by Sandra Jones
The king lifted a hand, stopping him. “If Henry Beauclerc’s daughter comes back to England, she will have my support. Your father, for all our clashes and struggles, was true to his word when he signed our truce. He earned my respect. Be ye a child of his wedlock or no, Warren de Tracy, ye are his kin. I see his stamp upon your brow and in your convictions.”
The king glanced back at Eleri, his gaze pensive. “Other suitors for my daughters have praised their looks, showered them with trinkets, and yet you admire my daughter’s fighting abilities. This I also respect. But I have to know…”
Warren tensed, bracing for the worst as the king leaned forward to speak conspiratorially.
The old man’s eyes twinkled as he spoke. “If my daughter bears your child, will he be raised Cymreig?”
About the Author
Sandra Jones is the author of historical romances, including the River Rogues series. Living in the Ozarks with her husband of more than twenty-five years, she makes her home on a river where she writes to the sounds of mischievous wildlife and daydreams about adventure. When not writing, she enjoys traveling to places off the beaten path and attends the occasional Renaissance faire. Huzzah!
Sandra loves hearing from her readers. Visit her website to find out more about her books and sign up for her newsletter with its exclusive excerpts and contests, www.SandraJonesRomance.com.
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Now Available:
The River Rogues
Her Wicked Captain
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The River Rogues
His Most Wanted
She played right into his hands.
Her Wicked Captain
© 2014 Sandra Jones
Possessing uncanny people-reading skills like her mama, Philadelphia “Dell” Samuels has spent thirteen years in her aunt’s rustic Ozarks home, telling fortunes over playing cards and trying to pass as white. But the treacherous Mississippi River childhood her mama had dragged her away from finally catches up to her on a steamboat captained by her old friend Rory Campbell.
Known to his crew as the Devil’s Henchman, Rory is a gambler in need of a miracle. Following the cold trail of his boss’s wife and bastard daughter, Dell, Rory has only one goal in mind: saving his crew from the boss’s cruelty by ruining him. The only one who can defeat the Monster of the Mississippi is the man trained to take his place. Rory’s convinced he can lure his boss into a high-stakes game against a rival, and with Dell’s people-reading skills, the monster will lose everything.
Under Rory’s tutelage and protection, Dell agrees to the tortured captain’s plan. Passion and peril quickly bring them together as lovers. But when Rory’s plan backfires, the lives of the innocent depend on Dell’s ability to read the situation correctly—and hopefully save them all.
Warning: There’s not enough moonshine on the Mississippi to keep this fortuneteller from saving The Devil’s Henchman, a high-stakes gambler and her childhood friend, from his boss’s cruelty. Touches upon issues of child abuse, revenge and redemption.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Her Wicked Captain:
The only thing worse than dying from a gunshot to the stomach was being the one carrying the pistols.
For that reason, Rory Campbell felt a flicker of envy for the man as he dropped. When the smoke cleared, Harold Best’s toes were pointed skyward, the open wound above his navel pumped ichor down his side to soak the sand of Bloody Island, while a pair of startled ducks complained overhead. The gambler should’ve known he was dead before he ever stepped foot on the Mississippi sandbar.
Best’s wife screamed the moment he went down. His lawyer, the second, broke his shocked spell and hurried, along with the lady, to the man’s side.
The breeze tugging Rory’s hair helped to revive him. He glanced down at the embossed case clenched tight in his arms and remembered his role in the grisly affair. “You’re the second. You must tend the first!” He’d received those instructions six years ago in his first duel a l’outrance, right after Quintus Moreaux smacked his head with the butt of his Colt. Now twenty-seven, Rory’s chest felt hollow, his spirit weary, but he knew the procedures. Snapping into action, he went to aid his boss.
Garbed in a black vest and breeches, Moreaux’s tall form made a dapper silhouette against the peach sunrise over the river. With the still-smoking gun in his left hand, he rolled down his white shirtsleeve and smiled slightly while the witnesses were preoccupied with the fallen man twenty paces away.
Rory took the gun from Moreaux so he could finish adjusting his clothes. Then after cleaning the weapon, he opened the box and set it in its satin nest.
“Now we see who’s really best,” Moreaux chuckled. Rory often suspected killing made his boss somewhat drunk and giddy. That was just one reason he hated him.
There were worse reasons. If he had a choice, he would be far from here, but he had none. Too many other lives depended on him.
