Broken Legacy (Secret Lives Series)

by Colleen Connally

  It was not often he held a woman such as this in his arms. To most women Lord Julian Casvelyn was considered a rake. Although every season, one mother or another set their cap for him as a catch for their young daughter. Every year he disappointed those poor Mommas. He had no intention of pursuing on an innocent. In due time, he would do what was proper, marry and produce an heir, but that time had not come.

  Alyce stirred in his arms. He looked down upon her and she snuggled closer to him. She was an innocent. Of that he had no doubt. She hadn’t a clue to the danger of being in his arms at this moment...of how his desires had been roused. He should have said no to her when she asked for him to hold her, but he had long since lost control of the situation.

  She had brought out in him a protectiveness he had not felt in years...if ever. He thought it dead inside him. Looking down at her sleeping peacefully, the image of her standing by the fire emerged. Her figure illuminated beneath her gown from the firelight. Images of the possibilities with this beautiful woman in his arms in the early morning light stirred within him.

  She was not adverse to him. Where women were concerned, his instincts never failed him. No, she would never have slept so soundly in his arms. She trusted him. God Gawd! With a sudden remembrance he had told her to.

  He reasoned in all probability his grandfather had fulfilled an obligation to a solider under his former commander. There was no other logical explanation. She said she was prepared to accept her inheritance which would push her well passed the age for a Season if she had been high born. Surly, his grandfather would not have ignored a need for a Season for the girl. Although, his grandfather had hired two soundly disreputable people to see to her welfare all these years.

  An ache within him grew and with it the urge to have her. Scattered thoughts rambled through his mind. What harm would come if he seduced her? He could set her up in London. Take from his grandfather any worry about her welfare. He would protect her.

  Good lord! He reprimanded himself. What had grabbed hold of him! Desire. Passion. Lust. He answered himself.

  He needed to leave, ignore the war between body and mind. He had only to ease off the bed and regain his composure. This girl added too many complications to his life already.

  Julian moved slightly, taking her hand off his chest. Then her head rose upward. Her long thick disheveled hair flattered her oval face. Her soft eyes focused upon him. For a moment he gazed into the lovely warm brown eyes. Then slowly without smiling at her, without a word, his head angled downward. His lips brushed hers.

  It happened so quickly that his actions astonished him. This was not how it was suppose d to be. His reaction. He had never been impulsive...never. Yet her face was barely an inch away from him. He pulled her to him. Giving her no time to contemplate his intent, he brushed his lips against hers again. He inhaled her scent and grew aware of the feel of her body. He pressed another kiss. For an instant he thought she would recoil. Instead of resisting, her hands gripped tight to his shirt in acceptance of what he had to offer.

  The voice of caution ignored, he ravished her mouth, pushing her back against the mattress. He slanted his mouth across hers, pushing it open, using his tongue, turning seductive, beguiling, touching her tongue with his gently. His good arm pulled her closer into his encompassing embrace. Her body tensed to the intimacy he offered, then slowly eased, submitting freely to his desires. Her body instinctually arched toward him. A cry escaped her lips which delighted him.

  He moved his lips to the side of her mouth, then brushed them against her eyelids, her cheekbones, the soft curve of her neck. He closed his mouth on her neck’s pulse. He became bolder, not resisting his urge toward satisfaction. He could give no reason for his actions, only he wanted her badly, lost in the delirium. He slid his hand up until he reached her breast.

  Her body shuddered. No doubt she would have protested, but he clamped his mouth over hers. Slowly, slowly, he warned himself. He was moving too fast. His fingers fumbled for the ribbon to her gown while his lips kissed her again, demanding, aggressive in his pursuit.

  Freeing the ties that bound, he slipped his hand beneath the fabric. He watched her eyes widened when he smoothen his palm over her breast, teasing her nipple with his thumb. He heard only gasps of pleasure while his hand worked to free the garment from her lovely skin.

  Pushing back the material, his hand caught upon something. A gold chain. Pulling it up to his vision, he saw a medallion attached. His eye caught the gleam in the morning light. Suddenly, he pulled back up with the necklace in hand. He stared in disbelief. He couldn’t take his eyes off the medallion.

