Passion Regency Style

by Wendy Vella

  “Is this how you described my having ravished you?” he demanded.

  Shock registered on her face. He blew out a frustrated breath. He’d come ready to battle the vixen and she was already crumbling. Moisture appeared in her eyes. Ah, there it was. She was simply moving onto another tactic.

  “Lies, pistols, tears, and…” He moved suggestively against her breasts and felt the rigid nipples beneath his shirt. “Your arsenal of weapons is impressive, madam.”

  “I tell you, mamma, I heard a scream.”

  A woman’s voice penetrated the door on the right wall. Erroll jerked his gaze in that direction as the door swung open. Two women stood in the doorway staring, one young—in her second season, he would guess—the other, the mamma the girl had addressed.

  Erroll looked at the woman lying beneath him. “I thought that was a closet.”

  * * *

  Panic streaked through Eve and she struggled to push Lord Rushton off her, but he continued to stare in shock as her mother fainted dead away.

  Her sister’s wail split the deadly silence. “He’s mine!”

  The earl looked at Eve, a strange sense of understanding in his eyes. “She’s Miss Crenshaw?”

  Eve wasn’t sure if his confusion was due to the fact he’d accosted the wrong woman, or that the woman he was supposed to have compromised was beautiful enough to rival Aphrodite. He wouldn’t be the first man struck dumb at first sight of Grace.

  “He’s mine!” This time Grace’s wail became a banshee cry.

  She hurled herself at them and landed on the earl’s back with a force that seemed impossible given her small stature. Eve winced when his hardened shaft dug into her pelvis. He grunted and she fleetingly wondered if it was Grace’s weight landing on top of him or the fact that even a steel rod could be crushed by the force of such an assault. It would serve him right if he never sired an heir.

  Eve caught sight of his jaw tightening and realized he’d broken from the spell. Grace seized his head and shoved. His face mashed into Eve’s breasts. Her breath caught and she clutched at his shoulders. Muscle bunched beneath her fingers as he tried to push upward in unison with her shove, but Grace was like a rogue elephant pounding them with all her weight and might. The hall door flew open and Eve glimpsed their father in the doorway.

  Lord Rushton jerked his head in an obvious attempt to look up, but Grace shoved harder, slamming his head deeper into Eve’s soft flesh.

  “What the bloody hell?” their father roared.

  An instant later, the weight lifted. Eve vaguely understood her father had pulled Grace off them, then she suddenly felt light as a feather and realized the earl had shoved off of her. He whirled, swinging a large fist that cracked against her father’s jaw. Eve jumped from the bed and tripped. She hit the floor shoulder first. Pain radiated up her arm. Her father rammed a fist into the earl’s stomach. Lord Rushton stumbled back a step, but jerked straight and sent a hard jab to her father’s ribs.

  “Stop!” she shouted, but the earl struck again.

  Her father blocked the blow, but the younger man was too fast and pounded a fist into his stomach. Eve spotted the pistol lying on the carpet and grabbed it. She aimed and pulled the trigger.

  * * *

  For an instant, Erroll was sure the roar he’d heard wasn’t a pistol shot, and the pain that seared across his left calf wasn’t a bullet wound. A yank to his boot sent him sprawling onto his backside, with the pistol now inches from his face.

  He looked at the woman who knelt beside him, pointing a gun at him for the second time that night, and said, “You used your one shot.”

  She blinked in confusion, then dropped her arm and fell onto her rump beside him. “This, sir, is a prime example of why a man does not enter a lady’s bedroom uninvited.”

  Erroll scanned the room. The mamma still lay on the floor where she’d fainted. The other lady stood, perfect breasts heaving beneath the white cotton of her nightgown, and green eyes blazing. The older man stood, hand braced against the wardrobe, drawing in deep breaths. And, glory be, the innkeeper and two maids stood in the doorway, mouths agape. His father would hear of this escapade before the doctor finished tending his gunshot wound.

