Clean Regency Romance: The Earl's Temptation (The Pure Heart Triumphs Series Book 1)

by Pearl Goodfellow

  She hadn’t taken more than three steps on the cellar floor when she heard her sister’s cry echo against stone walls. She had heard that cry so many times throughout their life that she would be able to identify it anywhere. It was not a cry of pain, like the one she had heard when Beth fell out of the walnut tree in the back yard and broken her wrist on the hard dirt below. No. This was a cry of fear. It was not altogether different from the cry she had uttered the afternoon that the sisters learned that their mother had died. It was full of anguish, and fear of the unknown.

  Anna resisted the urge to break into a run and find her sister in the labyrinthine tunnels of the cellar. After all, anyone could be around the next corner, and Anna didn’t feel entirely confident in her ability to brandish the fireplace poker, if she needed to. She simply wanted to find her sister, find Robert, and get out before whatever she was supposed to be afraid of, actually happened. Instead, she walked slowly and carefully towards the sound of her sister’s voice, holding the sharp metal rod over her shoulder like a cricket bat. She had never actually played cricket, but she had watched the boys play in school, and was pretty sure that such a swing would carry the most force if she were attacked.

  As she walked through the corridors of the cellar, her sister’s voice grew closer. And now there was another noise too. It was a low faint rumbling, like the breathing of a dog when it is asleep. The sound instilled enough fear in Anna's heart that for a second she considered turning back, bolting up the stairs, and locking herself in the study like Robert had told her to do in the first place. But the closeness of her sister’s cries made her press forward. What sort of awful things must be happening to Beth here, deep within the earth? This thought made Anna pick up her pace a bit. Her boots splashed in the small wet spots that were dotted across the cellar floor, and she knew that she was making more noise than she should. But now she could tell that the danger was real and imminent, and she had to get Beth to safety, whatever the cost.

  When she turned the corner into the room where she thought that Beth was being held, she was surprised and she did not find Beth at all, but what looked like a very large wolf--larger than any animal she had seen before. Even on all fours, it’s head was easily above her waist, and its eyes were large and angry. Anna knew that she should turn around and run in the other direction, but she could not move. Her feet seemed glued to the floor, and she could not take her eyes off of the large beast in front of her. She heard a cry, but it was not Beth’s this time; It was her own.

  “Anna?” Beth called from somewhere behind the enormous animal, “is that you?”

  Her sister’s words registered urgently in Anna’s brain. She wanted to respond. She wanted to tell her sister that she was coming for her and that everything would be ok. But, she could not form the words. All she could manage was a weak “Yes, it’s me,” that wasn’t even loud enough to echo off of the cellar walls.

  “Help me,” her sister cried out to her, but Anna still could not answer. There was a gigantic obstacle between she and her sister, and she didn’t know how to get past it. Had it already killed Robert? Ripped his bones apart and strewn them across the cellar? If she began looking around, would she find pieces of him? An arm? A torso? His face?

  Anna did not want to cry, and she did not allow herself to sob, but she could not stop the tears from streaming down her cheeks. They were silent tears--tears of fear, of hopelessness, and of her inability to do anything else. Through her tears, the animal seemed blurry, and smaller somehow, and she found the strength to lift up first one leaded foot, then the other, so that she could slowly turn around and head back out of the cellar, hopefully without alarming the beast.

  But almost as immediately as she turned, she knew that she had made a mistake. She heard the loud growl echo off of the walls before she saw the black fur, but it didn’t matter, because she was completely trapped. There was a second, larger, dark black wolf behind her, it’s teeth bared and shining in the flickering light, and its eyes alight with fury. Anna closed her eyes and crossed herself, and waited for her end. The growls of both wolves filled the damp cellar, and she heard, rather than saw them, make the charge toward one another.

  After several seconds, when she realized that she was still very much alive, Anna was surprised to see the two large wolves in razor toothed combat, in the wet stony corridor. The tight space was making it difficult for them to move, but it was apparent that the larger black wolf had the upper hand in the battle. Finally she saw the black wolf slam the smaller canine’s head into the stone, and for a few moments, the entire cellar became silent. Anna opened her eyes, and, her stomach dropped, as she saw the black wolf turn towards her.

  It took a few long strides until it stood directly in front of her, its eyes no longer looking angry, but rather, exhausted, and somehow apologetic. She examined it closely, without fear now, given that this beast before her seemed to have tried to protect her. There was something altogether familiar about the animal. And yet, she was almost certain that she had never come across it before. The animal came before her, and bowed its large head, inches from her trembling frame. Inexplicably, Anna reached out to touch its dark, wavy fur, and was surprised to feel a wave of peace and warmth and love emanating from the animal.

  Her sister’s voice snapped her back to reality. What had she been doing? Petting a gigantic wolf? Her father would never let her keep it as a pet. “Anna?” Beth’s voice cried out, “Where are you?”

