Love Redeemed (The Market Series)

by Sorcha Mowbray

  “Does he love you?” Miranda’s arms were crossed over her chest as she stood blocking the walkway.

  “Yes. He has said as much.” Serena stared at the ground.

  “Then why did you say no?” Miranda queried as her exasperation became evident.

  “I was scared and reasoned I was protecting myself, and him, at the time. I couldn’t stop myself from falling in love. Madame has always warned us about mistaking lust for love in our profession. When I learned he lost business because of our association, I couldn’t allow that to continue.” Serena shrugged and turned back toward The Market, which meant passing the modiste’s window again.

  “I know it seemed the right thing at the time, dearest. But perhaps you should consider fighting for him?” Miranda linked arms with her, and they strolled down the path.

  “How could I ruin his life by letting him marry me?” Serena was near to tears again as she pondered the same question she had asked herself every hour since he proposed.

  “Serena, he is an adult. He asked you to marry him. Don’t you think you should let the man make up his own mind what is or is not best for him? It is clear he thinks you are.”

  “But his family.” Serena slowed as they approached the shop.

  “Is no longer a problem by your account of your visit with Lady Thornton yesterday.” Miranda smiled encouragingly. “Don’t let a chance at happily ever after slip through your fingers. Women like us don’t get those opportunities very often.”

  They started past the shop as Brennan and the golden chit walked out. Serena’s heart rose up clogging her throat when her gaze clashed with his. He tipped his hat and nodded. “Miss Freemont.” Next, he nodded at Miranda.

  “Mr. Whitling.” Serena inclined her head and walked past the happy couple grinding her teeth. Three shops down she glanced at Miranda to see a knowing smirk. “What is running through that head of yours?”

  “Not a thing.” Miranda’s face looked innocent.

  “I doubt that. However, I do believe I may need to reconsider my decision to run away. It makes me sick to see that woman on his arm. He’s mine.” After uttering the words, the truth of them sank in and wrapped around her heart. He belonged to her, and she to him.

  “I am very glad to hear that. What do you plan to do about it?” Miranda pulled her down the street.

  “I do not know. Yet.” Serena tilted her chin up and marched down the street, confident something would come to her.

  ***

  That night, Serena sat down in the salon acting as hostess for Madame Marchander. Though technically her night off, sitting in her rooms alone had become cloying and uncomfortable. She lounged on a settee chatting with the masked Earl of Cornwall when a familiar presence entered the room. Despite the mask he wore, she knew him to be Brennan’s friend by his easy manner, dark good looks, and deep voice. Only half listening to the earl, she tracked Andrew’s path across the room. He disappeared somewhere behind her.

  The Earl continued talking about his horses when she heard Brennan’s name from over her shoulder.

  “Good evening, Johnston. Where is Whitling this evening?” a gregarious baritone intoned.

  “He is at home entertaining a certain lady friend of his. In private,” Andrew replied.

  Serena’s whole body went stiff with anger. Entertaining at home? In private. “Excuse me, my lord. I must check on one of our guests.” Serena rose from the couch and restrained herself from running out of the salon. She arrived in the foyer and found the doorman.

  “Fetch me a hack. I shall return in a moment.” Serena dashed upstairs to grab her cloak and bonnet and bumped into Celeste, one of the other girls who acted as hostess for Madame.

  “Celeste, I must run out on an urgent errand. Could you stand as hostess for the evening?”

  “Certainly, Serena. Is something wrong?”

  “No, just a matter which cannot wait. Thank you.”

  Within a few minutes she settled into the vehicle barreling toward Brennan’s townhouse. As they came to a stop she rushed from the carriage without waiting for help. She flew up the steps of his home and tried the door, the handle rotated unimpeded in a smooth arc and pushed inward.

  Serena closed the door behind her and looked around. The whole downstairs lay dark and looked uninhabited, as though the staff were off for the night. The idea they were in the bedroom struck her with the force of a punch to the gut. Mine, rang through her head in time with each step she took up the stairs. At the top, she turned down the hallway and found his door cracked with a strip of light limning it.

  She rushed ahead and banged through the door into his candlelit bedroom. He sat in a chair by the bed, reading and wearing a robe over his trousers. He glanced up at the sudden noise and looked, not surprised to see her. Confusion swirled, but her anger and jealousy still reigned. “Where is she?”

  “Who?” He closed the book and set it down.

  “That blond chit I saw you with. I know she is here.” Serena marched over to his dressing room and opened the door. Nothing. She stomped back into the bedroom and over to the neat and tidy bed.

  “What makes you think I have a woman here?” A smirk lurked in his eyes.

  Unconvinced, she knelt down and looked under the bed. “I saw you with her today, and then your friend came into The Market. He said you were here, entertaining her in private.” Serena’s anger surged again as she got to her feet. She stalked up to Brennan and slapped him across the face.

