And stopped short, seeing the black armband on his father’s sleeve.
‘Lady Chilton?’
His father nodded. ‘Yes. A week ago.’
‘I’m sorry, sir. A great loss.’
‘She was as good a wife as she could be. The great sorrow of her life was her failure to give me a son. I never told her, but I didn’t mind, for I already had a son. One who meant more to me than the title and estate that should have been my brother’s. Now that she is beyond being hurt by it, I hope to see much more of that son.’
‘That would please me, too...Father.’
‘That was only part of the news that brought me here today,’ Lord Chilton continued. ‘I have other information that should please you both. Lady Lyndlington’s father informed me of this nasty business with the broadside. One of her husband’s friends was able to locate the girl involved, who is ready to testify to the truth of the incident. Since I was better acquainted with Denbry’s father, Lord Barkley, I volunteered to inform him that unless Denbry commissioned a broadside retracting the slander, Lyndlington would sponsor one accusing his son of attempting to ruin Ben’s reputation—and naming names. Appalled at the idea of having his family dragged through the mud to the amusement of the London rabble, he agreed to have the retraction printed. He also promised to send his son to supervise a remote estate in Scotland for a year, where he could set his hand to honest work and ponder his mistakes.’ The Viscount chuckled. ‘Up early, watching sheep, might make a man of him yet.’
‘That is excellent news!’ Alyssa cried.
The Viscount looked over at Ben and held his gaze. ‘There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for my son.’ After a moment, he continued, ‘There was one other thing I wanted to...ask, however.’
To Ben, the Viscount had always been calm, controlled, commanding. He’d never seen him look so tentative and uncertain. Curious, he said, ‘What is it?’
‘I’ll wait a decent interval—I owe that to Cecily and the girls. But after... I would like to call on your mother. I haven’t seen her since before you were born. She might well slam the door in my face,’ he observed wryly. ‘But one faint hope has endured all these years—that some day I might have the chance to make her my wife.’ He looked back at Ben. ‘It can’t make up for the years of scorn and isolation. And I wouldn’t do it until the girls are settled. But I’ve never loved anyone else. If you don’t object, I’d like to try.’
To become...a family of sorts. The very notion seemed odd, but like his rapprochement with his father, pleasing. ‘I would not object.’ Recalling what his mother had confided when he last saw her, he added, ‘I don’t think she’ll slam the door in your face.’
Ben’s father smiled. ‘I hope not. And thank you. I’m off to the lawyers—all the tedious details in the wake of Cecily’s death. But I think you can count on that business of the broadside being laid to rest and carry on with your plans in Parliament.’
Bowing to Alyssa, the Viscount walked out. Ben accompanied him to the door before returning to the parlour.
To his delight, Alyssa ran over to give him a hug. ‘How wonderful to have that nasty business behind us! And to know that your father had a hand makes it even better!’
‘You might save a bit of that approbation for your husband,’ Ben said loftily.
‘I thought I might demonstrate that...later,’ Alyssa replied, rubbing against him.
Stifling a groan, amazed anew at how powerfully his body responded to her, he said, ‘Continue that and I’ll forget about the exciting news I have to convey.’
She stilled in his arms, as if contemplating the advantages and disadvantages. ‘Very well, I’ll stop...for now. Only because you’ve made me so curious. Oh, Ben!’ she cried, her face lighting. ‘Now that your name will be cleared, have you been tapped for some important governmental post?’
‘Even better,’ he replied, leading her back to the couch. ‘You’ll recall that I promised to find an agent to approach Waterman on your behalf. I decided to go myself. I called on him this morning.’
Her hands tightened on his. ‘And?’
‘I told him the deadline for submitting sketches would have to be extended, which shouldn’t be a problem. Audubon continues to bring out a new folio every five or six months. There’s no need to rush to begin a complementary line of British birds.’
‘To which he replied?’
‘At first, he was angry and irritated, saying he’d waited long enough to receive the project, he wasn’t sure he still wished to take on so costly an endeavour and he intended to let the contract terminate on the agreed date. I told him that was fine and thanked him for his time.’
Alyssa grabbed his arm. ‘You did what?’
‘Thanked him. Because, I said, there were other publishers who would be prepared to offer more time and better terms. Whereupon, I gathered my hat and cane and started to walk out.’
‘Other publishers?’ she echoed. ‘Had you contacted any—?’
‘No,’ Ben admitted. ‘Not yet, anyway. Waterman caught me, begged me to take a chair and said perhaps we should reconsider. After all, he was the one who’d first taken interest and it was only fair he be allowed to continue. We had a nice little chat, the end result being he will take the sketches whenever you have them ready and earn twice the previous royalty.’
‘Falsehoods again!’ She shook her head wonderingly. ‘You know there are no other publishers involved.’