  Anna broke into a run, leaving the benevolent beast behind, to find her beloved Beth. When she saw her sister, chained to the wall, with shackles holding her hands high over her head, a flood of relief washed over her. Beth was barefoot, and dirty. Her clothes were ripped to shreds. But, she was alive. Anna ran to her sister, and embraced her completely.

  “Oh, Beth,” she begged, “We’ve been so worried! What happened to you?”

  “I don’t know,” Beth responded, her voice weak and tired, “I fell asleep at home, and I woke up here.”

  “It’s okay,” Anna said, trying to comfort her sister, “I’ll get you out of here.” She tugged at the shackles, but quickly realized that it was no use. “Any idea where the key is?” she asked. But she was half joking and mostly sure of Beth’s answer. Beth shook her head to indicate that she had no clue, and Anna began searching around the room for anything that might release her sister from the shackles.

  Her search was interrupted by the high-pitched piercing scream that erupted from her sister’s throat. “There’s another one!” Beth screamed. Anna turned to find that she was almost face-to face with the large black wolf that had saved her just moments earlier.

  “It’s okay,” she told her sister calmly,” I think he’s on our side.”

  As if on cue the wolf opened its mouth and a heavy metal key fell to the cellar’s stone floor with an echoing clank.

  “Thank you,” Anna said instinctively to the wolf, and it bowed its head at her deferentially once more. Anna picked up the key and released her sister, drawing her tightly into her arms once she was free from her shackles.

  “Anna?” Beth said over her shoulder.

  “Yes?”

  “Who is that?”

  Anna released her sister from her embrace and followed her gaze to where the defeated wolf had landed. She was astounded to see that there was no longer a wolf lying there, but a man, completely unclothed, with his knees drawn to his chest in a fetal pose.

  “I-I don’t know,” Anna answered, confused. She walked towards the body and knelt on the cold hard cellar floor to get a closer look. The man was young, with a strong looking body. In fact, the muscles in his arms and chest reminded her a lot of those she had seen when Robert had removed his shirt in the study.

  Robert! Between the excitement of the two wolves fighting and finding Beth, she had almost forgotten that Robert had taken off unprotected and unarmed. Where was he?

  “Anna?” This was not the voice of her sister. It was a man’s voice, exhausted, out
of breath. She turned to its source, and saw Robert kneeling in a heap on the floor, naked.

  Somehow, everything made sense in that moment. Robert had been there. He had saved her. She ran to him now, leaving her sister, and throwing the whole of herself towards him. “It was you!” She exclaimed. She covered Robert’s face with a hundred feather lite kisses.

  Robert tried to smile, but she could see that he was in pain. “I told you to stay in the study,” he urged, “You weren’t supposed to see me like this.”

  “I don’t care,“ she said, and kissed him again.”I don’t care. I am yours.”

  “Tu es mon reve et ma vie,” her love whispered through a strained smile.

  “You said that before; it is beautiful,” Anna said, “What does it mean?”

  “You are my dream and my life,” he said to her. And then, he pushed through his pain and exhaustion to kiss her. And when his lips met hers, she saw the whole world through his eyes. She would be his queen, and the world would be theirs.

  “Tu es mon reve et ma vie,” she said to him in return

  Bonus Book 2: Claimed by the Alpha Seeder

  Tiberius Koln sat in his usual place of honor, the First Chair, gazing disinterestedly at the parade of young, nubile, females as they slinked in full siren regalia, before him. These were the “cream of the crop” according to the Terran's, and Koln knew the Terran elite all wanted it to be him that selected their precious daughters. He smirked at the thought, while he sat half slumped in the prestigious chair, waiting for the scene before him to be over. The Alpha Blood yawned conspicuously, a baritone sigh escaping his cranked jaw. He snapped his mouth shut when he heard a commotion from the Strutway before him. One of the Deb's had fallen, a cascade of glitter beads from her headdress were rolling across the stage. With haughty poise, the following Debutantes, not missing a beat, click-clacked gracefully between the tiny baubles. Koln sat up, interested now, as he eyed the stage for the fallen Deb. But, of course she was swept up immediately, hidden from view by the careware units hovering to the sides of the stage. No mistakes, nothing out of place. Koln thought mildly. He slumped again.

  Of course, there were other strong, beta contenders from Mars, but he knew that the father’s wanted him, and him alone, for their daughter’s mating privileges. Tiberius was the Master Seeder, not only of his clan, but of all the clans of the Mars Penal Colony; his home planet. This was his tenth year as the ruler of, what became known over time, as the Blood Empire. An unheard of length of rule on the violent red orb. Named after the ancient Roman god of war, Mars lived up to it’s namesake's character: it was a battle for mere existence up there.

