Marcus watched the bedroom emptying with a look of relief. Thomas, despite all the activity around him, was failing asleep on his father’s shoulder.
Georgiana looked at the child with an expression of pure love and tenderness. “Isn’t it time for his nap?”
Marcus handed the boy to his godmother. “I believe his mother did say something about that, now that you mention it.” He gave Elizabeth a conspiratorial glance. “If you wouldn’t mind, Georgiana?”
Fairly beaming, Georgiana lifted the small bundle and carried him out, cooing and tickling the baby’s chin. Marcus followed her to the door, closed it behind her and walked back across the room, catching Elizabeth’s hand as he went. He closed the window curtains and sat in one of the wing chairs before the hearth.
“Marcus,” she said, recognizing the look in his eye. “It’s the middle of the day.”
He only smiled and started unbuttoning his waistcoat.
Elizabeth blushed. “I have a hundred things to do—”
“This is first on the list.” He pulled her down onto his lap.
“But we have…” She forgot what she was going to say for a moment as he nibbled the sensitive spot behind her ear. “… A perfectly good bed right there.”
His voice was low and dark and filled with the promise of bliss beyond imagining. “I’ve a yearning, Lady Darkridge, to relive the wild days of our youth.”
Elizabeth sighed, closing her eyes, giving in to the irresistible urgency in him, the passion and love that was more enchanting than any dream of joy she’d ever known.
And as her husband’s lips covered hers in a provocative kiss, she knew that the past would never, never compare to the wild, sweet days of their future.
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Dedication
To my husband,
my partner in all of life’s adventures,
because this one has always been your favorite.
Acknowledgments
Special thanks to research maven extraordinaire LaVerne Coan
for once again coming to my rescue.
And heartfelt gratitude to the members of Team Scoundrel,
my brand-new street team, for being completely amazing.
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Shelly
Also by Shelly Thacker
The Stolen Brides Series
Medieval Historical Romance
Three regal brides are about to discover that falling in love with a warrior is the most dangerous adventure of all.
Book 1 Forever His
Book 2 His Forbidden Touch
Book 3 His Captive Bride
The Escape with a Scoundrel Series
Georgian Historical Romance
These sexy bad boys are on the wrong side of the law—and willing to risk everything to claim a love more priceless than any gem they’ve ever stolen.
Book 1 Run Wild
Book 2 Midnight Raider
The Lawless Nights Series
Western Historical Romance
Meet the rugged men and daring women of Eminence, Colorado, a remote Rocky Mountain town in a lawless time… when anything could happen.
Book 1 After Sundown
Copyright
Publishing History
First edition published by Avon Books
Copyright © 1992 by Shelly Thacker Meinhardt
Second edition published by Summit Avenue Books
Copyright © 2015 by Shelly Thacker Meinhardt
ISBN: 978-0-9847646-1-7
Version 2.10.15
All rights reserved. No part of this book, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews, may be reproduced in any form by any means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without prior written permission from the author.
The scanning, uploading, and distributing of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the copyright owner is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
Cover design by The Killion Group, Inc.
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Proofreading by The Passionate Proofreader
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Digital formatting by Author E.M.S.
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Excerpt: Run Wild
The Escape with a Scoundrel Series
Georgian Historical Romance
These sexy bad boys are on the wrong side of the law—and willing to risk everything to claim a love more priceless than any gem they’ve ever stolen.
Run Wild
(Escape with a Scoundrel Series, Book 1)
A sexy pair of scoundrels run from the law—shackled together by an unbreakable iron chain.
Nicholas Brogan is an ex-pirate with years of sin branded on his soul. Samantha Delafield is a high-born lady turned devious thief. Captured by His Majesty’s marshals, the two are on their way to the gallows until they stage a daring escape and run for their lives—shackled together by an iron chain that quickly proves unbreakable.
Forced to work together to survive, the outlaws find themselves locked in a battle of fierce wills and fiery passions. From a remote forest in Staffordshire to a secret hideout in London’s most elegant square, they must learn to trust one another as they face old enemies, dark secrets… and discover a love more priceless than any gem they’ve ever stolen.
