and arms, but he ignored them. “You’ve been a widow several years now. Perhaps they’re right. It will be a long and lonely life for you if you insist on clin
ging to the past instead of looking forward.”

  He knew she’d have no trouble finding a new husband for herself. The girl was beautiful in a sad and haunting way. Well, she could also be vibrant and captivating when she wanted to be. He’d seen her in those few instances when she was laughing and chattering with her cousins.

  He brushed a stray curl off her brow. “Perhaps you ought to consider reading the book instead of trying desperately to hide it.”

  She tipped her chin up in indignation, but the gesture only brought attention to her big eyes and exceptionally pretty mouth. “What makes you think I’m desperate?”

  “Other than the fact you stole in here after midnight, wearing only your nightgown and robe. You have bedroom slippers on your feet. Obviously, you waited for everyone in your family to fall asleep before stealing in here like a thief in the night.”

  “Violet is my cousin. Now that she is married to your cousin, Romulus, this house is as much hers as it is his.”

  “Ah, quite so. But it is not your house. You are breaking in.”

  “Only to bury this book where it will never be found again.” She cleared her throat. “Well, perhaps you’re right. But I only meant to keep it hidden until they gave up on me and were ready to ask for it back. This book should have gone to one of my sisters. They’re the ones in need of husbands.”

  “And you sincerely believe you’re not?” Her golden curls were held back in a loose braid that fell below her nicely shaped bottom. What man would not wish to unbind that braid and bury his fingers in those long, silken strands?

  What man wouldn’t wish to bury himself inside her?

  Not him, of course. He tamped down the errant thought.

  Holly was the sort of girl one married.

  He was in no hurry to have a ring put through his nose and led to the altar. Quite the opposite, he’d reached a comfortable plateau in his life. A rewarding position as a respected officer in the King’s First Dragoon Guards working as the War Ministry’s military liaison to Parliament. A decent income from his service and other Brayden family investments. All the women a man could possibly want or handle at one time.

  Indeed, he did not lack for female companionship whenever he felt the need. “Holly, why are you so closed off to the possibility of love? Your cousins have faith in that book, since it seems to have worked its magic on them and their husbands. I can attest to that fact, having seen two Brayden men conquered. Romulus took about a minute and a half to fall in love with Violet. Finn took perhaps less than that to fall in love with your cousin, Belle.”

  “What are you suggesting? That you and I—”

  “No.” Lord help him, he hadn’t meant for him and Holly to race to the altar. Not that she wasn’t irresistible. Perhaps it was not wise for them to be standing alone, him with no clothes on, and she with an easily untied robe and thin nightrail.

  It would take him to the count of five to have those bedclothes off her, perhaps less time if he kept his full attention on the task. “I’m just pointing out this book seems to have worked its magic on them. Not just them, also on your cousin, Poppy, and her friends.”

  She nodded. “All of England was abuzz when Olivia Gosling brought the mighty Beast to heel. Penelope Sherbourne wound up with the Scot of her dreams, Thad MacLauren.”

  “Robbie MacLauren works with me in the halls of Parliament.”

  She rolled her eyes. “He has an awful reputation with the ladies.”

  Joshua chuckled. “He has an excellent reputation among some ladies, but they’re not the sort one would ever introduce to one’s family. The point is, this book seems to have helped make happy marriages for your cousins and their friends. You ought to be embracing it, not be afraid of it.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “No, I cannot.”

  Sighing, he held it out to her. “Take it, Holly. But I really think you ought to read it.”

  “I have a better idea. You keep it.” She put her hand over his to stop him from returning it to her. “Perhaps it works for men, too.”

  She removed her hand as though his touch suddenly burned. “I know you’re not keen to take a bride yet. But you will be eventually. Why not prepare yourself now? Read it. Whenever you are ready to marry, you’ll have a good idea of the sort of girl you want as your wife. Perhaps you’ll find a duke’s daughter for yourself.”

  He laughed. “No, someone like that is too far above my station.”

  “But isn’t this the entire point of the book? You’ve just said so yourself. Poppy’s friend Olivia got her Duke of Hartford. Poppy got her Earl of Welles. Honey got her Earl of Wycke. Why cannot Joshua Brayden aim as high as he wishes?”

  His thoughts were not on settling down with one woman. But this book could be used to his advantage. Why not? He could enjoy a feast of women using its knowledge. Seduce whomever he pleased. There were plenty of debutantes from the highest ranks who were beautiful and willing. A surprising number of them were not virgins.

