He darted to another clump of bushes and reloaded his musket. Simon’s first shot had felled one of the greencoats. Greville and Pugsley remained. They took cover and discharged their weapons. Smoke betrayed their location, and Matthias took another shot.
A second shot rang out. Simon. The boy was doing well. If only Jacob could last ’til this was over.
He moved silently toward the enemy. If Simon kept them busy, he could circle behind them and take them by surprise. As he approached the bank on the far side of the mill, a glimpse of red appeared behind some tall grass. It was Pugsley, crawling on his belly toward the next cluster of swamp holly. A wide oak tree grew behind it.
Matthias slipped behind the oak tree and waited. Timing is everything. The soft scraping noise drew nearer. He spotted Pugsley’s black boots dragging through the grass.
He lay down his musket and eased around the tree. Pugsley had risen to his knees behind the holly, his musket raised to the shoulder.
Matthias pounced, grasping Pugsley’s musket in his hands and ramming it against the man’s throat. The redcoat squirmed and kicked. Matthias clenched his teeth and squeezed harder. He couldn’t afford to let Pugsley cry out.
The squirming stopped, and the body sagged against him. Matthias swallowed hard and released him. He could berate himself later. For now, Jacob was still in danger.
The gunshots continued, indicating that Simon and Greville were still alive. Matthias collected his musket and Pugsley’s and moved toward the riverbank, keeping low. Greville’s green coat made him hard to spot. He must have removed his helmet.
Voices came from the river, and Matthias glanced at the wheel. Caroline. He blinked, hoping the sight would disappear. No, she was still there, straddling the wooden beam where Jacob was tied. Stunned, he watched her ascend into the air. Panic struggled with admiration. She was crazed. She was amazing.
“We meet again,” Greville spoke behind him.
He heard the click of the hammer. Damn. Greville was ready to shoot. Matthias slowly straightened with his back to the enemy, his fingers grazing the handle of his knife. Timing wasn’t in his favor this time. He’d be shot before he could throw the knife. He could only hope that Simon could see them.
“The partisans are on their way,” he lied. “You should escape while you can.”
“I plan to escape,” Greville said. “But I want my knife back first. And I want you dead.”
Matthias gripped the knife in his hand. “Be careful what you wish for.”
A shot exploded. Matthias spun around as Greville cried out. A musket ball had skimmed his arm, causing him to drop his musket.
Matthias threw the knife, and it thudded into Greville’s chest. Greville slumped to his knees, a dazed look clouding his eyes.
Thank God Simon had taken a shot. Matthias lunged forward to retrieve Greville’s musket.
Greville grasped the knife handle in his hand. “My father gave it to me,” he whispered, then collapsed onto the ground.
Matthias glanced back at the river. Jacob was hanging from the waterwheel by his right hand. He disappeared beneath the water, and Caroline followed him.
“No!” Matthias ripped the knife from Greville’s chest and charged into the river. He swam toward the wheel, then took a deep breath and dove.
They were hard to see in the murky water. Caroline was clinging to the rope, sawing at it with her knife. He pushed her hands aside and inserted his sharper knife. She kicked her legs and swam for the surface. With one sharp slice, he severed the rope and pulled Jacob away from the wheel.
His body was limp. Panic squeezed at the last of Matthias’s breath. Dropping his knife, he grasped Jacob under the shoulders and swam for the surface.
Caroline was there, treading water. “Is he all right?”
“No,” Matthias gasped. He swam for the bank with his brother in his arms. Caroline helped him drag Jacob out of the water.
“Jacob!” He slapped at his face. “Breathe, dammit!” He flipped him over and shoved at his back. How could he lose him now? “Don’t die on me, Jacob! Don’t leave me.”
Water spewed from Jacob’s mouth. He coughed and gasped for air.
“Jacob.” Caroline brushed his hair back from his brow. “You’re all right. You’re safe now.” She glanced at Matthias with tears in her eyes. “And you’re safe, too.”
“Is it over?” Jacob murmured. “Are they gone?”
“Yes,” Matthias answered. “Can you stand?”
Caroline gasped.
Matthias looked up.
Hickman was standing before them, a flintlock pistol in his hand. Blood stained his coat, seeping from a stomach wound. His hand trembled slightly. “Matthias Murray Thomas, I assume. I’ve been waiting for you.”
“It is over,” Caroline said. “Leave us be.”
“I have just enough strength to kill one man before I die.” Hickman aimed his pistol at Matthias. “And I mean to take you with me.”
A swooshing sound split the air, followed by a thunk.
Hickman jolted, then crumbled to his knees and fell forward on his face. An arrow protruded from his back.
Matthias jumped to his feet. “Who’s there?”
Betsy emerged from the woods, a crossbow in her hands, her eyes glazed with a distant look. “The redcoats killed my family. All of them.”
The crossbow tumbled from her hands. Her gaze drifted to Hickman’s body, and she stepped back as if shocked at what she had done.
Matthias moved toward her. “It was you, wasn’t it? You saved my life before?”
