Enchanting the Duke of Demoon (Touched by Fire Book 4)
Page 1
Table of Contents
ENCHANTING THE DUKE OF DEMOON
Prologue
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
Epilogue
Table of Contents
ENCHANTING THE DUKE OF DEMOON
Prologue
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
Epilogue
ENCHANTING THE DUKE OF DEMOON
JENN LANGSTON
SOUL MATE PUBLISHING
New York
ENCHANTING THE DUKE OF DEMOON
Copyright©2017
JENN LANGSTON
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 prior 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
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ISBN:978-1-68291-530-1
www.SoulMatePublishing.com
The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
BY JENN LANGSTON
THE PERFECT SERIES
His Perfect Bride
His Perfect Game
His Perfect Lady
PERFECT SERIES COMPANIONS
Catching the Baron
Winning The Duke
Redeeming The Earl
TOUCHED BY FIRE SERIES
Embracing The Knight
Enslaving The Day
Ensnaring Lord Starsen
Enchanting The Duke Of Demoon
To my wonderful Gems and fans!
Thank you all for your support.
Your love of my books gives me a reason
to pick up the pen time after time.
I greatly appreciate all the reviews
and beautiful emails I have received.
Thank you so much!
Prologue
Pain. Torturous, searing pain. No other thoughts entered Edmund Marsham’s mind except the torment singeing the left side of his face.
Consumed by agony, he screamed, but no sound emerged from his throat. Tears sprang to his eyes. He was in hell. Absolute hell. Of that he was certain. The desire to run, to escape from the pit of the devil overwhelmed him, but there was no help for him. There never had been.
Desperate to alleviate the torture exploding on his cheek, he covered his face with his hand but quickly yanked it back. Simply touching the burning flesh intensified his torment. What had he done to deserve such suffering?
The eerily contented sound of his father’s condescending voice echoed in his mind. The thought of the vile man brought Edmund back to himself, and he fought off his tears. He was a sixteen-year-old man. The new Duke of Demoon. Not a child any longer.
Over the fury of the crackling flames and the embers still searing his flesh, a boy’s voice screamed for help, taking Edmund even further from his own pain.
He glanced around and cursed under his breath. How had he gotten here? Angry fire consumed the hunting cabin. Two boys lay pinned under a fallen timber while another stood with a horrified look on his face. Edmund wanted to help, but he sat, frozen in place. The fire had robbed him of the ability to command his unresponsive limbs.
An excruciating scream echoed in the room as the boy who had been standing lifted the great beam off his friends. It split under the strain with a loud crack. A sigh of relief escaped Edmund’s lips, but he coughed when he sucked in the smoke-filled air. The selfless act struck him, forcing his brain to engage while the two trapped boys scrambled to free themselves.
A temporary freedom, at least. Judging from the flames greedily consuming the walls and furniture, there was no hope for them. He could practically hear his father laughing at his predicament. Anger surged through him. This would not be the end. Not while he had breath in his body.
“We have to get out of here,” Edmund shouted, the effort of moving his lips shot searing pain through his face. His hand instinctively lifted to his injury as he gritted his teeth. “We can’t let the Devil win.”
At his words the boy who had sustained burns on his back dragged himself up, then grabbed the arm of the one who’d likely suffered a broken leg. Edmund hurried to take the boy’s other arm.
As they moved back to the bedroom, Edmund held his breath. He didn’t want to go back in there. He remembered his uncle insisting that as the duke’s son, Edmund, should be the one to sit vigil for the man. He hadn’t wanted to be stuck in the small space with his father, alive or dead, and although he couldn’t remember agreeing, he’d apparently done his duty. This was how he was repaid.
Forcing himself to put his father from him mind, Edmund focused on the task at hand and moved through the doorway. Tears welled in his eyes as the heat further inflamed his smoldering cheek. If he could survive life with his father, something as small as a fire couldn’t take him down.
“Give me your coat,” one boy demanded after they lowered his friend to the floor.
Shrugging out of the garment, he handed it over as his eyes strayed to the bed. His father was getting what he deserved. A fiery end fit for such an evil man. The burn on Edmund’s face throbbed, a parting gift from his worthless father.
Edmund tore his gaze away to see his coat lying over the jagged windowsill. Lifting the boy with the broken leg, he helped raise him to the ledge.