  The crack of skin on skin reverberated through the empty bedroom. The red imprint of her hand blazed an outline on his smooth cheek. She fisted her hand and brought it to her mouth as it dawned on her what she had let her anger drive her to do.

  “I told you there was no woman here.” He appeared angry but not as angry as he should be. He rubbed his pink cheek and stared.

  “I heard your friend, why would he lie?” Serena retreated and dropped her fist to her side.

  Brennan’s irritation morphed into sheepishness. “Because I asked him to.”

  “What do you mean, you asked him to?” She glared at him, no longer feeling sorry about the slap.

  “You ran off and refused to see me. I could not figure out how to convince you I wanted to marry you.” Brennan shrugged.

  “The blonde girl from today, who is she?”

  “Andrew’s sister. She agreed to help me in the name of love.” A small smile hovered on his lips.

  “Love? She’s in love with you and you used her to try and trap me? This gets richer and richer!” Serena paced without ever having made a conscious decision to do so.

  “No! She agreed to do it because she knows I love you, and I was miserable when you left.” Brennan took a step forward interrupting Serena’s path.

  She glanced up and saw the sincerity in his gaze. He let her see the pain he bore in her absence, and it wrenched her heart anew. “I missed you, too. I was miserable when I left and furious when I saw you two today. I wanted to scratch her eyes out and shred her pretty golden locks because you, Brennan Whitling, are mine.” Serena’s words tripped out over each other she spoke so fast. Then, without warning, she flung her arms around his neck and kissed him. A possessive instinct pummeled the last shred of her resistance. Dear God, she loved him and he would be hers. No more denial, no more pushing him away. He chose her, against all the odds, he saw in her someone worthy of redemption. Who was she to argue?

  She slid her tongue past his teeth and over the velvety softness of his tongue. He moaned as his arms surrounded and crushed her body to his. He took control of the kiss, searing her, branding her with his mouth. She skimmed her hands inside his robe to find deliciously bare skin. Shoving it back off his shoulders, she exposed him to her exploring hands.

  He hauled her so close he could have been trying to merge their bodies into one being for a moment. Upon spying her breasts, displayed by a precarious neckline, a crease formed between his brows. “My God, did you come here in that dress?”

 
“Yes. I left The Market as soon as I heard Andrew. I did not stop to change clothes.” Serena looked down and realized she had left wearing one of the dresses she wore while visiting in the salon. The tops of her areolas crested above the neckline, which just covered the stiff peaks of her nipples.

  He tipped her chin up so their gazes met. “You, madam, are only permitted to wear this dress for me, here in our home. Are we clear?”

  “Quite.” Serena agreed without hesitation, not missing the “our home” part. Her heart raced as her stomach flip-flopped.

  “I have other demands I shall enumerate for you at our earliest convenience, but for the moment I think I shall investigate this gown further.” He leaned forward and slicked his tongue over the top of each coral arc. Continuing, he slipped a finger inside the material and popped her hard nubs free of their confinement. “Very nice, my dear.” He flicked each point with his tongue before raking them with his teeth. Heat converged between her thighs as he pressed his lower half closer.

  Brennan let the surge of lust rip through him. With a jerk, he wrenched the sleeves of her dress down, fully exposing her breasts. He bent over, suckling one then the other when he realized the skirts impeded his ability to access the rest of her body. Righting himself, he spun her around and loosened the fastenings of the dress. He lifted it up over her head, tossing it aside, and released her petticoats. Satisfied with having stripped her down to her corset and short chemise, which left her breasts exposed, he dragged her against his chest. He kissed her neck as one hand toyed with a nipple. The other hand snaked down over her belly to dip between her moist folds.

  He dragged his finger over her clit before slipping inside her warm sheath. A living flame in his arms, she branded him with her passion and desire. His cock had become a steel rod in his pants, aching for release. After leading her to the bed, he bent her forward with his body and kissed his way down her spine. Easing back, he opened the fall of his trousers. “I am yours, Serena, and you are mine,” he said and slammed his staff into her heat.

  Whimpering in need and desire, she pushed back farther against him. Her ass ground against his thighs before sliding forward. He required a moment or he would be unmanned by his own need. Clasping her shoulder, he stopped her forward progress holding her in place. The burning ache of denied release passed and he could move. Hands on her hips, he skimmed back and slammed forward again. An inexorable drive to be deeper in her core had him pounding into her body like a man possessed.

  A compulsion to mark her rode him hard. Even as his balls slapped against her thighs and his fingers dug deeper, gripping her securely.

  She groaned. “Yes, Brennan, I’m yours.” Her glorious red hair tumbled loose from the force of his thrusts, and her hands splayed out to brace her body on the bed. A soft note of lilies wafted up to him combined with the musky scent of sex.

