The loud, warm, wonderful family consisted of Iris’s younger sister, Daisy, who brought her bicycle with her on the train so she could explore the countryside; her older sister, Hazel; Hazel’s husband, Lucas, and their daughter, Lucy—who, although only two years old, had inherited the family habit of talking constantly; her brother, Nathaniel, and her parents. The father was the only member of the family who wasn’t constantly talking and joking, and he instantly became Theo’s ally in this boisterous, female-dominated household.
Sookie, the little pug dog, also made a visit. As Max and Sookie were introduced, everyone held their breath, as if it was essential for these two animals to get along if Theo and Iris were to be assured a happy future together. After a few cursory sniffs, while Max worked out whether this little creature really was a dog, they started to play together and everyone released a sigh of relief. Now they were the best of friends, and despite being hopelessly mismatched spent their days playing together and their nights curled up around each other in front of the fire.
A noble wolfhound befriending a tiny pug dog wasn’t the only surprising change that had happened in Theo’s life since Iris and her family began spending time in his home.
Iris had taken to reading to him from her favourite books, and he discovered he enjoyed gothic novels, or at least he enjoyed listening to her reading gothic novels to him. As she recounted tales of vampires, haunted houses, and dastardly murders he found himself completely mesmerised, although he suspected it was as much that he enjoyed the sound of her lovely voice, and her sharing this simple pleasure with him, as his actual enjoyment of the stories.
But more surprising than his newfound literary tastes, even more surprising than a wolfhound and pug dog becoming best friends, or Charles’s revelation that he was a secret Morris dancer, was the disappearance of his nightmares. From the moment he let go of his past and started to look forward to the future, his future with Iris, his night-time torment ceased.
And he was looking forward to his future life and never wanted to go back to the way he had been before Lady Iris Springfeld burst into his home. He had gone from living in almost complete silence to being plunged into non-stop noise and activity, and he loved it. He was now part of a welcoming, happy family and surrounded by love. But it was more than that. He was in love for the first time in his life, truly in love.
Sometimes that love was just there, sitting quietly in the background, and merely providing a framework for his life. At other times it would bubble up inside him and he’d have to immediately tell Iris how he felt or he was sure he would explode. If that happened when they were alone, he could let it out in a heartfelt declaration. But if he was caught unawares, such as when the family was present, he would have to be content with whispering his love for her in her ear, or merely squeezing her hand, or lightly touching her arm so she would know how deep his affection was for her.
Theo was sure that with every passing day he spent with Iris, his love continued to grow. While that was a wonderful sensation, it did mean he was also finding it harder and harder to wait for her to become his bride. Fortunately, the parents agreed that there did not need to be a long courtship. Thank goodness for that.
Then, eventually, after what felt like an interminable amount of time, the day finally arrived.
The wedding ceremony was held at the local church near Iris’s family’s Dorset estate, and it was agreed that the couple would stay at the family home for a few days then travel back to Cornwall. That too was something for which Theo was grateful. He did not think his control would last the journey, and he did not want to consummate his marriage in a railway carriage.
Standing at the altar as the vicar conducted the service, Theo was tempted to tell the man to hurry up. Finally, when he declared them man and wife, Theo could hardly believe such happiness was possible. That was, until he was told he could kiss his bride, and he realised he was wrong. An even greater level of happiness swelled up inside him as he leant down and lightly kissed his wife, loving the touch of her now familiar lips on his own, adoring that enchanting scent of orange blossom and rosewater.
‘Oh, that was a bit tame, wasn’t it?’ his cheeky bride whispered, causing Theo to smile.
‘It will have to do for now, Lady Greystone. After all, the vicar is watching,’ he replied equally quietly, his skin softly rubbing against her cheek as he whispered in her ear. ‘You’ll just have to wait till I get you alone.’
‘Mmm, alone and less than formally attired, I hope,’ she whispered in reply, causing Theo to tilt back his head and laugh out loud, even though such behaviour was perhaps a bit raucous for the local village church.
* * *
Iris joined in her husband’s laughter. Her husband. Was there a more wonderful phrase in the English language? If it were actually possible to die from happiness, Iris was sure her days must be numbered. But how could she not be deliriously happy when she was married to the most wonderful man in the world?
