“Belay that.” Barrington kissed Florence’s temple, and she hugged him about the waist. “You will stay here, as our guests, and we can send for your things.”
“Mead is just arrived, with Lord Braithwaite.” Sir Ross jotted on his notepad. “Perhaps you can adjourn to the drawing room, while I process the scene, but do not retire, as I wish to compose an official record of what happened, tonight.”
“I would prefer the back parlor, as it is more intimate.” Florence pressed her lips to his neck, and he shuddered. “Please, Barrington?”
As she made to release him, he bent and swept her off her feet. “Whatever my marchioness desires.”
~
Sitting in Barrington’s lap, Florence nuzzled his chest and sighed. On the chaise, Jean Marc balanced his wife in the same manner, and she found them quite the odd couple. The two other rescuers, Leland and Cager, stretched out on the sofa, and Cager yawned.
“But I am for bed.” Cager chucked Leland on the shoulder. “What say we leave the happy couples to their reunions and take a brandy, upstairs.”
“Cager, you are playing my tune.” Leland stood. “Good night.”
“Sweet dreams.” Madalene extended her arms over her head and then pushed free from her husband. “Shall we retire, my love?”
“Barry and I are still talking, Mon Chou.” Jean Marc inclined his head. “I will join you shortly.”
“Are you sure I cannot tempt you?” Madalene stuck her tongue in her cheek. “Not even if I don the blue bows.”
Jean Marc snapped to attention and shoved from the chaise. “My friend, we can continue our discussion in the morning.”
At last alone with her man, after the day’s excitement and the investigation, Florence asked, “Do I want to know the significance of blue bows?”
“Knowing Jean Marc, probably not.” Barrington chuckled and then grew serious, as he cupped her chin. “How are you? Both of you?”
“We are fine.” Haphazardly, she pressed her palm to her belly. “I am so sorry you learned of our impending addition to our family like that. I wanted to tell you when the time was right, and I had fantasies of the preparations I would make to herald the announcement.”
“What say you organize your festivity and tell me then?” He smiled and bared his endearing dimples. “And I owe you an apology.”
“For what?” Sitting upright, she tugged on his cravat and untied the yard-length of linen.
“I should have confided in you.” With his finger, he traced the edge of her bodice. “I should have kept you apprised of the developments, but I thought I was protecting you.”
“But you had secondary plans, in the event I showed up, as I did.” Indeed, he knew her well. “So I was never in any danger.”
“I suspected Aunt Esther would lure you back to the house.” As he gazed into the hearth, the reflection of the flames danced in his blue eyes. “I still cannot believe she conspired to steal the title, and I never considered she murdered Uncle Hubert. It was blind luck that led us to her, as the agent posing as a footman had already caught Ashby sneaking into Esther’s chamber, after dark. When the agent later discovered Ashby going into the mews, the day before the incident with the phaeton, we knew we had our villains. But we did not know to what extent, if any, Percy was involved.”
“It is too shocking to ponder.” She shivered. “Did Sir Ross say whether or not Ashby survived his wound?”
“Ashby died.” Barrington rubbed her shoulder and drew her close. “Ross told me before he departed.”
“What happens next?” After unhooking his collar, she pressed a kiss to his throat. “What of Aunt Esther?”
“Ross says there will be a formal inquest, to admit the facts into evidence.” Then he shook his head. “And Esther seems to have suffered some sort of mental breakdown, in the face of Ashby’s death. I suppose I shall ask the court to commit her to an asylum, as opposed to imprisoning her.”
“That is quite charitable of you, but I would expect nothing less.” Bone wear from the excitement, she kissed her husband. “Shall we retire and make love, as I missed you.”
“We will, eventually.” He tightened his arms about her. “Right now, I need to hold you.”
“Are you all right?” When he did not respond, she peered at him. “Oh, my love, do not cry.”
