Beneath the Major's Scars

by Sarah Mallory

  WHEN A TAINTED BEAUTY...

  After being shamelessly seduced by a married man, Zelah Pentewan finds her reputation is in tatters. Determined to rise above the gossipmongers, Zelah knows she can rely on no one but herself.

  ...MEETS A FORMIDABLE BEAST!

  But her independence takes a knock when a terrifying stranger must come to her aid. Major Dominic Coale’s formidable manner is notorious, but Zelah shows no signs of fear. She doesn’t cower at his touch as she begins to get a glimpse of the man behind the scars....

  THE NOTORIOUS COALE BROTHERS

  They are the talk of the Ton!

  Twin brothers Dominic and Jasper Coale set Society’s tongues wagging with their disreputable behavior.

  Get to know the real men behind the scandalous reputations in this deliciously wicked duet from Sarah Mallory!

  Major Dominic Coale

  He’s locked away in his castle in the woods, with only his tormenting memories for company, until governess Zelah Pentewan crosses the threshold…

  BENEATH THE MAJOR’S SCARS

  December 2012

  Jasper Coale, Viscount Markham

  Used to having his own way where women are concerned, Jasper would bet his fortune on being able to seduce beautiful Susannah Prentess—but she proves stubbornly resistant to his charms!

  BEHIND THE RAKE’S WICKED WAGER

  January 2013

  Author Note

  Identical twins—fascinating, aren’t they? And they have been used very often in plots—by Shakespeare and Georgette Heyer, amongst others.

  I have identical twin boys myself, and they came as a bit of a shock. It was only after the birth that I learned there were twins on my mother’s side of the family, and as she and I were both born under the star sign of Gemini—the twins—perhaps I should have been more prepared! However, I know from experience that twins are individuals, so when I decided to write about Jasper and Dominic Coale I wanted to give them very different stories. I began with Dominic, the younger brother. This is his story.

  It was common practice amongst the English aristocracy for younger sons to join the army, and so it is with Dominic. He goes off to fight in the Peninsular War, but after suffering terrible injuries he finds his life takes a very different turn from that of his twin.

  When Zelah (and the reader) first meet Dominic he has retired to Rooks Tower, an isolated house on Exmoor. He is irascible and a confirmed recluse, but Zelah’s young nephew Nicky has seen beyond his defensive shell and considers Dominic a firm friend. It is through Nicky that Zelah and Dominic meet and discover a mutual attraction, although they are both reluctant to acknowledge it. Zelah has been hurt before, and is determined upon an independent life, while Dominic believes his scarred face and body must repel every woman. They both have lessons to learn if they are to achieve happiness.

  Some time ago I wrote a Christmas story—Snowbound with the Notorious Rake—which is set on Exmoor, the beautiful wild moors in the southwest of England. Ever since, I have wanted to use Exmoor again, so this is where Dominic buys his property, Rooks Tower, and it is here that Zelah falls in love with the proud man behind the horrific scars.

  I really enjoyed writing Dominic and Zelah’s story, and I hope you have as much pleasure reading it.

  Beneath the Major’s Scars

  Sarah Mallory

  Available from Harlequin® Historical and SARAH MALLORY

  More Than a Governess #233

  The Wicked Baron #257

  The Earl’s Runaway Bride #284

  *Wicked Captain, Wayward Wife #293

  To Catch a Husband… #307

  *The Dangerous Lord Darrington #315

  Snowbound with the Notorious Rake #321

  †Beneath the Major’s Scars #345

  Look for Sarah Mallory’s

  †Behind the Rake’s Wicked Wager #348

  in January 2013 and

  The Illegitimate Montague

  part of Castonbury Park Regency miniseries

  *Linked by character

  †The Notorious Coale Brothers

  For P and S, my own twin heroes.

