by Aubrey Wynne
Deception and Desire
A MacNaughton Castle Romance
Book One
By
Aubrey Wynne
© Copyright 2020 by Aubrey Wynne
Text by Aubrey Wynne
Cover by Wicked Smart Designs
Dragonblade Publishing, Inc. is an imprint of Kathryn Le Veque Novels, Inc.
P.O. Box 7968
La Verne CA 91750
[email protected]
Produced in the United States of America
First Edition June 2020
Kindle Edition
Reproduction of any kind except where it pertains to short quotes in relation to advertising or promotion is strictly prohibited.
All Rights Reserved.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
License Notes:
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Additional Dragonblade books by Author Aubrey Wynne
A MacNaughton Castle Romance
Deception and Desire (Book 1)
An Allusive Love (Book 2)
A Bonny Pretender (Book 3)
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Publisher’s Note
Additional Dragonblade books by Author Aubrey Wynne
About the Book
Prologue: A Vicious Viscount
Chapter One: Tempers, Tantrums, and Delicate Diplomacy
Chapter Two: A Deceiving Demeanor
Chapter Three: A Dubious Dream or A Feasible Future?
Chapter Four: A Not-So-Subtle Scottish Seduction
Chapter Five: Bright Beginnings
Chapter Six: Giggles and Gaffes
Chapter Seven: Flirtations and Fisticuffs
Chapter Eight: Lying Ledgers
Chapter Nine: An Excuse to Entice
Chapter Ten: A Flowering Friendship
Chapter Eleven: A Dinner and A Dalliance
Chapter Twelve: A Precipitous Insight
Chapter Thirteen: The Clarity of a Kiss
Chapter Fourteen: Honeysuckle and Homecoming
Chapter Fifteen: The Sundry Facades of Affection
Chapter Sixteen: A Heated Homecoming
Chapter Seventeen: Feeding the Fire
Chapter Eighteen: From Fair Skies to Cloudbursts
Chapter Nineteen: Loss, Love, and Solace
Chapter Twenty: The Long Road Home
Chapter Twenty-One: Matrimony and Machinations
Chapter Twenty-Two: Betrothal and Betrayal
Chapter Twenty-Three: Some Scottish Counsel
About the Author
Deception and Desire
Fenella Franklin is too tall, too intelligent, and has no title. Her talents lie in numbers and a keen business mind, not in the art of flirtation. She becomes the target of a cruel wager during her come-out in London and vows to put off any future suitors vying for her sizeable dowry. When Fenella’s mother discovers her subterfuge, she’s sent to Scotland to stay with her grandmother until the next season. An advertisement for an accountant leads Fenella to the MacNaughton Textile and a chance at independence.
Lachlan MacNaughton does not have the temperament to be the next MacNaughton chief, preferring to knock heads together rather than placate bickering clansmen. He readily accepts a reprieve to help with the family weaving mill in Glasgow. A sizzling chance encounter in the rain introduces him to the new bookkeeper. His grandfather may want him back in the Highlands, but his heart is soon lost in the Lowlands.
Fenella and Lachlan are two rebellious souls who do not fit into the roles dictated by their families. The attraction is immediate, their desire sparking a passion neither can deny. But an innocent deception tests their newfound love and threatens the freedom they both crave.
Prologue
A Vicious Viscount
June 1818
London, England
Miss Fenella Franklin tried to fade into the horrid wallpaper of the ballroom. She was too tall to hide behind the potted plants. She picked at the gold lace overlay of her bottle-green dress and wondered if those nasty girls were right. Were men intimidated by her? Did they see her as an Amazon? Her father was extremely tall, and Fenella had inherited most of his physical characteristics, including his white-blond hair and gray eyes. It seemed no one wanted to talk to her, but there was plenty of whispering about her.
She glared at the group of malicious debutantes, giggling and casting sidelong looks at her. It seemed intelligence was also a strike against her. Bluestocking, they’d hissed and sneered behind their fans.
Drat! Fenella was a laughingstock her first season, an embarrassment to her ambitious mother.
If only she could have waited one more year and come out with her younger sister. Miss Evelina Franklin would take the ton by storm, and no one would blather about their lack of a title or hiss mushroom as they passed. Everyone loved Evie. She was petite with thick locks of dark honey hair and soft brown eyes that could convince a man to do almost anything.
Fenella couldn’t convince a young buck to dance with her with a bat of her eyelashes or a flick of her fan. The last set had been dreadful, a simple country dance. The gentleman had rolled his eyes when she failed to glide around him at the proper time. It wasn’t her fault he only came to her chin and his arms were short. No, she wouldn’t dance again tonight if she were dragged by the hair.
