* * * *
Georgianne opened her eyes. Confused for a moment, she stared up at the tall figure splendid in scarlet and gold. “Good morning, Tarrant,” she whispered as she returned to full consciousness. She blushed, as the sight of him stirred ripples of excitement deep within her. “You look very handsome in your regimentals.”
“Thank you.” Tarrant turned full circle. “Do you think my coat fits properly?” She nodded. Tears spilled down her cheeks. She slipped out of bed to put her arms around him. “Please forgive me for being foolish.”
Her husband wiped her tears away with his forefinger. “Your tears are not foolish.”
“Do you really love me?”
“Yes, you are my treasure, my only jewel. I love you more than words can express.”
“When did you fall in love with me?”
“I shall not lie to you.” He held her hands in his while he sat on a chair and she stood between his knees gazing down at him. “When we married, I never thought I would love again. Bit by bit, you proved me wrong.” He raised both her hands to his warm lips. “But now, I want you to understand why I must fight the French. I want to help to avenge innocents, and preserve our country from Napoleon’s undisciplined soldiers.”
“I understand. Why do you think my father taught me to handle weapons? He taught me so that I could defend myself if the French invaded England.” Georgianne stroked his cheek.
Tarrant’s shoulders heaved. He turned his head and buried his face between her breasts.
Georgianne blinked back tears of sympathy. “I know why you are determined to fight the French again. I shall pray for Dolores.”
“Thank you.” His eyes damp, he looked up at her while pulling away from her embrace, almost ashamed of sharing his deep felt emotion. “I trust you have no doubts about my love for you?”
With new unfamiliar maturity, she smiled.
“Thank God, you are my wife. Although I must go to Belgium, I cannot bear to be separated from you. I shall take you with me. We shall rent a house in Brussels.”
“Brussels?”
“Yes, I assume our troops will be concentrated there. You do want to accompany me, do you not?” She nodded. Tarrant pulled her into his arms. The gold buttons on his jacket pressed into her painfully. She did not care although her hands crept between their impatient bodies to unfasten them. Her breasts ached for his kisses, her cheeks burned with the memory of how quickly she had cast aside modesty and reticence on the previous night. The reward of mutual pleasure was greater than she ever dreamed.
Tarrant shrugged himself out of the garment. He took her in his arms again and kissed the sensitive spot behind her ear. His hands trembled against the fine lawn of her nightgown. “My dear love, I admire you for your bravery and spirit, and for your having the courage to marry me although you had made up your mind never to marry a soldier.”
“You are the only man I ever wanted to wed,” Georgianne said, her voice passionate.
“Heart of my heart!” Tarrant kissed her until she was dizzy with breathless desire. He stroked her back. His hand paused when it touched the ridge made by the riding crop her mamma had whipped her with. “If anyone else ever tries to do you an injury, I will kill them.” He paused for a moment before he spoke again. “Do you know what I thought when we met again at the Rectory?
His eyes smiled at her while she shook her head.
“I thought you had the sweetest face I ever saw.” He smiled. “I have not changed my opinion. I shall think so for as long as I live.”
Excerpt
Tangled Love
Prologue
1693
Nine year-old Richelda Shaw sat on the floor in her nursery. She pulled a quilt over her head to block out the thunder pealing outside the ancient manor house while an even fiercer storm raged deep within. Eyes closed, she remained as motionless as a marble statue.
Elsie, her mother’s personal maid, removed the quilt from her head. “Stand up child, there’s nothing to be frightened of. Come, your father’s waiting for you.”
Richelda trembled. Until now Father’s short visits from France meant gifts and laughter. This one made Mother cry while servants spoke in hushed tones.
Followed by Elsie, Richelda hurried down broad oak stairs. For a moment, she paused to admire lilies of the valley in a Delft bowl. Only yesterday, she picked the flowers to welcome Father home and then arranged them with tender care. Now, the bowl stood on a chest, which stood beneath a pair of crossed broadswords hanging on the wall.