  At first he took no notice of Alyce recoiling back from him, but she reached up and jerked her necklace from his hand. Pulling her gown back over her shoulders, she stared wide-eyed at him.

  "It is mine!”

  He would have none of that. He knew that necklace. His hand gripped her arm tightly, demanding loudly. “Where the hell did you get that medallion?”

  “It is mine,” she repeated in a small voice. Her fingers clutched fervently to the chain.

  He could well see she was shaking from fear of him he wasn’t certain. He backed away off the bed to the fireside. The fire had dwindled down to embers. The whole of his intent would not be served if he could not collect himself. Regaining a semblance of control, he turned back to her.

  To his dismay, she had left the bed and huddled in the corner. Her hands trembling so that she couldn’t tie her ribbon back of the gown. Good Gawd! What had he almost done! Running his fingers through his hair, he bent over to her, stilling the scream on her lips.

  “I’m not going to harm you, Alyce. It is only the medallion.” He grimaced. He moved too fast and the wound pained him. “It was my brother’s. I know well the medallion. It has our coat of arms. Where did you get it? I have to know.”

  She tried to turn away from him, but his hand reached under her chin lifting it upward. Suddenly she seemed impervious to his closeness and met his eyes.

  “Lieutenant Roland gave it to me so his grandfather would know he had sent me. When he delivered me to Colonel Tolworthy, the Colonel wasn’t at Evermonde. The Lieutenant had no time to wait. He said he had to take care of a situation. He had promised my father he would make sure of my safety.”

  “I don’t understand, Alyce. Your father, your safety?”

  Tears streamed down her face. “Lieutenant Roland woke me in the middle of the night saying my father needed me to leave immediately. He took me to Evermonde then. I never saw my father again.”

  “Lieutenant Roland? Lieutenant Roland Casvelyn you mean. You knew my brother, Alyce,” his voice trailed off. Comprehension dawned. “Alyce, who was your father?”

  She shook her head and pushed away his hand on her chin while she scrambled back against the wall. Her eyes alit when a slight knock upon the door disturbed their conversation. Not waiting for an answer, the door swung open. Alyce rushed by him and into the arms of the newcomer.

  “Charles!” she cried.

  Julian recognized the man immediately. Dressed in a yellow-striped waistcoat with a row of huge silver buttons and a hunter green coat, the man appeared to have taken time to preen to look as he did at this moment. Julian’s first thought was of a peacock with his tail feathers all plumed out. The man stood as tall as Julian, but slender, far slighter in frame, far less intimidating.

  “What could be so bad, moppet? I’m here now.”

  Julian watched as Alyce’s face warmed to the endearment. She buried her face in his shoulder. The man looked up from their embrace.

  “Lord Casvelyn. I understand thanks are in order for protecting my girl. I had only received the message late last night. Of course, I came as soon as I could.”

  Message? Of course, the message he had sent from Alyce to her friend. She must have conveyed to this man, Lord Charles Tregilgas, Marquess of Rotheward, heir to the Duke of Arungdon.

  “Lord Tregilgas,” Julian replied. “Obviously it has been
a long night. It is good to see Alyce has a friend, but I’m afraid we are waiting for the magistrate to relay our tale about last night’s adventure. Then I’m escorting Miss Rufford to my grandfather, Colonel Tolworthy.”

  “Obviously,” Lord Tregilgas smiled a broad, knowing smile. He tilted his head a tad. “I believe there may be a slight adjustment. I will take Alyce back with me to London. I’m sure you will understand it is for the best.”

  “From what I understand Grandfather is her guardian…”

  “I take it you do not know all, Lord Casvelyn,” he pointed up his finger to a man behind him. “Leopold, pray take Alyce down to the room where we found dear sweet Aunt Emma who seemed so distressed at having lost Alyce in the night.”