  Erroll looked at the lady. “For once, madam, I would have to agree.”

  Also by Tarah Scott

  Claimed

  Sometimes, the hero must be the villain...

  Fourteen months ago, Lady Rhoslyn lost her husband and infant son to a fever. Now, by order of King Edward I, she is yanked from the healing tranquility of a convent to marry the king’s favored bastard knight. Rhoslyn has no intention of returning to the home where her husband and child died. Neither does she intend to hand over her fortune to the ‘Dragon’—no matter his sweet promises and warm kisses.

  Talbot St. Claire tires of war. Seventeen years is enough. King Edward will never release him from service, but the king promises Talbot will find some peace in front of his own hearth. Talbot expects to find a horse-faced, hostile woman in the Scottish heiress Edward commands him to marry. Instead, he discovers a fiery Highland beauty worthy of a man’s respect...and love. Talbot determines to do anything to win his new bride’s acceptance. Anything except the one thing she demands: betray his king and embrace his Scottish heritage.

  My Highland Love

  Voted Indie Romance Convention Readers Choice Award's best historical romance of 2013

  How does a woman tell her betrothed that she murdered her first husband?

  Shipwrecked in the Scottish Highlands, American heiress Elise Kingston quietly plans revenge for the deaths of her daughter and the brother who sacrificed his life to save her.

  When Marcus MacGregor, Marquess of Ashlund, returns to his Highland home to discover a stunning American woman has been taken in by his clan, his attraction is instant and he resolves to make her his—no matter what secret she's keeping.

  Elise is shocked by her need for Marcus and, too late, discovers that her feelings make him a target of her enemy—a man powerful enough to destroy even a Scottish nobleman.

  My Highland Lord

  London Heiress kidnapped by the Marquess of Ashlund, read the headlines. Yet no one tried to save her.

  Phoebe Wallington was seven years old when a mass assassination attempt rocked Regency England. Her father was the only accused traitor to elude capture. Seventeen years later, the one man who could prove her father's innocence is dead. Now as a grown woman and a British spy, she's no closer to learning what really happened that day.

  Phoebe's quest for the truth takes a sudden turn when she's kidnapped by a suspected traitor. But Kiernan MacGregor, the Marquess of Ashlund, may not live long enough to stand trial. Someone wants him dead…and Phoebe stands in the killer's way. The only way to save her reputation and protect Kiernan is to marry him.

  Lord Keeper

  No man bargains for war when he chooses a bride, but when he steals her from holy ground, he can expect nothing less.

  A midnight race for freedom leads Victoria Hockley, the Countess of Lansbury, to a churchyard deep in the Scottish Highlands. But not even hallowed ground can save her from the devil who’s pursued her from England, or from the furious Scot who swears to protect her.

  Iain MacPherson swore he was nothing like his father, but his kidnapping of Victoria Hockley shows the same kind of obsessive jealousy that sent his mother to an early grave. Now Iain has hell to pay, and the devil may very well be the noble English lass who has bewitched his very soul…

  A Knight of Passion

  Lady Riana Ellis will risk the fires of Hell for those she loves.

  Can she let a man do the same for her?

  As whore for the Duchess of Arundel, Lady Riana Ellis keeps her sister safe from the duke’s lascivious desires. Now the duchess demands that Riana murder the man already sent to her bed.

  Sir Bryant Cullen determines to have the duchess’ whore. Her land is a prize, but it’s her secrets he wants. Once he knows what she knows,
he will control one of the most powerful houses in Scotland. And she will be his.

  This is erotic romance

  The Pendulum: Legacy of the Celtic Brooch

  Two Men.

  Two murderers.

  Two demands for the promised payment of marriage.

  Murder, deceit, and fraud pull Lady Arin Keith between these men.

  Which one will bed her, claim her...own her?

  When a Rose Blooms

  This is a twenty page short story.

