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Copyright © 2018 by Paullett Golden
Excerpt from The Baron and The Enchantress copyright © 2018 by Paullett Golden
All rights reserved.
Cover and book design by Fiona Jayde Media
Interior Design by The Deliberate Page
This book contains an excerpt from the forthcoming novel The Baron and The Enchantress by Paullett Golden. This excerpt has been set for this edition only and may not reflect final content of the forthcoming edition.
Also by Paullett Golden
The Enchantresses Series
The Earl and The Enchantress
The Duke and The Enchantress
COMING SOON
The Enchantresses Series
The Baron and The Enchantress
The Colonel and The Enchantress
The Gentleman and The Enchantress
The Heir and The Enchantress
The Sirens Series
A Counterfeit Wife
A Proposed Hoax
The Faux Marriage
Praise for The Enchantresses
“Readers who enjoy a character driven romance will find this a story well worth reading. Paullett Golden is an author I will be following.”
—Roses R Blue Reviews
“I would say this is a very well-written novel with engaging characters, a compelling story, a satisfactory resolution, and I am eagerly anticipating more from Ms. Golden.”
—Davis Editorials
“Golden is a good writer. She knows how to structure plot, how to make flawed characters sympathetic and lovable, and has a very firm grasp on theme.”
—No Apology Book Reviews
“With complex characters and a backstory with amazing depth, the story… is fantastic from start to finish.”
—Rebirth author Ravin Tija Maurice
“I thoroughly enjoyed meeting and getting to know all of the characters. Each character was fully developed, robust and very relatable.”
—Flippin’ Pages Book Reviews
“What I loved about the author was her knowledge of the era! Her descriptions are fresh and rich. Her writing is strong and emotionally driven. An author to follow.”
—The Forfeit author Shannon Gallagher
“It is a story that just keeps giving and giving to the reader and I, for one, found it enchanting!”
—The Genre Minx Book Reviews
“The minor King Arthur plot was also a lovely touch, and the descriptions of the library fulfilled my book-loving dream.”
—Rosie Amber Reviews
“The author adds a few extra ingredients to the romantic formula, with pleasing results. An engaging and unconventional love story.”
—Kirkus Reviews
“It features characters who exhibit traits and emotions that go above and beyond passion.”
—Melina Druga Reviews
“This novel highlights how love can cast away the darkness of soul and mind.”
—Author Esquire Reviews
Contents
Also by Paullett Golden
Praise for The Enchantresses
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Epilogue
A Note from the Author
The Baron and The Enchantress
About the Author
This book is dedicated to my parents for their love and encouragement.
A special thanks to Mercury for her patience and support during the long nights of writing.
Chapter 1
July 1790
Miss Charlotte Trethow married the Duke of Annick, and all her dreams came true.
Happily-ever-after started with the chime of the wedding bells, did it not? Charlotte should be laughing with delight as the ducal state coach bounced and swayed towards her future in a land far, far away.
Instead, she frowned, eyeing warily her sleeping bridegroom. The nuptials had been conferred only hours prior.
She didn’t feel like a duchess.
All she could think as the carriage lumbered in the opposite direction of civilization was what happened after marriage to duke charming. Not for a moment during their courtship had she considered what happened after the wedding. She had been too distracted by her attraction to him to care.
Dazzled, really. It had been her first time to London and her come-out Season to boot. Nothing could have prepared her for the glitz, glamor, and charm of the Season, much less for him. His half-lidded eyes, whispered compliments, and charismatic smile had swept her off her feet at their first meeting. His lips had done the rest.
Even now, her cheeks flushed at the sight of him, her memories of their stolen kisses.
His lean frame wedged in the corner of the carriage. Long limbs stretched across the carpeted floor, his breathing punctuated by soft snores. She found him irresistibly attractive with his lithe physique, the build of a sabreur.
His was the porcelain complexion of a nobleman, accentuated by his ebony hair, fashionably brushed forward, heavy on top and cropped short on the sides and back. Blue eyes, a deep sapphire, fluttered her heart with each glance. His aristocratic nose was well-proportioned to his narrow face. And then those lips. Soft, red, and pouty; she loved his lips.
Dazzled wasn’t a strong enough word for the attraction she had felt during their month-long acquaintance. Hypnotized, perhaps. So hypnotized by his attention to her, and yes, even his title, she hadn’t stopped for a single moment to think of life after marriage.
As the thrill of the ceremony dissipated, she knew only dread.
Not only had she married a man she didn’t know the first thing about aside from his ability to find every dark corner at a ball, but she had married into a title she couldn’t possibly uphold.
Oh, Charlotte from before the wedding would think her a silly ninny for fretting. She was a duchess for crying in a chamber pot! Who wouldn’t want to be a duchess? And who wouldn’t want to be married to the Duke of Annick? It wasn’t so much that her current self didn’t want these things as that she wasn’t certain what to do with them.
A lengthy week’s journey lay ahead, after which point she would meet her mother-in-law, sister-in-law, and new home. The idea of being a duchess had seemed dreamy at first, as had snagging
the most eligible bachelor of the Season, but as reality set in, so crept the dread.
She feared above all things the humiliation of failure.
How does one be a duchess? And then there was the new role of wife with which to contend. Could she be the perfect wife? Could she satisfy her worldly husband? He had been her first kiss, but she wasn’t naïve enough to think she had been his. After all, her sister had warned her of his rakish reputation before the courtship began. At the time, it had intrigued her all the more. Now, she was intimidated, if not a tad frightened. Would she disappoint him?
Charlotte could only hope the journey north would provide her opportunities to accustom herself to the changes in life and to her husband. Perhaps, upon better acquaintance with him, she wouldn’t feel so low in station, experience, or beauty. As of now, she felt distinctly inferior. Although the finery of wealth and status surrounded her in the plush velvet padding of the carriage, she worried what would happen next with London at her back and Northumberland ahead of her.
A cough disturbed her train of thought. Her gaze shifted from her husband, Drake Mowbrah, to the man seated next to him. His cousin.
The beast glowered out of the window, making no effort to engage his new cousin-in-law in polite conversation. Charlotte would never get to know her husband with this brooder present. She didn’t want him in the carriage, least of all when she was meditating on Drake’s lips and discomposed about the wedding night, but what was the alternative? He certainly couldn’t ride with the servants in the four-carriage caravan heading north.
The two men shared attributes with their matching profiles and black hair, except the cousin looked more like a common laborer than a gentleman. His skin was tanned, eyes black as coals, hair unfashionably long, and shoulders broad with the sinewy body of a worker. He spoke only when spoken to, and even then, did little more than grunt. This wild animal trapped in their honeymoon carriage gave her chills. The carriage slumped to one side, hitting a rut in the road, then jolted forward. Drake’s head bounced against his chest, waking him. Alert and alarmed, he braced himself against the side of the carriage.
“Is it highwaymen? Are we under attack?” He surged to the window only to see placid countryside.
“Your snoring startled the horses.” The brute spoke for the first time.
Drake rumbled a laugh. “Too right, old man. Too right.” Turning to Charlotte, he flashed a grin, his eyelids lowering sleepily and suggestively. “How is my wife enjoying the view?”
Suddenly flustered, she replied primly, “The meadow flowers are lovely.”
“I didn’t mean the view outside.” He leaned forward, reached his arm towards her, and traced her knee with long, slender fingers. “I meant the view of me.”
Taken aback by the physical contact in view of his cousin and the boldness of his words, she swatted at his hand, tutting. “I haven’t the faintest what you mean.”
“Like hell you don’t. I could feel your eyes on me as I slept, working their way over my svelteness. Do you like what you see?” He swept his hands over his torso in invitation. “I hope so, because you’ll be seeing a lot more of me tonight.” He turned to his cousin and ribbed him. “You’ll have to stuff linens under the inn’s door, Sebastian. Tonight, I’m going to make her scream my name.”
Charlotte gaped. How—oh! Oh! She bristled and sat straighter. How dare he say such crudeness! His language was no better than that of a commoner. How dare he? How dare he speak that way to her and in front of someone, no less? Oh!
Of all his flirting in London, he’d only ever spoken sweetness. Oh, botheration.
Charlotte smoothed her traveling dress with trembling hands. Humiliated, outraged, and flustered, she avoided eye contact. Her cheeks flamed. Flicking her eyes to the door handle, she had the impulse to leap out and run back to London.
Her husband clearly didn’t require a response, as he lazily leaned back in his seat with a leer, folding his hands behind his head before closing his eyes again.
With the heat of her cheeks singeing her skin, Charlotte crossed her arms over her chest and pressed herself against the cushions, wishing she could disappear into the velvet. Her happily-ever-after might have been the mistake of the century.
There were two types of women in the world: those who fawned over Drake for his fashionable good looks, the power behind his name, and his easy flirtation, and those who thought him an arrogant rake. Thankfully, his new bride was the former.
His bride. Charlotte Mowbrah, Duchess of Annick. He rolled her name over his tongue, tasting its sweetness.
She would make a perfect duchess and a perfect wife. She may not have the training for nobility as did many of the ladies who had sought his affections in London, but for that he found her all the sweeter. The daughter of a Member of Parliament, wealthy, eager to please, and as accomplished as anyone would wish a wife to be, especially when it came to kissing him.
Of course, she could play the pianoforte, sing, dance, embroider, and all necessary skills, but her lips won him over above all other possible mates. He felt a fire behind her lips, a passion for play. Nothing would please him more than a spouse who matched him in sensuality and interests.
Sensuality first, followed by shared interests. Priorities, of course.
He looked forward to experiencing her passion on their wedding night—tonight. He regretted not staying in London for the night so they might enjoy their first evening together in his townhouse rather than an inn along the way, but no matter. Arrangements had been made to rent the entire inn, fashioning it with the ducal linens and finery before their caravan arrived.
Drake didn’t need a noble townhouse to experience the pleasures of his bride. If his cousin weren’t sharing the drive, he would have gone for debauchery in the sway of the carriage. Just the thought of his new wife straddling him as the carriage jounced along the uneven road made him harden.
He shifted on the seat to conceal his excitement.
Admittedly, it’d been far too long since he had enjoyed the pleasures of a woman, far longer than he would admit to any living soul, even his cousin. A man had a reputation to keep, after all. Far be it for Drake to negatively tarnish his own reputation as a lover by night and a, well, lover by day.
The journey would pause soon for luncheon, a change of horses, and carriage maintenance. He wondered if she’d be up for a friendly poke during the next stop. Was she as eager as he to finish what they’d started in London?
One look at her clenched jaw told him she would have none of that, at least not yet. No, she would want their first time to be on a proper bed. Judging from the whiteness of her knuckles as her fingers tightened around the edges of her pelisse, she might insist a sheet with a hole be placed between their bodies.
He certainly hoped not. He wanted to lick her from head to toe, make her squirm and squeal. Drake wanted amorous lust, and he wanted it with his wife.
Clearing his throat to ease the growing warmth under his starched shirt points, he asked Charlotte, “What’s the first thing you’ll do as lady of the manor?” Willing her to say him would get him nowhere, he presumed.
She looked away from the window, eyes wide with uncertainty. Her expression showed a flicker of worry mixed with annoyance, as if he had teased her about coupling on the front lawn. Not that he’d be opposed to that.
“Are you quizzing me?” she questioned.
Uncertain what she meant, he raised his eyebrows.
After biting her bottom lip in thought, she asked, “What is it you wish for me to do?”
What did he—well, hell, aside from make love to him every day, he had no expectations. Did she expect him to be a tyrannical husband? He hoped he’d never given that impression.
Perhaps he’d married too young of a woman. Youth seemed to give way to self-consciousness rather than impulsiveness. He wanted impulsiveness and spontaneity. He want
ed her to throw caution to the wind, to assert herself. He had thought by marrying her, a lady only eighteen making her come-out into Society, she would be full of excitement and energy, ready to give his mother a piece of her mind and spend her days loving him uninhibited. Perhaps he had misjudged.
No, he shouldn’t doubt his decision, not when she lit a fire in his loins as no other woman had.
Studying her heart-shaped face, her chestnut hair, and her copper eyes, he felt himself hardening again. Damn. Lost in lust, he wondered what she had asked. Deuce take it. He couldn’t recall the conversation.
Playing it off, he dashed her a naughty grin and waited for her to speak again.
“What do you do as lord of the manor?” she finally asked.
“What do I do? I don’t do anything.” As way of explanation, he added, “I’m a duke.”
His cousin snorted.
“You can’t do nothing all day,” she insisted.
“Why not?” He let his gaze drop to the slender arch of her neck and caught himself before he licked his lips.
“Well, because, um, well, you’re one step removed from a prince, and so you have responsibilities and estate business and land to oversee and….” She drifted off, likely at a loss for exactly what dukes do other than sit in carriages across from ravishingly beautiful women.
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