by Darcy Burke
♥♥♥
Ella stood stunned. She had killed someone. Her uncle stood waiting for her next move. He wouldn't just let her leave. Fighting her way out was the only option. Before that, she needed information about Maddie.
"Where's my daughter?" She asked with warning in her voice. He held the knife in front of him ready to make another swipe. The fire behind her was spreading and she could feel the almost unbearable heat on her back.
"Ye won't be needing that knowledge. Ye'll be dyin' right here. T'was the plan all along, but we figered to git some blunt before we did," he spat angrily.
"Where is my daughter?" She yelled walking toward him. The smoke now filled the room stinging her eyes. If she didn't move now, she would die in the flames if not by a knife.
As she made another step, she tripped on a crate all but forgotten in her fear. Her momentum thrust her forward, landing with a thud on the floor. She felt her pistol slip from her pocket. Damn. Head swimming, still not cleared from the blow she had suffered, she shook the fog from her brain and rolled to her back in time to see the other man lunge for her. The need to get away filled her, but her legs were entangled in her skirts and had no other option but to brace for the impact. Perhaps he would miss and she would still be able to get Maddie out. Eyes closed tight, she waited for the searing pain, but instead, she heard a grunt. Opening her eyes, Devon knelt over her uncle wresting the knife from his hands. Stunned for only a moment, she watched the two men fight.
"Can you walk?" Devon grunted out while holding the man down.
She shook her head and then answered, "I can." When she realized he couldn't see her.
"Then go! Get out!" He ground out, still struggling with the man.
"No, I won't leave you!" She demanded, surprised he would want to help her much less risk his life after what she had done to him.
"Go, now!" He demanded, just as a beam creaked from above them. She turned seeing the pistol lying on the floor at her feet. She bent to retrieve it.
"Devon," she yelled. When he turned, she slid the pistol on the floor until it hit his boot. Pulling her skirts up as not to trip, she ran from the fire. Tears hotter than the flames covered her face. The stairs were in front of her, somewhere. What if she missed something? What if Maddie were on this level? As she groped her way through the thick smoke, she tried to call for the child.
In the distance, she heard her gun being fired, but she was too far gone with fear to care anymore. With every breath, her lungs felt heavier and burned more. She couldn't leave her daughter. Before she could turn and try to look further for Maddie, she was grabbed from behind and all but dragged to the lower level.
"Maddie? They have her. We need to find her. Please!" Ella begged as fresh air filled her lungs again. "I tried to get them to tell me, but they wouldn't. She may be in the building. We have--"
"She isn't inside," Clive answered from behind her, helping them both away from the flames. "I checked the lower level while Devon went to help you."
Devon came staggering from the engulfed building. When he got to them, he saw the fear on her face. He knew how she felt. They had to find Maddie. He would not let Ella down. He would not let his family down. "We'll find her, I promise," he said as he held her. It was a measure of relief to be holding her to him.
"How? I was unconscious until I woke up in the mill. The last I remember, we were in the bakery."
"They would have brought her with them. They wanted to get money from me, so they would have needed her as well as you," Devon explained.
"We should split up and just start calling for her," Clive suggested. "I'll go toward the road, you go toward the woods."
The three broke up and began calling for the child. With every second, Devon became more filled with fear. He glanced at Ella walking next to him, and his fear came full and wild within him. "You need to sit. You've lost blood and have a head injury."
"No, I need to find Maddie," she demanded, even as she allowed him to turn her back toward the wagon. Clive was in the wagon with the wooden carriage box in the back flung open pulling horse blankets out, but no Maddie. Devon turned more toward the road, then he heard it. Quiet at first, but with more power as he walked closer to the large trees lining the road. Right before his eyes, a very alive and wriggling Maddie appeared, dangling from a tree branch higher up. He could have fallen to the ground with relief. Instead, he moved a log over and was able to lift her restraints off the twig holding her. He felt more than saw Ella stagger for her daughter. He held Ella and she had Maddie in her arms smothering her with kisses as they made their way back to the wagon. The child had been drugged and still seemed to be in and out of consciousness, but calmed in her mother's embrace. With any luck, the drug had prevented her from too much trauma. He was certain, however, that there would be more than one night in the near future where he would be woken in a cold sweat reliving this scene. Ella was sobbing uncontrollably, repeating thank you through the hiccups.
"If I could bring them back to life to kill them again after this, I would," he assured his wife as he tugged them in closer, absorbing the warmth of their living, breathing bodies.
Devon noted Clive sat on the edge of the wagon as white as his cravat. His face said it all. He caught his friend's eyes and without words, expressed his gratitude for everything he had managed to bring back to him.
He pulled his family closer and a calm filled him and roared in his ears. They were safe. He couldn't believe his incredible luck. He knew what it meant not to have this. He would never lose it again. As if to cement the moment, his daughter snuggled in her mother's arms, still very groggy, turned and reached out for Devon to take her, which he did gladly. Once settled, he took the other woman in his life into his embrace as well. If she wanted to remain in Scotland running a bakery, he would gladly live his last days here as long as he could have this forever.
"You came to save me, even after what I accused you of?" Ella said with surprise in her voice.