  It was the fifth and final night of the Haute Societe ball, and Tiberius was looking for a particular female; a Deb he had spied just moments earlier. For years, he was used to getting what he wanted. Without effort, and most definitely without any impact to his emotional state. It was hard to get excited about anything, when you knew it would be yours, if you just deemed it so. But, just a while ago he had had a chance encounter with one of the Debutantes, and his previously still emotional waters had been agitated, to say the least. All these years his heart had behaved like marble: unmoving, solid, and impervious to the feather lite touch of love. Life on the Bloody Orb didn’t really lend itself to such delicate sentiments. He knew it was foolish, dangerous even, for a man in his position to even ponder such sensitive feelings. The responsibilities of managing his planet as a whole; keeping the wannabe alphas in line, while ensuring the smooth production of He-3 and iron ores, were enough responsibility for any Blood. Yet here he was, his psyche at war with itself, as tender emotion and survivor intellect sparred. It was exhausting. And all consuming. Her mask had only been off for a heartbeat, and she had been shaded on one side of her face, so all Tiberius could see was her visage in profile.

  She was a vision; an instant beacon to his flinty heart, and Tiberius knew he had found the only woman he would ever love. He could see, even in the dizzying refracted light of the corridor, just how beautiful she was. She was intelligent. Koln sensed this with such certainty, it made the back of his neck tingle. He watched her as she pulled up her mask -- an upscale, classical, Venetian facade, white and gold, framed with a halo of glossy black feathers -- and pull something out of her ear. In seconds, he had registered the heart shaped birthmark on the side of her slender neck, as she accidentally dislodged her skin shield. She dropped the tiny device to the floor calmly, looking around casually, to see if the security guard was on his way back. She noticed Koln’s presence, just as her small foot stomped, with precision, on the small package, smashing the device to smithereens on the hard tile beneath her spiked red pumps. Probably a communication device that she had forgotten to remove before the pageant. Normally they check for these things, but Tiberius noticed the door to the Strutway was unmanned. Clearly the security guard had taken a bathroom break. Or a permanent break, if anyone had noticed that he had left his post. It was highly illegal for would-be Debutantes to have any type of electronic or digital device during the pageant segments of Haute Societe. Immediate expulsion was the punishment. Not to mention the non refundable entrance fee of 70 million credits down the drain. That wouldn’t make for a happy homecoming for the poor girl whose family had paid the astronomical fees. To be expelled meant life long shame, no prospects of marriage, and zero chance of ever building a family.

  Their eyes met briefly, just before she put her mask back on. And Tiberius immediately tumbled into a dizzying void. In less than two seconds, he felt himself fall, headfirst, into a space that was both perfectly still, and joyously alive at the same time. He steadied himself against the wall, and watched as she fumbled quickly to get the mask back on. She said nothing, but instead acted like there had been no witness to her transgression.

  Luckily for for Koln, no hover-bot had been assigned to him -- being The Alpha male had its privileges. He shuddered briefly; the thought of the Goddess before him, being punished and disgraced for her indiscretion, caused deep and immediate pain to his otherwise gruff countenance. She turned, lowering her head, and walked briskly past him, to the Strutway entrance, muttering something he couldn't quite catch as she passed. The sentry was back at his post, and Tiberius watched her go, trying to memorize her form and movement. He heard her give a nervous chuckle, as the guard scanned her for electronics, and then usher her through the doorway. Like that, she was gone. Tiberius was left slouching against the wall for support, trying to even out his ragged breath. What the fuck just happened there?

  He had four “wives” on Mars. He liked them all, in their own way, and had chosen each one himself. But not one of them had ever made him feel anything close to the way he was feeling now. His wives were there for his personal gratification and for fixing his meals. And they did so dutifully; it kept them out of the filthy mines, and under the wing of his watertight protection. They were safe from the rough handling of other male inhabitants. No one dared to touch what belonged to Tiberius Koln; at least not more than once. Punishment on Mars was swift, brutal, and final. Being the judge, jury, and executioner was just part of the job of running the rough planet.

  Tiberius, wrenched himself from his musings, quickly darting his eyes to the Strutway again; to the parade of ornately masked women, seductively sashaying before his view. He was worried that he’d missed her while he’d been in the throes of his reverie; that she had passed unnoticed by him, and that a vulgar someone, or a group of vulgar someone’s, from his own colony, was getting their yayas out at her expense. He knew how it worked. Hell, he’d participated in the rampant orgies of the flesh, that the less prominent Bloods were consigned to. The more Alpha, the better the choices. An Alpha could take a woman by himself, if he desired. Or ravish her with others, if the mood took him. The Alpha could do all this without the prying digi-eyes of a hover-bot. Either way, the end goal was the same: pregnancy for the Terran female, and, ultimately, offspring that could mate and carry on the genetic code of humanity. At l
ast, Tiberius spied her. The woman was imprinted on his mind, mask or not. Imprinted on his heart, concealing accoutrements or not. The mask was different to the black feather rimmed, she had been wearing when Tiberius saw her in the corridor. She obviously thought she was being clever, and had switched masks with someone else. The one she wore now was baby-blue, framed with cascading, glittering, clear crystal. Bronze lips catching the shine of the Strutway lights. But Koln wasn’t fooled by the spectacle. He knew the gait. He recognized the soft swing of the arms; the gentle curling and uncurling of her fingers as she walked. So he would seek her out tonight then, in the socialization chambers, and, and…what? Once the Haute Societe ended, the Martian sires would climb aboard the XXX-1369 (nicknamed The Unlucky Cocksucker by the unruly Bloods), launch through Earth’s dense atmosphere, and make the three day, 57,660 mile journey back to Mars.

