Three Proposals and a Scandal: A Sons of Sin Novella

by Anna Campbell

  As the door slowly opened before him, the unreal sensation built.

  Flickering gold filled the widening gap. Leath found himself staring into wide dark eyes.

  The apparition gave a breathy gasp of surprise. A stray draft extinguished both candles, and then he heard a dull thud as the girl lost her grip on the light.

  Instinct made him drop the satchel and reach for her. It was as dark as a thief’s pocket, and something told him that she’d use the cover to flee. His hand closed around a slender waist. This was no visitor from the spirit realm. The body he held was undoubtedly human. Warm. Lissome. Taut with outrage or fright. Perhaps both.

  “Are you a burglar?” she asked in a low voice, wriggling to escape.

  “Isn’t that what I should say?” he asked drily.

  “I don’t understand,” she hissed back.

  She sounded young. Before the candles went out, he’d merely glimpsed her features. He wondered, although it could have no importance, whether she was pretty. “Damn it, stop squirming.”

  Uselessly she pushed him. “Then let me go.”

  “No.” He caught her more securely and back-stepped her into the library.

  The thick darkness was confoundedly suggestive. He was overwhelmingly conscious of the curve of her waist and the brush of her breasts against his chest. The soft, urgent rasp of her breathing indicated fear, but sounded disconcertingly like sexual excitement. Hell, he could even smell her. Her intentions might be murky, but she smelled of freshly cut meadows and soap. If she was a burglar, she was a dashed clean one.

  As he kicked the door shut behind him, she released a soft yelp and made a more vigorous attempt to break free. “I’ll scream.”

  “Go ahead.” He dropped his candle to the carpet and reached behind him to turn the key in the lock. When he rode up to the house, he’d been mutton-headed with weariness. This riddle of a female in his library stirred him to full alertness.

  “You’ve locked us in,” she said accusingly. “Who are you?”

  A snort of laughter escaped him. She was a direct wench. This encounter became more bizarre by the second. Perhaps he’d fallen asleep in the saddle and he was dreaming. If not for the living woman under his hand, he might almost believe it. “More to the point, who are you? And what are you doing in my library after midnight?”

  A bristling silence descended. “Your library?”

  “Yes.” Unerringly he approached the high windows and flung back the curtains. Moonlight flooded the room. He turned to inspect the woman, but she lurked in the shadows by the door and he discerned little, apart from her slenderness and unnaturally upright posture. Her hands twined nervously at her waist.

  She piqued his curiosity. A welcome change from the bitter dissatisfaction that had dogged him this last year. Using the tinderbox, he lit the branch of candles on the table under the window.

  Briefly Leath caught his reflection in the glass, outlined in gold light. Large, looming. If he’d made the girl nervous in the dark, she’d be terrified now that she saw him. He didn’t look like a welcoming, easy sort of man. Recent trials had added sternness to a face not blessed with charm at the best of times.

  Slowly, he turned. And his heart slammed to stillness.

  His mysterious lady was a beauty.

  Ignoring the way her lips tightened with resentment, he raised the candles to inspect her. A plain gray dress with white linen collar. Silvery blond hair drawn severely away from her face. No trace of curl or ribbon to soften the austerity. Her face was austere too, as perfectly carved as an angel on a cathedral doorway. High forehead; long slender nose; slanted cheekbones; pointed chin. Assertive brows darker than her hair above widely spaced eyes that regarded him with impressive steadiness. Few men could withstand the Marquess of Leath’s intense stare, yet this girl didn’t even blink.

  Her mouth provided the only hint in that pure, calm face that she was more than a beautiful marble statue. Her mouth was…marvelous.

  Full. Lush. Sweetly pink.

  He was so big that most women seemed tiny in comparison, but the repressed energy radiating from her made her appear taller than average. His eyes lingered on the delightfully rounded bosom beneath her demure bodice.

  Her gaze turned frosty and despite the uncertain light, he saw a flush on those high cheekbones. Good God, whoever she was, she had spirit. He reduced most young ladies to blushing silence. This girl—and she was little more, mid-twenties at the most—might blush, but she was far from intimidated.

  When she bloody well should be.

  The childishness of that last reflection had his lips twitching. He’d feared months of boredom ahead, but his return started in a most intriguing fashion. If he’d known this odd, fascinating creature waited in Yorkshire, he might have visited more often, instead of burying his head in parliamentary business in London.

  “Just what are you up to?” he asked softly, placing the candles on a table and stepping closer.

  Ah, she wasn’t totally foolhardy. She retreated toward the door, eyes widening. He wished he could see their precise color. The light simply wasn’t good enough. “You’re trying to frighten me.”

  “Perhaps I’m seeking a little respect,” he said smoothly.

  She curtsied, but he could tell that her heart wasn’t in it. “Your lordship.”

  He folded his arms and surveyed her under lowered brows. “So you know I’m Leath.”

  “You said it’s your library. And her ladyship has a portrait in her room. I recognized you when you lit the candles.”

  The world toadied to his wealth and influence, but the spark in this girl’s eyes looked like hostility. A challenge sizzled between them. Or perhaps the beginnings of attraction.

