Captivated by His Kiss: A Limited Edition Boxed Set of Seven Regency Romances

by Cheryl Bolen

  Finishing the letter, she pushed Lord Caruthers and their kiss to the back of her head once again and hurried to join the children.

  They baked gingerbread men, although, in truth, no one looking at some of the finished products would see them as such. They then found the seamstress and begged her for fabric and ribbon so they could make other things to put on the tree. It was an afternoon of fun and laughter and never had she seen the children so happy.

  The evening meal produced oohs and ahhs as Mrs. Bonny created a feast from her new supplies and then the children were hustled off to find their beds.

  “These new blankets are so warm, Hero.”

  Running her hand over the blanket Sarah was examining, Hero wondered if she could ever repay Lord Caruthers for the happiness he had brought her children this day. She wondered if anyone in his life brought him happiness.

  “I have written Lord Caruthers a note children, however I think we shall have to come up with a special idea to thank him for his kindness.”

  “Yes, Hero!”

  “For now, however, you will all go to sleep and in the morning we shall decide what it is to be.”

  “Are we still going to build a snowman in the morning?”

  “Yes, Owen.”

  “Can we use a carrot for its nose?”

  “What a good idea, Colin.”

  “And branches for arms,” Emmaline added, not to be outdone.

  “Another splendid idea,” Hero said, walking down the room, picking up articles of clothing and folding them.

  “He’ll need a scarf.”

  “I’m sure we can find one of those, Owen.”

  “It may be a girl, though, Hero.”

  “Perhaps we shall build two, Sarah, one for the boys and one for the girls,” Hero said, before an argument about the snowman’s gender could escalate.

  “And potatoes for eyes.”

  This, from Emmaline, was greeted with giggles.

  “Enough now. You will all go to sleep or there will be no snowman building tomorrow.”

  Hero made her rounds kissing each child loudly, which produced more giggles, and then she picked up the lamp and left the room, leaving the door ajar slightly as the children liked it to be. She had always loved this part of the day with them, time alone to let them know how much she loved them. No one had ever kissed her cheek or cuddled her at night when she was a child, yet she had somehow become a person capable of doing those things. No one had set an example for her, yet she had learnt to reach out and offer that which she’d never had. Perhaps it was a need in her as well as the children that she was meeting. Whatever it was, it filled all the places inside her she’d believed would never be filled.

  Mrs. Bonny had retired to her room off the kitchens so Hero walked along the hall to her own. After removing her clothes, she pulled on her nightdress and then she took her hair down and brushed it until her arm ached and then she climbed into bed. Turning down the lamp, she closed her eyes and willed her tired body to sleep.

  Why had he kissed her? The man was a highly eligible bachelor. One who, no doubt, many society ladies had their eye on. He would not want a dowdy woman like her even if he had said she had lips made for kissing.

  Sleep finally began to drag her under and Hero’s last thought was that she hoped Lord Caruthers did not feature in her dreams.

  She woke a few hours later to a loud noise. Heart thumping, she fumbled for the lamp and managed to light it before slipping out of bed. Pulling on her dressing gown and slippers, she left her room and it was then she realized the banging was coming from downstairs. Someone was pounding on the front door. Reaching it, she quickly pulled it open, believing that whomever stood outside must be in distress to have called at such an hour.

  “I’ve come for my children!”

  The man who stood outside the door was not familiar to Hero. Not overly tall, he was of solid build. He held a lamp aloft, the better to see her, and she noted a mean look in his eyes.

  “My name is Miss Appleby. Sir, how can I help you?”

  “I want my two children and I wants them now!”

  Hero caught the smell of alcohol on his breath as he roared the last word at her.

  “I’m sorry. We have only orphans here, sir. I’m afraid your children are not here.”

  She started to push the door closed but he was too quick for her and pushed it open with a hard shove, forcing her backwards into the wall.

  “Sir, I insist you leave at once!” Hero managed as she straightened.