“I am sorry.” He tried to turn away, but she framed his cheeks and kissed him. And she kept kissing him, until he relaxed. Finally, he rested his forehead to hers. “When I think of how close I came to losing you—”
“But you did not lose me.” Fumbling in his breast pocket, she located his handkerchief, which she withdrew and used to dry his tears. “I am right her, safe and sound, in your unyielding embrace. And we have so much to look forward to, including our babe, which the doctor believes is due in September.”
“You were examined?” Again, he pulled her close. “And everything progresses as it should?”
“I summoned a physician to my father’s, yesterday.” In play, she rubbed her nose to his. “And I hope you are not vexed with me, but he knows, as I could not conceal it from him, given my previous deception.”
“No, I am not vexed, sweetheart.” Then Barrington wagged a finger. “But I should spank you, for putting yourself in harm’s way and refusing to depart for the hotel, where you would have been safe.”
“Neither I nor Madalene wanted to leave our husbands, as that was unacceptable to us.” With that Florence eased from his lap. “And if you wish to spank me, I am more than willing to comply, as it was such fun the last time.”
“Is that so?” In that instant, his demeanor changed, as the pirate emerged, and she took a position behind the sofa. “Do you think to elude me?”
“On the contrary, I hope to entice you.” Hiking her skirts, she sprinted to the door and into the hall, with her husband hot on her heels. With a shriek of laughter, she took the stairs, two at a time, and charged the landing.
“Faster, darling.” He gave a furious chase. “I am going to catch you.”
In the main corridor, Florence burst into their sitting room and flew into their bedchamber, where she hid behind the door. When Barrington skidded into their private apartment, she jumped him. “Aha, my lord. I have caught you.”
THE IRON CORSAIR
EPILOGUE
August, 1818
A warm breeze rustled the drapes of the study at Garring Manor, in Derbyshire, as Barrington read aloud to his heavily pregnant wife. In the months since the unfortunate events that cast a cloud over his family, Aunt Esther was institutionalized, and he worked to recover his relationship with Ernest, so they could support Percy, who was devastated by his mother’s schemes, and they refused to abandon him.
In March, once the weather improved, his firstborn son was given a name and reinterred in the family plot, with a small, engraved marble obelisk marking his final resting place. Together, they mourned their shared loss. With so much sadness marring their history, after the Season he retired to the country to begin a new chapter of his life, with his bride, determined to put the pain of the past behind them.
“What are you thinking?” Reclining on the daybed in the back parlor, with her head resting in his lap, Florence gazed at him and traced the outline of his lips with her finger. “You look so serious, my love.”
“Just wondering what our guest wants, given his notice of arrival mentioned naught of the purpose of his visit.” And that was cause for concern, because a pirate, even one navigating the path of reformation, remained a lethal lot. “Still, I owe him, because he defended you when I needed assistance, so I will return the favor.”
“Your Lordship, a Leland Stryker is just arrived.” The new butler, Crawford bowed. “Shall I show him to the study?”
“No.” Florence sat upright. “You may bring him in here, and we will take tea.”
“Very good, my lady.” The butler bowed.
In preparation to receive his visitor, Barrington set aside the book, stood,
and stretched his arms over his head. He tried not to jump to unsupported conclusions, but his thoughts betrayed him. Minutes later, The Marooner, garbed in gentleman’s attire, swaggered into the back parlor.
“Barry, it is good to see you.” Leland clicked his heels and nodded. “And it is always a pleasure, Lady Florence.”
“How are you, Leland? Will you sit down?” Ever the accomplished hostess, she extended a hand, which The Marooner kissed. “We were so happy to receive your note, and I must admit I am intrigued by your appearance. To what do we owe the honor?”
“First, I bring news from Jean Marc and Madalene.” With his elbow propped on the armrest, Leland leaned to the side. “Maddie is expecting, again, and Jean Marc is but molding clay in her grasp, as he will do anything for a son. I am embarrassed for him.”
“Sooner or later, it happens to us all.” Barrington shrugged, as he would gladly bend to whatever his wife desired. “And it is not so bad.”
“Well I like that.” Florence pouted, but she did not fool him for a second. “I should hope you enjoy indulging me.”
