The Wrong Girl

by CJ Archer

Langley met us in the courtyard on our arrival. He sat in his wheelchair, his hands folded in his lap. Bollard stood behind him, staring straight ahead. When we strolled up to them, Langley's hands moved from his lap to the wheels as if he would push himself forward, but quickly returned to his lap again. He scrutinized each of us in turn before finally settling on Jack's swollen lip.

  "You're back," was all he said. "Tommy told me you were successful in your endeavors."

  "Oh Uncle, it was awful!" Sylvia bent down and hugged him. It was awkward with him sitting, and she seemed not to know where to put her arms. Langley was equally ill at ease. He patted her back as if she were a puppy that had just fetched his slippers for the first time.

  She wiped the tears from her cheeks then went to move away. He caught her hand and kept her at his side.

  "It's cold out here," he said. "Mrs. Moore will bring tea to us in the parlor. Tell me everything there."

  He continued to hold Sylvia's hand as Bollard wheeled him inside. He must have been concerned after all and relieved to see us again. The only time I'd seen him outside, or indeed downstairs, was on the night of the fire. Neither his old room nor his new one were on the ground floor. He must have seen us coming up the drive and had Bollard bring both him and the wheelchair down to meet us. My eyes pricked with tears, until I realized that he hadn't been eager to see us again, only his niece and nephew. Or perhaps only Sylvia. Aside from frowning at Jack's cuts and bruises, he'd not paid his nephew much attention.

  We sat in the small parlor that we'd been using since the night of the fire. It no longer smelled musty. A low fire warmed it, keeping the chill out of the air I suppose, although I'd never known what a chill really felt like. Some of Sylvia's paintings now decorated the walls and her embroidered cushions sat plump and inviting on the sofa. Tea arrived shortly after us, brought in by Tommy, not Mrs. Moore. It was odd to see him all stiff and formal again. Aside from a quick glance at each of us, he resumed his blank, footman's gaze. I found it most irritating.

  "It's good to see you, Tommy," I said, smiling. "Have you suffered any ill effects from the fire?"

  "No, Miss Smith."

  "I thought we agreed you would call me Hannah now."

  He splashed tea over the side of a cup and looked at Langley. "I, uh, don't feel right calling you anything other than what's proper."

  "I agree," Sylvia said. She lifted her chin, but it didn't hide the quick glance she shot at Tommy and the slight blush to her cheeks. "Whatever transpired in London should remain there."

  "How can you say that?" I said. "The four of us formed a bond at Tate's factory. You can't deny it."

  "She'll try her hardest," Jack muttered.

  "Circumstances in London were...unique," she said. "Never to be repeated. Besides, just because we all endured a nasty experience together doesn't mean we can allow social mores to lapse. I know you don't fully understand the importance of keeping everyone in their place, Hannah, having lived your entire life in an attic among a total of two people. You'll simply have to trust me. It's important. Isn't that right, Uncle?" She faced her uncle, but her gaze slid between him and Tommy.

  The footman was too busy pouring the tea to notice, but he did seem more rigid than usual.

  "Social order is everything," Langley agreed. "The opposite is chaos."

  Behind him, Bollard's nostrils flared. Tommy left, carrying the tray with him.

  "Tell me what happened," Langley said. "Tommy informs me they arrived before you, Jack. Where were you?"

  "I'd gone to the Harborough constabulary immediately after leaving here," Jack said. "I had to wait for that fool of an inspector to return, and then I wasted more time trying to convince him to come with me to London. He refused." He shook his head. "I wish I hadn't bothered."

  "You tried to do the right thing," I said. Sylvia and I had already told him so in the carriage when he spoke of his reasons for his delay, but he hadn't accepted it then and it still seemed to rankle now.

  "I went to the Hackney Wick authorities as soon as I arrived in London," he went on. "There was no point confronting Tate without a witness. I had to wait at the police station there too, and then when the inspector did return, I spent some time apprising him of the case against Tate. He agreed to come with me, albeit reluctantly."

  "It was a good thing he did," I said.

  "When we arrived, we heard noises coming from the factory. The fire had already taken hold, and Tate..." He swallowed heavily and looked at me.

  "Tell me about the fire," Langley asked.

  "Tate started that," I said. "He accidentally emitted sparks from his fingers. You didn't tell us he was a fire starter too. It would have helped, you know."