  SARAH MALLORY

  was born in Bristol, and now lives in an old farmhouse on the edge of the Pennines with her husband and family. She left grammar school at sixteen to work in companies as varied as stockbrokers, marine engineers, insurance brokers, biscuit manufacturers and even a quarrying company. Her first book was published shortly after the birth of her daughter. She has published more than a dozen books under the pen name of Melinda Hammond, winning a Reviewers’ Choice Award in 2005 from Singletitles.com for Dance for a Diamond and a Historical Novel Society’s Editors’ Choice in November 2006 for Gentlemen in Question.

  Contents

  Prologue

  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

  Excerpt

  Prologue

  Cornwall—1808

  The room was very quiet. The screams and cries, the frantic exertions of the past twelve hours were over. The bloodied cloths and the tiny, lifeless body had been removed and the girl lay between clean sheets, only the glow of firelight illuminating the room. Through the window a single star twinkled in the night sky. She did not seek it out, she had no energy for such conscious effort, but it was in her line of vision and it was easier to fix her eyes on that single point of light than to move her head.

  Her body felt like a dead weight, exhausted by the struggle she had endured. Part of her wondered why she was still alive, when it would be so much better for everyone if she had been allowed to die with her baby.

  She heard the soft click of the opening door and closed her eyes, not wishing to hear the midwife’s brisk advice or her aunt’s heart-wrenching sympathy.

  ‘Poor lamb.’ Aunt Wilson’s voice was hardly more than a sigh. ‘Will she survive, do you think?’

  ‘Ah, she’ll live, she’s a strong ’un.’ From beneath her lashes the girl could see the midwife standing at the foot of the bed, wiping her hands on her bloody apron. ‘Although it might be better if she didn’t.’

  ‘Ah, don’t say that!’ Aunt Wilson’s voice cracked. ‘She is still God’s creature, even though she has sinned.’

  The midwife sniffed.

  ‘Then the Lord had better look out for her, poor dearie, for her life is proper blighted and that’s for sure. No man will want her to wife now.’

  ‘She must find some way to support herself. I cannot keep her indefinitely, and my poor brother and his wife have little enough: the parish of Cardinham is one of the poorest in Cornwall.’

  There was a pause, then the midwife said, ‘She ain’t cut out to be a bal maiden.’

  ‘To work in the mines? Never! She is too well bred for that.’

  ‘Not too well bred to open her legs for a man—’

  Aunt Wilson gasped in outrage.

  ‘You have said quite enough, Mrs Nore. Your work is finished here, I will look after my niece from now on. Come downstairs and I will pay you for your trouble...’

  The rustle of skirts, a soft click of the door and silence. She was alone again.

  It was useless to wish she had died with her baby. She had not, and the future seemed very bleak, nothing but hard work and drudgery. Tha
t was her punishment for falling in love. She would face that, and she would survive, but she would never put her trust in any man again. She opened her eyes and looked at that tiny, twinkling orb.

  ‘You shall be my witness,’ she whispered, her lips painfully dry and her throat aching with the effort. ‘No man shall ever do this to me again.’

  Her eyes began to close and she knew now that whenever she saw that star in the evening sky, she would remember the child she had lost.

  Chapter One

  Exmoor—1811

  ‘Nicky, Nicky! wait for me—oh!’

  Zelah gave a little cry of frustration as her skirts caught on the thorny branches of an encroaching bush. She was obliged to give up her pursuit of her little nephew while she disentangled herself. How she wished now that she had put on her old dimity robe, but she had been expecting to amuse Nicky in the garden, not to be chasing him through the woods; only Nurse had come out to tell them that they must not make too much noise since the mistress was trying to get some sleep before Baby woke again and demanded to be fed.

  As she carefully eased the primrose muslin off the ensnaring thorns, Zelah pondered on her sister’s determination to feed the new baby herself. She could quite understand it, of course: Reginald’s first wife had died in childbirth and a number of wet nurses had been employed for Nicky, but each one had proved more unreliable than the last so it was a wonder that the little boy had survived at all. The thought of her sister’s stepson made Zelah smile. He had not only survived, but grown into a very lively eight-year-old, who was even now leading her in a merry dance.