“But I do, sweetheart.” Before he got himself into trouble, Barrington changed the topic. “And how is Cager?”
“Now that is the interesting development.” Leland grinned. “He is getting married.”
“Oh, do tell, as I want to know everything.” She inched to the edge of the daybed, and Barrington admired her classical profile, enhanced by the glow of impending motherhood. Indeed, she had never been more stunning. “Where did they meet, what is she like, and when is the wedding?”
“Well, they met in Boston, she is not what I expected, and the ceremony is in October.” Leland snickered. “Between that and the pregnancy, Maddie is ecstatic, and Jean Marc is one confused bastard.”
Barrington and Leland burst into laughter.
“Ah, he will manage.” Barrington perched to Florence’s left and lifted her to his lap, where he preferred her. “Now, what else happened? Why are you here?”
“I cannot believe what I am about to ask, but I have considered my situation, especially in light of your happy union, and I have made a decision.” The Marooner rubbed the back of his neck. “Since I signed the pact, I have thought of my life once I am pardoned, and I want what you, Jean Marc, and Cager have found. After spending some time in London, I had a chance to admire the landscape, and I want one of those pretty society ladies, which I wager my fortune will buy.”
“What has that to do with us?” Barrington inquired.
Leland leveled his stare. “I need you to make the introductions.”
Barrington peered at Florence, and in unison they blinked.
EXCERPT FROM BEWITCHED & BELOVED
THE BUCCANEER
Boston
May, 1818
The love of a good woman could destroy a man’s peace of mind, because she often forced him to confront the less-than-noble aspects of his character, in order to win her heart, and he rarely recovered his sanity after the battle. It was for that reason Cager Tyne, former bosun of the pirate ship Black Morass turned captain of the renamed, respectable merchant vessel Lady Madalene, never sought more than free and easy access to a light skirt. Give him a three-penny upright or a disgruntled and dissatisfied wife, any day of the week, and he was happy.
Yet, as he admired the shapely arse of Francie Osborne, the young and pretty housekeeper and self-described Jane of all trades in the Cavalier home, as she bent to set a bucket on the floor and her cotton frock stretched taut across her hips, he was tempted to take up the fight, if only to savor a taste of her flesh.
“Will you fetch me another cup of coffee, pretty lady?” Sitting at the servant’s table in the kitchen, he held out his empty mug and smiled, which he knew from experience would ruffle her feathers, a pastime he rather enjoyed. “As I am quite thirsty this morning.”
“Get it yourself, Mr. Tyne.” Ah, there was the governessy tone that never failed to set his blood on fire. “I do not work for you.”
“Aw, now do not get your cute little nose in a snit.” As Cager imagined running his fingers through her thick blond hair, he licked his lips and relished the red flush of her cheeks. “I only want to be friends. Why do you always frown at me, Francie?”
“Because I know who you are, what you are, and what you want, and I am not interested. And it is Miss Osborne to you, sir.” When he stood and blocked her path, Francie bared her teeth. Bloody hell, he could have proposed to her, then and there. “Now get out of my way, as there is work to be done, and I have no time for the likes of you.”
“But I have time for you.” In a flash, he snatched the bucket and mop from her grasp. “Now why do you flee, when I just want to become better acquainted, beautiful Francie? Would that not be nice?”
“Mr. Tyne—”
“Cager.”
In that instant, she gave vent to a snort of frustration, and he could have kissed her silly. All that spirit wrapped in a dainty package he could not wait to unwrap, if she would simply cooperate.
“Mr. Tyne, give me back my things, and let me pass.” With her foot, she tapped an impatient rhythm, and he could not stifle his amusement. “Fine. I will dust the back parlor, first, and you can stand here, all day, and hold my mop and bucket.”
“My, but you are a stubborn bit o’ fluff.” Given her uncompromising demeanor, he shrugged, as he followed in her wake. “We could have fun, you and I. Why will you not take a chance on me?”
