“Love?” Her knees almost gave out, but she caught herself.
“Damn it, Emmaline, you’re ready to fall down.” How hard had she pushed herself to get well? No doubt she hadn’t allowed Phin to take over any of her duties on the ship.
“I love you, Emmaline Addison. Know that and nothing else. I will do what it takes for you to be happy and for us to be together. Even if it means embellishing a tale or two for the king.”
She grinned that mischievous grin he loved so much. For the first time since seeing her standing in his home he was able to take a complete breath. “And you’ve found a new home, Emmaline. No use looking for one.”
“I have?” The hope in her eyes flamed bright, hope but still not belief. That was fine, he had many, many years to make her a believer.
“Yes, you have.” He glided his fingers up her arm. She shivered. He looked into those green eyes that reminded him of the Caribbean darkening. “Right here. With me.”
He kissed her and those warm lips responded. Finally, he felt like he was home himself. “If you don’t want to live here, we’ll find a place we both like, as long as we’re together.”
She pulled back, her brows drawn in a frown. “I’m sorry about the baby.”
He squeezed her hand. “So am I. But there will be others, when the time is right.” He hoped many others, but he was willing to wait. To spend time with his wife.
“I love you,” she whispered. “I was afraid you left.”
“I’m sorry for that. I wanted to be with you, but I needed to clear your name and I needed to return the gold to the king before it was discovered.”
She lifted her chin. “I understand. You were right to do so.” She smiled, her first real smile. “And I’m sure my crew wasn’t happy you took their gold.”
“I took the king’s gold, and no, they weren’t happy.” He pulled her closer. “I should have stayed with you. But you need not worry, my lady. You will forever be plagued with me, I’m afraid. I’ll never leave your side again.”
Her chin trembled, but she managed to blink away her tears. His Emmaline, such a strong woman. “Thank you for everything.”
“No need to thank me. Especially once you hear my other bit of news.”
Her look turned guarded, wary. “What?”
“We have an appointment in a few weeks.” He cleared his throat, shifted from one foot to the other. “The king would like to thank us.”
She pulled away. “How would he like to thank us?”
“In a small, very small, ceremony.”
Her eyes widened. “I can’t go.”
“You have to go. Your king requests it.” More like demands it, but he wasn’t saying that. It was a sure way to make her do the opposite.
“See the king? Nicholas, this is madness. I’m a pirate.”
“Are you? All I see is my wife, Lady Addison. Oh, and that is going to change as well.”
She looked like she was about to fall over, but his strong wife refused to let anything bring her down. “What is going to change?”
“He would like to bestow a title on me. Us. Just a small one.”
“A small title during a small ceremony? Why do I not believe you? What is this title?”
“Earl.”
She drew back, her eyes going wide with panic. “Earl? Earl? I’m to be a countess?”
“It seems so.”
She laughed, and the sound was like music to his ears. Better than music, a siren’s call.
“The notorious Lady Anne,” she said. “A countess. Whoever would have thought?”
Certainly not Nicholas, but then he never thought his life would sail in this direction. And he’d thank God every day that it had.
About the Author
PHOTO: PAM JONES
PHOTOGRAPHY
After earning a degree in journalism from Ohio University, SHARON CULLEN found that the stories inside her head were more interesting than what was going on in the world around her. Yet, it wasn’t until years later that she decided to pursue her secret dream of writing a romance novel. Since then she’s published romantic suspense, paranormal romance, and contemporary romance. The Notorious Lady Anne is her first historical romance.
Cullen’s other job descriptions include chauffeur, laundress, cook, and mediator to her three very busy kids, her husband, and two dogs. She lives in southwest Ohio with her brood, although her dream is to someday retire to St. Maarten and live on the beach.
If you’d like to find out more about Sharon Cullen and her books, you can visit her at her blog or her website. She’s addicted to social networking, so you can find her on Facebook and Twitter. Friend her! Like her! Follow her! She’d love to hang out with you and talk about her passion—books.