  “Oh, Charles, I don’t want to leave you. It has been truly awful these last few weeks. The cottage…tonight…,” she glanced over at Julian. Her face flamed red. “In truth, I owe Lord Casvelyn. He saved me. Charles, did you know…”

  “I’m certain I can ascertain what his actions were,” Charles bent down and kissed the top of her head. “Now, do be good if you want to go with me. I have brought you a couple of travel gowns that are exquisite. Change and I will be down. I have all set to leave.”

  “Lord Tregilgas, I must object!” Julian interjected. His patience had worn thin by night's adventure and the scene in front of him.

  “Go and be a good girl, Alyce,” Lord Tregilgas said, pushing her out the door. He held up his hand as if to give pause to Julian. Watching her leave with reluctance, Lord Tregilgas closed the door and turned to Julian. “I do not want you to think that I’m not deeply appreciative of your efforts to protect Alyce, but I want you to be aware of the circumstances. It is evident to me that you may not have been informed.”

  “Then quickly explain yourself.”

  “Lord Casvelyn, the fact that you need to be aware of is Alyce’s heritage. Her name isn’t Rufford, but Hythe. Her name is Mary Alyce Hythe, George Hythe’s daughter. Now do you understand?” Lord Tregilgas stepped back toward the door. With his hand on the door knob, he said, “I assume you will not have any issue with me taking her into London now.”

  Seductive Secrets is a free ebook!

  SEDUCTIVE LIES by Colleen Connally

  Book Three, Secret Lives Series

  Coming Late 2013

  THE CRY FOR FREEDOM by Jerri Hines

  Book One Winds of Betrayal

  A rousing family saga for the fight for America's independence. Follow Hannah and Jonathan Corbett path to Freedom!

  The winds of change brews over the colonies. Tension against the crown is mounting daily. In Williamsburg, the rebellion burns strong in the hearts of two siblings, Jonathan and Hannah Corbett. Spirited and headstrong, Hannah finds herself thrust in the middle of a conspiracy when her father receives a strange package from Philadelphia. Jonathan, a physician for the Continental Army, is torn between duty and family. With war looming on the horizon, the siblings soon discover there is a high price to be paid for the cry for freedom.

  The saga continues…

  EMBRACE OF THE ENEMY

  Book Two of the Winds of Betrayal Series

  In the midst of the struggle of America's bid for independence, Hannah Corbett makes a fateful decision, descending into a world of deceit. Spurred by revenge, she heads to New York, setting in motion a dangerous game for which there is no return. Searching desperately for the man who betrayed her family, she faces the cold and brutal reality of the life of a spy. Caught in a web of lies, living with betrayal, she is trapped. She has nowhere to turn except to a man it would be treasonous to love, setting duty and desire at war. Her heart is ripped apart when she must choose between the man who risks his career and life to protect her and the only thing that has remained constant in her life...her belief in her cause.

  Excerpt

  Hannah arose to the morning of the 22nd of September with the smell of smoke lingering within the air. The terror of the day before the conflagration of the city had dissipated into a different kind of fear. The fire had been quenched. Although for a time it had seemed impossible to check the flames.

  Fleeing Patriots had supposedly set the fire. Bells from the churches had been taken out by order of the Provencal Congress. Confusion reigned.

  Sleep hadn't come for her. She closed her eyes tightly, but all she could see was darkness descending down upon her. Don't panic, she told herself. Gabriel could have never left her like this, not caught within the city. She had waited and prayed for a miracle. Her ears keen upon any sound, any movement, but none came.

  She dressed herself in a simple gown for she didn't know what else to do. She walked into her grandmother's room, who was sleeping soundly, having no idea of the goings on around her. She descended the stairs. Mrs. Hayes seemed all the flutter with excitement.

  “Mr. Clay is beside himself. He wants the house cleaned immediately. We're expecting visitors. Of course you wouldn't know, Miss Hannah, but your grandfather is prominent with the Tory circle. We can expect lots more visitors, I can tell you,” Mrs. Hayes sighed. “I just can't be expected to get the house into order with all this smell of smoke and dust.”

  “Is Grandfather within his study?” Hannah asked. She watched Mrs. Hayes nod, but then the woman escaped into the kitchen. Hannah stood alone within the foyer.