Her gaze traveled to Matthias, but appeared unfocused. “They killed my family. They kill everyone. I had to stop them.”
“Betsy?” Simon ran from the woods. “Betsy, is that you?”
She turned at the sound of his voice.
Simon gasped with a choking sound and dropped his musket. “Betsy. ’Tis me, Simon.”
She shook her head. “You’re dead. You’re all dead.”
“I escaped and joined the army. I didn’t die. I thought you were dead.”
Betsy blinked and focused on Simon’s face. “Simon? You’re alive?”
Simon ran toward her with such force that his embrace knocked them both to the ground. His laughter mixed with the halting sound of Betsy’s sobs.
He grinned at Matthias. “She’s my sister!”
Caroline sniffed. She picked her petticoat off the ground and wiped her nose with it. “Is it really over?” she asked for the tenth time.
Matthias rolled a stocking up her leg. “Yes. Are you all right now?”
She dried her face. “I think so.” Betsy’s reunion with her brother had started the flow of her tears. Then when she realized that everyone she loved had survived the latest ordeal, her tears had degenerated into sobs. She inhaled a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’ve had a bad day.”
Matthias fastened the garter around her thigh. “I would call it a good day. We’re all alive.”
“Yes, but ’tis not a day I would care to repeat.”
“You need some rest. We’ll go my uncle’s home—”
“Oh, I do need to go there. My sister and Dottie are headed that way with the children.”
“Good. Then they’ll be there when we arrive.” He slipped on her shoe. “You know, I’ll be tempted to take liberties with you tonight. Perhaps we should marry first.”
Caroline studied Matthias. He knelt beside her in soggy clothes with his dark hair loose about his tanned face, a handsome man, a fierce soldier who was gently helping her dress. He plucked her other stocking from the ground. She hid a smile at the sight of her delicate underclothes in his strong, calloused hands.
All her anger over his deception had dissipated in the face of death. Life was too short and too precious to waste in anger. And even though she had sworn
to avoid the war and avoid soldiers, she had learned the painful lesson that none of them was safe. None of them could hide. They could only cherish each moment they had together.
He glanced at her. “You will marry me, won’t you?”
“Marry a soldier? I don’t know. I had my heart set on marrying a butler.”
His mouth twitched. “Only because you wish to order me about.”
“Perhaps.” She wiggled her bare toes at him. “You do make a fairly decent maid.”
“Yes, madam.” He slipped on her other stocking. With a slow smile, he smoothed it up her leg. “In case you’re interested, I provide a full range of services.”
She snorted. “I have sampled your services before.”
“That was only an appetizer.” He tied the garter above her knee. “Would you care for the next course?” He caressed the inside of her thigh.
She slapped at his hand. “Not now. The setting is hardly romantic.”
He withdrew his hand with an injured look. “But I am always on call, madam.”
“Have you forgotten there are a number of dead bodies lying about? It rather dampens the mood. At least for me.”
He glanced over his shoulder. “Damned redcoats, always interfering. We’d better leave before Tarleton comes looking for his men.” He took hold of her hands and pulled her to her feet.
She stepped into her petticoat and raised it to her waist. With her damp skirt bundled in her hands, she asked, “Can you tie the laces for me?”
With a groan, he stepped behind her. “I’d much rather be taking clothes off. There. Done.”
She smoothed down her wet skirts. “I must be one horrid-looking bride.”
“Then you agree to marry?”
“Yes, of course. But don’t let it go to your head. It may be the last thing we ever agree on.”
With a grin, he led her down the path to the Great House. What was left of the Great House. Simon and Betsy were there, their arms still around each other. Jacob stood there with the horses.
Caroline gazed at the smoking ruins. Only the brick chimneys reached out of the ashes toward the sky. “I’m sorry about your home, Matthias. Do you plan to rebuild it someday?”
He shook his head. “I should feel sad, but I don’t. It was never a life I wanted.”
“It is still your property,” Jacob reminded him. “What about your oath to your grandfather?”
“Our grandfather,” Matthias said. “My exact words were his land would be in good hands. And since I’m a wanted man, I believe your hands are the best choice. I’ve heard you have some ideas?”
Jacob blinked. “Yes, I do. But you realize I’ll want to free the slaves?”
“I’m counting on it.”
“Thank you.” Jacob’s grin faded. “How will you live?”
“I suppose I’ll have to start over. I may need some of the silver hidden in the kitchen, if you don’t mind.” Matthias turned to Caroline. “Will you have a poor man for a husband?”
She laughed. “I thought you were poor when I fell in love with you.”
Betsy grinned at her brother. “I may be poor, but I feel like the most fortunate person on earth. I have my brother, alive and well.”
Matthias extended a hand to Jacob. “I am fortunate also to have a brother.”
Jacob grasped his hand, his eyes glimmering with tears.
Caroline smiled. “We have family. And love. What else could we need?”
“Liberty.” Matthias pulled her into his arms. “And we’ll be taking that soon enough. Trust me.”
