Clean Regency Romance: The Earl's Temptation (The Pure Heart Triumphs Series Book 1)

by Pearl Goodfellow

  “Wait!” shouted the remaining sentry as he too regained his feet and leveled his own weapon at the Blood crouched and ready to spring. “This barbarian is mine. I’m going to enjoy this. Where’s the Deb you brought in here?”

  As he finished, the guard did not register the five foot three missile rushing at him from the side and Saffron’s surprise attack knocked his weapon to the side. TK dove upon the staggering man and buried an elbow into the shocked man’s face. The audible crack of breaking bone demonstrated his fate as his head bounced off the unforgiving slate. Having regained a hover position, the Bot trained its weapon on TK and powered up to fire. Saffron grabbed the shock weapon and fired it blindly but her aim was somehow true. The Bot burst into an electric display of pyrotechnics before falling to the ground for the final time, adding its own acrid smoke to that of the burning maze.

  “He was right,” Saffron panted, “I did enjoy it.”

  “That’s my girl!”

  A blue glow caught TK and Saffron’s attention as the XXX-1369 was scanned. It was time to go. Grabbing Saffron’s hand, Tiberius uttered, “Time to go!” and practically yanked her along as they ran for the ship. They were within 50 yards when the craft shuddered and lifted a few feet off the ground: the landing gear started to retract. “NO!” screamed Koln. To come so close and have it end like this was too much to bear…

  And then the exit/entrance ramp extended from the hovering vessel. Saffron and Tiberius doubled their effort to reach the ramp and dove onto it. A second later, the ramp raised and the duo was unceremoniously dumped into the XXX-1369 to tumble in a heap as the portal sealed. Before either could say anything, a cheer rose up from the assembled Bloods and Captain Sunshine’s guttural voice boomed from the PA system. “Timing is everything. Welcome aboard TK and passenger. That will be all.”

  The questions were thrown at Tiberius in an incoherent rush, that threatened to overwhelm the vaunted leader, until he held up his hands for quiet. He told the Bloods gathered around that he would relate all, after he got a shower and cleaned up. He lifted Saffron up into his arms and disappeared into his personal quarters. Two hours later he emerged, hand in hand with the woman he’d brought aboard, and almost ran into the Bloods gathered around the door. Protocol was the only thing stopping them from hurling their queries at him yet again. He motioned the men to go to the common area amidships and they parted like the Red Sea to let the pair through. The men crowded into the room and waited with rapt attention.

  “This is Saffron, my chosen,” he started, as he gestured to the petite, gray eyed, raven haired beauty. “She was a Debutante…” Murmurs of wonder ran through the Mars men. “For the first time in my life, I have found true love, but do not take this as a sign of weakness, for transgressors will face my wrath as three of you will find out when we reach home. No, I have not forgotten the filth that dared to lay hands on her. I left a piece of her burnt clothing where it will be found by the Terran's. She will be assumed dead – for a while, at least --killed during the attack, by whomever assaulted the Palace de Versailles. That is not our concern, nor will it become one for the Blood Empire. I waited until the ship was scanned before bringing her aboard, as you saw, and Smokey, are you listening?”

  “Aye, aye, TK. I have you on all over the ship for those who cannot attend your little monologue. By the by, I wasn’t going to leave without proof of your sad demise. I was just ready for whatever came, and a quick exit.”

  “I know. Kafka told me, but I never had a doubt. Saffron is half Blood, as she is the child of an unknown Martian and human mother. She is here willingly. In fact, she insisted that we stay together. There will be no repercus…”

  Smokey’s voice cut in, interrupting Tiberius. He hid his irritation and then a look of consternation flitted across his stony features. “Tiberius, we have some uninvited guests. They are being brought to you now.”

  A small man and somewhat matronly woman stumbled into the common area pushed and prodded by two crewmen. The man wore a ridiculous tuxedo, definitely the worse for wear, and smudges of grime were smeared on his face. The slightly overweight woman wore a simple, rumpled floral frock, her graying hair mussed, and a look of abject terror frozen on her own face.

