Raves for the Jaded Gentleman Novels
Obsession Wears Opals
“Passion and adventure seamlessly blend as Bernard stirs a tale steeped in intrigue and secrets, keeping pages turning and interest high.” –RT BookReviews
“Renee Bernard has redefined what makes a hero and heroine heroic”
– Tin Ong, GoodReads
Passion Wears Pearls
“Chemistry between the characters sparks and crackles with a vibrant energy that sh
ivers up your spine keeping you on the edge of your seat well into the night.”
–Veiled Secret Reviews
“Renee Bernard hits another one out of the park!” – Lindsey Ross, GoodReads
Ecstasy Wears Emeralds
“Sensuality fills the pages.”
–Publishers Weekly
“Level of emotional force that makes sure you cannot put this book down!...Ms. Bernard skillfully weaves a tale of love and learning, friendship and betrayal to lead you down a merry path…”
–Veiled Secret Reviews
Seduction Wears Sapphires
“An amazing read, I enjoyed it immensely…Ashe and Caroline are wonderful characters that made me fall in love with them from the beginning of the story.” –Night Owl Reviews
“A fine book, well crafted, well researched, and an entertaining romantic novel…Historical romance fans will be delighted, I have no doubt.” –The Book Binge
“What a refreshing new take on two people who from first sight are determined to detest each other…I was immediately engrossed with the fiery, witty dialogue and the curiosity of how this couple, who loathed each other upon their meeting, would come full circle to a beautifully shared love in the end.”
–Fiction Vixen
Continued—
Revenge Wears Rubies
“Sensuality fairly steams from Bernard’s writing. This luscious tale will enthrall you. Enjoy!” –Sabrina Jeffries, New York Times bestselling author
“If you’re a fan of spicy hot romances mixed with a bit of intrigue and set in Victorian London, don’t miss this one!”
–The Romance Dish
“Galen’s journey from emotional cripple to ability to love is a captivating, erotic romance.”
–Fresh Fiction
More praise for the “grand mistress of sensual, scorching romance”*
“Sinfully sexy. . . Wickedly witty, sublimely sensual. . . Renee Bernard dazzles readers . . . Clever, sensual, and superb.”
–Booklist
“Scorcher! Bernard debuts with an erotic romance that delivers not only a high degree of sensuality but a strong plotline and a cast of memorable characters. She’s sure to find a place alongside Robin Schone, Pam Rosenthal, and Thea Devine.” –*RT BookReviews
“Very hot romance. Readers who enjoy an excellent, sizzling Victorian story are going to thoroughly enjoy this one.” –Romance Reviews Today
“Shiverlicious! A captivating plot, charismatic characters, and sexy, tingle-worthy romance. . . Fantastic!”
–Joyfully Reviewed
“Crowd-pleasing.” –Publishers Weekly
“[This] steamy historical romance is [a] great debut for this new author. . . Filled with steamy and erotic scenes. . . The plot is solid and the ending holds many surprises . . . Tantalizing.”
–Fresh Fiction
The Jaded Gentleman Titles by Renee Bernard
REVENGE WEARS RUBIES
SEDUCTION WEARS SAPPHIRES
ECSTASY WEARS EMERALDS
PASSION WEARS PEARLS
OBSESSION WEARS OPALS
The Mistress Trilogy by Renee Bernard
A LADY’S PLEASURE
MADAME’S DECEPTION
A ROGUE’S GAME
Off World Chronicles by Robin Geoffreys
TREASON’S HEART
A Story from The Eternity Gambit©
Comic Book
AZRAEL’S GIRL
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www.reneebernardauthor.com
www.Facebook.com/ReneeBernardAuthor
Twitter.com/ReneeBernard
**
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Desire
Wears
Diamonds
R E N E E B E R N A R D
Desire Wears Diamonds
By Renee Bernard
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2013 R. Renee Bernard
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are 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.
Copyright © 2013 by R. Renee Ferguson
All Rights Reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions. And feel free to send the author extra money should you enjoy the book beyond its cover price.
This book is dedicated to Anne Elizabeth. She knows a warrior’s heart and I am confident that Michael would find a welcome respite at her table.
He is a quiet soldier, Anne, and like you, a gentle soul.
I love you, Sister-Friend.