  “At last a straight answer,” he said wryly. “Now can you bring yourself to tell me who you are?”

  “Will you let me go if I do?”

  Her audacity stole his breath. Nobody defied him or denied him or bargained with him. Most people tripped over themselves to do his bidding before he’d even worked out what his bidding was. “We’ll see.”

  Her eyes narrowed, confirming his impression that she didn’t like him. He wondered why. “You have a reputation for keeping your hands off the housemaids, my lord.”

  “What in Hades?” Her meaning smashed through his burgeoning interest. “Are you saying that you’re a…housemaid?”

  A fleeting smile tilted her lips. His wayward heart jolted at the promise of other, more generous smiles. “Yes.”

  “You don’t look like a blasted housemaid.” Nor did she speak like any housemaid he’d ever known. She sounded like a lady.

  “You…you caught me at a disadvantage.”

  “I’ll say I did.”

  He waited for some retort, but her expression turned blank. For the first time, to his disappointment, she looked like a servant. Although this sudden docility meant that he might discover why she was in his library. Housemaids started work early and generally didn’t have the energy to run around after bedtime. “What’s your name?”

  She dipped into another curtsy. He could have told her she overdid the meekness, but he held his peace.

  “Trim, my lord.”

  Trim? He couldn’t argue with that. “Trim what?”

  He thought she might smile again, but she’d leashed her rebellious spirit as tightly as she tied back her hair. He wasn’t a man who experienced profound and sudden sexual urges. But he’d give this girl every sparkling diamond in the family vault if she’d take down her hair. If she let him touch it, he’d throw in the damned house as well.

  “Nell Trim, sir.”

  “Helen or Eleanor?”

  “Eleanor.” Her voice retained its curiously flat quality and she stared somewhere over his shoulder.

  Eleanor. An elegant name for an elegant woman. An elegant woman who was his housemaid.

  “Very good.” Except Eleanor wasn’t a suitable name for a junior servant. Eleanor was a queen’s name. It brought dangerou
s, powerful women to mind. “What are you doing in my library, Trim?”

  By rights, he should call a housemaid Nell, but with her slender neatness, Trim suited her so well.

  “If I tell you, you’ll dismiss me.”

  He kept his expression neutral. “I’ll dismiss you if you don’t.”

  She leveled that direct stare upon him. “I couldn’t sleep, and I wanted something to read. I always return the books, my lord, you have my word.”

  A housemaid who rifled his bookcases and offered her word? She became more extraordinary by the minute. “You can read?”

  “Yes, sir.” In a show of deference that didn’t convince, she lowered her eyelids. Years in the political bear pit had taught him to read people. He was sure of two things about the trim Miss Eleanor Trim. One was that deference didn’t come naturally. The other was that somewhere in this odd conversation, she lied.

  “So what did you choose?” She hadn’t carried a book when she’d run into him at the door.

  “Nothing appealed. May I go, my lord? I’m on duty early.”

  “Do I need to search you to see if you’ve stolen anything?” She could be a master criminal bamboozling him into complacency. Except he didn’t feel complacent. He felt alive and interested as nothing had interested him in months.

  Temper lit her eyes. She didn’t like him questioning her honesty. “I’m not a thief.”

  Ah, the false docility cracked. He hid his satisfaction. “How can I be sure?”

  “You could check the room for anything missing, my lord.”

  “I might do that.” Abruptly his sour mood descended once more. What the hell was he doing flirting with a housemaid in the middle of the night? Perhaps his political advisers were right about him needing a break.

  He bent to pick up the candle the girl had dropped when he’d barged in on top of her. He lit it from the branch and passed it across, then unlocked the door. “You may go, Trim.”

  She raised the candle and surveyed him as if uncertain whether this dismissal was good news or not. Her curtsy this time conveyed no ironic edge, then she backed toward the door. “Thank you, my lord.”

  “For God’s sake, I’m not going to pounce on you,” he said on a spurt of irritation. It niggled that for a different man living in a different world, the thought of pouncing on the delectable Miss Trim was sinfully appealing.

  Her eyes flashed up and he saw that beneath her drab exterior, she was fierce and strong. He awaited some astringent comeback. Instead she dragged the door open and fled.

  Wise girl.

  Find A SCOUNDREL BY MOONLIGHT on Amazon.

  For more information on A SCOUNDREL BY MOONLIGHT, click here.

  Don’t miss the other books in the exciting Sons of Sin series by Anna Campbell:

  Seven Nights in a Rogue ’s Bed

  Book 1 in the Sons of Sin Series

  Grand Central Forever, New York

  Will a week of seduction...

  Desperate to save her sister's life, Sidonie Forsythe has agreed to submit herself to a terrible fate: Beyond the foreboding walls of Castle Craven, a notorious, hideously scarred scoundrel will take her virtue over the course of seven sinful nights. Yet instead of a monster, she encounters a man like no other. And during this week, she comes to care for Jonas Merrick in ways that defy all logic—even as a dark secret she carries threatens them both.

  ...spark a lifetime of passionate surrender?