“Dear God, there are children in here!” a welcome voice exclaimed, barely audible over the roaring of the fire. “Quick! Help me!”
After assisting the three boys out of the window, Edmund cast one more glance at his father. This was the last time he would allow that man to hurt him. The fire consumed the body now, licking at the tailored suit his father had o
rdered not a week ago.
Taking the offered hand, Edmund climbed through the window. He gulped in the fresh air, only sullied with a hint of the acrid smoke. The wind on his face sent waves of agony through him, but he fought the tears pooling in his eyes and the nausea rolling in his stomach. Fists clenched against the incomparable pain, he took deep breaths as his fingernails dug into his palms.
The Duke of Demoon didn’t cry.
He clenched his teeth and surveyed the carnage before him. Two of the boys lay motionless in the grass. A crack sounded and the third boy’s leg was set. Edmund winced. He knew that feeling all-to-well. Broken bones had been a normal part of his life, up to this point.
“It’s the duke!” the man’s voice emerged full of surprise, and Edmund spun around, expecting his father. “Yer Grace, let’s get you to the castle.”
“Thank you,” he mumbled through tight lips when he realized the man had been speaking to him. He knew there was nothing he could do for the brave boys who had saved him. Perhaps one day he would be able to repay them.
As he climbed into the wagon and the horse began moving, he closed his eyes and barred his mind from the pain as he had done so many times over his life. When the wagon pulled to a stop, he offered a quick thank you before moving up the steps to his home. If he allowed himself to give in to his pain, it would be in the comforts of his bedchamber.
“Your Grace!” Mrs. Williams exclaimed. “What has happened to you?”
The housekeeper hurried him into the drawing room before he had a chance to respond. She ordered others around to collect supplies, as well as to fetch his mother. Putting all the noises and movement from his mind, he sat on the sofa and leaned his head back, squeezing his eyes shut. He wished he could pass out like the other boys. To not feel anymore.
Cold water splashed over his face, and Edmund screamed. The housekeeper’s brow knitted as she dabbed his cheek with a cloth.
“I’m sorry, Your Grace. I need to cleanse your wound. Looks like a nasty burn,” she explained, her voice full of pity.
Keeping his eyes squeezed shut, he swallowed down his bile. The woman had patched him up too many times for him to repay her with anything less than cooperation, regardless of how much she was hurting him.
“Where is he? Where is the duke?”
Edmund felt a hint of relief at the high-pitched sound of his mother’s voice. “I’m here, Mother.”
The torments they both had endured at the duke’s hand had created an unusual bond between them. Knowing she rushed to his side brought him such hope. After all, his father had never given her the ability to tend to any of his wounds or to provide him comfort. However, now that the man was dead, Edmund hoped their relationship could morph into something normal. He could only imagine how it would be to have her hold him in her arms out of love, not of fright.
As she breezed into the room, the smell of her perfume overwhelmed his nostrils and his eyes sought hers. She was dressed in the brightest color he’d ever seen on her, and the sight made him cringe. Although his father didn’t deserve their deference, as he’d died two days ago, he wished she would make an effort to appear to be in mourning, even if only a façade. But, it really didn’t matter. She had come for him.
She gasped, and her mouth remained open until she covered it with her hand. Pain moved through her eyes, but she closed them from him. When she refocused upon him, resolve and anger paraded across her face.
“Dear God, Edmund. You look horrific, but clearly, you’re fine. So, I rushed for nothing.”
Shock kept him silent. He’d never expected such a reaction from her. Pain, having nothing to do with his face, echoed through his chest. He had managed to accept the hatred from his father, but he wasn’t sure he was strong enough to endure it from his mother. What had happened between them?
“Your Grace, the duke suffered through a fire,” Mrs. Williams chided. His mother winced, but didn’t stand down.
“I can see that, but he’s moving and responding just fine.” Her skirts spun around her legs as she turned to go, then she called over her shoulder. “Oh, Edmund, cover that up. Decent people don’t wish to see something so ghastly.”
Chapter 1
Carolyn Ashford griped the reins of her mare. The animal jerked against the bit, but she pressed on, leading them toward the secluded spot where she’d tied the horse a dozen times before. After dismounting, she nearly fell as the animal reared its head back, pulling the reins from Carolyn’s hand.
“Beauty!” she scolded, reclaiming the leather strap and petting the mare’s neck to soothe her. “What has gotten into you?”
