Third Time Lucky (Siren Publishing Classic)
Page 1
Third Time Lucky
When recently bereaved Holly Young meets Alex online she's surprised to meet someone so kind who really seems to understand what she's going through, but everything is not as it seems. Taken in by Alex’s persona, she gives up everything to help him but when the funds run out, the threats begin.
In her despair Holly turns to SAS officer Mason Black, the only person she feels she can truly trust. He's protective and masterful yet with a gentler side that she's instantly attracted to. Passion flares between them, hot and sizzling, but is it right? And when Alex's sudden reappearance sends Holly running for her life, can Mason save her? Or will she be forever lost?
Genre: Contemporary
Length: 45,557 words
THIRD TIME LUCKY
Rosemary J. Anderson
EROTIC ROMANCE
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Erotic Romance
THIRD TIME LUCKY
Copyright © 2016 by Rosemary J. Anderson
E-book ISBN: 978-1-68295-032-6
First E-book Publication: January 2016
Cover design by Harris Channing
All art and logo copyright © 2016 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
PUBLISHER
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
Letter to Readers
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DEDICATION
To my friend Joan McGeever & in remembrance of my darling Sumo.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
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
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Epilogue
About the Author
THIRD TIME LUCKY
ROSEMARY J. ANDERSON
Copyright © 2016
Chapter One
Holly blinked the raindrops from her lashes, barely feeling the burning heat as they dripped onto her cold, waxen cheeks. A storm was raging, reflecting the anger in her heart. The wind and rain whipped across the fields, bending saplings and saturating the ground. She shivered. It was cold, but not as cold as the weight that lay heavily in the place where once her heart had been. Deep in her pockets her hands clenched tightly into fists, the nails digging painfully into her palms and she was glad of the pain. Fleetingly she closed her eyes, wondering just how she could carry on.
Turning at a touch on her shoulder, she looked up through tear-drenched eyes into the granite-hard face of the man that towered above her. Staring into the steely-gray eyes that softened like a mist-swept lake as they gazed down into her jade-green ones, her gaze flickered to his cap. The insignia of his illustrious regiment, an upside-down Excalibur wreathed in flames and the words “Who Dares Wins” had her breath juddering in her chest.
“Lieutenant-Colonel Black. Thank you for your kind words,” she whispered, her breath catching on a tremor.
Mason Black shook his head in negation, his eyes softening as they looked into her pale, grief-stricken face.
“I’m sorry we were unable to save him, Mrs. Young. He was a good man, and an excellent soldier.”
Nodding vaguely, hearing the same old words but not listening to them, she looked around at the darkening scene. The black clouds rolled across the gray sky and the terrifying jagged strikes of lightning seemed to reflect her tightly held rage. The whole scene was raw and frightening, but it was the windswept trees that caught unexpectedly at her emotions. Giant oaks bowing their big branches as if in silent deference to the young soldier that lay dead in a pitiful grave among those of so many others.
Turning to walk to the limousine, Holly indicated to the lieutenant-colonel that he accompany her. Silently falling into step, he took her arm as she steadily walked, ignoring the driving wind and rain, away from the cemetery. Looking back just once, her eyes filling with the tears that had somehow become part of her life for the last few weeks, she whispered a heart wrenching “Farewell, I love you.”
The chauffer respectfully touched his cap and opened the door for Holly to climb in. Shuffling across the seat to enable the lieutenant-colonel to slide in beside her, she stared straight ahead, pride the only thing enabling her to hold on to her control. Driving away, she felt as if her heart had been left behind in the cold, stormy graveyard. What was there left for her now? All of her hopes and dreams, her plans for the future, and her life as she knew it—all gone. She might as well have died with her husband. She had no one now, no one at all. No husband, no family, no friends, and no life. She shifted slightly in her seat, her coat feeling cold and damp against her b
are arms.