  Hannah paced the foyer, jumping back when the study door opened. Her grandfather emerged from the room with a small group of British redcoats. Hannah swallowed, hoping against all hope that he didn’t notice her apprehension of their presence. His expression soured as he caught sight of her waiting. She ignored the gesture. “Are we to go now?”

  “You aren't going anywhere, Hannah. I’m not saying this more than once. I don't want you out in this for any reason. Is that understood?” he admonished her.

  She disregarded the others present. She pleaded, “But Grandfather....” She paused. He shot her a look that she comprehended well. She sidestepped and let all pass.

  A young handsome lieutenant glanced back over his shoulder, giving her a small nod. She ignored him,. Reason didn't play well with her instincts to run. She had an instinctive need to leave this house, an overwhelming sensation of impending doom.

  She didn't know how long she stood staring at the door, but she could stand it no longer, grabbed her cloak and without one word to anyone, walked out the front door.

  The stiff air greeted Hannah as she ventured forth. Logic played no part in her decision, only her urge to leave.

  She walked.

  She walked by her church, which still stood untouched, but the further she walked, the more destruction she discovered. Businesses had been rioted. Men ran into buildings and returned with arms full of merchandise. On the next street a small band of British soldiers chased the rioters. She walked by the Beekman mansion, which lay near the East River on Manhattan.

  Havoc reigned.

  People and soldiers ran rampant. Hannah sat in the gardens not far from the Beekman mansion, which seemed to be overrun with Redcoats. She sat without a word and stared.

  Voices startled her from behind, but the words weren't directed at her.

  “I don't know where else we are to put them. I don't believe the Sugar House can hold more. Has to be more than two hundred held upon the supposition that they were incendiaries to the fire,” one voice commented.

  “General Howe is in no mood to be lenient.”

  “The poor soul this morning, but I s’ppose there had to be made a statement, Arthur. Don’t you think?”

  “Think? I think that if this is any indication of the intelligence of the Americans, then they are indeed not long to deal with. The spy signaled our ship. No question about his intent. Drawings and papers damned him without a debate. General Howe ordered the execution without even a trial.”

  “But I will give that his spirit was strong. Although from his appearance, too gentle a disposition for the role he was supposed to have played. I found him to have a consciousness of re
ctitude, even dealing with Cunningham. He destroyed the letters I let the poor fellow write his family. Told me that the damn rebels shouldn't know that they had a man in their army who could die with so much firmness in his beliefs.”

  “I know you, Captain Montresor, haven't seen eye to eye over much with Cunningham, but we are at war. He may be too brutal by half, but maybe that's what the Americans need at the moment. Hit them hard and they won't come back with this ridiculous notion of independence.”

  “So, Arthur, you weren't impressed with the spy's last words. My only regret that I have but one life to lose for my country. You think that we are going to suppress our colonies quickly with that heart felt passion for their cause.”

  Hannah stood up, the voices trailing away. A spy hung! She had seen a crowd around artillery park by where Henry Rutgers took up residency. She needed no reminder of what they did to a captured spy; a disgraceful death hung out for a warning to all; a warning to her of the dangerous waters she tread; the possible consequences of her actions. But a draw pulled her toward the crowd.

  The gallows established in front of the park. Among the crowd of people, she made out a hooded form, which hung from a stout apple tree. Beside the corpse a signboard propped up of an old soldier with Washington written upon it. She stood frozen, not able to move.

  She stared at the lifeless body. A reminder instead of what she was fighting for, unquestioned belief in this new country. Her father had believed, her brother. Their deaths couldn't be forgotten, ever. She thought of the unquestioned fear they all must have faced when the noose placed around their neck, tightened.

  Tepper's word echoed. “You will be needed, my dear. Make no mistake about it. Congress has tarried too long on this issue. Don't wane in your beliefs for they will be tested in the days to come. You have a job to do. Don't lose sight of the cause. Your mission is more important than any of our petty concerns. I have faith in your ability. Put your emotions aside. I know all too well that those can eat at one's soul. What better revenge than to beat them at their own game? You ask what I expected out of you- information, my dear, information that will bring the British down.”