  “Owen and Charlotte Nivers. I knows they’re here and I’m taking them with me back to London. It’s time they worked for their living.”

  Dear God, this horrid beast was father to Owen and sweet little Charlotte.

  “They are not here, sir. We have no children of that name,” Hero said calmly as she stood in his way.

  “Is there a problem, Hero?”

  “It’s all right, Mrs. Bonny. This man was just leaving.”

  He bared his teeth. The front four were missing and the bottom row was yellow. His blunt features were fixed in an angry scowl and Hero could only imagine how horrid the lives of both Owen and Charlotte had been at his hands. No wonder they had led her to believe they were orphans.

  “You’re lying,” he said, pushing her aside as she attempted to stop him walking towards the stairs.

  “I demand you leave here at once!” Hero cried, running after him as he took the stairs two at a time. She could do nothing to stop him calling out Owen and Charlotte’s names as he went.

  “They’re my family and no one has a right to keep them from me.”

  Panic filled her as she saw the children coming out of their room. Owen held Charlotte’s hand, his eyes wide and frightened, the pallor of his skin telling her of his terror. The little girl was crying loudly as she moved to hide behind her brother.

  Lifting the lamp, the man examined each of the children and then his gaze fixed on Owen. “You haven’t grown much,” he said as he saw them. “You’ll fit up and down a chimney and she’ll be good for other things.”

  Owen opened his mouth but no sound came out. Terror held him silent as his eyes shot to Hero and then back to his father. And then one large arm reached out and swept them both upwards.

  “No!” Hero tried to stop him but he was too strong and he flung her aside. Biting her lip as pain burned down her side when she collided with the door frame, Hero staggered to her feet once again and ran down the stairs after him.

  “Hero!” Charlotte screamed to her for help, begging her to stop this man, her father, from taking them away. Owen reached out a silent hand to her, his little fingers stretching, pleading with her to take them. Hero felt as if her heart was being torn in two as she ran after them, urging the man to leave the children here. But he would not listen and soon he was outside the front door. She saw him pass the children to another man and then they were riding away.

  Hero swallowed back the sobs that tore at her throat as she turned to face the other children and Mrs. Bonny. Think, Hero. There is no time to fall apart. You must do something to save those two children from their horrible fate.

  “M-Mrs. Bonny, please look after the children whilst I go after Owen and Charlotte.”

  “But how will you get them back?” the housekeeper said, her round face looking anxious as she gathered the children before her, her arms wrapping around as many of them as she could reach, trying to soothe their tears and fears. Their terrified little faces were turned towards Hero, pleading with their eyes for her to bring their friends back to them.

  “I will get them back and that is all that matters at this point,” Hero said as calmly as she could. “Do any of you know where Owen and Charlotte lived before they came here?”

  “Owen told me they lived in a hut on the river’s edge, on Lord Caruthers's land.”

  “Thank you, Colin.” Hero patted the boy’s cheek. “Then that is where I shall start looking.” The young boy grabbed her hand as she tur
ned to leave. “Owen said his father’s real mean, Hero. You need to be careful.”

  “Am I the only one who believed Owen and Charlotte's parents were dead?” she questioned the boy.

  “Owen didn't want you to know he had parents' cus he believed you wouldn't let him and Charlotte stay here with us.”

  Hero hugged Colin as she thought of Owen and the weight of the secrets he had carried. She understood why he had not trusted her with them considering his upbringing, yet she wished he had. Perhaps then she could have protected him better. Swallowing back her fear she released the boy.

  “I will be careful, Colin, I promise, and you and the other children must also promise to be good for Mrs. Bonny while I’m away.”

  After they were once again in their rooms, Hero hurried to hers, where she changed into her dress, pulled on her thick cloak and then laced up her sturdy boots. Leaving the house minutes later, she pushed thoughts of the terror Owen and Charlotte were experiencing aside and waded through the snow to the stables.

