by Cheryl Bolen
"And you did," he said smugly. "Now tell me who else knows about the poem."
"I had three gentlemen callers after you left yesterday afternoon. I shared it with all of them."
His eyes glittered with rage. "And with Warwick?"
"Of course, he knew about it, too."
There was a menacing look on his face as he stared at her. "I don't believe you. I don't think anyone else knows about the poem."
"You're wrong! Besides, I wrote it down and sent copies of it to several important people."
He struck her face. The force of the blow tore something in her neck. Her eyes watered and a thread of blood began to ooze from her nose.
He shoved the document back in the metal box, and called for the henchmen to return.
It suddenly occurred to her that he did not wish the cutthroats to know the importance of the document. She met One Eye's glance. "You would never have to do another day's work," she said, "if you steal his lordship's box."
Lord Carrington stepped up and slapped her again. Then again.
Then One Eye pulled him off of her. "Maybe we just better 'ave that box, yer lordship."
Carrington drew a pistol from his pocket and turned it on them.
All of them.
* * *
Edward and Randolph rode harder and faster than any money winner at Newmarket had ever run. They twice changed to fresh horses. Edward's only hope of rescuing Maggie was in beating that luxurious coach Carrington always traveled in, a difficult feat to be sure, given that the carriage had an hour's head start. But it was just possible his and Randolph's fleet mounts could overtake the cumbersome coach-and-four.
While changing horses at the first posting inn, Randolph eyed Edward warily and asked. "Am I to assume you've broken your pledge to my sister?"
So Randolph knew he loved Maggie. "Actually, it was your sister who broke the pledge to me. A most intelligent move on her part."
"Intelligent, given that you're in love with another woman."
Edward's gaze dropped. "I shouldn't want to live if anything happened to Maggie." Then he promptly mounted his horse and dug in his heels.
He cursed his own staggering stupidity. His relief that the men who threatened Maggie were behind bars had stripped away his usual caution. Why hadn't he demanded to see them straight away? Why had he not warned Maggie not to trust Carrington?
And, God in heaven, why had he left Maggie unprotected today? Why had he not shared his suspicions of Carrington with her before he rushed off to Newgate? He had shared everything else with her--except that which was most critical.
He took his fury out on the horse that was already giving him all it had to give. Poor creature.
As they neared Hogarth Castle he castigated himself for not previously familiarizing himself with the castle's environs. Where in the hell was Rufton Mill? Carrington likely knew.
And that knowledge--the knowledge that the vile marquess had dragged her there for his own evil purposes--drove thunderous, raging fire through Edward's veins. He had never wished to kill a man. Until today.
In the distance he saw the turrets of Hogarth, and his stomach tumbled. He prayed he would be in time. He sped past the lane that led to the castle, past the gatekeeper's house, desperately searching for Carrington's shiny black carriage. He rounded a lush bend in the road, and his heart nearly stopped. Some hundred feet off the road, Carrington's coach and four was parked, another trio of mangy horses surrounding it. He and Randolph surged ahead.
Then he saw her. His instant relief that she was still alive plummeted when he saw that her hands were tied behind her, blood staining that incredible face. Beside her was the ruffian with the eye patch, Carrington barely a foot away.
And he was holding a pistol.
Rage thundering through him, Edward jumped the low rock fence that surrounded the graveyard, his horse pounding toward the circle of men as he shouted curses at them in a ploy to distract their attention from Maggie.
As he drew within six feet of them he leaped from the fleetly moving animal.
Just as Carrington aimed his pistol.
The musket ball grazed Edward's ear as he powered toward Carrington, unsheathing his saber, Maggie's shrieks filling the acrid air. Carrington threw down the smoking pistol, his eyes widening with fear. "Get this man!" he yelled to his henchmen as he stumbled backwards.
But the other men did not move.
