by Dawn Ireland
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Acknowledgements
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
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Epilogue
Title Page
LOVE’S GUARDIAN
DAWN IRELAND
SOUL MATE PUBLISHING
New York
Copyright
LOVE’S GUARDIAN
Copyright©2011
DAWN IRELAND
Cover Design by Rae Monet, Inc.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the priority written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
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Published in the United States of America by
Soul Mate Publishing
P.O. Box 24
Macedon, New York, 14502
ISBN-13: 978-1-61935-015-1
ISBN-10: 1-61935-015-7
www.SoulMatePublishing.com
The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.
Dedication
This book is dedicated to my parents,
Alexander Baird and Frances Lanore Ireland,
who taught me that nothing is “impossible.”
Acknowledgements
Mmmm. How do you thank all the people who made this book happen? Friends and family have spent hours listening to my story ideas, book excerpts and writing ramblings—and they stayed in my life. Amazing. My husband encouraged me to spend hours in front of the computer, even when housework beckoned. Certain people refused to let me quit. Pat Iacuzza., it’s a good thing Tim Horton’s is open late. Pat Ryan & Tim Wright, you set my feet on the proper path and nudged me forward. My friends at Central New York Romance Writers took me in and nurtured my skills. And Debby Gilbert, without you none of this would be happening. You kept saying this book should be on a shelf, and now—IT IS. Thank You!.
Chapter 1
England 1783
County Kent
Alexandra Kendrick reached for the doorknob, her hand hovering above the luminous orb. If the library’s occupant raised an alarm, her cousin Eleanor was sure to try and stop her. Alex took a deep breath, turned the brass knob, and prayed the creaky hinges on the door had been oiled recently.
She slipped into the book-lined room, then nudged the door closed with her heel as she watched for any sign of activity. A fire popped and danced in the hearth, but it was the dark hair just visible over the top of her grandfather’s favorite wingback chair that caught her attention. Lord Worthington had already made himself at home.
The worn edge of her rapier handle pressed into her palm, as her mouth turned up in a humorless smile. Eleanor had dubbed Alex’s special talent unacceptable in polite society, but her abilities might succeed where worry and arguing had failed. This stranger had no right to her estates. She’d rather die now, than see everything she loved destroyed.
With her right hand, she reached behind her back, then grasped the key that stood in the lock on the door. Keeping her attention on Lord Worthington, she turned the cool metal until she felt the click of the mechanism. In the quiet room, the noise sounded like a cannon. Alex’s body tensed.
With one lithe motion, her guardian rose to his feet and turned, dagger in hand.
Alex admired his speed. Even she couldn’t get to her blade so quickly. But admiration turned to horror when she realized who stood before her. “Get out!”
Declan slowly replaced the weapon in his boot, crossed to her grandfather’s desk, then turned toward her. He gave a slight shrug, his broad shoulders straining the material. “I’m afraid I can’t, even if I wanted to.”
Where was her guardian? And what was Declan doing here? His timing couldn’t be worse. The man hadn’t visited in eight years–and then only long enough to leave her on her grandfather’s front step and declare she was Lord Lochsdale’s problem.
Her nemesis studied her for a moment, a slight smirk on his face. “Your attire still seems to lean toward the masculine. Though I must admit, you fill out breeches better at twenty than you did at twelve.”
Heat flooded her face. She should be insulted, but a part of her couldn’t help being pleased at his comment. She’d changed in the last eight years, but so had he.
His broad shoulders were encased in a dark blue velvet coat with a touch of lace at the wrists and throat. Black breeches, spattered with mud, accentuated his heavily muscled legs. He dressed like a man of wealth, but his clothing didn’t change the common sailor she’d known as a child.
His chest did appear wider than she remembered, and the coal black hair she’d always admired now curled at his shoulders in defiance of the current fashion. But his Caribbean blue eyes were the same, and they narrowed as they studied her. No, he hadn’t lost any of his allure, damn him.
He had to leave before her new guardian appeared. She had no doubt that Declan wouldn’t help the situation. Hell, he’d probably side with the bastard.
“I trust I meet with your approval.” He gave her a knowing smile.
She flushed, the warmth creeping up her neck. She had been staring, but he didn’t have to bring it to her attention.
He lowered his gaze to her hand. “Still have a penchant for sharp objects, or do you always carry a weapon when I’m in the room?”
Alex had forgotten all about the rapier that hung in her left hand. She transferred it to her right, then clenched the handle.