  "Perhaps," Langley said and sipped his tea. I was reminded of Tate casually drinking tea in his parlor and avoiding our questions. The similarity sent a shiver down my spine.

  "That's why he wanted Hannah, isn't it?" Jack asked. "Because he's a fire starter too and he wanted to...study her." From the lack of shock on his face, I suspected he'd been thinking about it the entire journey home. As had I.

  Sylvia, however, gasped and almost dropped her teacup. "You think he wanted to dissect her to find a cure?" She turned quite pale. "Now I regret reading that book on biology last year."

  "I'm not sure about dissection," Langley said. "But I do think he wanted to use her in some way." He frowned into his teacup. Something troubled him and from the look on his face, I'd wager he'd just thought of something he didn't know the answer to. The scientist in him must hate it.

  Jack rose and stood over his uncle, his clenched fists at his sides. When he spoke, it was low and his jaw hardly moved. "You knew Tate wanted to use Hannah and yet you let her come after me?"

  "I didn't let Hannah go," Langley said. "She went without permission. In case you haven't noticed, the girl has a will of her own and tends to follow it without thinking things through."

  "I resent the accusation," I said. "I would not have gone if I'd known Tate was a fire starter himself." Probably not. Maybe. "Perhaps you ought to keep us all apprised of the villains you've fallen out with, Mr. Langley. Keeping secrets helps no one."

  "Are you quite finished?" he said.

  I sipped my tea. Jack moved to the window and leaned against the sill. He stared out to the abbey ruins beyond. Perhaps he was desperate to get into the cool air, to exercise the stiffness from his joints and the demons from his mind.

  "How did Tate know about me?" I asked Langley. "When I introduced myself, he seemed to recognize my name, as I think you did when I first told you I was Hannah Smith. But if Tate connected me to being a fire starter, shouldn't he have thought my name was Violet, as you presumed?"

  "Hannah Smith was the name of...someone we used to know. I didn't know you'd been given that name too. You were a baby when Reuben Tate and I first met you. You had no name then."

  What parents didn't give their child a name? My parents, it seemed. Parents who died soon after the birth of their child.

  "Is Hannah Smith my mother?"

  "No."

  "Then who is she?"

  He didn't answer and I let the matter drop. There were more pressing questions to ask. "Is that why you want me? To study me and find a cure for Jack?"

  "You are different than Jack. There'd be no point." It wasn't quite a no. "Tell me, was Reuben interested in Jack? Did he...want him the way he wanted you?"

  I shook my head. "Just me."

  Jack looked from me to Langley. He crossed his arms. "Why is that significant?"

  "Your abilities are different than Reuben's and Hannah's," Langley said. "You can control your fire. They cannot."

  "You've led us to believe that Hannah will learn."

  "That's because I think she will, in time."

  "But I didn't need to learn," Jack said quietly. "It's always been instinctive. I never questioned it too much, never thought too deeply about how it happened. Until I met you," he said to me. "Now I question everything."


  "Why are we different?" I asked Langley. "Why did Tate want me and not Jack?"

  "I can only guess it's because he thinks the cure for it is within you, not Jack. As to why Jack is different..." He sipped his tea. "I cannot say."

  "He said he knew Jack as a baby. That means you did too. Is that because Jack really is your nephew or because he was part of an experiment?"

  "I don't owe you an explanation about Jack, Hannah."

  I expected Jack to question him further, but he did not. Why?

  "Why does Tate want to be cured?" Sylvia asked, speaking after a long silence.

  "I suppose because of the unpredictability of it. It can make going about one's daily business difficult."

  "That is rather an understatement," I muttered. "Do you know why we three have this ability in the first place? There must be a reason."

  Langley shrugged one shoulder. "I cannot say."

  "Did you perform tests on us as children?"

  "No."

  "Was it something to do with a drug you were developing? Did you...change us somehow?"

  "I did nothing of the sort. You've read too many of those horror novels Sylvia likes so much. I am not Dr. Frankenstein."

  No, but sometimes I had the feeling I was the monster of the story.

  "Did it have something to do with the Society For Supernatural Activity?" Jack asked, moving back toward our cluster of chairs.

  Langley inclined his head. "He told you about it?"

  "Who are they?"

  "A group of men and women interested in the paranormal, those things which can't be explained by scientific means. Yet."

  "You don't believe in the supernatural?" I asked.