“4 stars (highest rating). This could be the romance that takes Shelly Thacker to the big time: the hardcover contract, the fan club… Thacker always spins a good story, but Run Wild is her best ever. This time out, there’s a new depth of soul to go with all that heart.” –The Detroit Free Press
~ ~ ~
London, 1741
Stretched out on the forest floor, with his disheveled black hair and glittering green eyes and bloodied shoulder, he looked like he belonged here in this wild place. Fit in with the other untamed things. A wounded predator. Dark and fierce… and capable of all sorts of unpredictable behavior.
His gaze skimmed downward, coming to rest on her legs. He was still breathing harshly. “Come here.”
Sam stiffened. His voice sounded weaker than before, but she wasn’t taking any chances. Shifting her eyes quickly left and right, she sought some weapon she might use to protect herself. A rock. A branch. Anything.
“I said come here,” he repeated impatiently.
When she didn’t comply, he reached out and grabbed her foot.
“What are you doing?” She tried to wriggle out of his grasp. “Unhand me!”
“Gladly,” he said tiredly—yet he hung on to her, pushing himself up on one elb
ow. Snagging her ruined slipper with his other hand, he flipped it off her foot. “I’d like nothing better than to unhand you, unchain you, and be done with you.”
Instead of attacking her, he attacked the shackle around her leg.
Sam gave up her struggle, even though she knew she could kick her way free. One blow to his wounded shoulder and he would let her loose. But he was already in a foul mood and she didn’t want to make it worse.
Besides, she realized what he was trying to do. He pulled at the shackle, trying to slide it off over her foot.
Which just might work.
“Maybe if we had some kind of…” Glancing around, she took a handful of slimy mud from beneath the leaves and smeared it over her skin.
“Come on,” he muttered under his breath, pushing the cuff, turning it, swearing at it. “Come on.”
Sam tried to help but he clearly didn’t want her help. Holding her bare foot with one hand and the iron cuff with the other, he turned both at different angles, trying to coax the cuff past her ankle bone.
“It’s too tight and it’s bolted on,” she said finally, exasperated at being manhandled. “It’s not going to come off.”
With a short, expressive oath, he released her. Lowering himself back down into the leaves, he tossed the muddy slipper into her lap. “Perfect,” he growled. “Of all the lady thieves on the run in England, I have to get myself shackled to the one with big feet.”
Sam scuttled backward, as far away from him as the chain would allow. Which wasn’t nearly far enough. “I’ll thank you to keep your opinions to yourself.”
Her tone was frosty, but she feared that even her haughtiest drawing-room airs couldn’t conceal the fact that her cheeks felt hot. Scalding. She rubbed at her ankle, wiping away the mud and the unexpected warmth that lingered from the touch of his callused fingers on her bare skin.
Grabbing her slipper, she put it back on. Her foot and her ankle ached with soreness, felt cool from the gooey muck. She couldn’t understand why they also… tingled.
She decided that the unfamiliar sensation must come from the hours of unaccustomed physical exertion.
“It’s not my fault that the shackles are so tight.” She glared at the man stretched out on the ground, adding in a mutinous whisper, “And I do not have big feet.”
“Doesn’t bloody well matter now,” he grumbled. “Short of a convenient bolt of lightning from above or a blacksmith, it looks like there’s no way for me to get free of you.” Opening his eyes, he peered at the lengthening shadows, almost as if he were measuring the sun in some way. “Two hours of daylight left. You ready to press on, Lady Bigfeet?”
She ignored the sarcasm, every muscle in her body aching at the words press on. “No.” She groaned. “No, I’m not. Can’t we stop? Can’t we rest just for a—”
“Not unless you’re eager to wind up back in gaol.” He pushed himself to a seated position. “As soon as word spreads about a pair of dangerous fugitives on the loose, two marshalmen killed, and rewards offered, every lawman and bounty hunter in the north of England will be on our trail. By morning, if not sooner. And if they use dogs…”
He let the sentence trail off, running a weary hand over his face.
Sam felt a surge of fear. Dogs. Dozens of men hunting her down. Skilled, experienced men.
And they would know right where to start looking. The young guard Tucker would show them.
Her throat tightened. The rogue was right. They had to keep going. Put as much distance as possible between themselves and the point where they’d disappeared into the forest.
Yet her fear mingled with anger at his apparent nonchalance. “Didn’t you consider any of that before you decided to take a flying leap out of the cart? Didn’t you think that far ahead? Didn’t you think at all?”