  He seemed able to tell the innocents from those who were merely feigning innocence. So why not go for a higher class of bedmate? Especially if he kept to the ones already initiated to the pleasures of the body.

  He stared at Holly.

  Well, he wasn’t always on the mark about innocence. She had been married. Her husband must have…at least once or twice during their marriage. Yet, she had the look of a girl untouched.

  “Please, keep it for now.” She placed her hand over his once more. “Just promise to place it somewhere safe and give it back to me when I ask for it.”

  He nodded. “You have my oath.”

  They were standing so close, he caught the scent of lavender on her delicate skin and the smell of mint tea on her lips.

  “Thank you, Joshua.” She reached up to kiss him lightly on the cheek, then opened the door and hurried out.

  He’d been ambushed once or twice while fighting enemy forces and recalled the physical changes that came over him in the heat of such battles. The sudden surge of fire in his blood, the thunderous pounding of his heart, and heightening of his senses.

  This is what he now felt after Holly’s kiss. Fire. Thunder. Exhilaration.

  How is it possible?

  He was still struggling to bring his body under control when the door opened again to reveal a slightly out of breath Holly.

  Had she just experienced the same torrid response and sought more? A quick tumble? “Joshua, I need you.”

  “I need you, too.”

  “What?”

  Oh, Lord! She had no idea what he was talking about. “What?”

  She eyed him dubiously. “I need your help in getting back over the wall.”

  She pointed to the tall, stone wall between Romulus’s house and the Farthingale house. Romulus resided at Number One Chipping Way. The Farthingales resided at Number Three. They stood staring at each other, Joshua suddenly all too aware of her. “Do you mean to say you scaled the wall between the homes. Why didn’t you just walk over?”

  “The gates are locked. This was the simplest way to do it.”

  He folded his arms over his chest and grinned at her. “Not so simple if you’re now stuck and can’t climb back over.”

  “I can do it.” She pursed her lips and frowned at him. “I just have to drag one of the kitchen stools to the wall. You see, there’s a bench on the other side. I used it to help me over the wall and then merely dropped to this side. But I’ll need the same help getting over from this side. Would you be so kind as to return the stool where it properly belongs once I’m through using it?”

  “No. You don’t need it. I’ll lift you up.”

  Her cheeks were on fire again. “I don’t think it is necessary or appropriate.”

  “Seriously? Appropriate? You’ve just seen me stark, raving naked.”

  She cleared her throat. “Yes, um…well, I do hope you’ll take this little misunderstanding to the grave. Never mention it again. Not to anyone. Ever.”

  He didn’t respo
nd.

  She sighed. “You’re the one who’ll be dragged to the altar and forced to marry me if word ever gets out. It’s no skin off my nose. I’ll have a nice-looking husband, and everyone will stop bothering me about this marriage business.”

  “I thought you didn’t want to be married.”

  “I don’t.”

  He cast her a lazy smile. “But you’d muddle through if you had to marry me. I gather you enjoyed the sight of my body.”

  “No! I…just get out of my way. If you’re not going to carry the stool for me, I’ll do it myself.”

  He caught her about the waist and led her outside. “I just told you, I’ll lift you over.”

  What was it about this girl’s body that had him in flames again? All he did was touch her innocently—one hand on her clothed waist.

  The night was cold, but you couldn’t tell it from him.

  He was sweating. “Here, use my hands as a foothold.”

  “Oh, I see. And then you can lift me so I can easily reach the top.”

  Which was a workable plan until she raised her robe and nightgown to her knees and propped her foot, which happened to be attached to an exquisitely shaped leg, onto his hands. She clutched his shoulders, then his head. “Holly, grip the wall, not my head.”

  “I’m afraid to let go. Don’t raise me so quickly.” She gave a muffled cry as she lost her balance.

  Her bosom fell into his face.

  Her foot fell out of his handhold.

  Her body slid down his, her soft, plump breasts blazing a trail of fire down his chest. As if that wasn’t enough, she took down his towel at the same time her nightclothes slid upward so that he felt too much of her leg against his thighs, and he didn’t want to think about what more dangerous parts of him she felt against her silky thighs.

  Thank the Graces, the cold had chilled his arousal just enough to keep her from screaming like a banshee in alarm. “Holly, I…” He didn’t know what to say, so he just laughed softly.

  “Joshua, this isn’t funny! You’re naked again!” she said in an emphatic whisper.

  “Whose fault is that?” He bent to retrieve his towel and felt her staring at his arse. “Holly, close your eyes.”