  He lifted his gaze to mine and held it. "I do believe, Hannah. I also think science can help us understand strange phenomena. It was an area I wanted to explore when I belonged to the Society years ago. Tate also belonged, and we researched some matters together. That's how we met."

  "What matters?"

  "The existence of spirits, angels, demons, that sort of thing."

  "Demons!" Sylvia cried. Her hand fluttered to her chest. "Good lord. Ghosts I can accept, but demons? Surely not."

  Langley didn't look at her. He didn't look at any of us. Bollard's hand curled around one handle of the wheelchair. The knuckles went white for a moment then he pulled away.

  "Do they exist?" I asked. My heart raced. I didn't know when it had begun to beat so furiously, but it seemed to want to know the answer to the question very badly.

  "I've found no proof to indicate they don't."

  "Isn't that the wrong way around? Shouldn't you be proving that they do?"

  "Members of the Society begin with the viewpoint that the supernatural is real."

  "Do you still belong to the Society?" Jack asked.

  "No. However, I have kept in touch with some current members. They come to me with questions every now and again."

  "Why you?"

  "I am the foremost microbiologist in the country."

  And the one with the highest opinion of himself.

  "Enough questions," he said, setting his teacup down on the table beside him. "Bollard."

  "Wait." I leapt off the sofa and rested my hand on his wheelchair arm. If Bollard wanted to push forward, he could, but he did not. "How did you know I was at Windamere Manor when Tate didn't?"

  He shook his head. "Bollard. Forward."

  Jack put his hand on the other wheelchair arm. Bollard didn't try to move off. It seemed I wasn't the only one who wanted to know the answer, but to have Bollard on my side in this was a complete surprise.

  Langley drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I sent you there to keep you away from Tate when you were a baby. I knew I couldn't trust him with you, knew he wanted to use you. I gave you to Lord Wade. He was a member of our Society and one of the few I could trust with a child's welfare."

  "His way of caring for a child included locking her in the attic for years," Jack said. "Perhaps you should have tried harder to find someone else."

  "I didn't expect him to do that, nor did I find out until very recently."

  "Why did Lord Wade keep me and his daughter locked up in the attic?" I asked. "Me, I understand. I was dangerous and I wasn't his child. But Violet? It doesn't make sense."

  "You'd have to ask him that. She's nothing to do with me."

  "Very well." One day I would do exactly that. "Did you hypnotize me and give me narcolepsy?"

  "No."

  I sighed. Another thing to ask Wade. "So why kidnap me now, Mr. Langley? Does it have anything to do with Tate suddenly needing me?"

  "He's always needed you. There's nothing sudden about it."

  I was a little shocked and withdrew my hand from the chair arm.

  "But not quite as badly as he needs her now," Jack muttered. "Because he's known where you live for some time, August, yet he only stole your papers a few nights ago. He was looking for her, wasn't he? Looking for some way to find her? Isn't that right?"

  "I don't know. You'd have to ask Tate that question."

  I didn't plan on going anywhere near Tate. He would have to hang before I would completely relax again. "He thought I was dead," I said, recalling his words. "So I don't think he stole your papers in the hope of finding me. I think he was looking for a way to cure himself. He hoped you'd kept working on it. Indeed, he assumed you had."

  Langley looked surprised that I knew that much. "Perhaps."

  "So why did you send Jack to kidnap me now?" I asked.

  "The governess contacted me and asked me to remove you."

  "Miss Levine?" I'd known she was party to the secret that had been kept from me, but I'd not known she was aware of the connection to Langley.

  "She claimed that living in the attic was no life for either you or your friend."

  "That seems rather too kind of her," I muttered. And yet she didn't hate me, nor I her. We'd clashed often, but hate was a strong word that didn't fit our relationship.

  "I wish she'd told me you were the companion and not the daughter," he said, shaking his head. "When Bollard told me that he'd heard there were two of you confined to the attic, I naturally assumed you were being passed off as his daughter, and she the companion."

  "Is Vi his daughter?"

  "I don't know."

  "She may be illegitimate," Sylvia said. "Perhaps he's ashamed of her and what he did. What do you know of Lady Wade, Hannah? Did she look like Lady Violet?"

  "I don't know anything about her." Indeed I was beginning to question everything I thought I did know.