She leaned her cheek against his shoulder. “I do.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
A former tap dancer and high school French teacher, New York Times bestselling author KERRELYN SPARKS has always searched for creative ways to express herself. A prolific reader since childhood, she discovered that writing her own stories provided the ideal way to combine her love of comedy, language, and history. And what a relief that the voices in her head have led to a paycheck instead of a padded room! A native Texan, Kerrelyn lives with her husband and children in the Greater Houston area.
Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins authors.
By Kerrelyn Sparks
Less Than a Gentleman
Wild About You
The Forbidden Lady
Wanted: Undead or Alive
Sexiest Vampire Alive
Vampire Mine
Eat Prey Love
The Vampire and the Virgin
Forbidden Nights With a Vampire
Secret Life of a Vampire
All I Want for Christmas Is a Vampire
The Undead Next Door
Be Still My Vampire Heart
Vamps and the City
How to Marry a Millionaire Vampire
Give in to your impulses . . .
Read on for a sneak peek at four brand-new
e-book original tales of romance from Avon Books.
Available now wherever e-books are sold.
THE MAD EARL’S BRIDE
By Loretta Chase
WANTED: WIFE
By Gwen Jones
A WEDDING IN VALENTINE
A VALENTINE VALLEY NOVELLA
By Emma Cane
FLING
A BDSM EROTICA ANTHOLOGY
By Sara Fawkes, Cathryn Fox, and Lauren Hawkeye
An Excerpt from
THE MAD EARL’S BRIDE
(Originally appeared in the print anthology Three Weddings and a Kiss)
by Loretta Chase
Gwendolyn Adams is about to propose to an earl. On his deathbed. Because she comes from a long line of infamous heir breeders, she is being offered up as the last chance to save a handsome aristocrat’s dying line.
The Earl of Rawnsley is in for the shock of his life: a surprise bride. No one asked him what he wanted, but if he may die, he most certainly does not want to spend his last days breeding . . . no matter how tempting and infuriating Gwendolyn may be . . .
“The name is Adams,” she said. “Gwendolyn Adams.”
He scowled. “Miss Adams, I should like to know whether you are trying to convince me to marry you or to kill myself.”
“I merely wished to point out how pointless it is, in the circumstances, to quibble about our respective character flaws,” she said. “And I wished to be honest with you.”
A wicked part of her did not wish to be honest. She realized he was worried about his male urges clouding his judgment. The wicked part of her was not simply hoping the urges would win; it was also tempting her to encourage them with the feminine tactics other girls employed.
But that was not fair.
They had turned into the narrow drive leading to the stables. Though the rain beat harder now, Gwendolyn was aware mainly of the beating of her own heart.
She did not want to go away defeated, yet she did not want to win by unfair means.
She supposed the display of her limbs—however much her immodest mode of riding had been dictated by the need for haste and the unavailability of a sidesaddle—constituted unfair means.
Consequently, as they rode into the stable yard, she headed for the mounting block.
But Rawnsley was off his horse before she reached it, and at the gelding’s side in almost the same moment.
In the next, he was reaching up and grasping her waist.
His hands were warm, his grasp firm and sure. She could feel the warmth spreading outward, suffusing her body, while she watched the muscles of his arms bunch under the wet, clinging shirtsleeves.
He lifted her up as easily as if she’d been a fairy sprite. Though she wasn’t in the least anxious that he’d drop her, she grasped his powerful shoulders. It was reflex. Instinctive.
He looked down at her, and his intent yellow gaze trapped her own, making her heart pound harder yet.
“The time will come when I will have no power over you,” he said, his low tones making her nerve ends tingle. “When my mind crumbles, little witch, I shall be at your mercy. Believe me, I’ve considered that. I’ve asked myself what you will do with me then, what will become of me.”
At that moment, one troubling question was answered.
He was aware of the danger he was in. His fears were the same as those she felt for him. His reason was still in working order.
But he continued before she could reassure him.
“I can guess what will happen, but it doesn’t seem to matter, because I’m the man I always was. A death sentence has changed nothing.” His hands tightened on her waist. “You should have left me in the mire,” he told her, his eyes burning into her. “It was not pleasant—yet Providence does not grant all its creatures a pretty and painless demise. And I’m ready enough for mine. But you came and fished me out, and now . . .”
He let go abruptly and stepped back. “It’s too late.”
He was in no state to listen to the reassurances, Gwendolyn saw. If he was angry with himself and didn’t trust that self, he was not likely to trust anything she said. He would believe she was humoring him, as though he were a child.
And so she gave a brisk, businesslike nod. “That sounds like a yes to me,” she said. “Against your better judgment, evidently, but a yes all the same.”
“Yes, drat you—drat the lot of you—I’ll do it,” he growled.
“I am glad to hear it,” she said.
“Glad, indeed. You’re desperate for your hospital, and I’m the answer to your maidenly prayers.” He turned away. “I’m desperate, too, it seems. After a year’s celibacy, I should probably agree to marry your grandmother, Devil confound me.”
He strode down the pathway to the house.
An Excerpt from
Less Than a Gentleman Page 32