“You know, you’ve been my second several times now, Rory.” The gambler’s cold eyes were on him now. Dark circles testified to the fact the bastard had stayed up late the night before at the card table, as usual—the only things marring his distinguished face. “It’s past time you earned a name for yourself. Otherwise my opponents will think you’re weak. The next duel, you will take my place and defend my honor.”
To remind Moreaux he was the one who cheated at faro would cause him to lash out at someone else—and the thought that a member of the crew would be beaten because of him made Rory shudder with revulsion.
He held his tongue. Carrying the pistols was one thing, but could he kill a man for Quintus Moreaux, Monster of the Mississippi? He’d often thought being Moreaux’s protégé and steamboat captain were the lowest levels he could sink to, but he guessed he’d been wrong. When Rory ran out of diversions for his boss, Moreaux turned to diversions of his own making—usually starting with Rory’s crew, his roustabouts.
The price was more than Rory was willing to pay.
If you dance with the Devil…
The flat of Moreaux’s hand came from nowhere, connecting with his cheek. “Christ! Wake up and fetch my other pistol from that damned corpse.”
His smarting blows no longer sent Rory flying as they had when he was a youth. Now standing an inch taller than Moreaux with arms and legs of iron from years working on the docks, Rory took the hit without shame, yet he couldn’t stop the hazy curtain falling before his eyes.
In the darkness of his mind, cold dread replaced the morning warmth, and for an instant, he feared he was home on the paddlewheeler again, waiting for the terrors that claimed him in the night. When his vision slowly cleared, fury chased away his momentary bewilderment. Days like these, he could easily imagine killing the source of all the suffering. In one selfish act, he could take one of the pistols, jab it into Moreaux’s ribs and squeeze the trigger. Yet then the boats and everything would go back to the bank, the crew losing their jobs and homes—suffering of a different brand.
Worse, he would have blood on his hands, giving the boss what he wanted.
Gritting his teeth, he closed the box, tucked it under his arm, and hurried across the so-called field of honor.
The lawyer backed away when he saw Rory coming, a grim expression on his face. Mrs. Best held her husband’s hand as she wept against the poor man’s shoulder.
Rory avoided the wife’s petticoats and knelt in the sand to take the gun from Best’s fingers, but they were still curled tight around the trigger. His gaze flew to the man’s face and discovered his eyes open, alive and watching him through tears.
“My apologies,” Rory mumbled low, hoping Moreaux wouldn’t overhear. He knew the Christian prayer, having heard it nearly a dozen times, but considered himself too lost to repeat the words with any effect.
Best’s fingers refused to budge when he pried at the
m. “Hurts. Hurts. It’s so cold-d-d.” His bloodied teeth chattered, making talk difficult.
Mrs. Best sobbed louder and Rory’s stomach twisted so tight he would’ve vomited if he’d eaten anything that morning. Experience had taught him better. Damn lawyer! He should know to carry the proper equipment to a duel.
“I have laudanum,” Rory whispered, and opened the case, revealing the false bottom where he kept six bottles of the painkilling dosages. The man might live a day, maybe two, since he’d survived the blast, but he wouldn’t have enough blood left to last longer.
Keeping his back to his employer, Rory popped the rubber stopper on the vile and brought the liquid to the dying man’s lips. If Moreaux saw he carried such to his duels, he would make him regret it, as he considered medicines cowardly.
The woman thanked him, and the man’s grip loosened on the pistol. When Rory had the weapon stowed and the gold latch fastened, he moved to get up, wanting to be away from the tears, the blood and the stench of innards, but the man spoke again, softly calling for his attention.
“Give me more. I want to die quickly.” Red sprayed between his lips with each word. “Please! In exchange for more, I’ll tell you something your boss wants to know. I—I knew Moreaux’s wife, Eleanor.”
“What about her?” Rory frowned, confused. Missing for the last thirteen years, Eleanor Moreaux was one of the few people he knew who’d ever beaten the man. Men who uttered the name of the gambler’s unfaithful wife usually died at his hand. ’Course Best was all but in the grave already.
“Harold,” the lady moaned. “No!”
Blood drizzled from the corner of his mouth. “She and her bastard daughter. I know where they went.”
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
11821 Mason Montgomery Road Suite 4B
Cincinnati OH 45249
His Captive Princess
Copyright © 2015 by Sandra Jones
ISBN: 978-1-61922-445-2
Edited by Jessica Corra
Cover by Kim Killion
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: April 2015
www.samhainpublishing.com