  “Now see here, young man, physical abuse is not warranted. Keep you hands off Winifred or I shall be forced to give you a good thrashing!”

  Now TK was surprised, and he admitted, amused. The small man who barely crested the waist of the crewman was threatening the burly Blood! ‘What next?’ he mused. A lot had happened in the last few hours. Furthering his growing shock, Saffron threw up her hands, ran to the rumpled stowaways, and shouted, “Francois! Oh, how did you come to be here? Welcome, my friend, and I see you brought...”

  “Winifred. You remember her from the Clinic. The ex-receptionist.”

  “Of course I do. Welcome. I am so happy to see you both!”

  “Ahem,” growled Tiberius; he purposely ignored Saffron for the moment. “Were you on the XXX-1369 before it was scanned? That will be a problem no matter how small you are. I should toss you out of the airlock and watch you implode in space!”

  “Wait, wait, Mr. Koln,” Francois pleaded, his hands up in supplication, “there is no reason to resort to such drastic measures as we could not be scanned. I assure you, your craft will not be intercepted, because of our breach.”

  “Explain yourself quickly. My patience wears thin,” retorted Tiberius.

  “Yes, yes, of course good sir. You see, only Debutantes can be scanned. A microchip is implanted on their third visit to the Fecund Clinic so that they may be tracked anywhere on Earth. They are never told, and only a few people on Earth even know the program exists. I only became aware of this information recently and by accident. No one else is thusly affected, so you see, we, Winifred and I, were invisible to the scan as are you Bloods. Saffron’s chip is under her heart birthmark, but I understand the scan was undertaken, before she boarded the craft. Rest assured her chip can be removed quite easily, if it is wished. Please, Mr. Koln, let us stay. I may be of assistance to you on Mars and will be forever in your debt. Saving Saffron, who I suspect has harbored doubts about the Terran system for some time, is enough for me. If you decide to cast me into the void of space, I understand, but please spare Winifred also.” He pleaded.

  Tiberius considered what he’d been told for a full minute, that dragged on as Bloods and humans alike, waited for his decision.

  “Though you are small in stature, your heart and bravery are that of Neptune himself. You and your woman will live out the rest of your days on Mars, where you will be one of my advisors. I have spoken and my words are law. Now are there any questions to which you still seek answers?”

  A few more Bloods asked how the Saffron situation would be handled, but walked away satisfied and confident that their leader had covered every angle and there would be little need to worry for now. It might be a concern when the Terran's didn't find their favorite Deb's dental remnants, or any kind of DNA, but for now, they were free to clear Terran airspace, ready for the safe passage home. Tiberius directed a crewman to find lodging for the stowaways, and he took Saffron by the hand, where they stood facing each other, alone in the common room. He brought her fingers to his mouth and kissed each one. Her radiant smile melted his once hardened heart, and she led him to their own quarters with the promise of love for the Martian ages.

  Epilogue

  My name is Saffron Koln, wife of Tiberius Koln; chieftain of the First Blood clan and ruler of the Blood Empire. I am half human and half Martian, and I stand at my man’s side in all things. I have given him two sons in the two years I have dwelt on this red rock hurtling through space, and gazing out at the barren landscape, I have no regrets for my choices. The man I love, the one I waited most of my life for, loves me in return, with a passion not fathomed or realized by most in this universe. Life here is hard, but the reward for toil and struggle brings its own reward, and yes, pride. The Bloods are a tough race with
often harsh and unforgiving laws, but that is warranted in this hostile environment. We are a proud nation, and growing ever prouder. We care for our people, and we value fairness and equal opportunity for all. I am happy here; happier than I'd ever been, or could ever be, on Terra. I am proud to be a Blood.