Declan caught her gaze once more, a smug expression on his face. “You may want to consider retiring your weapons. After all, we’ll be spending a great deal of time together.”
The man was entirely too arrogant. She raised her brow and gave him a mock salute with her rapier. “Why should I spend any time in your company? To be honest, I’d prefer not to be in a room that had you in it.”
A flicker of surprise flashed in his eyes. “I do believe wards often spend a substantial amount of time with their guardians. In deference to your grandfather, I intend to see to your care myself.”
She almost dropped the rapier. “No.” Her response was barely audible. She cleared her throat and tried again. “No, that can’t be! You’re a sailor, nothing more.”
The words rang false in her ears. What a fool she’d been.
Declan had always seemed different from the other men on her father’s ship, The Merry Elizabeth. His
mere presence and air of authority could dominate a room. Now she knew why.
Anger, hurt, and surprise vied for supremacy, causing her stomach to twist into a knot. Declan was the Earl of Worthington—and her guardian? Damnation. Of all men, why did her grandfather have to choose him?
She couldn’t recall ever being told Declan’s surname, but that wasn’t unusual on The Merry Elizabeth. Many men had a past to hide. She’d always assumed he was the younger son of a noble family who’d run up against the law. She met his patronizing gaze and raised her chin.
“Actually, my Christian name is Declan Deveraux, but in most circles, I’m known as the Earl of Worthington.” He rested one hip on her grandfather’s desk, watching her every move, like a sailor watched for the first sign of land after a long voyage. “I hired on to The Merry Elizabeth at your grandfather’s request. He wanted me to keep an eye on you.”
So, he’d been spying on her. Bloody hell. She’d followed him around the ship, thinking he could do no wrong, and all the time he’d been deceiving her. “I should have guessed you knew my grandfather. He wasn’t surprised when you showed up with me after my parents died.”
“Your grandfather wanted me to keep him informed, nothing more.” Declan’s voice softened. “He was worried about you.”
“Yes, well, Grandfather should have worried when he made you my guardian. If he’d asked me, I would have told him you are totally unsuitable.” Declan wasn’t going to ruin her life again. This time she was going to fight for the home she loved.
He crossed his arms and gave her a condescending smile. “I shall probably regret asking this, but why am I unsuitable?” What kind of an insult would raise his ire? Declan had always been angry with her when she’d been a child. What had she done then?
She searched her memory. The taunts that had annoyed him the most had disparaged his abilities. “You are unsuitable as my guardian because you’re inept.” Alex hoped she sounded convincing.
Declan’s eyes narrowed. The smile faltered.
“I remember your performance onboard my ship,” Alex goaded. “You couldn’t even best a child at climbing the rigging. Do you fare better on land?”
In truth, she’d never known a better sailor. He’d only been trying to rescue her that day, and in all fairness he’d had no way of knowing she’d been climbing before she could walk.
She could almost see the storm brew in his eyes. Alex trusted it was a tempest she could control. His well-drawn features became harsher, and his face could have been made of stone, except for the spasm of his jaw muscle.
Alex swallowed. An angry man didn’t think things through, did he? She hoped not. Her plan depended on it.
“Regardless what you think of me, you are my charge. You will do as I say.” His gaze raked over her body in an insolent manner. “Starting with wearing some decent clothing.”
“On the contrary. This clothing is very appropriate for our duel.”
Declan laughed. He couldn’t help it. Alex, was challenging him to a duel? “What will it be? Pistols at dawn?”
“No, my lord. Rapiers. Now.”
He stopped laughing. She was serious. His gaze dropped to the weapon at her side. That’s why she’d brought her rapier with her. There were no other women of his acquaintance who preferred a rapier to feminine wiles. “Lady Lochsdale, most men wouldn’t consider challenging me. What could you possibly hope to gain?”
“My freedom. If I win, I want to live my life, without interference. I can run my estates. I don’t need supervision. You’ll return to London, and leave us alone.” Her small chin tilted up, reminding him of the stubborn child he’d known. “So what will it be, my lord?”
“And what do I get if I win?”
“I suppose...I mean...well, I’ll follow your orders, provided the request is reasonable.”
He had to admire her confidence. She truly hadn’t considered he might win, or she would have been prepared with a response that gave him less control.
“Done. And the rules of this contest?”
“The first one to disarm his opponent wins.” Alex gave him a smug smile. “I wouldn’t want to run the risk of killing you. The crown would only find someone else to take your place.”
