His to Keep
Regency Scoundrels, Book Two
By Marly Mathews
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
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Copyright © 2009, 2016 by Marly Mathews
www.marlymathews.com
Cover design by Melody Simmons from Ebookindiecovers.com
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
His to Keep is the second story in my Regency Scoundrels Series. It has been previously published, but it has been extensively edited and lengthened for this publication.
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Epilogue
Prologue
Sussex, England, 1818
Gemma St. Martin regarded her new sister-in-law with cold indifference.
The only reason she could think of to like Elizabeth St. Martin, Duchess of Chichester was because Mallory loved her. It was beyond Gemma how he could fall in love with their sworn enemy’s daughter—but Elizabeth had had a hand in restoring their family’s wealth, and saving her brother from a most scandalous life.
Maybe…maybe with time she could come to love and embrace the woman as her sister—but for now…she would keep her at an arm’s length, and reserve her judgement until Elizabeth had earned her love and her loyalty. Many things would be changing for them now that Mallory had all of their lands and estates back. Everything would go back to the way they had once been. But life would never be the same for her as their family was still fractured. Without Malcolm and their father—life was indeed a darker place. Inhaling deeply, she curtsied to her brother’s wife, and bit her tongue as Mallory sang Elizabeth’s praises.
Drat the woman. She had an air of confidence, and looked over them all with her chin lifted haughtily, her black hair shining brilliantly beneath the lit crystal chandelier that decorated the magnificent Great Hall of Chichester Castle.
If this haughty American with her fiery brown eyes thought she could walk into their lives and take charge of their destinies, she was highly mistaken. Elizabeth’s mother might have been English, and her father too, but Elizabeth had all the bearings of an annoying American. And if Gemma had her way—she would fall into disgrace and be forced to leave England—forever.
Elizabeth shivered. Mallory saw her trembling, and reached out for her pulling her close. “Don’t worry, Elizabeth, we’ll leave this place as soon as we can get the family packed up. I wouldn’t want you to have to live in this old moldy castle.”
So that’s what he thought of the castle where they had been raised. Of the halls where they had played with Malcolm, scampering throughout the place as they played Knights and Ladies, oh, Malcolm.
If only Malcolm hadn’t been felled at Trafalgar. Had he lived, he would have married his beloved Mary, and their life would have been hardly disturbed. Mary would have made a grand duchess. She knew the dynamics of the family enough to realize that leaving the castle would break most of their hearts. Even though Chichester had seen better days, Gemma and her sister…and her mother for that matter adored the old place. It was their main home—it was the family seat. It was where their family had loved, laughed and lived. And now, Elizabeth was the bloody infidel. She had invaded their lives like a pestilence, and it would be a cold day in hell before she ever forgave her for that. So, Mallory thought he could take them away from this place just to please Elizabeth, did he?
Gemma’s heart sunk down into the pit of her stomach. Mallory had done exactly what she’d predicted, all to please his beautiful wife.
Life as they knew it was over.
The enemy was in her house, and now, she had to call that enemy family.
She’d never forgive Mallory—not for as long as she lived.
Chapter One
Chichester Castle, Sussex, 1821
Lady Gemma St. Martin was a woman that lived outside the conventions of her society.
She dared to do what women weren’t supposed to do, and she balked at the rigidity of her position as a duke’s daughter, and now, a duke’s sister, even though she embraced the benefits her noble position afforded her.
The strong wind whipped her long blond plait back into the wind. She had decided to be a bloody hoyden today. She wore a military influenced riding costume, and had laughed when Mallory had looked at in distaste. He probably deemed it too manly, and therefore quite unbecoming of the lady she was supposed to be. She felt so free when she rode through the forest that bordered their ancestral grounds. The ancient medieval castle shone in the far distance, a relic of a long forgotten time. Originally a motte-and-bailey castle, the castle was large and intimidated some, but to her it was her home. The thoughts of losing it had given her nightmares. Now their thanks to the new Duchess, their family wealth had been restored, and Mallory would leave a sizable inheritance to the next duke.
She rode toward the beautiful lake located within their lands that she loved to sit by.
Despite her brother’s protestations, she rode alone. He hated the thought of her being without a chaperone, especially since it was rumored that highwaymen had been plaguing the roads in the area. But since he’d married Elizabeth, he’d become a lot less controlling, and for that she would always be immensely grateful. If nothing else, Elizabeth’s presence was a calming influence on Mallory.
Over the last two years, she and Elizabeth had come to an understanding, Elizabeth stayed out of her affairs, and she stayed out of hers. So far, they had managed not to get on each other’s nerves. When she thought back to how set against she had been with Elizabeth at first, she almost felt ashamed. Almost. Gemma wasn’t accustomed to admitting when she was wrong about someone. She stuck to her guns, and didn’t care if anyone thought less of her because of her damnable pride.