Elsie opened the massive door of the great hall where Father stood to one side of an enormous hearth. Richelda hesitated. Her eyes searched for her mother before she walked across the floor, spread her skirts wide, and knelt before him.
Father placed his right hand on her bent head. “Bless you, daughter, may God keep you safe.” He smiled. “Stand up, child. Upon my word, sweetheart, your hair reminds me of a golden rose. How glad I am to see roses bloom in these troubled times.”
Richelda stood but dared not speak for she did not know him well.
Putting an arm round her waist, he drew her to him. “Come, do not be nervous of your father, child. Tell me if you know King James II holds court in France while his daughter, Mary, and William, his son-in-law, rule after seizing his throne?”
“Yes, Mother told me we are well rid of King James and his Papist wife,” she piped up, proud of her knowledge.
With a sigh, Father lifted her onto his knee. “Richelda, I must follow His Majesty for I swore an oath of allegiance to him. Tell me, child, while King James lives, how can I with honour swear allegiance to his disloyal daughter and her husband?”
Unable to think of a reply, she lowered her head, breathing in his spicy perfume.
Father held her closer. “Your mother pleads with me to declare myself for William and Mary. She begs me not to return to France, but I am obliged to serve King James. Do you understand?”
As she nodded her cheek brushed against his velvet coat. “Yes, I understand, my tutor told me why many gentlemen will not serve the new king and queen.”
“If you remain in England, you will be safe. Bellemont is part of your mother’s dowry so I doubt it will be confiscated.”
If she remained in England! Startled, she stared at him.
Smiling, he popped her onto her feet. “We shall ride. I have something to show you.”
* * * *
Before long, they drew rein on the brow of a hill. Father pointed at a manor house in the valley. “Look at our ancestral home, Field House. The Roundheads confiscated it soon after the first King Charles’ execution. Richelda, I promised my father to do all in my power to regain the property.” Grey-faced, he pressed his hand to his chest. “Alas, I have failed to keep my oath,” He wheezed.
Richelda not only yearned to help him keep his promise to her grandfather, she also yearned to find the gold and jewels legend said her buccaneer ancestor, Sir Nicholas, hid.
She waited for her father to breathe easy before she spoke. “If we found the treasure trove you could buy Field House.”
“Ah, you believe Sir Nicholas did not give all his plunder to Good Queen Bess,” he teased.
“Elsie told me legend says he hid some of his booty in Field House.” The thought of it excited her. “In his old age, when Sir Nicholas retired from seafaring, is it true that he put his ship’s figurehead, Lady Luck, in the great hall?”
“Yes, for all I know she is still above a mighty fireplace carved with pomegranates, our family’s device.”
“I would like to see it.”
“One day, perhaps you will. Now, tell me if you know our family motto.”
“Fortune favours the brave.”
“Are you brave, my little lady? Will you swear on the Bible to do all in your power to regain Field House?”
To please him, and excited by the possibility of discovering treasure, she nodded.
Rosemary Morris books published by Books We Love
The Captain and the Countess
Far Above Rubies
False Pretences
Regency
Sundays Child
Mondays Child
Tangled Love
About the Author
From an early age Rosemary Morris wove stories. At school her favourite subjects were History and English Literature. Since leaving school and college she has immersed herself in reading historical novels, and non-fiction and researching history.
She has now reached the point at which she has so many novels and reference books crowding her house that if she wants to buy a new book, she is forced to consider getting rid of an old one. However, her birthday present – a kindle – will help to solve the problem.
In between writing, Rosemary spends time with her family, who live nearby. She enjoys visiting places of historical interest such as St Albans Cathedral and Hatfield House. She also enjoys needlework and knitting, as well as her organic garden, in which she grows fruit, herbs and vegetables that she puts to good use in her vegetarian cuisine. Time spent gardening and cooking provides the opportunity to plan her novels.
Sunday's Child (Heroines Born on Different Days of the Week Book 1) Page 24