  On the fifth year anniversary of Margaret Moncreiffe's death, her husband Nathaniel kneels at her grave, asking the questions he fears were answered the night she died of a mysterious fever. As the evening progresses, however, a flesh and blood woman enters the battlefield he has created around his heart, forcing him to choose between life among the living, or life with nothing but memories of the dead.

  Seduced

  It’s a Mississippi Deputy Sheriff’s duty to bring a serial killer to justice…even when he’s a three hundred year old Scottish lord. It’s an SAS agent’s duty to save her.

  With each passing day, Lord Colin Morrison grows more furious...and more desperate. In three hundred years, not one of the women who shared his bed broke the spell that imprisoned him in Castle Morrison. Margot Saulnier is different. She can save him. All she has to do is give in to her desire for him. Then die.

  Deputy Sheriff Margot Saulnier knows her best friend murdered her husband—Margot’s cousin—but she can’t prove it. Now, four years later, out of the blue, Cat calls Margot from Scotland and invites her to visit. Margot turns in her badge and leaves Mississippi. This time, she’ll do whatever it takes to prove Cat murdered Donny. Margot didn’t plan on falling in love with an SAS Agent—or a three-hundred-year-old Scottish lord. Now she must choose.

  SAS Agent Charles McNeil is going to keep Margot Saulnier out of trouble—whether she likes it or not. He understands her need for justice, but with no proof and no authority, she’s headed for serious trouble. So is he. Charles didn’t plan on falling in love with Margot. Neither did he plan on saving her from a serial killer.

  The Highlander’s Improper Wife

  A proper young lady should never attend a Masque...Aphrodite is no lady.

  Betrothal to the callous Lord Blackhall painted a future devoid of love. Upon his death, Lady Caroline Wilmont is promised to the younger brother. Caroline refuses to allow her first taste of desire to be at the hands of a man who would rather have any woman but her. This, her last night of freedom, is to be a memory of lust that she can take with her throughout her loveless marriage. As Aphrodite, Caroline attends a masque determined to find a man to initiate her into the intimacies of erotic love.

  Taran Robertson, Viscount of Blackhall, makes no secret that he despises his obligation to marry the Sassenach heiress chosen for him by his father. As a last foray before his wedding, he attends a masque. However, the spirited vixen he meets and seduces has secrets...secrets that just may reveal he’s to have an improper wife.

  Double Bang!

  Sara Martin has a problem. And it’s not the attraction she has for her co-worker Devon Curran…or the lust she feels for her sexy neighbor, Rigg. Yes, those are problems. But she has bigger issues. There’s been a security breach in the impenetrable computer system at work. Suddenly Devon doesn’t look happy. And that is a gun in his pocket!

  Devon is working undercover…and Sara is about to blow his case. He’d rather she blow him. She’s as smart as she is beautiful. But he’s lied to protect her. What will she do when she discovers he works with a partner? Tonight, they are going to keep her close…very close…in their protective custody.

  Born Into Fire

  Ryalda - the Element heroes of old - leak from the dark void of nothingness, Ghen, and bring with them beauty, desire... and destruction.

  Air Element, Erion aches to feel the heat of Kenna's emerging fire. However, merging his wind with the woman on the cusp of transformation comes with great risk. A risk he's unwilling to take. But with a male Fire Element intent on enslaving Kenna, Erion reconsiders his vow. To protect her, they must merge, but he will not bond his wind with her fire.

  Aspiring glassblower, Kenna Lang finally has a showing that could launch her career - with Drakaura, blown glass replicas of the dragons of her dreams. A chance meeting with Erion ignites an attraction hotter than the furnace used to blow glass. Drawn into an erotic joining, Kenna is born into fire. Now her world is going up in flames.

  Merged as Air and Fire, their power is unimaginable. However, both are unprepared for the emotions awakened by their joining and the timeless battle waged against them. Only together can they defeat their enemies, both Element and Dragon, and escape the darkness of Ghen.