Lieutenant-Colonel Mason Black looked down at the woman who sat next to him, still and silent, grief etched on her face and wished he could do something to ease her pain. He knew nothing of Holly Young. A wife of one of his men, she had been a vague person in the background, someone that was mentioned from time to time, someone escorted by her husband to ceremonial events but an unimportant figure in the great scheme of things. However, he was here with her now and he felt regret and sorrow, but something else as well, something indefinable. Sergeant Young had been a good soldier, a bit rash, happy to take risks but good for all that. A bomb at the side of the road and a good man had died. Mason clenched his jaw. If only the intel had been correct, and if only he had ordered the men back. If only—two of the saddest words in the world.
The car drew up outside the house. The opening of the door snapping Holly out of her reverie. Looking up at the lieutenant-colonel as she stepped out of the vehicle, she smiled, a bare movement of her lips, and quietly invited him in. Inside the small box that was married quarters a few acquaintances and neighbours were milling around, drinking coffee and filling their plates from the excellent buffet provided by the military wives. Easing the wet coat from her shoulders, Mason nodded in response to her whispered word of thanks and, removing his cap, tucked it under his arm and followed her across the living room to the compact kitchen. Giving a small nod of appreciation as he began helping with the filling of cups, Holly had to clench her teeth at the conventional murmurings of condolence. Biting her lip against an outpouring of emotion, she twisted her lips into a semblance of a smile, and smiled and smiled until her face ached.
Finally, people began to leave. They slowly filed out, shaking Holly’s hand or patting her shoulder, uttering phrases such as “I’m sorry,” “Time will heal,” “He was a good man,” and—worst of all—“Should you be alone?”
To this she wanted to scream, Of course I shouldn’t be alone. I’m only twenty-four. I should have my whole life ahead of me, a life with my husband. Instead, she quietly assured them that she would be fine and that being alone was all that she wanted right now.
* * * *
Lieutenant-Colonel Black was the last to leave. Gently he took her hand and looked deeply into her eyes, feeling as if he was trying to draw the heartbreak from her.
“If you should need anything, anything at all, you know where to contact me.”
Nodding, Holly swallowed hard, her fingers limp and lifeless in his large callused grip.
“I know, thank you, Lieutenant…”
“It’s Mason.”
“Yes, thank you—Mason. But I’ll be fine.”
Gazing for a few seconds more into her beautiful swimming eyes, Mason’s answering smile was tight and it was with great reluctance he released her hand. Placing his cap on his head, he gave a small controlled nod and jogged down the veranda steps hearing the lonely sound of the door closing behind him.
* * * *
Holly leaned against the wood and listened to Mason’s footsteps receding. Now she really was well and truly alone. Her eyes filled with the tears that had been teetering on the brink all morning and she looked around the room. Coffee cups and plates were discarded on small tables and on shelves. Plates of once-fresh sandwiches were now curling and dry and there were crumbs on the floor. She stared at a forgotten napkin on the sofa in the place where Adam used to sit. She could picture him now in that spot, his legs sprawled out in front of him, his arm across the top of the sofa, and his eyes sparkling with mischief as he grinned and patted the seat beside him, inviting her to come and sit. Tears ran down her cheeks and dropped off the end of her chin, and as grief consumed her she sank to the floor and sobbed out her loss, her loneliness, and her anger at a life thrown away.
* * * *
It was dark, the streetlamps throwing a beam of light across the floor appearing to Holly like a path reminiscent of the ones in movies where a distant figure walked surely toward the light. If only she could find that light, the one that Adam had followed. How long she lay there she didn’t know, but she was cold. She shivered and pushed her hair away from her hot face. Her head ached, a persistent throbbing at her temples, and her eyes felt sore and swollen. Getting stiffly to her feet, she switched on a small lamp, welcoming the warming glow. Moving over to close the curtains, her gaze was caught by the photograph of her wedding day and her tears flowed again. How could the world keep turning without Adam? How could everything just carry on as before? It was almost like Adam had been wiped out of existence to everyone but her. Drawing a shuddering breath, she swiped at her cheeks with a trembling hand and, pulling back her shoulders, desolately began to gather the dirty dishes.