‘But there could be. I didn’t lie, I just...worded my statement very carefully. After all, your drawings are wonderful. The project is bound to be a success. If, after I presented Waterman with “A” and “B”—’
‘He erroneously arrived at “C”, that’s not your fault,’ she quoted his explanation of his subterfuge in Dornton Village. Breaking into a peal of laughter, she seized him in a hug. ‘How did I exist for so many years without you, Ben Tawny?’
‘It’s a mystery,’ he said, kissing the top of her head. ‘But you won’t have to live without me ever again.’
She pushed him away, her eyes lighting. ‘No! With the deadline extended, I can accompany you on your work and concentrate on finishing the sketches after Parliament adjourns. We can travel together, like we did to Cornwall.’ Her eyes grew misty. ‘Pursuing both our dreams, together.’
He’d been hoping she would want to arrange things that way, but would never have asked for it. A surge of joy and excitement swept through him as he imagined what a rich, full life they would have together. Could he ever get enough of this passionate, determined, talented lady?
‘There is one other thing.’ At her raised eyebrows, he continued, ‘I told him the artist was my wife, Lady Alyssa Tawny. And that the book would be published under her name, or not at all. He sputtered a bit, until I reminded him what a scandal that would be, an earl’s daughter being paid to publish a book—and how everyone in the ton would want a copy. Then he agreed to that, too.’
‘To be recognised for my work—under my own name? Oh, Ben, what a wonderful rascal you are,’ she whispered, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. ‘That demands a reward that cannot wait.’
‘I was hoping you would say that,’ he murmured. Clasping her hand, he led her up to their chamber.
* * * * *
If you enjoyed this story, you won’t want
to miss the first two books in the
HADLEY’S HELLIONS quartet
from Julia Justiss
FORBIDDEN NIGHTS WITH THE VISCOUNT
STOLEN ENCOUNTERS WITH THE DUCHESS
Keep reading for an excerpt from AT THE WARRIOR’S MERCY by Denise Lynn.
Get rewarded every time you buy a Harlequin ebook!
Click here to Join Harlequin My Rewards
http://www.harlequin.com/myrewards.html?mt=loyalty&cmpid=EBOOBPBPA201602010003
We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Historical.
You dream of wicked rakes, gorgeous Highlanders, muscled Viking warriors and rugged Wild West cowboys from another era. Harlequin Historical has them all! Emotionally intense stories set across many time periods.
Enjoy six new stories from Harlequin Historical every month!
Connect with us on Harlequin.com for info on our new releases, access to exclusive offers, free online reads and much more!
Other ways to keep in touch:
Harlequin.com/newsletters
Facebook.com/HarlequinBooks
Twitter.com/HarlequinBooks
HarlequinBlog.com
Join Harlequin My Rewards & Instantly earn a FREE ebook of your choice.
Earn points for every Harlequin print and ebook you buy, wherever & whenever you shop.
Turn your points into FREE BOOKS.
Don’t miss out. Reward the book lover in you!
Register Today & Earn a FREE BOOK*
*New members who join before April 30th, 2017 will receive 2000 points redeemable for eligible titles.
Click here to register
Or visit us online to register at
http://www.harlequin.com/myrewards.html?mt=loyalty&cmpid=EBOOBPBPA201602010001
At the Warrior’s Mercy
by Denise Lynn
Prologue
‘It has come to our attention that Warehaven has been left too long without a lord.’
Gregor, second son of Roul Isle’s former lord, held the questions hopping around on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he focused on the sound of workers fortifying Carlisle Castle, making it bigger and stronger. Hopefully, sooner or later King David would get to the point of this discussion before the ceaseless drone of construction drove him mad with impatience—Gregor had been too long away from his own building project and the sounds of hammering and sawing made his hands itch to wield an adze or axe. Either tool would suit him fine since he’d rather be shaping or cutting lumber than standing here in the King’s court.
King David’s frowning countenance during his prolonged hesitation gave Gregor the sinking feeling that not only would it be a while before he could return to his half-built ship, but that this time he wasn’t going to like the task about to be placed on his shoulders.
Not that his liking would matter in the least. After nearly ten years he was still paying for his father’s sins in attacking the foreigner who had been given control over some mainland property just south of Roul Isle. Gregor failed to understand why his father had never been able to accept the fact that the King’s word was law, or why it mattered who held the mainland property. His father had been lucky to die an old man at home in his own bed instead of in a less pleasant manner for treason.
However, Gregor and his brothers hadn’t been quite as lucky. They’d found themselves paying the price for their father’s actions. Even now, his older brother Elrik, the current Lord of Roul, was off on some secret mission for the King. For the moment both Edan and Rory, his younger brothers, were at home. None of them had a choice in the matter. The alternative had been to hand over Roul Isle and leave Scotland for good. Since the only place they could go would be to Roul Keep, an unknown cousin’s fortress in Normandy, all four had agreed that leaving wasn’t a desirable option and had placed their lives in King David’s hands.