Declan glanced toward the wall. All manner of fencing equipment was on display. If he had to do this, she’d wear protective gear. He’d never forgive himself if she got hurt. “I have a request.”
“Name it.”
“I want you to wear protective padding.”
“Are you that concerned about your skills? You do know how to fence, don’t you?”
She hadn’t lost her ability to anger him. He had so hoped she’d outgrown that. He folded his arms and waited.
“Oh, all right. But if I have to wear it, so do you.”
He suspected he’d be sorry for agreeing to this. He really didn’t have to take her challenge. The law required Alex to obey him, but he wouldn’t point that out, not if winning this little contest would make her more tractable.
They moved the furniture to the perimeter of the room and rolled up the oriental carpet. He shrugged off his riding coat and cravat, then crossed to the display of weapons on the wall next to the fireplace.
He’d left his rapier upstairs with his belongings, but Alex seemed hell-bent to do this now, so he selected a blade and padding from the collection on the library wall. He waited for her to do the same.
The rapier he’d chosen felt well balanced, though its ornate hilt appeared worn. Lord Lochsdale had been an expert with weapons. Declan smiled at the memory of the hours of practice he’d shared with Alex’s grandfather. He doubted his old instructor would have approved of this duel.
Declan rolled up his sleeves, made a few test thrusts, then turned toward his ward. She was watching him with a determined expression in her deep green eyes. If crossing blades with her would make her easier to handle, he’d do it. His old friend would just have to forgive him.
After all, she didn’t stand a chance.
The blades clanged, then slid along each other in an age-old dance of parry and thrust. Declan began to suspect he was wrong, very wrong, to think this would be an easy contest. When had she developed such finesse?
Alex tried to slip under his guard, her speed incredible. Declan was hard pressed to keep up. What Alex lacked in strength, she more than made up for in agility. Perspiration filmed her brow and dampened her curls as she turned each of his thrusts, trying to force him off balance.
Someone rapped on the door. Declan could hear people shouting, but their voices seemed distant, compared to the labored breathing in the room and the pounding of his heart.
The cacophony of frantic cries and banging outside the library continued to escalate, until it distracted him for an instant. Alex took the opportunity to cross over his blade, catching his upper arm. He heard the fabric tear and felt a slight sting. He’d been grazed by a blade more times than he could count. No matter, the injury was a nuisance, nothing more.
They worked their way in front of the banks of curtained windows. His sweat slicked the hilt of his weapon, making his grasp tenuous. He was glad they’d moved the furniture. With Alex’s aggressiveness, he couldn’t afford a misstep. Her skill showed in every parry, but her movements had slowed. Declan noticed her eyes seemed drawn to his arm. He felt the blood dampening his shirt and saw her stance relax slightly as she focused on his injury.
With a lightning thrust, he slipped his blade under hers, then caught her weapon near its hilt. Surprise crossed her features as he forced her rapier upward. Alex’s hold faltered. Her weapon clattered to the floor, sliding across the polished wood.
Declan placed the tip of his blade at the base of her throat. For what seemed like an eternity, he gazed into emerald eyes, black flecks swirling in their depths, the tension rife between them.
Alex lowered her gaze first. Only then did he remove the point from her neck. “Now do we understand one another?”
“Yes.” Her hands f
isted at her sides, the knuckles white with strain. “Is there anything else, my lord?”
“Not at the moment.” Declan tried not to let his satisfaction show. Being her guardian might be easier than he thought.
Alex made a quick turn and stumbled over the rolled carpet. She almost fell, but he grabbed her arm and drew her to him so that her cheek rested below his shoulder.
He’d only meant to steady her, but surprised himself when his arms came around her in an embrace. She felt soft and warm from their recent exertion. The air surrounding her was musky with a hint of vanilla. Declan breathed deeply. He liked the smell and the way her body fit to his.
For a moment, Alex relaxed against him, and he had the strangest urge to comfort her. When he attempted to bring her closer, she stiffened and backed away.
“Don’t.” Her posture ramrod straight, she turned and crossed to the corner of the room.
He tried not to notice her backside as she bent to collect her rapier. Male attire suited her, clinging in all the right places. Perhaps that was the reason for his uncharacteristic behavior. He’d have to find some way to get her in a dress.
Alex turned toward him. She checked her weapon for damage, then lovingly ran her hand over the intricate design on the hilt. When she raised her gaze to his, Declan saw dignity and pride in her eyes. “I’ll obey you because I have to. You’ve won my cooperation. Nothing more.”