“Because fun is all you want, I am a good girl, and my father raised no fool.” She smoothed her crisp white apron. “What is your excuse?”
“You are a saucy wench, but I like that in my women.” He wagged a finger. “Mark my words, I will have you.”
“Would you care to wager on that, Mr. Tyne?” At last, he snared her attention, as she turned, faced him, and squared her shoulders, and her ample bosom distracted him. “Tell me, what can you afford to lose?”
“Are you that sure of yourself?” Surprised by her new tack, he rocked on his heels, because he was not only a betting man but also a winner. “Or would you prefer I think that, when in truth you are curious about me?”
“You are too bold by half, sir.” She snickered, as she returned to the kitchen, marched into the pantry, collected a couple of rags, and stomped to the back parlor, with Cager in tow. “And you mistake annoyance for curiosity, because I know your type.”
“And what is that, if I dare inquire?” Of course, it did not matter what she thought of him, because he wanted her. It was that simple.
“Mrs. Cavalier confides in me, as my family has served hers since before she was born.” After clearing a side table, Francie wiped clean the wood surface. “You were a buccaneer, as was Mr. Cavalier.”
“And you do not approve.” It was a statement, not a question.
“It is not my place to approve or disapprove of the master’s former occupation, though I cannot fathom whatever possessed Mrs. Cavalier to take him as her husband, but I do not have to tolerate it in you, Mr. Tyne.” Riding a wave of high dudgeon, which he found adorable, she tidied a stack of newspapers, and he studied her lush red lips, which he could suckle for hours. “And I certainly would never associate with you beyond the confines of my position in this household.”
Locking his legs, he folded his arms. “But you will.”
“Will—what?” She blinked.
“Associate with me, in my bed.” To increase the stakes, and rile her even more, because he could not resist her, he winked. “And it will make your eventual surrender all the more sweet.”
“Indeed.” The fascinating housekeeper scoffed. Then she smiled the sort of smile that gave him collywobbles. “Will you do me one favor, Mr. Tyne?”
“Anything you ask shall be granted, dear Francie.” He braced for the blow that he knew was forthcoming.
As she leaned near, he noted a subtle lavender scent, and it drew him as a bee to honey. “Hold your breath until that comes to pass.”
The
n she rushed to the door, flung open the oak panel, and stormed from the parlor.
“You are a witch, Francie Osborne.” Now Cager chuckled, as she hiked her skirts and broke into a sprint, and he admired her shapely calves. “You cast a spell, and I am your most devout servant.”
ABOUT BARBARA DEVLIN
USA Today Bestselling Author Barbara Devlin was born a storyteller, but it was a weeklong vacation to Bethany Beach, DE that forever changed her life. The little house her parents rented had a collection of books by Kathleen Woodiwiss, which exposed Barbara to the world of romance, and Shanna remains a personal favorite. Barbara writes heartfelt historical romances that feature flawed heroes who may know how to seduce a woman but know nothing of marriage. And she prefers feisty but smart heroines who sometimes save the hero, before they find their happily ever after. Barbara earned an MA in English and continued a course of study for a Doctorate in Literature and Rhetoric. She happily considered herself an exceedingly eccentric English professor, until success in Indie publishing lured her into writing, full-time, featuring her fictional knighthood, the Brethren of the Coast.
Connect with Barbara Devlin at BarbaraDevlin.com, where you can sign up for her newsletter, The Knightly News.
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/BarbaraDevlinAuthor
Twitter: @barbara_devlin
TITLES BY
BARBARA DEVLIN
BRETHREN OF THE COAST SERIES
Loving Lieutenant Douglas: A Brethren of the Coast Novella
Enter the Brethren
My Lady, the Spy
The Most Unlikely Lady
One-Knight Stand
Captain of Her Heart
The Lucky One
Love with an Improper Stranger
To Catch a Fallen Spy
Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me: A Brethren of the Coast Novella
The Duke Wears Nada
BRETHREN ORIGINS
Arucard
The Iron Corsair (Pirates of the Coast Book 2) Page 12