  She had allowed him to take her ‘exploring’ in the wildly neglected woodland on the northern boundary of West Barton and now realised her mistake. Not only was Nicky familiar with the overgrown tracks that led through the woods, he was unhampered by skirts. Free at last, she pulled the folds of muslin close as she set off in search of her nephew. She had only gone a few steps when she heard him cry out, such distress and alarm in his voice that she set off at a run in the direction of his call, all concerns for snagging her gown forgotten.

  The light through the trees indicated that there was a clearing ahead. She pushed her way through the remaining low tree branches and found herself standing on the lip of a steep slope. The land dropped away to form a natural bowl and the ground between the trees was dotted with early spring flowers, but it was not the beauty of the scene that made Zelah catch her breath, it was the sight of Nicky’s lifeless body stretched out at the very bottom of the dell, a red stain spreading over one leg of his nankeen pantaloons and a menacing figure bending over him.

  Her first, wild thought was that it was some kind of animal attacking Nicky, but as her vision cleared she realised it was a man. A thick black beard covered his face and his shaggy hair reached to the shoulders of his dark coat. A long-handled axe lay on the ground beside him, its blade glinting wickedly in the spring sunlight.

  Zelah did not hesitate. She scrambled down the bank.

  ‘Leave him alone!’ The man straightened. As he turned towards her she saw that beneath the shaggy mane of hair surrounding his face he had an ugly scar cutting through his left eyebrow and cheek. She picked up a stick. ‘Get away from him, you beast!’

  ‘Beast, is it?’ he growled.

  ‘Zelah—’

  ‘Don’t worry, Nicky, he won’t hurt you again.’ She kept her gaze fixed on the menacing figure. ‘How dare you attack an innocent boy, you monster!’

  ‘Beast, monster—’ His teeth flashed white through the beard as he stepped over the boy and came towards her, his halting, ungainly stride adding to the menace.

  Zelah raised the stick. With a savage laugh he reached out and twisted the bough effortlessly out of her grasp, then caught her wrists as she launched herself at him. She struggled against his iron grip and her assailant hissed as she kicked his shin. ‘For heaven’s sake, I am not your villain. The boy tripped and fell.’ With a muttered oath he forced her hands down and behind her, so that she found herself pressed against his hard body. The rough wool of his jacket rubbed her cheek and her senses reeled as she breathed in the smell of him. It was not the sour odour of sweat and dirt she was expecting, but a mixture of wool and sandalwood and lemony spices combined with the earthy, masculine scent of the man himself. It was intoxicating.

  He spoke again, his voice a deep rumble on her skin, for he was still holding her tight against his broad chest. ‘He tripped and fell. Do you understand me?’

  He is speaking as if to an imbecile! was Zelah’s first thought, then the meaning of his words registered in her brain and she raised her head to meet his fierce eyes. She stopped struggling.

  ‘That’s better.’ He released his iron grip but kept his hard eyes fixed upon her. ‘Now, shall we take a look at the boy?’

  Zelah stepped away, not sure if she trusted the man enough to turn her back on him, but a groan from Nicky decided it. Everything else was forgotten as she fell to her knees beside him.

  ‘Oh, love, what have you done?’

  She put her hand on his forehead, avoiding the angry red mark on his temple. His skin was very hot and his eyes had a glazed, wild look in them.

  The man dropped down beside her.

  ‘We’ve been clearing the land, so there are several ragged tree stumps. He must have caught his leg on one when he tumbled down the bank. It’s a nasty cut, but I don’t think the bone is broken.’

  ‘How would you know?’ demanded Zelah, carefully lifting away the torn material and gazing in horror at the bloody mess beneath.

  ‘My time in the army has given me considerable experience of injuries.’ He untied his neckcloth. ‘I have sent my keeper to fetch help. I’ll bind up his leg, then we will carry him back to the house on a hurdle.’

  ‘Whose house?’ she asked suspiciously. ‘He should be taken to West Barton.’