Excerpt of The Infamous Lord Blythe
The cold spring air nipped at Claire’s heels as she hurried down the stone steps toward the carriage. She hadn’t planned this far ahead, but if she was anything, she was ingenious. After all, her brothers had told her so on numerous occasions.
She stopped at the carriage and looked up. The driver was asleep, his chin resting on a chest that was rising and falling at regular intervals. She rubbed her chilled arms and cleared her throat but that didn’t elicit any response. She cleared her throat again, louder this time, and shot a nervous look at the house.
It would be awhile before Blythe discovered she was missing. It would be sooner than that before the staff realized one of their servants was missing. When they discovered he’d been coshed on the head and was lying unconscious in her room, a hue and cry would go up, alerting Lord Blythe to her disappearance.
She shifted from one foot to the other. “Excuse me.”
Nothing.
With a sigh, she climbed up onto the box, bunching her skirts in one hand while she raised herself up with the other. The conveyance rocked to the side, causing her to gasp. And still the driver slept on.
“Excuse me,” she said, a little louder this time.
She poked him.
Goodness, the man could sleep through anything.
She shook his shoulder.
“Huh.” He jerked, snorted and looked around with bleary eyes, his hat askew, one corner of his mouth wet with drool.
“My apologies for waking you, but we’re ready to leave now.”
He looked around him, twisted and looked behind him, then pierced her with a red-eyed glare. “Where’s the gent?”
“You mean Lord Blythe? He’s in the carriage.” She leaned close and wrinkled her nose. “Inebriated, I fear.”
“Ah.” The driver cleared his throat and unhooked the ribbons. “Well then. Get on in. Where’re we going?”
“Um.” Good question. Where were they going? “Place Dauphine.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Place Dauphine? ’Tis the middle of the night. ’Tweren’t nothing to be open now.”
“Don’t be silly,” she said. “It’s nearly morning. Something will open soon.”
A shout erupted from the house. She looked at the driver, panic climbing into her throat. He looked back suspiciously, heavy brows drawn over skeptical eyes.
“One more thing,” she said. “Lord Blythe … Well. He cheats sometimes at the gaming table. So if someone chases us, continue driving and don’t stop for anyone.”
Quickly she climbed off the box. The carriage took off. Claire had to grab hold of the door handle and hoist herself in or be left behind. Before she shut the door, she looked at the house. Men were emerging, pointing at the carriage.
Oh, this was not good. Not good at all.
One broke away from the pack and took off running after the conveyance. Claire folded her hands in her lap and prayed to the carriage-driver god that the man would take her at her word and drive like the devil was after them. Because, Lord knew, the devil was after them.
“Hurry, hurry, hurry,” she chanted, closing her eyes, not willing to see how close Blythe was.
People began shouting and Claire opened her ey
es. Sure enough, there was a crowd following the carriage, led by Blythe himself. For such a large man, he certainly could run fast.
He came within feet of the conveyance. Claire resisted the urge to pound on the ceiling and plead with the driver to urge the horses faster. After all, Blythe couldn’t possibly outrun the horses.
He leapt. Claire squeaked. He grabbed on to the door handle and pulled himself up. Claire lunged for the lock, realizing she hadn’t even thought to secure it. Before she could fully engage the lock, the door was jerked open and Blythe tumbled in, landing in a very large heap at her feet.
He leaned halfway out of the carriage to grab the door and slam it shut before he lurched to the opposite seat and collapsed into it, his chest heaving, his glare ominous.
Several heartbeats of silence passed. Claire began to fidget until she finally blurted out, “I told you I was going to escape.”
“That you did. You didn’t tell me you were going to render Marchant’s servant unconscious in the process.”
She looked away and chewed on her lip for a moment. “I thought he was you.”
Blythe barked out a laugh and ran a hand through his hair. “I have that to be thankful for at least.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “You left me locked in a room in a brothel. What did you expect me to do?”