Although her ears were laid back in an irritated manner, Beauty seemed to settle under Carolyn’s gentle strokes. Not wasting any time, she secured the mare with enough lead to graze, then collected her supplies from the saddlebags. If only she had a hint of her brother, Gordon’s, talent with horses. As it stood, she was a much better reader when it came to people. Not that she knew how to handle people any better than horses.
Not wanting Beauty’s discomfort to ruin the peaceful time she had ahead of her, she patted her mare’s nose, again, before moving toward her private sanctuary.
Anxiousness bit at her heels as she hurried to find the hidden opening to the secret garden she’d found. When she’d stumbled upon it a few years ago, the place had been overgrown. It had taken her a long time, but she’d managed to restore it to what she believed had been its original glory. In the end, she was very proud of her accomplishment. Gardening was her true passion.
Moving through the ivy, she took a deep breath of the intoxicating scent of the fall flowers. Winter would be upon them soon, and she had a lot of labor ahead of her to ensure her hard work survived the cold.
As she moved through the rows of flowers and plants, she couldn’t stop a smile from forming. She felt at home. Dailey Manor had lost a little of that feeling since the birth of her nephew. She was thrilled for Gordon and Annalise, but the baby was a completely foreign thing to her. Until he was able to communicate, Carolyn feared she would need to keep her distance from the adorable, albeit loud, bundle.
Turning the corner, she sought the place she had ended when she went home the previous night. Being away for the season in London hadn’t helped the garden one bit.
“Do you know you could be shot for trespassing?” A rough male voice penetrated her thoughts.
She jumped, dropping her supplies. She’d been too preoccupied with her surroundings to notice the man on the bench. He sat with his left leg bent up beside him and his arm draped over his knee. His long blond hair hung loosely down his shoulders and hid most of his face. She sucked in her breath as his baby-blue eyes studied her.
“No response for me?” He lifted an amused eyebrow.
A flush crawled up her cheeks as she realized she’d been staring at him. Although she wasn’t entirely comfortable conversing with strange men, she had never lost her concentration before.
“I’m sorry”—she took in his well-tailored riding coat and breeches—“my lord. When I found this garden, it had clearly been unused.”
His jaw tightened. “So, you thought you could come here and take liberties with property that belongs to the Duke of Demoon?”
She winced upon hearing the name of her brother’s northern neighbor. The man probably would have her executed for this. He was known to have a horrible temper and the same amount of cruelty as his father before him.
“His Grace doesn’t deserve to have a place like this if he allows it to be abused.” She lifted her chin in defiance. “And, if he intends to punish me for trespassing, you shall receive the same treatment.”
He laughed and the sound brought a tingling low in her belly. “You presume too much, Miss. How do you know I haven’t received permission from the duke to visit this land?”
&nb
sp; Heat climbed up her cheeks. He was correct. She studied him, but the man’s face, or what she could see of it, remained closed to her. The inability to read his thoughts irked her. She should simply thank him for the warning and leave, but reluctance tugged at her. This was her sanctuary.
Although they were completely alone, she felt no danger from his presence. It helped that he hadn’t altered his position and didn’t appear to have any intention of moving, either. She dug her heels in. She didn’t want to leave the garden. It was the only place she could relax.
“Considering His Grace’s reputation, I find that doubtful,” she responded.
He pushed his hair behind his right ear, leaving the other side still blocked from her. Being able to see more of his face allowed her to gauge his feelings better. His curiosity didn’t surprise her, but the anger seething under the surface did.
“What exactly are you referring to?”
It was her turn to laugh, in part to diffuse the tension radiating from him. “How could you possibly have survived in this part of the country without having heard the talk? I imagined his reputation is known in London as well, though not widely discussed.”
“Perhaps I wish to know more current information.”
Suspicion leaked through her at his adamancy. She put her hands on her hips. “If you know the duke, you would not have to ask me about him.”
The man was hiding something, and she refused to give him what he wanted while he lied to her. Clearly, he was another one of those gentlemen who used others for his own gain. She wouldn’t allow him to use her like that.
He let out a sigh. “Well, you’ve got me. So, do you intend to answer my question? I’m unaccustomed to having to ask more than once.”
After his admission, she really couldn’t see the harm in divulging common knowledge about the duke. She shrugged. “Although no one has seen him in years, his brutality is widely known. They say he’s exactly like his father.”