  ‘Pray allow me to know what is best to be done!’

  ‘Please do not talk to me as if I were a child,’ she retorted. ‘I am quite capable of making a decision.’

  He frowned, making the scar on his forehead even more ragged. He looked positively ferocious, but she refused to be intimidated and met his gaze squarely. He seemed to be struggling to contain his anger and after a moment he raised his hand to point towards a narrow path leading away through the trees. He said curtly, ‘Rooks Tower is half a mile in that direction; West Barton is at least five miles by carriage, maybe two if you go back on the footpath, the way you came.’

  Zelah bit her lip. It would be impossible to carry Nicky through the dense undergrowth of the forest without causing him a great deal of pain. The boy stirred and she took his hand.

  ‘I d-don’t like it, it hurts!’

  The plaintive cry tore at her heart.

  ‘Then it must be Rooks Tower,’ she said. ‘Let us hope your people get here soon.’

  ‘They will be here as soon as they can.’ He pulled the muslin cravat from his neck. ‘In the meantime I must stop the bleeding.’ His hard eyes flickered over her. ‘It will mean moving his leg.’

  She nodded and squeezed Nicky’s hand.

  ‘You must be very brave, love, while we bind you up. Can you do that?’

  ‘I’ll try, Aunty.’

  ‘Your aunt, Nicky? She’s more of an Amazon, I think!’

  ‘Well, she is not really my aunt, sir,’ explained Nicky gravely. ‘She is my stepmama’s sister.’

  Zelah stared, momentarily diverted.

  ‘You know each other?’

  The man flicked a sardonic look towards her.

  ‘Of course, do you think I allow strange brats to run wild in my woods? Introduce us, Nicky.’

  ‘This is Major Coale.’ The boy’s voice wavered a little and his lip trembled as the major deftly wrapped the neckcloth around his leg. ‘And this, sir, is my aunt, Zelah.’

  ‘Celia?’

  ‘Zee-lah,’ she corrected him haughtily. ‘Miss Pentewan to you.’

  ‘Dear me, Nicholas,
you should have warned me that your aunt is a veritable dragon.’

  The scar cutting through his eyebrow gave him a permanent frown, but she heard the amusement in his voice. Nicky, clinging to Zelah’s hand and trying hard not to cry, managed a little chuckle.

  ‘There, all done.’ The major sat back, putting his hand on Nicky’s shoulder. ‘You were very brave, my boy.’

  ‘As brave as a soldier, sir?’

  ‘Braver. I’ve known men go to pieces over the veriest scratch.’

  Zelah stared at the untidy, shaggy-haired figure in front of her. His tone was that of a man used to command, but beneath that faded jacket and all that hair, could he really be a soldier? She realised he was watching her and quickly returned her attention to her nephew.

  ‘What happened, love? How did you fall?’

  ‘I t-tripped at the top of the bank. There’s a lot of loose branches lying around.’

  ‘Aye. I’ve left them. Firewood for the villagers,’ explained the major. ‘We have been clearing the undergrowth.’

  ‘And about time too,’ she responded. ‘These woods have been seriously neglected.’

  ‘My apologies, madam, if they are not to your liking.’

  Was he laughing at her? His face—the little she could see that was not covered by hair—was impassive.

  ‘My criticism is not aimed at you, Major. I believe Rooks Tower was only sold last winter.’

  ‘Yes, and I have not had time yet to make all the improvements I would wish.’

  ‘You are the owner?’

  Zelah could not keep the astonishment out of her voice. Surely this ragged individual could not be rich enough to buy such a property?

  ‘I am. Appearances can be deceptive, Miss Pentewan.’

  She flushed, knowing she deserved the coldness of his response.

  ‘I beg your pardon, that is, I—I am sure there is a vast amount to be done.’

  ‘There is, and one of my first tasks is to improve the road to the house and make it suitable for carriages again. I have men working on it now, but until that is done everything has to come in and out by packhorse.’

 
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