Sinclair and Raven Series: Books 1-3

by Wendy Vella

  “There is little to interest anyone, I assure you. And like you, I do not like to discuss my personal life.”

  “So you do not believe you are beautiful or interesting? I wonder who has made you believe these things that are obviously untrue.”

  “No one, and this is a silly conversation. Please do not attempt to flatter me with empty words. I assure you I am not easily fooled.”

  Essie did not want to be of interest to anyone, and most especially not this large, disturbing man. She needed to keep her exposure to him to a minimum from now on. Bertie and Josiah could care for him. She did not want to feel her pulse race anymore, nor the unsettling feelings he produced inside her.

  “If there is nothing further you need, I shall leave.”

  Max made himself move, then hissed in pain… loudly.

  “Are you in pain?”

  “Some,” he said, feeling no guilt for his words. He’d been shot, stabbed, and his body had been beaten badly, so he was used to pain. But what he wasn’t used to was the need to have the woman touch him, or the need to have her close. So he would do what he could to achieve that.

  She intrigued him. More than that, she made him hungry for her, and no woman had made him feel that way... ever. He understood lust, and he understood greed, but he doubted Essex Sinclair understood either.

  Max knew people, and his experience had taught him that most wanted something when they came in contact with him. Rarely did they want just companionship or friendship. However, he had a feeling Essex Sinclair was different. In fact, he thought that perhaps Essex Sinclair was exactly as she seemed, a beautiful woman with a good heart. Was it true? The thought was disturbing, because Max had not met any such people in his life before.

  “Your bandages are not too tight.”

  He tried not to react as her finger slid under the bindings and touched his skin.

  “Your body has suffered a trauma, sir, it will likely be painful for some time. But to ensure a full recovery, you must rest.”

  Max schooled his features to look solemn. “I shall try to do as you say, Essex.”

  “Miss Sinclair,” she chided him, but it was accompanied by a sweet smile. He felt as if he’d received a treasure.

  Christ. What the hell is happening to me. Has she created some potion to enslave me?

  “Essex,” he said, a bit more sharply than intended. “I will call you that.”

  Her lips tightened, but she said nothing, and then left the room.

  Max had learned early that to survive you had to be the strongest and meanest of those around you. He’d become that and more. He was never weak, and subtleties and gentleness were beyond him.

  Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he made himself stand. Dizziness had him holding one of the posts. When his head steadied, he made himself walk slowly around the room. He needed to be ready to leave here, and to do that he had get his strength back.

  “I often marvel at the stupid acts of men. I can now add you to the top of that list, sir.”

  Essex was standing in the doorway, hands on hips, green eyes fired with anger. Max wanted to go to her, to wrap an arm around her slender waist and kiss that angry snarl off her lips. Instead he made himself walk back to the bed.

  “I need to keep my strength up, as I must leave here soon.”

  “I told you to rest.”

  “I do not take orders from anyone.”

  “Then leave my house, for I have no wish for you to stay if you will not accept my word.”

  She had not yelled, but he heard the anger in each word. She then left him again. Minutes later he heard the front door shut. Easing himself gently back into the bed, Max felt his heart thudding hard in his chest, as if he had been running. He was weak, there was no doubting that, but he was never laid low for long; this would be no different.

  Max had not had a woman speak to him as Essex Sinclair just had in many years, and wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about it... or her. The smile that shaped his lips told him that perhaps he liked it. Her anger was refreshing. He would need to apologize, of course.

  His smile grew.

  He must have dozed, because when he woke he heard voices in the room next to the one he lay in.

  “I’ll not be getting off it, Elder Sinclair. I need to tend my animals.”

  Curious, Max threw back the covers and was about to get out of bed when a man entered. He had the look of the other one who had brought him his morning meal, well-built with the same smile.

  “Good day to you, sir, my name is Bertie.”

  Max nodded.

  “I would not advise you to leave your bed yet, as Miss Essex was most displeased when she found you walking about earlier.”

  “I wish to stand.” Max didn’t take orders.

  “You’ll not be strong enough to.”

  Max slid his legs to the floor. As he pushed upright, his head swam again and he grabbed the bedpost.

  “Are you wishing to go anywhere particular?”

  “What’s going on in there?” He nodded to the doorway through which he’d heard the noise.

  “Miss Essex is treating a patient.”

  Hating to admit he was feeling weak, and hating to have another man see him in such a state, he rested a hip on the bed.

  “She is the only healer nearby?”

  “There is an elderly lady in the next village, but as that’s a full day’s ride, the locals from Crunston Cliff are happy to have Miss Essex back. Her family have been here for centuries, and one has always been a healer.”

  “Back?”

  The man’s face remained pleasant, but his eyes were suddenly guarded. Loyalty in a servant was an excellent thing, even if it stopped Max getting the information he wanted.

  “Can I send word to anyone to collect you, sir?”

  “No, there is no one.” Max continued to endorse the fact he was alone. “Is my horse still here?”

  “Yes, we have settled it in the paddock behind the stable. Now, if you need no further help returning to bed, I shall leave you.”

  Max waited until the man had left, and then struggled back into bed. He then listened for the next two hours as Essex treated people. He caught snatches of conversation; there was a boil on a knee, a pain in the stomach. A small child had hurt her wrist, and another had an infected cut. The man she treated now was being lectured, and not liking it one bit.

  “You’ll not be telling me to stop, Miss Sinclair. I have no time to sit about like a lady drinking tea.”

  “All ladies do not sit about drinking tea, Mr. Clever. Some of us are even intelligent enough to raise families, run households, and work.”

  Her words were clipped and colder than a winter’s day, and had Max smiling. He wished he could see the fire in her green eyes.

  “While I would not care if your health affected only you, I do care about your wife and five children. Therefore, I am telling you that if you do not take today to rest, you will have to do so for a great many more if your injury gets infected and your stitches tear. Now, I have no intention of seeing my work ruined, so if your wife cannot talk some sense into you, then I will tell your mother, and she will.”

  “Oh now, there’s no need to do that, surely?”

  “There is every need if you do not immediately go home. And I shall be checking.”

  Max muffled his snort of laughter. Lord, what a woman.

  “I-I’ll be heading home at once then, Miss Sinclair.”

  “A very sensible move, Mr. Clever.”

  Her next patient was a woman called Emily Brunt. Her voice was soft, and Essie talked to her gently, so he could not pick up a great deal of the conversation, except that she had lost another child, and that was when the smile fell from his lips. Essie talked to the woman for some time, and then Max heard sniffing, which suggested the woman was weeping. He closed his eyes. Crying women were something he had never been able to tolerate.

  Chapter Four

  “I have food.” She came a
fter her patients had gone, with the shaggy dog on her heels, and settled a tray on his lap. Her expression was polite, and held none of the fire he’d seen or heard in her while she was treating her patients. She’d changed her dress, and this one was lavender. No lace or frills, no ribbons or trimming. Just a plain dress that fitted her lovely breasts and fell to the floor. Her hair was in a braid and hung over her shoulder. A piece of wool was tied around the end.

  “Do you not have ribbons?”

  “Pardon?” She lowered the teapot and looked at him.

  “You have wool tied around your braid.”

  “Ribbons come undone.”

  “Then you have some?”

  She nodded. “Why do you ask?”

  “You do not dress extravagantly, and I wondered if you do not have the funds to do so.”

  She laughed. More a giggle, actually, and it was a lovely sound. Her face softened and her eyes twinkled, and Max felt the urge to sigh. But as he was not one who did so, he gritted his teeth instead. The woman was far too appealing.

  “My brother is a baron. And while we once did not have money, I assure you that is no longer the case. I like to live simply when I am here, and there is nothing more to it than that.”

  Her family were nobility. He searched his memory for a Lord Sinclair, and located one. Why had he not connected them? It was unlike Max to not do so. This woman had robbed his wits.

  “I intended no insult,” he said in a gruff voice. “You would look beautiful in a sack.”

  She blushed, the color filling her cheeks. Max grabbed her arm as she turned to leave, and his fingers slid down to circle her slender wrist.

  “You are beautiful, Essex.”

  “H-how does your injury feel this afternoon, sir?”

  She still did not believe him, and it frustrated him that she could not see what he could.

  “It is better, thank you.” Max did not pursue the matter. It wasn’t his way to do so. The problem was, he had found himself doing and thinking differently since arriving in this house and meeting this woman. He cared that she did not see her beauty, and that was not like him. Max cared for nothing and no one.

  “Excellent.” She laid a palm on his forehead. He felt something when she touched him, a tingling through his body, and what followed could only be described as hunger. He had known her for less than a day, and he wanted this woman with a desperation he’d never before experienced.

  Why?

  He had lain with plenty of women, and most were wealthy and bored. Some of noble birth, others, daughters and wives of rich merchants. All dressed in expensive gowns and smelled of sweet perfumes. Essex Sinclair smelled of her herb garden, and wore frumpy gowns, and her hair in a single braid that hung to her waist. What the hell was her allure?

  “And you have no pain?”

  “No.” He snapped out the word with more force than was required because she unsettled him. The dog growled at his tone, so he glared at it.

  “What is that animal’s problem?”

  “Myrtle is an excellent judge of character. She also does not like raised voices.”

  “She needs a haircut.”

  “No, what she needs is a wash after Cam threw a mug of tea over her.”

  The dog looked from Max to her mistress and back to him again.

  “Now, sir, rest is the best—”

  “God’s blood, call me Max, woman.” He reached for her as she turned away. Wrapping his fingers around her waist, he pulled her back. “After what we have shared, I insist upon it.”

  “Let me go, please.”

  He didn’t; instead he gave her a tug, and tumbled her onto his chest. Before she could say anything, his lips were on hers. One of his hands cupped her head, the other her waist, and the feel of her pressed to his chest made his head swim. He’d wanted this, her lips pressed to his, since this morning when he’d woken with her in his arms.

  “Essex,” Max sighed into her mouth. He gentled the kiss, coaxed instead of demanded, and soon he felt her response, but it was her tears that stopped him.

  “Why are you crying?” He held her shoulders, her face close to his. Tears spilled over her lids and down her cheeks. “Tell me.” His words came out raspy as he brushed the tears aside.

  “I-I don’t want this.”

  “This, being kisses? This, being held by a man who wants you very much?”

  She managed a nod, but her eyes remained on his, almost as if she was begging him to understand what she had not said.

  “You are a stranger. I know nothing about you, and yet….”

  “You are aware of something between us, as am I,” Max finished for her.

  “How is that even possible when we have known each other no more than a day?”

  Max shook his head, unable to answer. It was a mystery to him also.

  “I would never hurt you, Essex.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “You can’t know that,” Max said, contradicting himself. “And it is wrong of you to trust so easily.”

  “I have known bad men, and you are nothing like him. I can sense that if nothing else.”

  Him. Jealousy and rage lanced through him. Someone had held her like this. Kissed her soft, sweet lips. The thought made him furious.

  “Who hurt you? Tell me his name.”

  She braced her hands on his chest and pushed back, and Max reluctantly released her.

  “It matters not. What matters is that I will never allow a man to break me as he did.”

  “Any man who would hurt you is no man at all, Essex,” Max said, taking her hand in his. Lifting it to his lips, he kissed the palm. “Tell me his name and I will make him pay.”

  “He is dead. Now I must go, another patient has arrived.”

  She was lying; no one had arrived, because Max would have heard them.

  “Max.” She turned back at the door.

  “Yes.”

  “I understand you have no place to go, and no one to tend you, so please stay here as long as you wish.”

  The words humbled him. That she would offer her home in such a way when he had just kissed her was foolish and far too trusting. She knew nothing about him, yet he knew so much about this woman already. He should not be surprised that she would open her home to a stranger.

  Essex Sinclair was everything he was not. Innocent and caring, and from a noble family. He would be best to leave here now, today, and ride as far away from the beguiling woman as he could.

  He heard a snuffle and found the dog beside his bed.

  “Your mistress has left, I suggest you follow her.”

  She jumped on the bed and planted two paws on his chest, then stared at him through strange blue eyes. Max lifted a hand and stroked the long silken fur, then scratched the dog behind the left ear.

  “Myrtle is a ridiculous name for a dog.”

  She whined softly and closed her eyes as he continued to scratch. He’d never had a pet, and saw no need for one.

  “And now you can leave,” he said when he’d finished. Instead the dog leaned forward and licked his cheek, before going to the end of the bed and turning a few circles before lying down. She then huffed out a breath and closed her eyes.

  “As long as you’re comfortable,” he muttered, moving his feet. “Don’t mind me.”

  He needed to get away from Essex Sinclair and this place. Away from her soft, caring hands and beauty. Being near her had made him weak, and Max would never allow himself to be that again.

  Chapter Five

  Max slept, and when he woke he felt a great deal better. The sky told him it was dusk, and the rumble in his stomach told him it was time to fill it.

  Nudging the still slumbering animal off his feet, he received a sleepy-eyed look, then her tail thumped by way of a greeting.

  “You are a lazy creature. Surely there are rabbits to hunt?”

  Another thump, followed by a yawn that made him smile.

  “What am I doing?” he muttered. “I have never smil
ed as much as I have since arriving in this place.” He could not remember a time when he had rested so much, either, even with a bullet hole in his side. He needed to leave here; Oak’s Knoll was making him vulnerable.

  The sound of raised voices had him swinging his legs out of bed and standing. Myrtle huffed out a breath and joined him. Had the brother returned?

  “I’ll not have you near her!” The loudest voice was angry. Pulling on the clean shirt Essie had left him, he walked slowly out the door with the dog on his heels. Cursing the pain in his side with every step, he made his way up the hallway.

  “You may have others in the village fooled, but I know you Sinclairs are dangerous. I’ve seen things happen that shouldn’t, and unlike others I won’t ignore them. You’re a witch, and I’m here to tell you to stay away from my wife, or I’ll see to it others know what you are!”

  Max increased his pace as anger gave him strength and took away the pain. Only one woman, beside the maid, lived in this house. And no one had the right to call that sweet creature a witch.

  “Your wife is sick, Mr. Brunt, and unless she is treated, allowed to rest, and left alone by you, she will not heal.”

  Essie’s words were calm, like she was speaking to one of her bloody patients instead of an angry man. Where the hell was the brother? Had he yet to return?

  “Back away, Mr. Brunt,” Josiah said, sounding nothing like the man who had tended him earlier. There was now a mean edge to his voice that Max liked.

  “I’ll make you see reason!”

  Max reached the doorway, and parted the Hemple brothers by placing a hand on each shoulder. He then stepped between them and around Essie in time to see a burly, angry man coming toward her with a hand raised. He didn’t speak, just acted. He plowed his fist into the man’s jaw, sending him backward to land on his ass.

  “Max!”

  Ignoring Essie’s shriek and the hands she wrapped around his arm, he walked forward, taking her with him.

  “Never speak to her that way again! Never darken this door, never even look at her!” Max roared, reaching down to grab the man. “She tends the sick for no other reason than she is kindhearted. How bloody dare you be anything but nice to her!”