"It's over. They're dead," he rasped out, his voice hoarse even to his own ears. "You're free. Your blasted uncles will never threaten you again. I told you I would keep you safe."
The look of sadness that washed over her face disquieted him. "You know..." she asked, "you know I am a bastard, and you saved me anyway?"
"You are my Viscountess. That is all that matters. That is all that ever mattered. I just wanted to see you safe," he added, to make sure she understood.
"You knew they were my uncles? What else did you know?"
"I knew you were in trouble from the day I arrived. I found out you were being blackmailed and threatened. With help from Clive, I was able to find out the tragedy that led your father to marry your mother. And— "he brushed his thumb along her chin and up her cheek, "I knew I loved you and would not let you leave as easily as you might have liked."
At his declaration, he felt her go still. Tears glistened in her eyes, threatened and overflowed down her cheek. "Why?"
"Why do I love you?" He asked. She nodded.
"I love you because you challenge me. You make me reconsider those things I thought I understood. I love you because you want to be independent, but you still need to be taken care of. Most of all, I love you because from the moment you appeared on my foyer floor like a rain soaked fairy, I couldn't get you out of my mind." He bent and took her lips to his. The acrid taste of smoke was not even a deterrent to Devon. The feel of her very warm, very alive, supple lips was amazing. He broke contact and studied her face in the gleam of the burning building.
"I was hoping for a declaration in kind, wife," he said bringing her back to the moment, and she smiled a big white smile against the black soot surrounding her face.
"Yes, I love you. I have loved you for four years. I just didn't want to stay with you because you felt a duty to do so. I never thought you could love me."
"Darling, I mourned you once, and it was enough for even a bloody fool like myself to realize when I was given another chance with
you, I would need to do it right. It is a duty, love, but it will be a labor of love. I promise you."
Devon only just noticed the flurry of movement with shouts and the sound of horse beats. Clive came to them with a carriage blanket and led them to a carriage that had arrived with Eric in the lead. Devon lifted his daughter and placed her in her mother's lap.
"Go back to the manor and rest. I need to stay and help sort out this mess." When she would have made to argue, Devon showed her a staying hand. "Flick and LePrin will be beside themselves with worry, as will Penny. There is no need for Maddie to remain here and she will want to be with her mother. I said I intended to take care of you and that includes cleaning up unsightly messes."
He only calmed a margin when he saw her acquiesce, sitting back against the squabs. "Go have a hot bath, and have that arm tended. When I get back, we will talk."
"What will we talk of?" She asked quietly.
"We will discuss where we shall be residing, London or Scotland."
"How will this work, what will the Ton—" He put a staying finger on her mouth.
"Darling, is it going to be a daily occurrence that I have to remind you, you will never have to do anything alone again?" He was given a huge smile as his prize.
"I'm not alone, am I?" She asked.
"Never," he said as he stepped down and hailed Eric to be on his way. The sooner he cleaned up this mess, the sooner he would be home with his family. She would never be alone, but neither would he. They would be together in love. Scotland wasn't that bad after all.
More in the Improper Wives for Proper Lords Series
An Heiress by Midnight
Lady Louissa Adair was raised by her uncle to be anything but a lady, spending hours scrubbing the decks of his ill begotten ships. Now, he has tasked her with a more deadly task. If she refuses, any hope of finding her long-lost and possibly dead brother will be lost while her uncle moves up his timeline to marry her off to a most dastardly man. While doing her uncle’s bidding, a blasted Englishman running around Scotland sets upon being her champion – not that Louissa has ever needed one. If he doesn’t get them both killed, and she might just kill the fool herself, she faces an even bigger danger – losing her heart.
Lord Clive Colcord, Earl of Breakerton, had escaped to Scotland in an attempt to avoid scrutiny by his late father’s solicitors. It had been a quiet, if not boring rustication until he finds himself tasked by the local magistrate with apprehending the highwayman menacing the North Road. He doesn’t expect to discover a beguiling dark-haired beauty with more dangerous men in her life than Clive has sisters. Yet he finds himself offering aid in an attempt to protect this damsel in distress. He must help Louissa find the proof of her uncle’s crimes and find her brother before she is forced into marriage all the while not losing his own heart in the process.
Marked for Love
Captured by a warring tribe, Lady Giselle Braveton's tattoos forever mark her as a captive, now back in England she struggles to reclaim place in society. What gentleman will marry a lady who bears the marks of ruin for all to see?
Lord Maxwell (Max) Sutton wishes nothing more than to be left alone. "Proper" English society drove his sister to suicide, and he has no plan to join it again. However, every Lord needs an heir, and marriage to Lady Braveton might be the perfect solution to both of their problems, as surely, she will want to shun society as much as he. Max soon finds marriage to Giselle is anything but convenient. She bears wounds he cannot heal and hides demons he cannot see. While he craves solitude, she longs to belong to the very society which mocks her. Maxwell can't bear to see another loved one suffer the cruelty of the ton, but he cannot leave Giselle to fend for herself.
Can love carve a path to acceptance before old wounds and new enemies destroy it?