  "It was fortunate that you got the right girl in the end, Jack," Sylvia said cheerfully. "I'm certainly glad we have Hannah and not the other one. She sounds like she can't be trusted if she was indeed part of Hannah's kidnapping." The fact that most of the people in the room had been part of my kidnapping seemed to have escaped her notice.

  "That's not what you first thought when you found out we didn't have an earl's daughter under our roof," Jack said.

  She sniffed. "Don't be ridiculous." She smiled at me and patted my arm. "Hannah is delightful company. I can't imagine anyone else I'd rather have as my friend."

  I smiled at her, but it wavered a little when I recalled Vi saying something very similar.

  "Why did you take her and not Violet?" Sylvia asked Jack.

  "The governess described the one to collect, but gave me no name. She simply called her 'that fire girl.' Nor did she tell me the one I wanted was the companion and not the lady." The color of his eyes deepened as his gaze held mine. "Besides, I felt a connection with Hannah. It was like I was being pulled toward her. What better evidence is there that we are alike?"

  "Then you must have felt the same connection to Tate."

  Jack said nothing. Langley, Sylvia and I turned to him. Even Bollard's gaze slid to Jack's.

  "No," Jack finally said. "I felt nothing around Tate. Only you, Hannah."

  A little jolt shot through m
e and my face heated. Only you. I smiled at him, and his lips quirked up at the edges. Then he frowned and looked down at his hands.

  "Those children have to be gone by tomorrow," Langley said.

  "What children?" Sylvia asked. "Oh, yes, Patrick's friends. Your friends," she said to Jack.

  We'd told him about the children coming to us, and how they had no adult to care for them. He'd expressed his concern that they might wind up thieving to survive. We'd come to the conclusion on the journey home that something needed to be done, but we'd not decided what.

  "Can't they stay here?" I asked.

  "Not all of them!" Sylvia said. "There's far too many, especially with half the house in ruins."

  "They're noisy and disruptive," Langley said. "I can't work with the two of them running about, let alone dozens."

  "We'll need to find somewhere for them in London," Jack said.

  "We ain't going to the workhouse!" The boy, Sniffles, stood in the doorway. He wiped the back of his hand across his nose. He looked neater than the first day he'd arrived. His hair had been combed flat and he wore clean clothes that were too large but looked warm.

  "I won't let you end up at the workhouse, Davey," Jack said, going to him. "There must be a charity school you can attend."

  Davey pulled a face. "I hate school."

  Jack made as if to clip him over the ear, but nudged him affectionately instead. "Go on. Go find Tommy and annoy him. Let us sort out where you'll go."

  "You sort it out, Jack," the boy said. He wrinkled his nose at Langley and Bollard. "Not them." He darted off.

  Frowning, Jack watched him go.

  "How many more of them are there?" I asked.

  "Dozens. I'd been sending Patrick money, and he was supposed to be taking care of them." He came back inside and shut the door. "There's no room for all of them here, even if they weren't disruptive, but there's no one to look after them in London. They'll have to be separated and families found for each of them."

  "Is it necessary to separate them?" I knew what it was like to be wrenched from the only family I knew, and I was eighteen. It would be horrible to do that to little children.

  "Is that even possible?" Sylvia asked.

  "It is with the right amount of money," Jack said. "No one will take in extra children without an incentive."

  "I'm not sure you'd encourage people with good hearts that way," I said. "The greedy ones, on the other hand, would be falling over themselves."

  Langley grunted. "I'll provide whatever is needed."

  Bollard said something to Langley with his hands. The rapid movements were smooth and elegant, his fingers dexterous in their twisting and pointing. I'd never seen him communicate with Langley, it had always been the other way around. It made the servant more human, but only just.

  When Bollard finished, Langley closed his eyes. He didn't open them or speak for some time, and I grew anxious that he would dismiss us all and make the boys leave Frakingham. What Jack would do in that situation was anyone's guess.

  "There's a charity school in London," Langley finally said, opening his eyes. "Its patroness is a lady named Emily Beaufort, the wife of Jacob Beaufort. She's a most interesting woman, quite the sensation about eight years or so ago."

  "Why?"

  "She was a girl of dubious parentage who married the son of a prominent viscount."

  "Is that all?" Sylvia scoffed. "It may be unusual, perhaps a curiosity even, but to describe it as a sensation...hardly."

  "She can also communicate with ghosts."

  Sylvia snorted through her nose. "Are you serious?"