  “I’m sorry, Simon, but this is an emergency,” she said, pulling the pony from his stall. She put a bridle on him and did not take the time to attach the cart, instead, climbing on his back and urging him outside.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  After organizing with the people of Neathern to deliver the things he felt the orphans needed, Max had made his way home. He'd hoped the gesture would leave him feeling satisfied so he could go back to his house and not give the occupants of Bratton House another thought, yet instead, he felt unsettled and guilty.

  Seeing those children and Hero Appleby and the conditions they were living in had only reinforced how much he had. They had so little, yet he'd felt the love there. Through the noise and mayhem, there had been a genuine feeling in that big old house and it was something Max had never experienced before. He had only two people in his life he could really claim a friendship with. The others were leeches or peers who merely tolerated him as he did them because they were from the same circle.

  Sitting in his study, Max had attempted to look over the last of the reports his estate manager had prepared for him but he was restless. Suddenly, his clothes seemed too tight and his mind filled with foreign thoughts. Had he wasted his life? Was he a selfish peer concerned only with his own comforts? Max didn't like to dabble in emotions. He left those to women and men who knew no better. However, seeing those children in that bloody great home, cold, with only the barest necessities, had tugged at his heart.

  Slapping another piece of paper down in front of him, he attempted to concentrate.

  Was Hero in her room reading over the mountain of bills she had yet to pay?

  Focus, Max. For pity’s sake man, she doesn't even like you.

  The problem was, she intrigued him. She could have chosen a life with her cousin. The man had obviously seen what she took pains to hide in her dowdy clothes, yet she had not. Many women had settled for less than a tumble in the sheets in return for security, but not her. She had chosen a hard life, with little money, in an old house, surrounded by children.

  Of course, she was a self-righteous, opinionated Miss, but Max couldn't help but admire her and the life she had chosen. He was angry she had formed the opinion she had of him but really couldn't censure her for that. His reputation was not good and he'd done nothing to change that, even though most of the rumors about him were fictitious.

  “A note has arrived for you, my lord.”

  “Thank you, Freddy,” Max took the missive from his butler, relieved to have a reprieve from his thoughts. Upon opening it, Max scanned the lines.

  I find it hard to put what needs to be said on paper, Lord Caruthers. The joy inside both me and my children knows no bounds and it is all due to your generosity. My petty behavior when you visited us today now fills me with shame and I hope you will find it in yourself to forgive me. My only defence can be found in my mistrust of my fellow man. However, through your generous actions, both the children and I have come to see that there are people who care, people who are willing to help those in need. These words seem so small in comparison with your huge deed this day; however, I would finish with an invitation. If you find yourself without companionship on Christmas day, we here at the orphanage would be honoured if you would share our meal. Thank you, my lord, once again, for the happiness that now abounds in our home. Thank you, thank you.

  Yours,

  Miss Appleby

  Max neatly folded the letter and placed it on the desk. She had an elegant hand and he wondered how long it had taken her to write it. Had she sat chewing her bottom lip, writing and rewriting the words? He heard the sincerity in them, each one placed on that paper in happiness.

  “Hero Appleby,” Max said slowly. Why did she intrigue him? She wore clothing better suited to someone in mourning and had showed him no feminine wiles, yet she stirred him.

  With a deep sigh, he rose to wash for his evening meal and after it was eaten, Max did something he’d rarely done before in his adult life: he retired before ten o’clock.

  Raised voices woke him from a deep, disturbing sleep filled with lush breasts and long limbs, both of which belonged to Hero. Listening in the darkness, he heard a woman’s voice.

  “I-I must see him, it is a matter of extreme importance!”

  Max knew that voice. Getting out of bed, he pulled on his breeches and robe and then left the room. Taking the stairs two at a time, he reached the front entrance in seconds.

  Freddy stood in the open doorway in his nightclothes with a lamp raised above his head. He saw Hero on the doorstep.

  “Hero?”

  She saw him over his butler’s shoulder, her eyes wide and filled with fear and Max knew in a glance that something was very wrong. “Stand aside, Freddy, and let Miss Appleby in.”