That image made her giggle.
Her gaze locked with her mother’s, who weaved her way through the guests with displeasure in her eyes. Fenella hated being the sacrificial lamb. Her father was a baronet, not a peer, but quite successful in the wholesale trade. Lady Franklin was determined to find a titled gentleman in need of a large dowry. An impoverished baron or viscount would move them up in London’s social circles.
Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, Fenella prepared for the onslaught of accusations and instructions. She jumped at a male voice behind her.
“Why are you hiding in the corner? A woman of your… stature cannot conceal herself.”
Fenella turned and cast her eyes down on the
handsome man. His midnight hair matched the onyx eyes, slightly slanted like those of a cat’s. He was dressed complete to a shade in a black double-breasted waistcoat, breeches, white shirt, and expertly tied cravat. When he smiled, her stomach flipped.
“I do beg your pardon. I am Herbert Manning, Viscount Shelton.” He bowed and took her limp hand, placing a light kiss on the back of it.
The warmth of his lips seeped through her glove and sent wings fluttering in her stomach. She nodded just as her mother appeared beside them.
“Ah, Lord Shelton, I see you have met my daughter,” gushed Lady Franklin.
“And your name is?” he asked, keeping his focus on Fenella.
“Miss Fenella Franklin, my eldest.” Lady Franklin looked from one to the other. “I’m sure Fenella would love to dance the next set if you do not have a partner.”
“I’m afraid I don’t care to dance,” he said, his eyes never leaving Fenella’s face. “Would you care to promenade? I much prefer conversation.”
Fenella wanted to fall on her knees and thank this attractive man who had just given her mother the cut indirect. She laid a gloved hand on his arm, taking smaller steps as she had been taught. A long stride was not ladylike and accentuated her height.
“These gatherings are a monstrous nuisance,” he whispered conspiratorially as they walked the outer boundary of the large room. “I believe you’d rather be elsewhere, too.”
She laughed, enjoying the astonished looks from the girls who had just received her indignant glare. “Yes, I’d rather be anywhere.”
He reached over and squeezed her hand. “Green-eyed chits, the lot of them.”
She caught her breath at the intimate touch and his words. “Please, my lord, I appreciate your kindness, but what would they possibly be jealous of? My lack of title, my ability to tower over them, or my dull, academic conversation?” His attention had emboldened her, and her natural humor overtook her awkwardness.
“They’re envious of your wealth, your wit, and your guileless demeanor.” He stopped for a moment, looking into her eyes with a charming smile that made her knees a little weak. “Myself, I find you quite lovely. These dandies wouldn’t know a diamond of the first water if she fell into their lap.”
Fenella gaped at him, her face heating. Wit? Guileless? She silently cursed the red surely staining her cheeks.
“Ah, forgive me. I’ve embarrassed you,” he apologized and continued their stroll. “I tend to overplay my hand, or so I’m told. Say you won’t hold it against me.”
She laughed. “You are the first male who has been genuinely kind to me since the Season began. I would hold nothing against you, my lord. Besides, you rescued me from another lecture.”
“By your mother?”
Fenella nodded. “I’m afraid my younger sister would have been better suited for a season. She is everything I’m not.”
“Then let us discuss everything that you are and she is not,” he answered with a smile. “Tell me one of your unique accomplishments.”
They strolled by the refreshment table, and she grinned at one particularly unpleasant female as her confidence increased. Looking up, she noticed a smirk on Lord Shelton’s handsome face. He stopped and nodded at the woman.
“Lady Annabelle, how good to see you again,” he acknowledged with a nod of his head. “Have you met my friend, Miss Franklin?”
“Ah, yes, I believe we met at Almack’s,” said the brunette with a fixed smile. “I hope you are enjoying the party, Lord Shelton?”
“Quite. I’ve found the company to be intriguing.” He looked down at Fenella. “Shall we?”
Fenella turned her back on the woman without another word. Her heart pounded with the excitement of it. Would that be considered a cut indirect? She hoped so. She truly hoped so. A little voice tried to ruin her euphoria. Why had this man searched her out? Pity, most likely. No matter, she was grateful for his company.
“Back to our conversation,” he said, interrupting her thoughts. “A unique accomplishment that your sister does not share?”
“Hmm…” She chewed on her bottom lip. “I can add a column of numbers in my head with perfect accuracy. I keep all my father’s ledgers.”
His eyebrows went up. “That’s fascinating. I’m terrible with accounts. Very good with money but terrible at remembering where it went.”
She laughed. “So you are good at spending it.”
“Oh, yes. My father bemoans my extravagance, but his coffers are overflowing.” He winked at her. “All parents need something to complain about, you see.”