Gemma leaned forward on her horse and stroked Midnight’s mane. She adored being able to ride out on her own. Mallory would have made her take a groom to assist her in mounting and di
smounting, but she had managed to elude Mallory that morning and had slipped out on her own. Today she rode on a gentleman’s saddle, and wore a riding costume that was tailored for riding astride.
She emerged into the clearing, and stared at the peaceful lake rippling before her. Majestic white swans glided along the calm surface. Everything looked so perfect, almost as if the scene had been captured straight from a painting. She sat on her high perch and let her eyes roam hungrily across the beautiful landscape. She almost wished she had taken her water colors with her. She could have sat and painted this idyllic scene.
The cool air made gooseflesh erupt across her skin. These lands had been in her family for hundreds of years, and she felt tied to the land. As long as she remained here, she could never feel lost.
She inhaled the fresh air that smelled faintly of the nearby sea. There was nothing better than country air. Did she feel brave enough to dismount? The question was, would she be able to mount Midnight again on her own? She always had the assistance of a groom to mount and dismount. She’d been out long enough. She should just return to the castle. Perhaps, she should have taken a groom with her.
A rustling sound in the near distance made her snap out of her reverie. Stiffening in her saddle, she tightened her hold on her riding crop.
“Did you hear that?” she asked Midnight. Midnight let out a low whinny. She took that as an affirmative response.
“I would stay right where you are, if I were you.” A deep husky voice made her sit up straight in the saddle. The coldly detached male voice came from behind her. Fighting the urge to turn around, she bit her lip and prepared to take flight as soon as she could. “Unless you would like a bullet in your back, my lady, I would stay right where you are. I have need of that beautiful piece of horseflesh you ride.” His Scots affected her in a way she was quite unprepared for. They used to holiday up in Scotland, and hadn’t been there in more years than she could count right now.
Remaining silent, she listened as soft footsteps approached her. In the blink of an eye, the man stood in front of her, holding his pistol steady in his hands. She regarded him silently for a few moments.
“You, sir, have had your jest. Now, be on your way. I do not have time for any of my brother’s games today.”
He regarded her at length, she felt his eyes roaming over her. To say that she was a feast for his eyes was quite the understatement. “I am not playing any games, my lady. I want the beast you currently have your legs wrapped around.” His words made a blush touch her cheeks. She was grateful that the tulle veil on her hat would obscure most of her features.
“You dance with fire, sir. You do not know what you’re getting yourself into. You obviously have no idea who I am.” She put all of the nobility that she could muster into her voice, praying that its commanding tone would scare the man off.
“Oh, I think I have a fair idea. By the looks of ye, you came from the castle. With those fine clothes you’re wearing, you must be some sort of a grand lady, and a bit of a rebel at that to ride astride on a gentleman’s saddle. You are certainly a horsewoman. So hop on down from that fine equine and give me what I want.”
Did he want the horse, or did he want her? She wasn’t entirely certain she wanted to stick around long enough to find out that answer to that question.
She stared at the mask he wore, wondering what he looked like beneath it. He had a well-defined chin, that boasted a cleft, and if he smiled, she wondered if he would also boast dimples in his cheeks. His eyes were a dark and mysterious hue of blue.
“For a man who knows so much, you know very little. You are a coward for hiding behind that mask. Only a man who was a lily livered varlet would stoop so low.”
He laughed. “A coward isnae something I’ve ever been called,” his brogue was thickening. So, if she rose his passions, his accent thickened. How intriguing. “And I advise ye at no time to call me that again,” his voice took on a dangerous edge. A shiver ran up and down her spine. “Now, my wee lassie, ye give me that horse, or so help me, I will shoot you!”
“Only a man without honor would shoot an unarmed woman.” She held her crop at the ready, prepared to beat the hell out of him with it if necessary. His voice sounded strange to her. It was as if he was attempting to sound less cultured than he was.
“You do look familiar. With those eyes like green sparkling jewels, and that lovely blonde hair of yours, you make a right lovely young lass. I could do with having a tumble with you in the grass by the water’s edge.”
“You, sir, rise above your station. You shall treat me with respect.”
“Yes, you are right. I shouldn’t act like such a blackguard. Now, come on down from that horse. If you need my assistance, I shall gladly oblige.”