She loved Theo Crighton. Every time she reminded herself of that fact a little shiver of pleasure rippled through her, just as it was doing now.
The vicar held up his hands so the congregation would rise.
‘Right, the vicar isn’t watching,’ Iris whispered. ‘You can kiss me again now.’
‘But what about your parents, your family, the guests?’ he said, still laughing. ‘Or do you want the entire congregation to close their eyes, along with everyone from the village?’
‘I’m sure that can be arranged.’
He pulled her close and kissed her again, to the accompaniment of the cheering and clapping guests.
Taking her hand, he led her down the aisle, and out into the glorious sunshine. Then he kissed her again, this time to the accompaniment of ringing church bells and the raining down of rose petals.
‘That, my dear, is going to have to do, until tonight,’ he said, as his lips left hers.
Iris resisted the temptation to pout and stamp her foot. She had no choice but to wait. They had the wedding breakfast to get through, the speeches and the dances. But it would be so tempting to tell everyone to carry on without them, to inform the wedding party that they had more important things to do. But she knew she would not do that. As desperately as she wanted to be alone with Theo, she also wanted to share this wonderful moment with her family and friends.
She looked up at her adorable husband, whose wide smile was the mirror of her own. In fact, he had smiled so much since they had begun courting that it was hard to believe that a few months ago he had never smiled, never laughed and had been constantly serious and mournful. Now he was the man she had always known was hidden behind that gruff exterior. A loving, lovely man with a great capacity for happiness, for giving and receiving love.
Her family surrounded them, all talking at once, as the church bells continued to ring out, declaring their happy union. Her older sister, Hazel, looked beautiful as her maid of honour, and her younger sister, Daisy, for once was not wearing her bicycle-riding costume and had donned a lovely cream silk dress, with an appropriate garland of daisies in her hair.
As much as she believed that Daisy should be allowed to live her life the way she wanted, and dress any way she chose, she was pleased she had put up no objection to the bridesmaid’s gown Iris had chosen for her.
‘I’m so happy,’ her mother said, kissing Iris on the cheek while her father shook Theo’s hand. ‘I’ve managed to get two daughters married. Now there’s only one to go,’ she added, wiping away a tear. She turned and smiled at her youngest daughter. ‘And dressed like that I’m sure I’ll find Daisy a suitable husband, just as I’ve done for you and Hazel.’
All three girls rolled their eyes in unison, then broke out into laughter. Iris did not have the heart to point out to her mother that both she and Hazel had found their own husbands. If it hadn’t been for Iris wandering away from a house party in the middle of a s
torm she might never have met the love of her life.
Iris also suspected that Hazel was tempted to remind their mother that she had met her husband in less than conventional, and somewhat scandalous circumstances. And as for Daisy, everyone knew that she had no interest in marrying anyone. Ever. What she wanted was to be free, to be an independent woman and to explore the world from the seat of her bicycle. Although Iris knew that Daisy’s claim she wanted to remain single would fall on her mother’s deaf ears. As her mother had already said to Daisy, repeatedly, finding love and riding a bicycle were not mutually exclusive activities.
She turned back to her smiling husband, whose hand was being shaken by a seemingly endless line of well-wishers who wanted to congratulate him. The poor man must be getting quite worn out. And she did not want that to happen. After all, she had plans for those hands tonight.
That small shiver of pleasure rippled through her again at the thought of the night to come. They would be together, alone and married. She had just made a vow to love Theo Crighton until death did them part. Iris had once made a vow, to marry for love, and she had kept it. Now she had made another, and she knew that loving her husband until the day she died was going to be the easiest vow in the world to keep.
* * *
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ISBN-13: 9780369711168
Stranded with the Reclusive Earl
Copyright © 2021 by Eva Shepherd
All rights 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.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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“Is this acceptable?” Margery asked, further exploring the areas he’d allowed, behind his ear and along the rim of it.
“What?”
“My hand here?” She gently pinched his earlobe before going over his temple, then his brow.
Evrart closed his eyes briefly as her palm skimmed to explore the other side. “It’s...different.”
It was as if his bones were mountains, his skin the earth. She wanted to explore him. “How?” she asked.
“You touch me all the time. On my shoulder, on my arm, on my hand...” he said.