And to Geoff and the girls. You are my life. Thank you for making it an adventure.
And finally, to my Beloved Readers.
This one is literally written for you. Every note from you, every kind review and post fueled my desire to write a better book. And you inspired me to keep going.
This book is Yours.
Acknowledgments
If there’s been a theme to these last few months, I’m going to say it was about friends. I gained so many new incredible friends and was blessed to keep the great ones I already had, to the point that I overheard myself boasting that I’d achieved a Mark-Twainian (I made that up but I hope it comes across…) level of success. I have an inner circle of trusted souls that have given me new confidence—as if life were still a high school cafeteria and I finally found my peeps. (Did I say that right? Can you tell I’m thrilled to be at the nerd and geek table? Is it okay that at my age I just used the word peeps for the first time?) In any case, to the Universe, I want to say thank you for my friends. (But of course, Universe, if you want to throw in a lottery win for good measure, I would never complain.)
Every once in a while, you get lucky and your agent, who is brilliant and supportive, also turns out to be a great friend and the brother you never knew you were missing. I want to thank Eric Ruben for his patience, his kindness, his humor and of course, for the most g
lamorous client/agent dinner I’ve ever experienced. I am spoiled forever.
I want to thank Lindsey Ross, for being my muse and sister-friend. More than a reader, I have to say that without her amazing support and personal encouragement, there’s no telling where I would be today. Lindsey made me feel like a rock star, which if you’ll refer back to the first paragraph of these acknowledgements, is an incredible accomplishment. If nothing else ever came, I’d count myself a lucky woman for the friendship we share.
I have to thank Ian Parton for his guidance on British military history and the details that can make or break a historical romance (which means if anything in this fictional work related to British military history is broken, it’s my fault—not his!) And special thanks are given to Juanita Decur, for being my historical period costuming muse and at the end of the day, my friend. And to Megan Bamford, for making the world seem cozier and more wonderful by just being herself. Not only is she assisting me in my quest for unofficial Aussiehood, she bought me an English Title and made me a Lady (a feat my mother is still amazed at and that the DMV will have to contend with when I renew my driver’s license and insist it goes on there!) A trip to Brisbane is on my list of life goals and I’m determined to get there!
I want to also thank Lisa Watson. She is my lost twin sister and my only regret is that I somehow didn’t find her until just recently. Lisa, if I didn’t believe in serendipity and the amazing blessings that can come from turning right instead of left, you’re the living example that it’s all true and that all things are possible. I love you.
And of course, I have to thank my mom. Because despite the craziness, she still takes all my calls and laughs with me until we cry. You were my first best friend and you are the gold standard by which all others will forever be measured.
I used to be respectable and chaste and stable,
but who can stand in this strong wind
and remember those things?
Love has taken away my practices
And filled me with poetry.
—RUMI
PROLOGUE
Bengal, India
1857
There were some things in the articles of war and codes of military honor that never translate into battle. Michael Rutherford had tried hard not to think about it too much. He wanted to believe in officers and gentlemen and the almost religious requirements of the British military to establish order amidst chaos. As if the way a man packed his kit or laced his shoes could alter the course of a battle or change the world…
But that was the tall lanky boy who had joined the army so many years before. That was the naïve son of a gameskeeper who had thought to head out into the world to make his fortunes and find his way. He’d longed for the dark green jacket of the light infantry where his skills with a rifle would win him fame.
And he might have achieved it, if…
If he hadn’t been pulled from the line after a bit of exhibition shooting arranged by the unit leaders where he’d astonished them all and struck a glass marble from atop a rose at over a hundred and fifty yards without damaging a single petal. If a British general hadn’t decided to take him on as his personal attendant and guard. If he hadn’t saved the man’s life twice and guaranteed that the man’s continued desire to stay alive hinged on Michael’s presence, transforming him into the world’s biggest rabbit’s foot.
He’d existed in a twilight of rank, more servant than soldier, and all bodyguard for a man he’d genuinely despised for his icy manners and arrogance. But loyal Englishmen didn’t think of a commander’s character when they accepted his orders or pulled the trigger. Obedience and loyalty were tied inextricably together and by the time the man he’d become had looked up, Michael Rutherford was convinced that he was as far from honor as a man looking up at the moon.