Most irksome. His English had just improved dramatically. He was now speaking perfect Scottish English. Her hand trembled, as unease flooded through her. Now…now, he sounded more like a Scottish aristocrat who had been schooled in England. Who was this mystery man? And why was he play acting at being a highwayman? Either way, she was wandering into dangerous territory, and she needed to make haste and escape. She should ride away from him and take the chance of getting shot in the back. The castle wasn’t far. Only a dishonorable man would shoot someone in the back, and she didn’t think he was that sort of a man.
“I do not need assistance in dismounting. Even if I am riding on side saddle, I rarely need help.” So, she was fibbing just a little bit. He wouldn’t know that.
Not to be deterred, he came closer to her, and waited expectantly. He had lowered his pistol and put it back into his coat. She should feel safer, she didn’t. With him so close to her now, she actually felt more frightened. This man was quite clearly deadly, armed or unarmed. He had to be quite unhinged to take such liberties with her.
Sighing, she swung her right leg over, and held herself in place before dropping to the ground. The feeling of his steadying hands on her waist made her sharply inhale her breath. The man was a scoundrel! She rounded on him, ready to strike him with her crop. He caught her before she could do that, and wrestled the crop from her hands. Tossing it away, he removed his mask, and her breath caught in her throat at the sight of his visage. He was by far the handsomest man she had never seen. He…he took her breath away. Her chest hurt. Why did her chest hurt?
His dangerously dark blue eyes twinkled. “Now, why don’t you give me a kiss?” he asked, tapping right cheek.
“Why don’t you go and jump in the lake?” she asked breathlessly.
“You seem like such a gentle soul, and yet…you were ready to thrash me with within an inch of my life with your crop. That sort of fierceness doesn’t become you, my dear. Although, I do like how passionate you can be when your temper is riled. You are quite my little spitfire.”
The fact that he had tried to steal her horse slipped from her mind. “My brother,” her voice shook with emotion. “My brother is the one that would thrash you within an inch of your life. If he knew…if he knew that you were treating me in such a wretched way, he would be furious. He would take his fists to you.”
“And would your beloved brother happen to be that grand blond haired English duke that just took up residence at the castle with his raven haired wife? In his fine clothes, I would warrant I’d be the one besting him if we got into fisticuffs. He’s just such a little dandy, almost a fop if you ask me. I doubt he’d even know how to block a punch.” His eyes danced with humor.
“You seem to know a lot about my family for being a common blackguard.”
“Yes, well, I do have my moments. And besides, I don’t think your brother has such an unmarked past, I think he has done things he shouldn’t have,” he whispered, putting her back up. “The question is do you know about his past?”
“My brother is a distinguished war hero.” She proudly lifted her head and then, lowered it so she could stare him straight in the eyes. They were dark blue, and save for the way they had a constant animated look to them, they w
ere impassive.
Oh, God, she would gladly welcome him taking her into his arms.
*****
“Is that what you think?” Archibald Campbell chuckled. “Aye, he is at that but he has a few more skeletons rattling in those grand wardrobes of his than you’d reckon. ‘Course, I would expect no less from his sister. No doubt, he has you thinking he is a man without any faults. I bet you worship the very ground he prances about on, and you probably even curtsy to him—do you curtsy to his wife as well?”
“You seem to know quite a good deal about my family. Since you know so much, you, sir, should know my name.”
He sighed. “Well, that’s where the problem arises, isn’t it? You are one of six, I can’t keep track of all of you womenfolk. I salute the duke for putting up with the lot of you. I would go mad with so many sisters, the two I have is quite enough.”
“I don’t think I like the tone of your voice. Your impudence is galling!”
His rich laughter boomed across the still landscape. “Oh, you are amusing! Beautiful and entertaining, that’s a deadly little package.” His eyes sparkled. “Here I am holding you up for your horse at gunpoint, and you are appalled by my slight against you and your sisters. You are a rich little lassie, you are.”
She tilted her head. “You are making fun of me.”
“Am I?” He sobered. “Perhaps I am poking fun at you. I can’t help it. The look you have on that bewitching face of yours when you are put out is enough to undo any man, let alone me.”
The look he had in his eyes now, she recognized well. “I could take my chances, and turn tail and ride away before you had time to react.”
“Perhaps, though I daresay, you aren’t fast enough for me.”
Somehow, in the space of a few seconds, he had crossed the short distance between them. Midnight remained calm, why didn’t the braggart unsettle her? She was very sensitive when it came to the threat of incoming danger, but not with him.
“If you would like to know my name, sir, I should know yours, so that when they catch you and hang you, I can say a prayer for you. You should know we don’t take kindly to horse thieves or horse thieves that would steal a helpless woman’s most cherished beast, while holding her at the threat of gunpoint.”
His to Keep (Regency Scoundrels Book 2) Page 1