He held so still she wasn’t certain that he breathed or that his heart beat.
She shifted closer.
This man... She wanted him.
Reason told her that she should keep boundaries as large as the fortress. That she should play the game of false smiles and false words and then hide. Not be alone with him...not want to kiss him. But hadn’t she already realized he was different? That despite their differences in size and gender, they shared similarities? They were alike. He needed to defend himself, too.
Keeping her eyes on his, she continued what she’d started, what she seemed unable to stop.
Author Note
Here is a story that wasn’t meant to be written. Not so much because the rest of the Lovers and Legends series didn’t have “Oh, look who’s arrived! I must tell their story now!” moments, but because I had plans! Dreams! I was meant to write the last book in the series. I was supposed to write Malcolm’s book, but...
I had a crush on Evrart, and when Margery defended him against her sister, Biedeluue, I knew I had to write their story.
Yet how to tell their story when they meet at the exact time and place Louve and Biedeluue meet in The Maiden and the Mercenary? Only one way for it: there’s one event and many, many differing opinions on what happened.
No worries if you haven’t read the previous book. This story begins before and ends after The Maiden, so there will still be surprises. But if there are some scenes from The Maiden you need to know more about, Evrart and Margery are there to tell you all about them.
They certainly told me over and over, but I’m so very glad I got the opportunity to listen and write one extra book. I hope you enjoy their tale, too.
Her Honorable Mercenary
Nicole Locke
Nicole Locke discovered her first romance novels in her grandmother’s closet, where they were secretly hidden. Convinced that books that were hidden must be better than those that weren’t, Nicole greedily read them. It was only natural for her to start writing them—but now not so secretly.
Books by Nicole Locke
Harlequin Historical
The Lochmore Legacy
Secrets of a Highland Warrior
Lovers and Legends
The Knight’s Broken Promise
Her Enemy Highlander
The Highland Laird’s Bride
In Debt to the Enemy Lord
The Knight’s Scarred Maiden
Her Christmas Knight
Reclaimed by the Knight
Her Dark Knight’s Redemption
Captured by Her Enemy Knight
The Maiden and the Mercenary
The Knight’s Runaway Maiden
Her Honorable Mercenary
Visit the Author Profile page
at Harlequin.com for more titles.
To new friends brought about because of 2020: Taylor DeLong, Mary E. Montgomery, Isabelle Peterson, Arell Rivers, DeLisa Smith and Libby Waterford. You all are the reason I and this book (but mostly me) made it through.
Contents
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 ONE
France, 1297
‘What do you think, my dear?’
Ian of Warstone waved before him. His posture, voice and sweeping gestures all indicating that there was a correct answer, and Margery of Lyon knew for her very life, she’d better know what it was.
Warstone Fortress was...menacing.
Giving the guards who circled her a smile, Margery adjusted her reins from one hand to the other in the vain hope the horse she rode would somehow understand what she needed.
It didn’t—just as it hadn’t understood all the other hints she’d given it on this journey for the past sennight. For instance, her begging it to gallop away, to dash off in a different direction, to help her escape. No such good fortune for her, however.
The horse wasn’t to blame; it simply followed its master—who wasn’t her. The expansive lands and the forbidding fortress before her weren’t hers either. Nor was the man, Lord Warstone. She wasn’t even Ian’s mistress, but it was a role he meant her to play for however long he wanted.
In truth, if she were to give her true opinion on his home and lands it would be Warstone Fortress was beyond frightening. That she feared the moment she rode under the portcullis she might never see her family again.
That opinion, she knew, wouldn’t be the correct response.
‘It’s impressive,’ she lied.
‘You can’t even see it from there,’ he clucked.
That was because the horse wouldn’t swerve around the guard in front of her, and most likely wouldn’t move until Warstone’s horse did. They were both following Warstone. The horse she rode, however, was blessed with the ignorance of not knowing its fate. She knew hers all too clearly.
‘It’s difficult to miss,’ she added. ‘What with its...vastness.’
Ian’s pale grey eyes swept over her. She could have sworn his lips curved before the wind brushed his black hair across his cheek, hiding any sign of amusement.
Harlequin Historical September 2021--Box Set 2 of 2 Page 44