“But he did not tell you who it was.”
She shook her head. “He said ‘he’ was still useful.”
“There are a lot of male members of The Company.”
“And one of them is a traitor.”
* * * *
Reece swallowed the rush of emotion as he stared at his sleeping wife. It wouldn’t do for her to wake up on the first morning of their marriage and find her husband in tears. It was bad enough their bedroom had only a few furnishings and no decoration or even a warm rug. He would correct all that, or they would together. The bed was comfortable, and the staff had managed to clean the entire house in just a few days. He wanted to wake up in their own home for the first time as husband and wife.
“I can feel you staring at me.” Her scratchy voice resounded as the perfect gift to his already wonderful day.
“I’m not staring. I’m admiring my wife while she sleeps.”
She rolled to face him. “Well, it feels quite similar to staring.”
He kissed her nose. “You cannot blame me. I am the most fortunate man in London, and I’m amazed at my good luck.”
“Was it luck that brought us together?” She stretched long like a cat, her breasts peeking out above the covers.
He brushed his fingers along her nipples and thrilled at the moan and arching of her back. “I do not know if it was luck, but I feel lucky.”
She sat up and pulled the covers over herself. “You now have a wife who is a prime target of the master. How is that lucky?”
“For now, the master is gone somewhere to lick his wounds, and I have the woman I love to share my bed.”
“He will regroup, Reece.”
He rested his head in her lap. “The Company needs to do the same.”
“And the traitor, what of him?” Her fingers combed through his hair.
“Drake will have to root him out. That is not our assignment. In fact, we have no assignment. We are on our honeymoon.”
“Mmm… I think Drake knows who it is.”
He strained his neck and looked up at her. “What makes you think so?”
“Someone had to have delivered information about me being a traitor. Someone had to know what I knew and how to use it.”
“You’ve been giving this careful examination.”
“I suppose I have. It nags at me that someone close to us is a servant of the master.”
“You do not suspect Tally, do you?”
“She had no opportunity to leak information to Drake. We were present during her interrogation by Lillian, and she had no way of knowing where the dagger was. I never discussed it with her.”
“Do you think she will stay with us?” He put his head down and snuggled against her thighs. To hell with all the trappings of a fine house, he had everything he needed.
“No. I think she will want to make her own way. She is very keen on finding a way to break the bond with the master. She told me she wishes to go to Edinburgh and speak to the witches who guard Holyrood. Though, I’ll be sorry to see her go.”
“Do you want to go to the country and rest for a while? We have the time, and you have never seen our estate.”
“To be honest I’m more comfortable here in London.”
“Then here we shall stay.”
She ran her fingers through his hair. “I will see your estate some other time.”
“Our estate, sweetheart.”
A knock rang out. She pulled her hand free and yanked the covers up to her neck.
“What is it?” Reece had given strict instructions about not bothering them for the day.
“Sir. We have a visitor.” John spoke loud enough to breach the door.
Elizabeth got up. “He would not disturb us unless it was important.”
Her perfect butt swayed as she crossed to the basin. “We’ll be down directly, John.”
Reece hung his legs over the edge of the bed. “I would prefer to spend the day in this room with you.”
She looked over her shoulder; a wicked grin offered a world of promise. “Later. Get dressed and let’s go see who is downstairs.”
* * * *
Garvey stood at the front door with a small case at his feet.
Reece bounded down the stairs and offered the butler his hand. “My father finally let you go.”
“Not exactly, sir.”
Elizabeth shook his hand. “Perhaps we should talk in the study.”
Several of the staff gathered in the foyer, watching the exchange.
The three of them walked to the door on the right. The room, which would become their study, had a desk, four chairs, a rug, and a wall of books. Much remained undone in their effort to make the new townhouse a home.
“Please have a seat, Garvey.” Reece held a chair for Elizabeth, then took the one next to her.
Garvey sat on the edge of the chair ready to jump up at any moment. Clearly sitting with his old employer was unfamiliar territory for the butler. “I wish to inform you your father has closed his London townhouse.”
“As we expected. Did he bother to give you a letter of reference?”
“No. As he did not release me from my contract, he did not deem it his responsibility to recommend me for a new position.”
The anger he associated with his parents flooded into his gut. “What do you mean? He did not release you, yet the house is closed.”
“That is correct, sir. Mr. Foxjohn wanted me to stay on at the townhouse.”
“At an empty house?” Elizabeth asked.