  Bonus Book 3: Loved by Big Boy

  Clara Davies closed her eyes to drink in the applause as she took her bow. The audience were going wild; clapping and cheering - and it was all for her. Adrenaline coursed through her veins as she beamed out to the auditorium full of people and bowed yet again. Flowers started to fall at her feet, thrown on stage in an old-fashioned homage to her performance. At first, it was just a few; some tulips and roses, then more and more followed. They kept coming until Clara began to feel alarmed. These flowers were falling everywhere, hitting her on the head, her legs. She shielded her face for protection and ducked, but they kept coming, thudding against her harder and harder.

  “Ouch.” Clara sat up and rubbed her eyes. Blinking several times, she looked around, slightly dazed. She was not on stage. Glancing down at the debris on her bedding she also realized that her tribute flowers had been popcorn, and her adoring fans consisted of just one person: her sour-faced roommate, who continued to throw the corn at her with a lazy smirk.

  “Nice, Rachel. Classy.” She brushed the pieces of popcorn off of her blanket, “you couldn’t have just, y’know, called out to wake me up?”

  For good measure, Rachel plucked another kernel from the bowl and threw it at Clara’s feet. “Seemed easier this way. I need you up off of my couch. My whole lounge smells like your morning breath.”

  Had she had an ounce of kindness in her, Clara guessed that Rachel would have been a beautiful girl. Natural, honey blonde hair and a figure to die for; huge natural breasts on a size four body. But her face was warped with the narcissistic sourness with which she viewed the world, and it’s inhabitants. She had a perpetual scowl which made her blue eyes look lifeless, and Clara didn’t think she’d ever seen her smile. At least not with her, anyway. Though I am public enemy number one, she thought. Perhaps she’s a delight around her friends?

  “Think you could get off your fat ass and find a job today? I’d really like my apartment back to how it was before, with you not in it.”

  Okay, maybe not a delight…

  “Aw, sweet,” said Clara. Sighing, she pushed her own, not so size four frame from the couch that had become her bed for the last few weeks. “Maybe if you hadn’t moved somebody else into my bedroom I wouldn’t be in your way so much?”

  “You couldn’t afford to keep that room, of course, I was going to let it to someone who could pay more. God knows you’re only paying this pitiful amount of rent because my Mom went to college with your Mom. Personally, I couldn’t give a shit if you were out on the streets.”

  Clara packed away her bedding, a lead weight in her stomach. Her mother's scoffing at her moving to New York to become a Broadway actress suddenly seemed justified. She was from a small, suffocating town in Illinois where no one ever had wild ambitions and those who had managed to get out never came back. So when she’d announced after college that she was off to follow her dreams, her Mom thought she’d gone crazy and kept telling her that she’d be back when she ‘came to her senses.' She also received helpful and supportive comments that nobody fat was ever famous on Broadway. Like her Mom would know.

  Despite her scathing remarks, she did help to sort out this horrendous living arrangement Clara now found herself. Rachel’s Mom had been one of the ones to get out of their dead-end town. She’d married well, and Rachel had been fortunate enough not to have to suffer the stifling repression of growing up in a small town. Clara supposed their two mothers had been good friends all those years ago, though she couldn’t imagine they’d have much in common now. Thanks to Facebook, however, enough pleasant messages had been sent between the distant pals to secure Clara a room to rent on her arrival to the Big Apple.

  Rachel had been awful from the outset; pointedly scanning Clara’s larger figure on arrival and making no effort to hide the fact she didn’t want to do this favor for her Mom. Clara had told herself it was short term. As soon as she got herself a job; waitressing…anything, she’d get somewhere else. It pained her enough that she’d had to give in and allow her Mom to sort this out for her. Every time they spoke, there was the constant reminder that she’d ‘be on the streets’ without her. Her disapproving digs were worse, though: 'when are you going to get a grip? People like you just don’t make it big in New York.’

  Little did her mother know, that kind of talk just spurred Clara on. Well, it would do, if there were actually any jobs around to be spurred on by. Or if she’d not just spent the last month attending audition after audition without a sniff of a callback. It inspired her never to think about going back home then, at least. She would rather be a failure in New York than crawl back to a bunch of ‘I told you so’s.’