Chapter Two
Holly stared out of the kitchen window lost in thought, lost back to that dark time of deep despair. It had been three months since her final good-bye to Adam, and things were no better, in fact if anything they were worse.
A month after the funeral, she’d been informed by way of a brisk and impersonal letter from the Ministry of Defence to vacate the military quarters where she and Adam had resided as a married couple. The letter had made a difficult time so much worse. First the notice to quit so soon after Adam’s death, then after the discovery that there was no money she’d been frantic. Unbeknown to her, Adam had been a compulsive gambler and had wagered away all their savings. With no money to speak of, no friends, no family, her parents having died together in a car crash when she was just five, and no job, what was to become of her? How would she cope? And where would she live?
* * * *
Turning away from the window and the gray September weather, she shook herself out of the melancholy that seemed to haunt her more and more these days and looked around the poky kitchen. With no money but a small pension of Adam’s, all she’d been able to afford was a tiny flat above a smelly pie shop. She grimaced as the aroma of frying onions assailed her nostrils. Turning back to her laptop and the employment site that seemed to mock her efforts to find work, she sighed in despair. Three months and not an interview, not even a nibble. The trouble, she frowned, was that she had no qualifications and no experience at anything.
* * * *
She had met Adam when she was sixteen and just left school and they had fallen instantly in love, becoming completely inseparable. Being brought up in a succession of foster homes meant she was alone except for Adam, so when he had decided to join the forces, they got married so she could go with him to whichever place he would be stationed. At first it had been an adventure, seeing fresh places and making new friends. She’d enjoyed being Adam’s wife, making a home for them both and socialising with the other wives, and so she had thrown herself happily into the military way of life. But when Adam had resolved to join the SAS, the Special Air Services, she had been terrified. However, there had been no stopping him and he’d closed his ears and his mind to her frantic efforts to dissuade him.
Driven to be the best of the best, he had been tenacious, pushing himself, pushing her, and pushing their relationship to the hilt. She remembered the discussions that turned into heated arguments but he’d been inflexible, determined to make it, no matter what the cost. She ground her teeth as tears filled her eyes. And the cost had been high, too high—his life and to some degree, hers.
* * * *
Bitterness and self-pity filled her heart. Adam was out of it now. He no longer was forced to make decisions, to cope with the mundane, and to face up to a penurious future. Whereas she had been left behind to pick up the pieces of her life, and to start again with nothing. It was difficult being on her own for the first time in her life, hard to get a flat, and harder still to find a job, any job just to keep her head above water, and she was sick of it. Gambling! Gambling had been part of the unprecedented destruction of her life. Game for a laugh and with a competitive streak, Adam had always wanted to join in, pit his wits against the odds, and eventually his naturally competitive spirit had turned to gambling. Cards, roulette, blackj
ack, anything that could be bet on he’d wagered. It had started out small, betting matchsticks at home in a game of poker, but unbeknown to her it had grown, and she had finally found out he had gambled good money on stupid things like how long it would take for a friend to eat a plate of pancakes, or how many times in an hour a dog would wag its tail. Then there had been the casinos. Their savings were all gone now, eaten up to repay debts, leaving her with nothing. And it had all been Adam’s fault! His fault that she was destitute and his fault that she was alone. He shouldn’t have died and left her alone and, yes, afraid. Afraid of what the future held for her. Oh why did Adam have to join the military? And why oh why of all things did he have to join the most dangerous and frightening regiment of all, the SAS? Sick of the struggle, of the emptiness of her life, and most of all, sick of the loneliness, she dropped her head onto folded arms and sobbed out her misery. Life just wasn’t fair!
* * * *
Lieutenant-Colonel Mason Black checked the address scribbled on a piece of paper and did a double take.
“What the hell is she doing in a place like this?” he muttered more to himself than to the man coming out of the shop eating a meat pie.
“Eh? You whasit?”
“Nothing.” Mason sighed in resignation when the man continued to stare enquiringly at him.