Edward lunged toward Carrington, who tried to run backward, afraid to take his eyes off his attacker. He stumbled again and fell on his back as Edward drove his sword through Carrington's coat, pinning him to the soft earth, but not connecting with Carrington's flesh. Behind Edward, Randolph was handling the other three men who were not foolish enough to resist an armed man, but at this moment Edward's only thought was to murder Carrington.
The marquess's pale blue eyes glittered not with fear but with hatred. "Do me the goodness of driving your sword through my heart," Carrington pleaded. "All is lost."
Edward's menacing gaze swung from his impaled sword to Carrington's desperate face. He did not speak, did not move. He thought of Andrew Bibble and was consumed with the overwhelming urge to do to Carrington what Carrington had done to Bibble. His hand gripped the hilt of the sword and he drew it away, his eyes never leaving Carrington's. Then his boot dug into the ground, and he kicked dirt onto Carrington's face.
Turning his sword on the other men, Edward ordered them to untie the lady. The sight of her face welted tore at his heart. With cold eyes he watched the one-eyed man unfasten the cords at Maggie's wrists, wrists slashed by the cord. "Now tie Lord Carrington," Edward ordered, sickened by Maggie's injuries.
But before the men could comply, Carrington yanked a sheathed dagger from within his coat, quickly unfastened the leather, and—closing his eyes as he grimaced—drove it into his own heart.
Maggie screamed a blood-curdling yell. Though Edward wanted to draw her into his arms and hold her, he could not drop the sword. Not while three miscreants were ever ready to pounce on it.
"See if he's dead," Edward ordered the one-eyed man.
The man stooped down and pressed his filthy hand to Carrington's bloody wrist. "Aye, that 'e is. Good riddance it be, too."
Edward's glance flicked to Randolph. "Oblige me by tying up these men while I keep my weapon on them."
Only when their hands were firmly tied behind them did Edward allow himself to drop the sword and draw Maggie into his arms.
Chapter 33
She had really humiliated herself. If only those dark clouds had not come up. But they had. Right when they were waiting for Mr. Hollingsworth to get back from rounding up the local magistrate. Right there, bunched above the cemetery at Rufton Mill. The rain and thunder and those things that drove her to act like a ninny waited just until dear Mr. Hollingsworth and the addled magistrate came striding through the huddle of gravestones. Then the clouds exploded.
When the roaring thunder shook the ground and lightning flashed white into the blackened sky, Maggie let out a scream. No dainty scream, but a loud wail that was in perfect harmony with the terrified look on her face.
Though the other men observed her as one would a mad dog, her darling Edward was really quite wonderful about it all. Not saying a single word, he opened one side of his generous great coat and hauled her beneath it, closing it around her and directing his attention to the gentlemen. "Thunderstorms seem to have a mortifying effect upon my future wife," he explained.
He entrusted Mr. Hollingsworth to wrap up all the wretched business with Lord Carrington and the brutes while he hastened through the already muddy mire to settle her in Lord Carrington's carriage, instructing the coachmen to drive them to Greenwich.
"Greenwich?" she had asked, looking at Edward as if he'd just launched into a fit of lunacy (even though it was she who acted the lunatic).
He had drawn her into his arms. "We're returning to the Spotted Hound and Hare."
She had never felt so closely connected to anyon
e as she was to Edward at that moment. Who else would understand her yearning to be in that cozy bedchamber of the Spotted Hound and Hare? No one else could ever have spent so glorious an afternoon as she and Edward had shared there.
Even though the menacing weather continued all the way to Greenwich, Edward's diversions wildly succeeded in keeping her mind off her treacherous situation, those diversions being kissing, stroking, freeing her breasts, freeing his---well, all sorts of delicious things, actually.
By the time they arrived at the Spotted Hound and Hare, her dress was enormously wrinkled, her hair spilled from its pins to hang willy nilly about her bruised face, and there was a wet circle on her dress just over the part that covered her nipple where Edward's mouth had pleasured her. She was extremely grateful for pelisses.