  Koln had read somewhere that the trip took as long as nine months in the mid 21st century, and that the craft were unmanned. He was one of the few Martians that had bothered to learn how to read, and it had served him well. One of Koln’s favorite quotes, a truth borne on gossamer wings, gliding throughout history, came from a man named George Santayana: ‘Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.' People often substituted “the past” with “history”, but the gist was the same. But the whole point was, was that he would be back on the Blood Empire, while his sweetheart would be thousands of miles away here on Earth. It was law. A law that he had given his approval and signature to. How could this folly of his ever work?

  Chapter 2

  Every 1.8808 Terran years (one Martian year), the Haute Societe was held on Terra, at the Palace de Versailles; a grandiose structure, from the former Frances' decadent past. With additions, the structure dated back to the late sixteenth and early seventeen hundreds of the Julian calendar. The grandeur of the original completed structure and magnificent gardens were restored 12 years after the wars of the late 21st century ended, in 2084. Earth’s population, by that time,, had reached an untenable 15.7 billion souls before the effects of bisphenol-A (BPA) were fully understood or known: sterility of males being the worst reality. Following the 16 year war and the conclusion of the Versailles Treaty of 2085, the population of Earth had shrunk to 3.85 billion. The cold, raw truth was that very few Earth born males, (just 1.6%), could reproduce. Within a few years, the last fertile males died out and it was feared that the extinction of humanity was imminent. Meetings at the Palace de Versailles were held, as scientists scrambled to find an answer to save the declining Terran species. Ironically, BPA, the main culprit, was wrapped up in green practices; to the recycling programs implemented in the late 20th century. Ignorance may be bliss, but it also breeds stupidity, and each nation of Terra became a disposable society. That is, fewer and fewer products were repaired, but instead were being thrown out wholesale. Recycling fever struck the big blue marble of Sol’s solar system. But there was a Catch 22. Billions of pounds of the recycled products such as plastic bottles, bags, cans, and even receipts were coated in BPA. As the refuse degraded, BPA leeched first into the soil, then into ground water, and finally into drinking water. Scientists determined, too late, that BPA only adversely affected men. For no other reason than BPA seemingly having a preference for attacking the male genetic code. In turn, the afflicted gender’s reproductive system was permanently disabled, and viable spermatozoa could not be produced. Women were not affected by this molecular attack, but the few fertile men left on the planet were highly prized, and paid handsomely for donating sperm or impregnating women of childbearing age. They were treated like kings, until the naked truth was discovered in the ensuing generation: alas, the children of these donations were almost always unable to generate a newborn themselves. By the time Earth’s population dipped close to the pre-industrial levels of the late 16th century, the remaining humans were desperate. However, the prime minister of United France, one Madame Boisante; a leader known for innovative solutions in a difficult era, proposed the idea of testing sperm counts and motility of criminals that had been, years before, exiled to the Mars Penal Colony. Back then, it was usually only the worst of the worst who were sent off-world. The Earth’s prison system, had long since availed itself of capital punishment, so being sent off-world was considered ‘humane’. When rich Helium-3 deposits were discovered on Mars, two years after terraforming the red planet, however, this compassionate stance came abruptly to an end, and petty thieves, drunkards, and the mentally ill were shipped off to the red orb. There, these innocents joined the efforts of mining, producing, and shipping the badly needed He-3 fuel to a desperate Earth. The rape of Mars’ resources began in earnest, and at the same time, the viability testing of sperm count of Martian males, between the ages of 18 and 30 commenced. Both sperm counts and He-3 mining were a runaway success. But the prisoner’s of the red globe knew a gift horse when they saw one, and now they had some leverage to exact their demands. Although technically an inmate of the first off-world penal colony, the first leader of Mars, Dirk Benedict, knew when he held the ace of spades in his pants. He demanded access to Terran females for one week (approximately every two lunar years), on Earth. Aside from the obvious enjoyment factor this would provide his subject’s (and, indeed himself), the incentive would also make his people easier to rule. Male citizens who were allowed to let off steam, were far more controllable than sexually repressed subordinates.