“Evidently, madam.”
His father punished the butler for his loyalty to Reece. “I noticed you arrived with a bag.”
“I resigned my post. I could see no purpose in serving an empty house. I am a butler. To sit around with no residents to attend would not suit me.”
“I should think not.” Elizabeth stood and crossed her arms over her chest. “That man is impossible.”
Reece loved how passionate she became about everything. He brought his attention back to Garvey. “I hope you will accept a position at this house.”
“I confess that was my hope, sir.”
She rushed back to the grouping of chairs and stood. “Of course you will stay here.”
“Lizzy, let the man decide for himself.”
She dropped her arms. “You are right, of course. I only want Garvey to know we welcome his service in our new home. John is doing an adequate job, but we have been suffering without a proper butler’s guidance.”
Reece laughed. “The job is yours, Garvey, if you want it. From the crowd of smiling faces who gathered in the foyer, I would say the staff is pleased you have arrived.”
Garvey stood. “Thank you, sir, madam. I accept your offer of employment.”
She clapped. “Wonderful.”
“If you don’t mind my saying, I wish you great joy on the event of your recent marriage.”
Reece stood and shook his hand. “Thank you. I expect we shall have a great many years to enjoy this house. I’m afraid it is sorely in need of some decor.”
“I’m sure all of those things will come in time, sir.” Garvey cleared his throat and strode out of the room.
Reece sat and Elizabeth curled into his lap. She snuggled against his neck. “I feel it all has settled into place now.”
He settled his arm around her back and tucked his other under her legs. “It is good to have our staff back at home.”
“Why do you suppose your father is so awful?”
He kissed the top of her head. “Because he can be and it is his nature. Money makes some men tyrants.”
“You were raised with that same money. Do you not wonder how you became such a good man?”
“I shall accept your compliment, my love. I can only credit my nanny for showing me a way of living better than my father’s.”
She lifted her chin and kissed him. “I’m glad you are as you are.”
He covered her li
ps with his, sweeping his tongue in and devouring her. A tear squeezed out of his eye and several more followed.
She broke the kiss and wiped his cheek. A crease formed between her soulful brown eyes. “What’s wrong?”
This was everything he wanted. His father no longer ruled any part of his life. The woman he loved curled in his arms, looking at him as if he were the sun and the moon. “I’ve never been happier in my life. I do not think I could ever be happier.”
“And that makes you cry.” She smiled and cupped his cheek.
“I suppose the emotion must find its way out somehow, sweetheart. I will try to keep it under control.”
“I never want you to control your affection for me or for the people under our roof. If a few tears are the price of you being a great man, then we will buy extra handkerchiefs.”
Joy bubbled up in his chest. “Thank you.”
“For the handkerchiefs?”
“That and so much more. My life is so much better than I could have ever hoped or deserved.”
“No, my love. You deserve this and much more.” Her mouth, warm and soft, covered his.
No amount of control would put a halt to the flood of emotions. Reece Foxjohn wrapped his wife in his arms and gave in to them.
Meet the Author
A.S. Fenichel gave up a successful IT career in New York City to follow her husband to Texas and pursue her lifelong dream of being a professional writer. She’s never looked back. Multi-published in erotic paranormal, erotic contemporary, Regency historical romance and of course historical paranormal romance, A.S. will be bringing you her brand of romance for many years to come. A.S. loves to hear from her readers. Be sure to write to her at [email protected] or visit her at asfenichel.net.
Keep reading for a peek at the first book in AS Fenichal’s Demon Hunter series.
ACENSION
When demons threaten London, Lady Belinda answers the call.
Lord Gabriel Thurston returns home from war to find his fiancée is not the sweet young girl he left behind. She’s grown into a mysterious woman who guards her dark secrets well. When he sees her sneaking away from a ball, he’s convinced it’s for a lover’s rendezvous. Following her to London’s slums, Gabriel watches in horror as his fiancée ruthlessly slay a man.
Lady Belinda Carlisle’s only concern was her dress for the next ball—until demons nearly killed her and changed everything. A lady by day, and a demon hunter by night, she knows where her duty lies. Ending her betrothal is the best way to protect Gabriel from death by a demon’s hand.
Gabriel soon realizes, like him, Belinda has been fighting for her country. He joins in the fight, determined to show her that their love can endure, stronger than ever.
A Lyrical Press novel on sale now!