The innkeeper and his aproned wife, smiles as broad as the River Thames on their faces, rushed to greet them. "I was just tellin' the missus we'd not be seein' the likes of our fine lord and lady again and here ye comes--just like that other day--and it be rainin' again, too!"
"There's no finer place to be on a rainy day, I was just telling my lady," Edward said, his sparkling eyes full of mischief. "I would be most obliged if we could have our same room."
The woman led them through the firelit parlor. "Ye'll be wanting a nice pot of 'ot tea, too."
"Yes, later," Edward said. "For now we will be most happy for a dry place to rest."
Maggie was happy he had forestalled their hostess. She had no need for tea when there was Edward to warm her.
Once they were in their room, he framed her face with his hands and spoke huskily. "You don't know how I've longed to be here again. With you."
Her hands tugged at his shirt to dislodge it from his pantaloons, his hand swept down her bodice. Then there was a tangle of arms and legs flying until each of them was stripped bare and panting, their clothing strewn across the room. She felt the intensity of his gaze as it lingered over her body, felt as if he were about to devour her. "Were you to be presented to the queen, you could not be more beautiful than you are right now," he said in a deep, low voice.
She thought he looked awfully magnificent, too. Her glance flitted over his powerful chest and the smooth muscles of his elongated torso, and her breath caught when she saw his huge arousal, then her gaze dropped to his long sinewy legs that were dusted with dark hair. It was getting more difficult to breath without whimpering.
Their hungry eyes locked, she began to giggle her pleasure, then they hurled themselves onto the bed, Edward planting his thighs on each side of her as he stared down into her sultry face and hungrily swept her into his arms, growling his satisfaction. He kissed her long and deep and with incredible tenderness.
Her breath was ragged when his lips traced a moist path along her neck and up the slope of her breast, then she began to moan when his lips parted to close over her nipple. And when his mouth went lower still she found herself arching to meet his lips, his tongue as they delved into her slickness. He spread her legs wider, wedging his head deeper, stroking her pearly bud with strong flicks of his heated tongue. She began to pulse against him, her eyes shut tightly as she thrashed up and down and from side to side. A profound heat consumed her as she flew to another place, a place where she and Edward were a universe of two. She began to shudder uncontrollably. He watched with smoldering eyes as she pulsed and trembled, and he gently wiped the moisture from her brow as she called out his name.
"I can't wait any longer, love," he whispered hoarsely. "I want you to ride me." He flopped onto his back and she climbed on top him, spreading her legs wide as she tucked the head of him in, then impaled herself on his hardened rod as they began to pulse together like great surging waves. This time she kept her eyes open and with an intoxicating feeling of possession watched the man she loved convulse beneath her, watched the dazed satisfaction on his face, felt his warm seed flooding her and was engulfed in the torrent of their special love.
One final, deep, heaving surge and the bed collapsed beneath them. As their mattress crashed to the wood floor, he crushed her to him and they both laughed. "The Earl of Warwick's bed, I believe, is more durable," he said, stroking her silken flesh. "First thing tomorrow I get a special license. I've an unquenchable urge to make you my wife, Maggie mine."
"I'm possessed of an unquenchable urge to become Mrs. Edward Stanfield."
Epilogue
Six months later . . .
As it happens, she did not become Mrs. Stanfield.
Once the Regent learned of Edward's role in unmasking Lord Carrington's treachery, he saw to it that every possible honor was heaped upon Edward. He was elevated to Lord Carrington's position as Foreign Secretary, and the lands and title of the Warwick earldom were also bestowed upon him.
Edward pensioned off Wiggins, who now lived with his new wife in a cottage near Hogarth Castle, and Miss Rebecca Peabody had returned to Warwick House to commence cataloguing Edward's library.
Once the transfer of the Warwick title was official, Edward cupped his hand over his wife's beloved, swelling belly. "Think you the fifth earl resides in your womb, love?"
She brought his hand to her lips. "If not this babe, then perhaps the next will be a male. We have many years ahead, and making babies is so devilishly fun!"
His heart swelled every time he was with his Maggie. She had loved him just as fiercely when he had no prospects of being an earl. No man could be more loved than he; no woman loved more than she. "From this day forward, you are no longer be my counterfeit countess," he said—and then he kissed her.
The End
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I hope you enjoyed Counterfeit Countess. If you did, would you please consider posting a review by the book's listing at Amazon.com or another a site where you might have read it? If you do, please send me an email at [email protected] and I will enter your name in one of my quarterly drawings for a $50 gift certificate to an eBook retailer of your choice. Each time you review one of my books, let me know, and you will get another entry for each review. There will be a drawing each quarter.
Thank you from Cheryl Bolen
Brazen Brides series
Counterfeit Countess (Book 1)
His Golden Ring (Book 2)
Oh What A (Wedding) Night (Book 3)
Marriage of Inconvenience (Book 4)
Counterfeit Countess
Readers who like their Regencies spiced with danger and desire will love Bolen's humorous and sexy romance—Booklist
How can Edward, the Earl of Warwick, get rid of the beautiful woman who comes barreling into his house with no less than fourteen trunks, a younger sister, a maid, and a very large cat? The imposter claims to be Lady Warwick.
Under orders from his superior at the Foreign Office, Edward can't get rid of her because her late husband held the clue to the identity of England's greatest traitor, a clue they must get. But how can Edward be with Maggie, the lovely counterfeit countess, day in and day out—and still keep his pledge to wed another?
His Golden Ring
Holt Medallion 2006, Best Historical Romance
Who can resist a marriage of convenience between a couple who have nothing in common—but passion!—Eloisa James, New York Times Bestselling author
The past year has been most unkind to Lady Fiona Hollingsworth. First, the man she has been promised to for half her life (Edward, Earl Warwick, hero of Counterfeit Countess) broke her heart by marrying another. Then her beloved father died, leaving his financial affairs in shambles. And now her eldest brother has been abducted by Spanish outlaws who demand an exorbitant ransom to ensure his safe return. Desperate to save her brother, Fiona remembers a chance meeting with the handsome Nicholas Birmingham, the richest stockbroker in all of England, a man shunned by her brother. She casts her pride aside and goes to Nicholas, but all she has to offer as collateral is . . . herself.
Oh What A (Wedding) Night
As Lady Sophia Beresford (recently Lady Finkel) pa
sses through the gates of her new bridegroom’s country estate and he begins to whisper in her ear of the delights that await her in his bed, Lady Sophia realizes she has made a most dreadful mistake. There’s only one thing to do. She must bolt.
The bride-on-the-run is rescued by the exceedingly handsome William Birmingham who thinks she’s a woman named Isadore, and though he’s the richest man in England, she mistakes him for a common (but well-to-do) criminal. Since she’d rather be dead than wed to Finkel, Sophia pretends to be Isadore and take her chances with the provocative Mr. Birmingham. But how could she have known that her ruse would bring the gallant Mr. Birmingham into such peril from the wicked man she married? And how could she have known her enigmatic rescuer would ignite passions she’d never known she possessed?
Marriage of Inconvenience
You can read about Maggie's bookish sister, Rebecca Peabody, in Marriage of Inconvenience.
“Long-time fans and new readers alike will be delighted with her [Rebecca Peabody's] story.—In Print, Kay Hudson
A loveless marriage between bluestocking Rebecca Peabody (sister of Counterfeit Countess) and a powerful peer turns out to be anything but. . .
Other series by Cheryl Bolen:
If you enjoyed Counterfeit Countess, you may also enjoy Cheryl’s other Regency romance series, such as the six-part The Brides of Bath series, the three-part House of Haverstock series or the four-part Regent Mystery romances:
Brides of Bath series
Currently, you can get the first book in the series, The Bride Wore Blue, free at Amazon.com and other eBook venders.
The Brides of Bath Series (available in eBook and paperback formats):