  "Have you ever known me to joke?"

  She paled. "No. But are you certain she's not a charlatan? I've read of many accounts in the papers where spirit mediums have turned out to be false."

  "You mean like the one you visited last year?" Jack asked.

  Sylvia gave him a withering glare. "I would have thought a viscount's daughter-in-law would conduct herself in a manner befitting her station."

  "So would I," Langley said.

  "What has her ability to see ghosts got to do with the charity school?" I asked.

  "Nothing," Langley said. "The two facts aren't connected. Why don't you write to her, Sylvia, and request she look into the situation with the children?"

  She brightened, and I suspected she was glad to be given something to do. She bustled out, and I followed. Jack remained behind.

  I went to my room to freshen up after the journey and ate a sandwich of cold meat delivered by one of the maids. I tried to rest too, but couldn't. The events of London were too fresh, too frightening. I went in search of Jack instead and wasn't surprised to find him near the lake. He stood with his back to me. The breeze ruffled the ends of his hair, but otherwise, he was very still. Serene. I didn't want to disturb him, so I turned to go.

  "Wait, Hannah." He was beside me in the moment it took me to turn back. "I'm glad you came. I wanted to talk to you."

  The now familiar warmth of desire spread through my body, lighting every part of me along the way. It didn't feel wrong or uncomfortable, but so very delicious.

  "Oh?" I whispered. "What about?"

  "About my past." He looked toward the ruins. "Come with me."

  We sat side by side on a low, crumbling wall of the old abbey. Jack's feet touched the ground, mine did not. I waited for him to begin again, even though I knew what he wanted to say. Tommy had already told me some of it, but I wanted to hear it from Jack's lips. He had to do this on his own, without prompting. It must be wholly his own decision.

  It meant so much more that way.

  "I used to live with those children in London. Tommy and I both did. I was one of them. An orphan with no home, nowhere to go. I don't remember a time before that. I had no family, or so I thought. Tate confirmed that they knew me as a baby, so that's something at least. Perhaps I really am Langley's nephew, although he won't say how I came to live on the streets."

  "You've asked?"

  "Yes. When I first got here, I would ask every day for information about my parents, my background, but he would give only evasive answers until finally he snapped altogether and threatened to send me back to the streets. I couldn't go back to that life. Not then. And now I'm just used to not knowing. I've decided I don't want to know."

  Because he might not like the answer. I nodded, understanding completely. "Tell me about being on the streets with the other children."

  "When we were small, the bigger children took care of us. We thieved for them, picked pockets, whatever we could to survive as a group. They were like a family to me, I suppose, but life was hard and some of those older children...they were cruel. But not to me. I had these." He waggled his fingers. "As I grew older and I realized the power it gave me, I began to take charge. Since I was the only one who could keep the entire group warm in winter, no one argued against me. Besides, I was a capable fighter by then."

  I nodded. I saw how good he was against Ham. That man had been huge, but Jack had held him off and got some swift punches in.

  "We had to steal to live," he said. "It never bothered me much. It was just something we did to survive. Then one day Bollard showed up and everything changed." He huffed out a wry laugh. "Most of the children were terrified of him. He gave me a note. It told me to go with Bollard, and I'd be given all the food I wanted and a warm bed. The warm bed wasn't so enticing, but the food was. Tommy insisted on coming with me, and when August tried to send him away, I refused to stay. If he had to go, I would too. August gave in, grudgingly."

  "What explanation did Langley give for thinking you were his nephew?"

  "He gave none. He said I was his nephew and my name was no longer Cutler. When I asked him how he found me, he said he simply asked the right people. Like I said, evasive answers."

  Neither of us spoke for a long time, but something bothered me. I didn't know how Jack would react when I asked, but I suspected it was something he'd already considered so I asked anyw
ay. "Do you think Mr. Langley made a mistake and got the wrong boy?"

  He shook his head. "He questioned me thoroughly about my parents. Their names, where they were from, what they looked like. I didn't remember them, but I own a knife with a distinctive handle. I assume it came from them as it's always been in my possession. I showed August, and he said he recognized it."

  "May I see it?"

  He blinked at me from beneath the hair that had tumbled over his forehead. "It's in my room."

  We hopped off the wall and walked as close to each other as possible without actually touching. It was enough to warm but not overheat me. Neither of us wore coats or gloves, and I doubted I ever would again. Miss Levine had tried to force me, but I no longer saw the point.