“What any sensible woman would do. Stay there until I came to fetch you.”
Her back teeth came together and fiery anger snapped through her. “So I was to bide my time until you saw fit to finish gambling?”
“Yes.”
“I am not your luggage, my lord. I don’t sit in a closet until you decide you need me.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I put you there to keep you safe, and that was not a brothel. That was Marchant’s residence.”
“You could have fooled me.”
He leaned forward. “And what would you know about brothels, my lady?”
She turned away from him, too furious to speak. She knew about brothels because Richard loved to frequent them, then return home smelling of liquor and women. He bragged that he got more satisfaction out of paid services than he did with his wife. The humiliation still stung.
“Where are we headed?”
She looked at Blythe, who had settled into the squabs, long legs splayed, head resting on the back, hands folded on his stomach as if he were ready for a nap.
“I am headed for Place Dauphine. Let me know where you would like to be dropped off and I’ll ask the coachman to stop for you.”
“Place Dauphine? What business do you have there?”
It infuriated her that he completely dismissed her not-so-subtle hint that he leave. But what else should she have expected? Compliance? “I have something to sell, if you must know. Not that it’s any of your business.”
His eyes twinkled and she marveled that his anger had so quickly dissipated. Surely, he was still furious over her escape, yet he seemed to have forgotten all about it. “Selling your wares, my lady?”
Her shoulders straightened. “I don’t believe I like your tone of voice, my lord. Nor your insinuations. If I’d wanted to sell my services, I would have done so quite easily at Marchant’s.”
His mouth thinned and anger snapped in his eyes. Ah, so the anger was still present. She instantly regretted poking the beast.
THE EDITOR’S CORNER
Welcome to Loveswept!
In March, Ruthie Knox’s Camelot series continues with ALONG CAME TROUBLE, a sizzling eBook original featuring two headstrong souls who bump heads—and bodies—as temptation and lust bring nothing but delicious trouble. Ruthie Knox took the romance world by storm with her first Loveswept original eBook, RIDE WITH ME. Now, see for yourself why readers are falling in love with Ruthie and her sexy stories!
We also have some wonderful classics awaiting you:
STILL MR. AND MRS. – Patricia Olney’s delicious story of untamed hearts and second chances.
THE BARON – Juliana Garnett’s enchanting romance of medieval England.
FIRST LOVES – Jean Stone’s moving novel about the power of second chances.
UNFORGETTABLE – Linda Cajio’s sultry tale of passion.
AN UNEXPECTED SONG – beloved author Iris Johansen’s simmering, sensual story.
If you love romance … then you’re ready to be Loveswept!
Gina Wachtel
Associate Publisher
P.S. Watch for these terrific Loveswept titles coming soon: In April, we’re excited about Megan Frampton’s emotional and powerfully erotic tale HERO OF MY HEART, Karen Leabo’s electric HELL ON WHEELS, Linda Cajio’s stirring novels, HE’S SO SHY and DESPERATE MEASURES, and Sandra Chastain’s spellbinding books, NIGHT DREAMS and PENTHOUSE SUITE. And May brings Elisabeth Barrett’s scorching third Star Harbor book LONG SIMMERING SPRING, Iris Johansen’s captivating LADY AND THE UNICORN, Sandra Chastain’s wickedly sensual stories, RUN WILD WITH ME and SCARLET BUTTERFLY, and Linda Cajio’s sizzling books, HOT AND BOTHERED and DANCING IN THE DARK. Don’t miss any of these extraordinary reads. I promise that you’ll fall in love and treasure these stories for years to come.…
Read on for excerpts from more Loveswept titles …
Read on for an excerpt from Wendy Vella’s
The Reluctant Countess
CHAPTER ONE
“If only she had a small imperfection.”
“What?” Patrick, Earl of Coulter, tore his eyes from the top of the stairs to glare at his friend.