They spoke of horses and early morning rides on Rotten Row. He preferred London to his estate, only going home during hunting season or when his father demanded it. She shared her love of the country and tried to convince him of the joys of living outside of Town. By the time Lord Shelton deposited her at her mother’s side, Fenella was enamored.
She saw him twice more during the next week. Once at Hyde Park during an afternoon ride, and he had barely taken note of Evie when they were introduced. In her mind, he was becoming her savior. In her dreams, he was the chivalrous hero in glittering armor on a white steed.
This evening at a rout, he’d found her in the crush and melded his body to hers as he spoke into her ear. They had walked onto the terrace for some air and leaned against the balcony, shoulder to shoulder. Fenella thought she would cast up her accounts or faint dead away. Lord Shelton was dashing and elegant, and smelled of tobacco and vanilla. It made her want to smoke a pipe. His touch was gentle and familiar, holding her elbow as he moved her toward the stairs.
“Shall we walk in the garden?” he asked, his breath tickling her neck.
Fenella looked back at the people crammed together inside. It didn’t seem improper to walk alone with him when they were in plain view of the other guests. Another couple had preceded them down the gravel path.
“I’d love to, my lord.” She placed her hand on his arm, and he covered it with his own. The wings took flight in her stomach again. The path was shadowed and quiet. A light breeze cooled the back of her neck.
“I feel like I’ve known you much longer than a week. We seem to be… of one mind in many things. Don’t you agree?” His tone was low and caressing. His fingers moved up her arm and stroked the bare skin above her gloves.
Fenella held in the gasp at his familiar touch. Should she stop him? Would he think her too coming and send her scuttling back to her mother? Lady Franklin had hugged her tonight before they left.
I’m so proud of you, dear. If Lord Shelton seeks you out tonight, be at your most accommodating.
No, a brush of his fingers against her arm was surely permissible.
“I’ve found myself thinking of you these past days, Miss Franklin.” He paused and turned toward her, stepping in closer. He reached up and brushed a wisp of hair from her face and trailed his knuckle down her cheek. “You are quite unlike any woman I’ve known before.”
She struggled for composure as he resumed their walk, only the sound of their shoes crunching the pea gravel beneath them. It was the first time a male other than her father had paid attention to her for any length of time. The first time a male close to her own age had shown any interest. Her logical mind told her to be cautious, but the romantic notions of her heart were much louder. Perhaps she wasn’t such a wallflower. Perhaps the fact she wasn’t like the other girls appealed to some men. Perhaps… he was truly attracted to her.
They reached another veranda with several steps leading down to a fountain and two stone benches. Again, he stopped and faced her.
“Miss Franklin… may I call you Fenella?” He stepped closer. Close enough that if she leaned in just a smidgen, her nose could touch his forehead.
She nodded assent to this request, not trusting her voice.
“Good,” he said in a husky voice, his hands now leaving a fiery trail as he lightly stroked her arms. “There’s been something I’ve wanted to do since we first met. I hope you don’t m
ind.” A finger moved up to her shoulder and ran slowly along her collar bone. He stopped at the hollow of her throat, his finger trailing down to hook the neckline of her dress. His head bent, and his lips touched that sensitive spot below her chin before he pulled her close. Their bodies touched, his hardness pressed against her softness. Her pulse raced. Oh, merciful heavens.
“I want to kiss you now, Fenella. Do I have your permission?”
Once more, Fenella could only nod. Her first kiss. She was about to receive her first kiss. Oh, how she had told herself she didn’t care.
Oh, how she had lied to herself.
He leaned up, paused, then shook his head. “No, this won’t work.”
Her stomach sank. He’d changed his mind.
“Move down on the next step, would you, my lovely?”
What? She felt the gentle pressure of his hands and she stepped down.
“There,” he said, looking straight into her eyes, “this will work much better. No need to push up on my toes now, eh?” He pulled her close again.
Fenella held her breath and closed her eyes, waiting for the sensation of his lips against hers. A snort sounded from behind her, then a muffled laugh.
“Shhh.” Another chortle.
Fenella’s eyes popped open. “Did you hear that?”
“It sounded like someone on the other side of the fountain,” Shelton said, clasping her chin and turning her face back to him. “I’d wager it’s another couple with the same thing in mind.”
Her chest tightened. Something was amiss, and her instinct told her to run. Then the viscount’s palm cupped her cheek, sending her stomach into another tumble. She took in a slow breath and closed her eyes again. It was only nerves. It was her first kiss, after all.
“By Christ, he’s—”
“Shh!”
Someone was watching them! Fenella’s eyelids flew open again, and she pushed Lord Shelton away just before he claimed her mouth. He fell onto his backside and cursed.