“Aye, I did,” he retorted, “but I wasn’t counting on your charming company, Lady Bigfeet. I planned to be long gone by now. You are slowing me down.” He reached up to unfasten the bandage knotted around his shoulder. “But before we go any further, you’d better take a look at this damned wound.”
She felt like spitting in his face. One minute he was insulting her, and the next he expected her to see to his comfort? “If you think I’m going to lift one finger to help you,” she said in a low, even voice, crossing her arms over her chest, “think again.”
He clenched his jaw, wincing as he unwrapped the blood-soaked cloth. “Listen, angel,” he said tightly, beads of sweat sliding down his face, into his beard, “if you think you’re in trouble now, just try to imagine what would happen to you if I pass out from loss of blood. Or if I die.”
She had barely started to contemplate the pleasant possibilities when he demolished every single one.
“You’d be stuck here with one hundred and eighty pounds of dead weight chained to your ankle.” His eyes pierced hers. “Helpless as a trussed-up Christmas pigeon when the authorities come looking for you. If their dogs don’t get you first, their guns will make mincemeat out of you. When dealing with fugitives who’ve killed two of their fellow lawmen, they tend to let their bullets do their talking for them.”
The violent image stole the air from her lungs. “But I didn’t kill those marshalmen!”
“I doubt you’ll have time to explain that.”
They stared into each other’s eyes for a long moment, the truth swirling between them like one of the hot beams of light from the dying sun.
Then he said it aloud.
“If I die, you die,” he put it plainly, his stark words all the more powerful for their lack of embellishment. “If I live…”
For some reason, it took him an extra moment to finish that sentence.
“You live.”
Mute, shaking, she tried to control the fear and resentment careening through her. He was insufferable. Cold-hearted, uncivilized, utterly self-interested.
But he also had a point. As unavoidable as it was true. If they wanted to survive…
They were going to have to work together.
Swallowing hard, she tried to tell herself that everything would be all right. As long as the chain bound them together, they had to keep each other alive and well. Once they found some way to get the shackles off, they would go their separate ways.
For now, she just had to endure his presence and make the best of this deplorable situation.
Because her very life depended on it.
~ ~ ~
Buy this book now on Amazon: Run Wild
Excerpt: Forever His
The Stolen Brides Series
Medieval Historical Romance
These regal brides are about to discover that falling in love with a warrior is the most dangerous adventure of all.
Prequel: His Stolen Bride – now available for pre-order!
Book 1 Forever His
Book 2 His Forbidden Touch
Book 3 His Captive Bride
Forever His
(Stolen Brides Series, Book 1)
On New Year’s Eve, she tumbles 700 years back in time—and into the bed of a darkly dangerous knight.
Sir Gaston de Varennes wanted a docile bride who would fit into his plans for vengeance and justice, but a trick of time finds him married to a thoroughly modern American lady who turns his castle, his life, and his heart upside down. Will her desperate secret tear them apart after only a few bittersweet weeks of stolen passion—or will they conquer mistrust, treachery, and time itself to discover a love that spans the centuries?
“A Desert Isle Keeper. Touching, ingenious… I love this book. I’ve read it time after time, and even if I haven’t waited quite long enough between readings to forget all the details, I always get drawn back into the story so intensely that I can’t put it down. Grade: A (highest rating).” –All About Romance
~ ~ ~
France, 1300
“I do not remember taking you to bed last night.” He yawned and stretched and sat back down on the mattress. “Though I cannot say I regret it. Noisy t
hough you may be, you felt most pleasing curled beside me.”
He chuckled, a low sound that did an odd little dance down Celine’s back and made her suddenly, uncomfortably aware of the warm spot on her shoulder where he had kissed her.
“You did not take me to bed!” she corrected.
“Truly, ma petite? It was you who seduced me, then?”
“No! I—”
“Come seduce me again.” He fell back on the pillows.
“Absolutely not!” Celine groped her way along the wall, trying to feel her way to the door. “Look, whoever you are, it sounds like you had too much to drink at the party. Maybe there was a power failure or something and you wandered into the wrong room by mistake.”
A power failure. That made sense. It would explain why there wasn’t a speck of light. Or heat. The air was so cold, it gave her goose bumps and stung her throat every time she inhaled. The furnace must have gone out.
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