  Coming Soon

  Death Comes for a Knight

  My Highland Chief

  A MacLean Highlander Novel

  The Highlander’s Courtesan

  My Fair Groom

  Linda Rae Sande

  This is a work of fiction. The events and characters described herein are imaginary and are not intended to refer to specific places or living persons. The opinions expressed in this manuscript are solely the opinions of the author and do not represent the opinions or thoughts of the publisher. The author has represented and warranted full ownership and/or legal right to publish all the materials in this book.

  My Fair Groom

  All Rights Reserved.

  Copyright © 2013 Linda Rae Sande

  V1.6

  Cover photograph © RomanceNovelCovers.com Cover art by KGee Designs. All rights reserved - used with permission.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please go to an online bookseller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  To the Boobie Sisters – thanks for making everyday fun and Facebook sexy

  Regency Romances by Linda Rae Sande

  The Daughters of the Aristocracy

  The Kiss of a Viscount

  The Grace of a Duke

  The Seduction of an Earl

  The Sons of the Aristocracy

  Tuesday Nights

  The Widowed Countess

  My Fair Groom

  The Sisters of the Aristocracy

  The Story of a Baron

  The Passion of a Marquess

  The Desire of a Lady

  The Brothers of the Aristocracy

  The Love of a Rake

  The Caress of a Commander

  The Epiphany of an Explorer

  The Cousins of the Aristocracy

  The Promise of a Gentleman

  Chapter One

  A Reunion of Sorts

  Late February 1816

  “You’re back.”

  Alistair glanced up from his ale, his eyes blurry as much from the alcohol as from lack of sleep. “Gabe?” he replied, wondering if his eyes were deceiving him.

  Gabriel Wellingham, Earl of Trenton, took the seat at the trestle across from Alistair, setting his own tankard on the worn planks. “Christ. Where have you been?” he wondered, leaning over so he could better see his friend from his days at Eton and Oxford.

  The second son of an earl, Alistair Comber straightened and considered how to respond. Should he tell the earl about his time in France? The worse times in Belgium? About the battles in The Netherlands? About the men he’d served with that hadn’t made the trip back over the Channel with him?

  Alistair took a long draught from his ale and set down the mug. “On the Continent,” he finally answered. “Killing frogs,” he added before giving Gabriel a thorough glance and deciding the young earl seemed rather dour. “And you?”

  Gabriel’s words confirmed his mood. “Running an earldom. Fail
ing in the Marriage Mart.” He almost added, “Quitting my mistresses,” but thought better of it. How much misery could he share with a friend when they hadn’t seen one another in ...

  “Three years?” Gabriel asked suddenly. He hadn’t yet inherited the Trenton earldom when he last saw the second son of the Earl of Aimsley.

  Alistair leaned back, sobering up enough to consider the question. “That’s about right. And if you’re running an earldom, then that must mean ...”

  Damn! If his brain hadn’t been so addled from lack of sleep and alcohol, Alistair would have known better than to bring up the death of Gabriel’s father.

  The seventh Earl of Trenton had been a despot of an earl, a man committed to overtaxing his tenants, making life miserable for his wife (some claimed he beat her every Sunday just because he could), and berating his only living son, Gabriel, because there were no other children to belittle in the Wellingham household. And the man had fathered at least three bastard children by maids in three different Trenton households. Who knew if he saw to their care or education?

  Well, Gabriel would be seeing to one of those children on the morrow.

  “Two years ago,” Gabriel offered with a nod. “And he is not missed, I can assure you,” he added in a tone of voice that suggested hatred for his late father. “Mother has practically joined a convent. And I ...” have practically joined a monastery, he almost claimed, realizing he hadn’t bedded a woman since he quit his mistresses that fateful day when he had almost asked for Lady Elizabeth Carlington’s hand in marriage. Almost, because she had apparently learned of his three mistresses (well, only two, since one had quit him the night before) and seemed quite incensed that he had any at all.

  Didn’t the chit realize that mistresses were a ... necessity? A sign that you had achieved some status in the aristocracy by becoming whatever it was you had been born to be?