  Ruthless loner Jonas knows exactly who he is. Should he forget, even for a moment, the curse he bears, a mere glance in the mirror serves as an agonizing reminder. So when the lovely Sidonie turns up on his doorstep, her seduction is an even more delicious prospect than he originally planned. But the hardened outcast is soon moved by her innocent beauty, sharp wit, and surprising courage. Now as dangerous enemies gather at the gate to destroy them, can their new, fragile love survive?

  Find SEVEN NIGHTS IN A ROGUE'S BED on Amazon.

  For more information on SEVEN NIGHTS IN A ROGUE’S BED, click here.

  *

  Days of Rakes and Roses

  A Sons of Sin Novella

  Grand Central Forever Yours, New York

  Lady Lydia Rothermere has spent the past decade trying to make up for a single, youthful moment of passion. Now the image of propriety, Lydia knows her future rests on never straying outside society's rigid rules; but hiding away the desire that runs through her is harder than she could have ever dreamed. Now as Lydia prepares for a marriage that will suit her family, but not her heart, Lydia must decide what's more important: propriety or passion?

  Simon Metcalf is a rake and adventurer. But for all his experience, nothing can compare to the kiss he stole from the captivating Lydia Rothermere ten years ago. Simon can scarcely believe he's about to lose the one woman he's never forgotten. The attraction between them is irresistible, yet Lydia refuses to forsake her engagement. With his heart on the line, will Simon prove that love is a risk worth taking?

  Find DAYS OF RAKES AND ROSES on Amazon.

  For more information on DAYS OF RAKES AND ROSES, click here.

  *

  A Rake ’s Midnight Kiss

  Book 2 in the Sons of Sin Series

  Grand Central Forever, New York

  It Takes a Lady …

  Brilliant scholar Genevieve Barrett knows how to keep a secret. Her identity as the author of her father's academic articles has always been her greatest deception—until a charming housebreaker tries to steal the mysterious Harmsworth Jewel from her. She doesn't reveal that she recognizes her father's devastatingly handsome new student as the thief himself. For Genevieve, this will be the most seductive secret of all...

  …to Catch a Thief!

  Sir Richard Harmsworth has been living a lie, maintaining a rakish facade to show society that he doesn't care about his status as a bastard. Yet long haunted by his unknown father's identity, Richard believes the Harmsworth Jewel will confirm his claim as the rightful heir. But when Richard sets out to seduce the bookworm who possesses the stone, he instead falls for its beautiful owner. But even as she steals Richard's heart, Genevieve will be in greater danger than her coveted treasure...

  Find A RAKE'S MIDNIGHT KISS on Amazon

  For more information on A RAKE’S MIDNIGHT KISS, click here.

  *

  What A Duke Dares

  Book 3 in the Sons of Sin Series

  A reputation at risk

  What woman in her right mind would say no to marrying the dashing Duke of Sedgemoor? Miss Penelope Thorne, that’s who. She’s known Camden Rothermere since they were children – and she also knows she’d bring nothing but scandal to his name.

  Cam can hardly believe Penelope turned down his proposal. But if she wants to run off to the Continent and set the rumor mill ablaze, he can’t stop her. Then her brother’s dying request sends him to bring home the one woman he thought he’d finally gotten over.

  The only way they’ll both get back to London without their reputations in tatters is to pretend they’re married during the journey. That means kissing like they mean it and even sharing a bed – until it becomes hard to tell where the game ends and true desire begins…

  Find WHAT A DUKE DARES on Amazon.

  For more information on WHAT A DUKE DARES, click here.

  Continue reading for an excerpt from:

  Her Christmas Earl: A Regency Novella

  * * *

  * * *

  No good deed goes unpunished …

  To save her hen-witted sister from scandal, Philippa Sanders ventures into a rake’s bedroom – and into his power. Now her reputation hangs by a thread and only a hurried marriage can rescue her. Is the Earl of Erskine the heartless libertine the world believes? Or will Philippa discover unexpected honor in a man notorious for his wild ways?

  Blair Hume, the dissolute Earl of Erskine, has had his eye on the intriguing Miss Sanders since he arrived at this deadly dull house party. Now a reckless act delivers this beguiling woman in
to his hands as a delightful Christmas gift. Does fate offer him a fleeting Yuletide diversion? Or will this Christmas Eve encounter spark a passion to last a lifetime?

  Chapter One

  * * *

  Hartley Manor, Wiltshire, Christmas Eve, 1823

  HER HEART RACING, Philippa Sanders inched the massive oak door into the bedroom open. She prayed that nobody emerged into the lamplit corridor and caught her in a place where no lady of good reputation should be. Especially near midnight.

  Quick and silent as a cat, she slipped into the shadowy room and carefully closed the door after her. In the stillness, the latch’s snick resounded like a gunshot. Her breath jammed in her throat, and she stood still and trembling, waiting for someone to investigate the noise. But the rambling old house remained quiet. She sucked in some desperately needed air and berated herself for being a jumpy widgeon.

  The room, as she’d known it would be, was empty. Before coming here, she’d checked that Lord Erskine remained downstairs, carousing with his drunken cronies. If the last three nights were any indication, his flirtation with the brandy bottle would continue into the early hours. That left Philippa plenty of time to search his belongings undisturbed.