He’d experienced the worst that war could offer and realized that fear was a weapon all its own. He’d noted how the Englishmen claimed civility and demeaned the natives but then acted with a savagery that belied their humanity.
Even to the last…
It was a remote province and a small village but because the general’s position had been threatened, Michael had obediently taken the rifle he was handed, accepted his orders and made his way to high ground. Under the cover of the skirmish and chaos of the fighting, he’d shot the targets he was directed to shoot, protected his fellow soldiers, and then fired at will until there was nothing to aim at. By the time the dust had cleared and reason had returned, there wasn’t a part of his soul that wasn’t broken.
We’ve lost India. We cannot hold it. Not like this. They’ll drive us to the sea, just you wait. And I’ll drink the waves in with relief, God help me.
The battle was won and the local puppet raj and authorities were pleased to see peace restored. Michael was alone in his convictions. That night, the officers drank to victory and Michael watched their shadows on the walls—elongated and grotesque. He stared at the tricks of the light until the other men forgot that he was there on the verandah.
And then he overheard the general, drunkenly whispering to one of the lieutenants. “I should put him down for a medal but Rutherford’s a villain. He has the conscience of a tiger but there’s no better man for the work…”
“What work?” the man had asked.
The general’s smile was as warm as a crocodile’s. “Did you know that Rutherford can shoot the flame off of a candle at five hundred paces?”
The lieutenant nodded, his expression uncertain. “An asset in the field.”
“I’ve given him use of my new rifle and the benefits have been extraordinary. An American Sharps rifle in the hands of a skilled marksman is a thing of beauty, sir. But in the hands of a common thug,” the general leaned in dramatically lowering his voice, “it is savage perfection.”
Lieutenant Hall frowned. “Or murder…”
The British did not hold to ungentlemanly tactics in the field. Long range silent and stealthy war did not suit their ideals. Long range shooting from cover was for hobbyists and hunters and even the dark green coated light infantry deployed in units for all to see, their rifles gleaming in the sun. The general alluded to something unheard of and something that Michael instinctively knew the other officers would not believe.
The British Army did not use assassins.
But Michael knew better.
Rutherford’s a villain.
He’d waited until the drunken festivities had finally broken up and then dutifully appeared as if he was conveniently arriving at the right moment to escort the general back to his quarters.
“Damn it, Rutherford,” the man complained. “How can anyone as big as you are be that bleeding quiet?”
Michael shrugged, but held his tongue. He knew better than to actually answer the man. General Timsworth wasn’t interested in any stories of how Michael had acquired his skills and Michael wasn’t keen on revealing anything so personal to a man he genuinely hated.
Once they reached the house the general had commandeered, Michael wasted no time. He made sure the servants were seeing to the general’s personal comforts while he headed directly into the office and began drafting what he needed. As soon as he was finished, he tucked the man’s field desk under his arm and headed up the stairs to find the general alone.
“What the devil!” General Timsworth growled. “I didn’t summon you, man! See to the grounds and be sure to tell the guard that if they so much as let a mouse in here to disturb my sleep, I’ll hang them up by their thumbs! You’re dismissed for the night!”
“Sign these and I’ll go.” Michael held out the orders he’d drafted.
“What the hell?” Timsworth took the sheet from him begrudgingly and then stared at the page. “Release from service? Are you mad?”
“Sign it and I’ll be on my way.” Michael set the small portable writing desk next to him. “Your official seal and stamps are there as well.”
“I’ll call for the guards and you’ll be on your way to a hanging
you insubordinate animal!”
Michael didn’t blink. “Good riddance to a common thug then. I shall naturally have to confess all before I am executed. Which would have been discounted as lies if you hadn’t bragged in detail to your men about my abilities and how pleased you are with the results.”
“I didn’t—“ Timsworth’s protest died fast as the cloud of alcohol lifted slightly and made him wonder just what he had boasted at tonight’s party. Timsworth groaned and readjusted his nightshirt. “War stories over brandies. They’ll think it bluster and have forgotten it before dawn.”
“Let me go and I’ll say nothing. I’ll take it all to my grave. But if I stay, you’ll have to kill me because the next time I get a weapon in my hands, I can’t say for certain which direction I’ll be pointing it in.”
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