  “Mine,” he repeated as she peaked. Her body spasmed around his invasion, clutched his cock in a vise that felt too good. He continued pumping, fighting the resistance of her body as his own orgasm sparked to life. One, two, three strokes and he pulled from her to pump his own cock as he came on the creamy smoothness of her backside. Spent, he tucked his soft dick back in his trousers and found a cloth by the washbasin to wipe her off. He rolled her over and kissed her again.

  Despite the physical satiation, emotional turmoil rocked him. She claimed to be his in the heat of the moment, but would she change her mind? He needed her to understand no other woman would do. Her love made him feel whole.

  Breaking their connection, he reached to the floor and found his robe nearby. He slipped each of her arms into the sleeves and wrapped it across her body before tying the belt.

  “What is this for?” She waved her hand at the robe.

  “I need your delectable and distracting body covered while we finish this conversation.” He settled next to her on the bed. “There are a few things we need to straighten out about our new agreement.”

  “Are there?” Serena arched a single brow in question.

  “Indeed. You will henceforth be known as Mrs. Brennan Whitling because you will marry me. You will admit you love me. You will move all of your belongings here and sleep with me in this bed every night for the remainder of your days as befitting my wife. And, you will do all of this because you love me, you mule-headed woman.”

  “Well then, you sir will remember you are my husband and will refrain from gallivanting about London with blond-haired chits who could be your little sister. You will come home every day for lunch so you may see me. And you will end your membership at The Market as this will be the sole place you need come for pleasure. And you will do all this because you love me.” Serena beamed at him and launched herself into his arms as they fell back on the bed and kissed as if only their love could offer redemption.

  ~ABOUT THE AUTHOR~

  Sorcha Mowbray is a mild mannered office worker by day…okay, so she is actually a mouthy, opinionated, take charge kind of gal who bosses everyone around; but she definitely works in an office. At night she writes romance so hot she sets the sheets on fire! Just ask her slightly singed husband.

  She is a longtime lover of historical romance, having grown up reading Johanna Lindsey and Judith McNaught. Then she discovered Thea Devine and Susan Johnson. Holy cow! Heroes and heroines could do THAT? From there, things devolved into trying her hand at writing a little smexy. Needless to say, she liked it and she hopes you do too!

  You can visit Sorcha at:

  http://sorchamowbray.com

  Love Revealed by Sorcha Mowbray

  Lady Katherine Drummond plays by society’s rules, even after the Ton turns on her. Shunned by her peers, she keeps up appearances by day but allows her true self out in the privacy of The Market. There, in the arms of one man, she comes alive. So much so, she signs a contract to be his for six months. Despite never having seen his face and knowing him only as Sir, she fears losing her heart to the man who breaks through her defenses.

  Lord Raymond Tarkenton, the Earl of Heathington, despises being one of the most sought after bachelors of the Ton. He could never ask a woman of his circle to submit to his sexual needs, and a mistress would never be an option. For now, one masked woman at The Market holds his undivided attention. When he realizes that his masked lover and Lady Katherine Drummond are one and the same, he must find a way to convince her that they are bound together by more than the straps at her wrists and the contract they signed. He must reveal himself and his love to her. But will she accept him for more than a sexual escape.

  Her Highland Champion by Alexa Bourne

  Heather Winchester leads a charming life. With good friends, a beautiful flat in one of the most amazing cities in the world, and a promising future once she finishes her Ph.D, she is finally pursuing her own dreams instead of catering to everyone else’s…except she doesn’t remember any of it.

  Malcolm Fraser has returned to his Highland village to forget his failings as a professional bodyguard. Believing he could just lose himself in the mundane activities of running his bed & breakfast, he finds a woman’s lifeless body by the loch instead….

  Captivated by Heather as she regains her memory, Malcolm is thrown into the line of duty. As danger comes knocking on their doors, will he be strong enough to love her and keep her safe?

  Dance Macabre by Susanne Saville

  London, 1897

  Caught in a web of poverty and injustice, Lily Rafferty takes employment in a dancehall. Though she loathes being viewed as a pretty piece of meat wrapped in silk for the enjoyment of the West End gentlemen out for a bit of slumming, she can't help but feel her luck is about to change.

  Rhys Trevan Morgan, Viscount Talfryn is a vampire with a mission. Another supernatural creature prowls the night leaving a trail of blood and gore in its wake that eventually leads him to London's East End and to the Barbary Coast dancehall. He doesn't need the distraction of coming to the aid of a young woman forced to strip and parade herself on stage for the v
oyeuristic pleasure of the club's wealthy patrons.

  Soon, the momentary distraction becomes a craving Rhys can't resist and he wonders if the fair Lily will be the end of his frightful curse or the vehicle of his destruction.

  Contents

  Title page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  ~ABOUT THE AUTHOR~