  Reluctantly, his servant did as he was told and she flew through the door. That she had left in a hurry was obvious as he took in both her expression and the mass of unbound blonde curls tumbling to her waist.

  “Pl-please you must help me, he has taken them and I cannot get them back without your help.” She was shaking with great, wracking shudders and tears ran unheeded down her cheeks.

  “What has happened?” He moved closer, his hands instinctively reaching for her. She hesitated briefly and then threw herself at him. Grunting at the impact, Max steadied his feet and then wrapped his arms around her trembling body, holding her close.

  “Owen, t-tis Owen and Charlotte.”

  She was chilled. Her face was icy against his chest and the hands she clenched around the lapels of his robe were the same. “Tell me,” he urged.

  “A man, their father, came and took them. He was horrible and mean and they begged me to stop him but I could not. He pushed me aside when I tried.”

  “Did he hurt you?”

  She lifted her head from his chest and Max ran his thumb under her eyes, wiping away the tears. “Pl-please there is no time to waste, we must find them.”

  “It’s all right, Hero. We’ll find them, I promise.”

  “They must be so scared. Owen, he was so scared, he could not talk, but Charlotte, she begged me to help-”

  “Ssssh, Hero,” Max kissed her forehead. “Freddy, have Sydney woken and tell him to come armed to the house at once, then wake Bert and Jack also. I want them armed and ready with horses as soon as possible. Bring my pistol.”

  “At once, my lord,” his butler said without question.

  “Come.” Taking Hero’s hand in his, he led her up the stairs to his rooms, where he pushed her onto the edge of his bed. Grabbing a blanket, he wrapped it around her. “Sit there and warm up while I dress.”

  She did as she was told and he felt her eyes following him as he pulled on boots, a shirt and jacket and then his overcoat. “You will stay here until I return.”

  “No!” She shot off the bed. “The children will need me.”

  “Be reasonable, Hero. You're cold and upset. You will be better served to wait for me here.”

>   “I must come. Owen and Charlotte will n-need me.”

  She bit down onto her bottom lip as it trembled. God, she was sweet. Hair tumbling everywhere, eyes filled with tears. Max wanted to pull her into his arms and tell her everything would be all right. Instead, he found a warm scarf and two pairs of gloves.

  “It was foolish to come out without gloves,” he said, moving to stand before her. He wrapped the scarf around her neck and then made her hold out her hands. “These will be too big but they’ll have to do.”

  She could, in fact, have put two hands in each, yet she did not complain, instead, clenching her fingers into fists once he'd put the gloves on her fingers.

  “Do you know where he has taken them?” he asked. The thought of Owen scared and in danger made Max feel ill. That stoic, bright little boy deserved happiness, not fear, as did his sister.

  “Yes. Colin said that Owen told him they used to live in a small hut down by the river.”

  “The river that borders my property?” Max questioned as he removed a large pouch of money from his dresser and put it in his coat pocket.

  She nodded.

  “Right, then, let’s go and get them back.”

  Max heard her hiss of pain as she moved.

  “I heard that,” he said, grabbing her arm. “Where are you hurt?”

  She shook her head and pressed her lips together.

  “Hero,” he said in his most menacing voice.

  “Please. There is no pain. We must go.”

  Wiping another tear from her cheek, Max looked at her again. “If you are badly hurt, you will be of no help to me, Hero. Do you understand?”

  “I fell and banged my side, nothing more. It just hurts a bit when I move. Now, please, we must go.”

  Max was torn.

  “I promise if the pain gets worse to tell you at once, my lord.”

  Max could see only fear but no pain in her eyes so he nodded.

  “All right, let’s go.” Taking her hand, he led her from the room. Later, he would find out where she hurt and make it better.

  His men awaited him in the entranceway and he briefed them quickly. Taking the pistol Sydney held out, he then led them outside. Snow had begun to fall again and the darkness would force them to move slowly. After lifting Hero onto his horse, he climbed up behind her and they made their way around the house and over the pasture that would take them to the river.