“The countess.” Lord Sumner swept his hand in an arc that encompassed most of the assembled guests. “I was saying that some sort of imperfection would detract from her goddesslike beauty. Perhaps a lisp? Alas, no,” he added seconds later. “A lisp would merely make her sweet and beautiful.”
“Idiot,” the earl muttered, propping one shoulder against the silk-covered wall. His gaze returned to where the countess now stood. Poised on the top step of the Duke of Rookvale’s ballroom, she appeared motionless; only her eyes moved as they passed over the guests milling below.
“Perhaps a mole with several long dark hairs,” Lord Sumner mused, “on the end of her little nose?”
Patrick watched the countess descend. Tonight her raven locks were piled high and clasped with a single diamond pin; several long curls had been artfully teased to lie on one slender shoulder. Created to torment, her dress was cut low in the bodice, allowing a glimpse of the lush curves that lay beneath, and with every step she took the skirts caressed her legs in a swirl of emerald satin. Patrick dreamt about those legs—naked and wrapped around his body. Even from a distance, his muscles clenched at the thought of her lying beneath him, skin gleaming, lips red from his kisses. Bloody woman. From the first glance, she had taken up residence in his head, and he wanted her out. Patrick didn’t obsess over women—he took what he wanted when he wanted it. Usually his affairs were brief yet satisfactory for both parties and he was always the one in control. The countess, however, was another matter. Something about her reached out to him and he wanted her with a desperation no other had made him feel. Yet he would never act on that desperation because the countess was a fraud, and there was nothing Patrick hated more than people who set out to deliberately deceive others.
“Did you just growl, Coulter?”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Patrick snapped, following the countess’s progress until she reached the bottom step. Once again she became motionless. It was as if she held her breath, yet those eyes moved in every direction, seeking, searching, but for what?
“To be her lady’s maid for just one day,” Lord Sumner sighed.
Reluctantly, Patrick pulled his eyes from the countess once more to look at the man who lounged beside him. Stephen Sumner had been Patrick’s friend since childhood, and knew him better than anyone.
“The woman’s a fraud.” Patrick was subjected to a fierce glare as he finished speaking.
“For pity’s sake, Colt,” Stephen said, reverting to the nickname Patrick had been given
in his school days. “Just because she has not fallen prostrate at your oversized feet whilst declaring her undying love, does not mean she is a fraud. Surely you have tasted rejection before.”
“She has not rejected me!” Patrick snapped. Even knowing Stephen was baiting him did not ease his ire. That bloody woman always set him on edge.
“Excellent,” Stephen said. “We know how fragile your ego is.”
“I have no idea why I keep you as a friend.” Patrick shook his head. As Stephen began to speak, he lifted a hand to stall him.
“Three days before the Earl of Monmouth passed away, I paid him a visit at Monmouth Hall. He was in his bed, clearly near death, but still lucid.” He paused to make sure Stephen understood exactly what he was saying. “There was no Countess of Monmouth at that time, Stephen, no wife and most definitely no son.”
“What are you saying, Patrick? That she is some sort of imposter?” Running a hand through his golden locks, Stephen shot his friend an irritated look. “Why must you always suspect people of wrongdoing? Maybe she was away from the estate? Good lord, Colt! The old man was absent from society for years, lived like a recluse. He could have married a whole bevy of beauties and we would have been none the wiser.”
Shaking his head, Stephen continued before Patrick could interrupt. “Your investigating days are over, and for what it’s worth, I for one like the lady and cannot see her capable of treachery or deceit.”
Patrick snorted, his disbelief obvious. “You are too trusting, Sumner. There was no wife, I tell you. The old earl’s man of affairs was there, and that obsequious weasel of a nephew who was due to inherit his fortune, but there was no mention of a countess.”
“Well, good for her. If she got that old goat to marry her before he passed away, I’d say she deserved his money.” Stephen followed Patrick’s gaze back to where the countess now stood. “The woman is obviously a lady, so let it be, Patrick; no good can come of your meddling.”
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