‘It was also brought to our attention that you’ve somehow reached your twenty-eighth year of life without a wife.’ King David paused to stare at him before adding in a less accusing tone, ‘Lad, a wedding ceremony which ends in death does not count as a marriage.’
Again Gregor held his tongue. What could he say? Everyone knew what had happened that day. A marriage arranged by the King had come to a bloody end mere moments after the new bride had discovered to whom she’d been wed.
Gregor had had so many hopes for the marriage. While he’d been warned that it wouldn’t curtail his service for King David, it would have provided him a welcome respite between the tasks. He’d been certain that, given time, he and Sarah would come to care for each other, create a home and a family together. He had envisioned cold winter nights spent in front of the fire, his wife at his side, while their children played at their feet.
He had looked forward to this marriage, never imagining how wrong he’d been. The day had started filled with hope and whispered promises of dreams soon to be fulfilled. It had ended moments after one of the guests had congratulated the Wolf for having snared a mate.
In that single heartbeat, time had slowed and he’d watched as his new bride’s eyes had widened, all colour leaving her face as if she’d been drained of blood. He’d reached for her, his fingertips barely brushing the sleeve of her gown as she’d gasped, turned and then run from the Great Hall.
He’d followed, but had been unable to catch up to her until she’d reached the battlements and climbed up on to a crenel. With her arms outstretched, Sarah stood with her palms flat against a merlon on either side. The wind had whipped the long skirt of her gown, as it had her hair—both billowing around her. She’d looked over her shoulder at him. Fear and dread had shimmered in her stare. A frown of what he liked to think was regret had wrinkled her brow. Perhaps she’d had a second thought as she’d perched so high above the ground. But then, in the next heartbeat, she was gone. Nothing but air filled the space between the merlons.
The accusations had started immediately—the Wolf had pushed his new bride to her death—he’d thrown her from the wall in a fit of rage. At first he’d defended himself and the accusations had tapered off to rumours circling behind his back. But nothing would ever rid him of the memory, or the guilt. As far as he was concerned he was guilty—of not being able to stop her from jumping, of not knowing her well enough to realise what she might do and of being so terrifying to her that she chose death.
For a long time after that horrifying life-changing event, he’d thrown himself whole heartedly into the role of being King David’s Wolf in a wasted effort to avoid the nightmares haunting him. If a task required any measure of ruthlessness, the King seemed well pleased to call on Gregor. He’d answered those calls without question, leaving him with an enhanced reputation that made most people, especially women, give him a wide berth.
Sometimes late at night, or when the icy winds of winter threatened to freeze him to the bone, the useless dreams of a wife and family teased at his heart. Those fanciful thoughts were short lived and easily pushed aside, as being alone was for the best. He had too much blood on his hands, too many stains upon his soul. No woman deserved to be burdened with a husband who frightened her to death, or worse prompted her to choose death at her own hands over becoming his wife.
‘Are you listening to me, Wolf?’
Gregor turned his attention fully to his King. ‘Aye, my lord. Warehaven’s lord Randall FitzHenry seems to be absent and I have no wife.’
‘My niece is certain that she has a solution for both...difficulties.’
Considering how irritated the Empress Matilda was with him at the moment for nearly ruining a marriage between two of her noble families, Gregor couldn’t begin to imagine how dreadful her solution might prove. It was doubtful the Empress would ever forgive him for causing strife between Lady Emelina of Mortraine and Comte Souhomme. Obviously she was also irritated with her bastard brother, otherwise Warehaven wouldn’t be considered a difficulty.
Almost as an afterthought, the King added, ‘If you solve these difficulties, your service to me will be fulfilled.’
That promise picked up his spirits. Just the thought of no longer having to pay for his father’s crime was a relief that seemed nearly heaven sent. Gregor asked, ‘What of my brothers?’
‘It is time you think of yourself, Gregor, let them worry about their own service. However, the successful completion of this task might prove beneficial even to them.’
/>
The weight that had been lifted at the mere mention of freedom from this service settled heavily back on to his shoulders. Gregor silently vowed that regardless of how irritated the Empress was with him, or how difficult the task put to him, he would do whatever was necessary to see this mission through to completion.
‘What would you have me do?’
Copyright © 2017 by Denise L. Koch
ISBN-13: 9781488021190
Convenient Proposal to the Lady
Copyright © 2017 by Janet Justiss
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, M3B 3K9 Canada.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Intellectual Property Office and in other countries.
www.Harlequin.com
Convenient Proposal to the Lady Page 24