  "Jack," I said.

  "Hmmm?"

  "I'm so glad you abducted me."

  He chuckled. "So am I."

  "And thank you for telling me about your childhood."

  "It was either I tell you or you'd find out from Sylvia anyway. She has a loose tongue."

  I laughed and hoped he never found out it was Tommy who'd given me more information than Sylvia.

  I gazed up at Frakingham House ahead. The builders had begun to erect scaffolding on the eastern wing in preparation for the repairs, and already the network of wood and steel looked like a complex spider's web. A man stood on the driveway, his head tilted up to look at the burnt section of the house. A suitcase sat at his feet.

  "Who is that?" I asked.

  Jack squinted. "Gladstone?"

  "Good lord, it is. Samuel!" I called.

  He turned and I waved. He left his suitcase and came to meet us. "Good afternoon, Lady Violet, Mr. Langley." He tipped his hat. "What a pleasure it is to see you again."

  "Actually, my name is Hannah." At his raised brows, I added, "It's a long story to be told over tea. So what brings you to Frakingham?"

  "I hear they call this place Freak House." He shot a grim glance at the building. "I thought it might be somewhere I would fit in."

  Jack crossed his arms. "You mean to stay?"

  "I hoped to speak to Mr. August Langley and propose a research project."

  "How exciting," I said. "Are you not working with Dr. Werner anymore?"

  Samuel frowned. "No."

  "What makes you think August would be interested in your proposal, Mr. Gladstone?" Jack asked.

  "Call me Samuel. I believe your uncle has an interest in neuroscience. I thought perhaps he may want the chance to work with a real hypnotist."

  "August is very busy," Jack said. "And neuroscience is not his field of expertise."

  "I'd like to speak to him anyway."

  Jack held out his hand for Samuel to go ahead. We entered the house and Tommy showed Samuel up to Langley's room. Jack, Sylvia and I waited in the parlor.

  "How odd," Sylvia said. "I wonder why he left Dr. Werner's employ."

  "Perhaps he was thrown out," Jack said.

  Sylvia eyed him suspiciously. "You don't appear to like Mr. Gladstone very much. Why?"

  Jack looked to me then away. "He's too self-assured."

  It sounded so absurd coming from someone of equal confidence that I snorted a laugh. He glared at me.

  Finally Samuel returned. His smile was so broad it almost stretched to both ears.

  "What did he say?" Sylvia asked.

  "He said I may stay here while I conduct my research."

  Sylvia clapped her hands. "Splendid. It appears our little household is growing."

  "This is good news," I said, lifting my eyebrow at Jack in a challenge.

  After a moment, he sighed and clapped Samuel on the shoulder. "Welcome to Freak House."

  THE END

  PLAYING WITH FIRE, book 2 in the Freak House Trilogy, is now available for purchase.

  Interact with the characters from Freak House on Tumblr: https://freakhouseresidents.tumblr.com

  A message from the author

  I hope you enjoyed reading THE WRONG GIRL as much as I enjoyed writing it. As an independent author, getting the word out about my book is vital to its success, so if you liked this book please consider telling your friends and writing a review at the store where you purchased it. If you would like to be contacted when I release a new book, send an email to cjarcher.writes@gmail.com and I will subscribe you to my New Releases newsletter. You will only be contacted when I have a new book out.

  Other Books by C.J. Archer:

  The Wrong Girl (1st Freak House #1)

  Playing With Fire (1st Freak House #2)

  Heart Burn (1st Freak House #3)

  The Memory Keeper (2nd Freak House #1)

  The Medium (Emily Chambers Spirit Medium #1)

  Possession (Emily Chambers Spirit Medium #2)

  Evermore (Emily Chambers Spirit Medium #3)

  The Charmer (Assassins Guild #1)

  The Rebel (Assassins Guild #2)

  The Saint (Assassins Guild #3)

  Her Secret Desire (Lord Hawkesbury's Players #1)

  Scandal's Mistress (Lord Hawkesbury's Players #2)

  To Tempt The Devil (Lord Hawkesbury's Players #3)

  Honor Bound (The Witchblade Chronicles Book #1)

  Kiss Of Ash (The Witchblade Chronicles #2)

  Courting His Countess

  Surrender

  Redemption

  The Mercenary's Price

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR