by Karen Ranney
He’d been here only once, on a tour he’d done to familiarize himself with the place. Marsley House was a sprawling estate on the edge of London, the largest house in the area and one famous enough to get its share of carriages driving by filled with gawping Londoners out for a jaunt among their betters.
Not that the Marsley family was better than anyone else, no matter what they thought. They had their secrets and their sins, just like any other family.
He kept the door to the roof open behind him, grateful for the lightning illuminating his way. If only the rain would stop, but it was too late to wish for that. He was already drenched.
In a bit of whimsy, the builder of Marsley House had created a small balcony between two sharply pitched gables. Chairs had been placed there, no doubt for watching the sunset over the roofs of London.
No one in their right mind would be there in the middle of a storm. As if agreeing with him, thunder roared above them.
The duchess was gripping the balcony railing with both hands as she raised one leg, balancing herself like a graceful bird about to swoop down from the top of a tree.
People didn’t swoop. They fell.
What the hell?
He began to run, catching himself when he would have fallen on the slippery roof.
“You daft woman,” he shouted as he reached her.
She turned her face to him, her features limned by lightning.
He didn’t see what he saw. At least that’s what he told himself. No one could look at the Duchess of Marsley and not be witness to her agony.
He grabbed one of her arms, pulling her to him and nearly toppling in the process. For a moment he thought her rain-soaked dress was heavy enough to take them both over the railing.
Then the daft duchess began to hit him.
He let fly a few oaths in Gaelic while trying to defend himself from the duchess’s nails as she went for his eyes. Her mouth was open and for a curious moment, it almost looked like she was a goddess of the storm, speaking in thunder.
He stumbled backward, pulling her on top of him when she would have wrenched free. He had both hands on each of her arms now, holding her.
She was screaming at him, but he couldn’t tell what she was saying. He thought she was still crying, but it might be the rain.
He pushed away from the railing with both feet. He’d feel a damn sight better if they were farther away from the edge. As determined as she was, he didn’t doubt that she would take a running leap the minute she got free.
The storm was directly overhead now, as if God himself dwelt in the clouds and was refereeing this fight to the death. Not his, but hers.
He was a few feet away from the railing now, still being pummeled by the rain. Twice she got a hand free and struck him. Once he thought she was going to make it to her feet. He grabbed the sodden bodice of her dress and jerked her back down. She could die on another night, but he was damned if he was going to let her do it now.
He made it to his knees and she tried, once more, to pull away. She got one arm free and then the second. Just like he imagined, she made for the railing again. He grabbed her skirt as he stood. When she turned and went for his eyes again, he jerked the fabric with both hands, desperate to get her away from the edge.
The duchess stumbled and dropped like a rock.
He stood there being pelted by rain that felt like miniature pebbles, but the duchess didn’t move. Her cheek lay against the roof; her eyes were closed, and rain washed her face clean of tears.
He bent and scooped her up into his arms and headed for the door, wondering how in hell he was going to explain that he’d felled the Duchess of Marsley.
About the Author
KAREN RANNEY wanted to be a writer from the time she was five years old and filled her Big Chief tablet with stories. People in stories did amazing things and she was too shy to do anything amazing. Years spent in Japan, Paris, and Italy, however, not only fueled her imagination, but proved she wasn’t that shy after all. Now a New York Times and USA Today bestseller, she prefers to keep her adventures between the covers of her books. Karen lives in San Antonio, Texas, and loves to hear from her readers at [email protected].
Discover great authors, exclusive offers, and more at hc.com.
By Karen Ranney
To Wed an Heiress
To Love a Duchess
The Texan Duke
The English Duke
The Scottish Duke
An American in Scotland
Scotsman of My Dreams
In Your Wildest Scottish Dreams
The Return to Clan Sinclair
The Virgin of Clan Sinclair
The Witch of Clan Sinclair
The Devil of Clan Sinclair
The Lass Wore Black
A Scandalous Scot
A Borrowed Scot
A Highland Duchess
Sold to a Laird
A Scottish Love
A Scotsman in Love
The Devil Wears Tartan
The Scottish Companion
Autumn in Scotland
An Unlikely Governess
Till Next We Meet
So In Love
To Love a Scottish Lord
The Irresistible MacRae
When the Laird Returns
One Man’s Love
After the Kiss
My True Love
My Beloved
Upon a Wicked Time
My Wicked Fantasy
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Excerpt from To Love a Duchess copyright © 2018 by Karen Ranney LLC.
to wed an heiress. Copyright © 2019 by Karen Ranney LLC. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins Publishers. For information, address HarperCollins Publishers, 195 Broadway, New York, NY 10007.
Digital Edition APRIL 2019 ISBN: 978-0-06-284107-0
Print Edition ISBN: 978-0-06-284106-3
Cover design by Patricia Barrow
Cover illustration by Patrick Kang
Cover photographs © Catuncia/solarus/Shelli Jensen/Aleksandr Nizienko/Heidi Besen/sumroeng chinnapan/Anna Anisimova/Shutterstock (seven images)
Avon, Avon & logo, and Avon Books & logo are registered trademarks of HarperCollins Publishers in the United States of America and other countries.
HarperCollins is a registered trademark of HarperCollins Publishers in the United States of America and other countries.
first edition
About the Publisher
Australia
HarperCollins Publishers Australia Pty. Ltd.
Level 13, 201 Elizabeth Street
Sydney, NSW 2000, Australia
www.harpercollins.com.au
Canada
HarperCollins Publishers Ltd
Bay Adelaide Centre, East Tower
22 Adelaide Street West, 41st Floor
Toronto, Ontario, M5H 4E3
www.harpercollins.ca
India
HarperCollins India
A 75, Sector 57
Noida
Uttar Pradesh 201 301
www.harpercollins.co.in
New Zealand
HarperCollins Publishers New Zealand
Unit D1, 63 Apollo Drive
Rosedale 0632
Auckland, New Zealand
United Kingdom
HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF, UK
www.harpercollins.co.uk
United States
HarperCollins Publishers Inc.
195 Broadway
New York, NY 10007
www.harpercollins.com