Courtesan’s Wicked Desire
About Clair Brett
Fur baby wrangler and historical romance author of 7 published novels, Clair Brett lives in NH with her hard-working husband of 23 years. Her office staff during the day consists of Cinta, a black cat and the matriarch of the fur babies, Mojo, a yellow kitten who spends his day holding Clair down in her seat to get her word count in, a boxer/beagle mix puppy named Willow, who sleeps next to her chair to make it hard to do an Oreo run without doing a pee run as well, Sanibel, a lab mix, who is the HR dept. keeping moral up, and sometimes her “grand dog”, Bailey, an 80 pound shepherd mix who is always up for a good time. When not writing, she tries to keep tabs on her newly minted adult daughters who are working on figuring it all out.
A former middle and high school English teacher, Clair has had a lifetime love affair with reading. Once she read Pride and Prejudice as an extra read in high school, she was hooked. Clair began pursuit of publication when she was a new mother in need of a hobby Her oldest daughter graduated high school in 2017, so you do the math. Clair is a firm believer that a reader finds a piece of who they are or learns something about the world with every book they read. She wants her readers to be empowered and to have a refreshed belief in the goodness of people and the power of love after reading her work.
Visit Clair on the web at: www.clairbrettcom and sign up for my newsletter while you are there.
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A Duke is Never Enough
Darcy Burke
When notorious rake Marcus Raleigh, Marquess of Ripley, meets a beautiful spinster, he wagers her that she’ll kiss him within a fortnight. She is not the type of woman that draws his eye, but for the first time in his life, he’s seduced by something he never knew he wanted—female friendship. Though he’s beguiled beyond reason, Marcus ultimately releases her from their wager only to find himself tangled so deeply in desire that he can’t walk away...
After abandoning her philandering betrothed at the altar, Phoebe Lennox fled from London only to return an heiress who refuses to follow the ton’s rules. She won’t risk a relationship of any kind—until she meets the scandalous Marquess of Ripley. Captivated by his charm and surprised by his compassion, she is tempted to succumb to just one kiss. Until that isn’t enough. But when Marcus’s cousin is found murdered, can the delicate bond between them survive?
Heat level: 4/5
Tropes: rake hero, spinster heiress who refuses to follow the rules
Chapter 1
London, March 1819
An unsettled irritation ran through Marcus Raleigh, Marquess of Ripley, as he rode onto Rotten Row. The breeze cooled his face and a bit of his ire. Until he neared the end of the track, where a group of gentlemen were gathered to the side of the footpath. On the periphery of that group, a familiar face jolted him to a stop.
Marcus steered from the path and dismounted. After securing his horse to a post, he stalked toward the group. His annoyance grew to anger, an emotion he rarely succumbed to.
Upon his reaching the group, the object of his ire met his gaze with eerily light eyes. “Afternoon, Ripley,” he said.
“Might I have a word, Drobbit?” Marcus kept his tone even despite his displeasure.
No, not displeasure. He was furious for the first time in…years. His cousin Archibald Drobbit had apparently been embezzling money from gentlemen by organizing investment schemes. He’d all but ruined Marcus’s new friend, Graham, the Duke of Halstead. Rather, Drobbit had ruined the former duke and Graham had inherited the mess.
“Certainly.” Drobbit, who was short and stocky, with a thick neck, left the group and ambled toward Marcus, who then led him off the track away from the others. “It’s been some time, cousin.”
Satisfied they were removed enough for a private discussion, Marcus stopped and turned on the smaller man. “Spare me your idle conversation. It’s boring and pointless. It’s also offensive.”
Drobbit had to tip his head back to look up at Marcus, his eyes narrowing with unease as his usually sly smile disappeared. He clasped his hands behind his back, perhaps in an effort to appear nonchalant, as if they conversed like this every day. As if they conve
rsed ever. “How have I offended you?”
“By preying on others.”
The unease in Drobbit’s eyes expanded to fear, his pupils dilating slightly.
“Don’t.” Marcus edged forward, glaring down at the man, who was his elder by a handful of years. “I know precisely what you’ve done. Well, not precisely, but I know what you’ve done to Halstead, and you’re going to tell me who else you’ve stolen from. Then you’re going to make restitution to every single one of them.”
Drobbit’s face paled. He lifted his hand to his neck and pulled gently at his cravat. “I, um, none of that is true.”
“Don’t lie,” Marcus spat. “I know it’s true, and I know there are others. Perhaps you’d rather I ensure you’re prosecuted for fraud.”
“You can’t do that.”
Marcus nearly laughed. “Have you forgotten I’m a marquess? And you’re…no one.”
Panic leached into Drobbit’s features, making him appear feverish. “I’m your cousin!” While that was true, they weren’t close. Their mothers had been sisters who’d fallen out after Marcus’s mother had married a marquess. Drobbit’s mother had grown to despise her sister.
“I’m sure you used that connection to benefit you in any way possible.” Marcus glowered at him. “You’ll return the money you stole. And don’t bother protesting again. You demean what’s left of your character.
“You’ll also tell me about this scheme. I want to know everything—how you found your marks, how you persuaded them to trust you, what you did with the money.”