  Noticing that Rachel had pointedly left the paper open on the job page, Clara scanned over it with low expectations. Of course, there was plenty of work going, but every position was so oversubscribed - thousands of other aspiring actresses going for the restaurant and bar gigs; jobs that flowed well with the acting industry. Getting time off for auditions was relatively easy, and not to mention the money earned on tips. Perching on one of the kitchen bar stools, she turned the page to check out the classifieds and momentarily pondered as to whether she could answer one of the ‘girls needed’ escort ads. Grinning, she imagined telling her mother that she’d abandoned hopes of being a star and become a prostitute instead. In fact, she wondered if that might be preferable in her Moms' eyes. She’d probably see it as a more stable career. At least escorting she might stand a chance of moving away from Hateful Rachel.

  As she went to close the paper, an advert caught her eye: ‘Wanted: Caregiver. No experience required. Live in position.’

  There were no other details, save a contact number. No mention of salary or job description but Clara didn’t care; it was the live-in opportunity that had caught her attention. She could easily look after a little old lady or something, and she might get to sleep in an actual bed in her very own room. On a whim, she called the number to inquire about the post.

  Clara put down her cell phone, and relief washed over her body. She punched the air in victory. An interview. Tomorrow. 9am. Wow. Sure, she knew nothing about what the work entailed but, to be honest, she was willing to do whatever it took right now. A huge grin spread across her face as she typed the place for the interview into Google maps - this was a seriously upmarket address. Like, mega star territory. Clara no longer cared what the work entailed. To live here, she’d do absolutely anything.

  Chapter 2

  The electronic buzzer system looked like NASA had designed it, and Clara’s stomach was full of butterflies simply from being in front of this imposing building. She pressed the buttons as was instructed in her interview.

  “Name?” came a curt, male voice out of the speaker.

  “Er..I’m Clara Davies. I’m here for the…” she stammered.

  “Wait there.” The voice cut her off.

  Her palms were clammy, and she brushed them on her trousers while trying to peer inside. All the windows were smoked glass, so she stepped forward and pressed her nose to the glass to get a better view. At that moment, the door swung open. Stumbling forward with a cry, Clara narrowly avoided face planting the solid marble floor of the lobby she was now inside. Great start klutz. She thought.

  The man viewing her with vague disapproval had graying hair and a severe expression. He reminded her of her old, formidable Math teacher in High School. Clara smiled widely at him, hoping a bit of cheerfulness might make him forget her unwitting dramatic entrance.

  Surprisingly, a faint shadow of a smile passed his lips before he turned, instructing, “follow me.”

  Her heels clattered along the floor as she teetered after him, attempting to keep up and take in her
surroundings without falling over. The ceiling inside the lobby was vast and housed a crystal chandelier bigger than Hateful Rachel’s entire apartment. The light made the marble glitter as though embedded with diamonds. Clara wouldn’t have been surprised if there had been gems in the floor.

  The man took her into an elevator that contained a dark, brushed leather couch, a chrome table topped with a full brandy decanter and glasses and an inbuilt, huge TV screen. Having to hide her giggle behind her hand, inwardly Clara shook her head. This kind of decadence seemed utterly ridiculous to her. Seriously, who would go into an elevator and watch TV?

  When they’d reached the very top of the grand building, the doors slid open and this time, Clara was not able to suppress a gasp. The lavishness of downstairs was nothing compared to the sight in front of her now.

  Floor to ceiling windows surrounded this vast space, offering breathtaking, panoramic views of what seemed like the entire city. It was bigger than any house she’d ever been in, despite only being able to see part of the living area: beautiful cream couches, surrounding a large glass coffee table cushioned on top of a thick, white rug. Exquisite artwork hung from the walls, and as she continued following the man inside, she could not stop her eyes from bulging when Clara caught sight of the achingly modern kitchen, a cordoned off study and still, more rooms further than she could see. He led her past a white staircase, sunken into the floor, and twisting elegantly down to the next level. It was high level architecture.