Learn more about AS Fenichal, at
www.kensingtonbooks.com/author.aspx/31620
Chapter 1
Lady Belinda Clayton grappled with the creaking iron gate, which led to the back garden of her family’s London townhouse. It was not the first time she had used the unconventional route to make her way back home in the predawn hours. Nor was it the first time her dress had been ruined or her hair tousled in her rush to make her way through the streets without becoming a number on the death toll in the city’s records.
Pushing the gate closed, the rough, cold metal scratched her gloved palm. Once the latch was secured, she ran her finger along the jagged tear in her left glove. “Too bad,” she said. She shook her head at the ruined garment. “I really did like this pair.”
“What pair is that, Lady Belinda?” Gabriel’s deep, seductive voice cut through the still night.
His blue eyes were the color of the sea just before a storm and their depths burned into her.
Her stomach did a flip before she had time to control herself. She was sure she looked flustered and she could have kicked herself for not steeling her nerves before facing Lord Gabriel Thurston, the Earl of Tullering.
She was pleased with the sound of cold detachment in her voice. “Tullering, what on earth are you doing in my garden in the middle of the night?”
“One might ask you the same question, Lady Belinda.” He ran his hand through his dark hair, loosening it from the ribbon. His cravat had come loose and his evening clothes were crushed. There was something dangerous about an unkempt Gabriel. The gesture was a sign of frustration from the earl. She’d seen it many times.
Her heart raced and she swallowed the panic welling in her gut. “This is my home, my lord. You do not live here. If I am not mistaken you have a home in London where you should be at this late hour.”
“You are my fiancée.” Even in the moonlight, his face and neck burned red.
“There is no need to remind me.”
He stepped from the terrace onto the cobbled path where she stood. He loomed over her and filled the air with a mixture of soap, spice and something else male and formidable. The scent was intrinsically Gabriel and entirely delicious.
She was tempted to back away, but forced herself to hold her ground. Her stubbornness did not stop her heart from racing or her skin from tingling at his nearness.
“Oh, but I think there is a need.” He circled behind her, his mouth inches from her ear.
She set her teeth. “I am well aware of the contract signed between you and my father four years ago, my lord. I was there when it was signed and I was also there when you left for the continent.” The day he left for the war came flooding back, and so did the memories of her unanswered letters, and the tears she had cried over him. Well, there would be no tears tonight.
“You are angry with me for fighting for our country?” He took a step back.
“No.”
“But you are angry.”
“You might have written since your concern for our relationship is so evident.” She’d wanted to sound flippant, but she sounded brooding. She’d been hurt by his silence, and had little hope of hiding the fact.
“I wrote,” he said.
She was pleased the subject had changed to something more defensible. “Three letters in four years can hardly be considered correspondence, my lord.”
“You use to call me Gabriel.” He murmured.
She stepped away in spite of the pleasant shiver his voice produced. “That was a long time ago.” She made to climb the terrace steps away from him.
“There is still the question of why my fiancée is sneaking through the garden at four in the morning.”
She turned ready to blast him about having no right to ask her anything. Her words stuck in her throat.
In the full moonlight, he took her breath away. He was tall and broad and his hair hung loose around his face.
In spite of her anger, she wanted desperately to touch his hair and see if it was still as soft as it looked. “I come and go as I please.”
“So I see,” he said. “Perhaps then, you would be willing to explain why your dress is six inches deep with mud, why your hair looks as if you’ve been tossing in the sheets, how you got that smudge of dirt on your lovely face, or the hole in those gloves you were just lamenting?”
She wiped some dried mud from her cheek. The resulting dull pain told her she had revealed a bruise beneath.
His eyes widened and he flew up the steps.
She stepped back. She couldn’t harm Gabriel so she lifted one arm as if to dull a blow.
He froze, staring down at her.
It had been instinct. The last few years had taught her that no one is immune to violence. A woman must learn to defend herself. If he had been anyone else, she’d have struck him rather than shield herself against an angry fist. She lowered her arm and looked into his piercing eyes. Her heart pounded. She had made an error.
“Do you truly think I would strike you?”
Now that she was thinking clearly again, she hardly knew why she had defended herself. It was foolish. Gabriel would never strike her. Her environment ha
d tainted her. She attempted to remain cold in her explanation. “I hardly know what to think, my lord. We no longer know each other.”
When he touched the tender bruise, she winced, but did not back away.
“And this, Bella, would you care to explain this to me?” His voice was soft and his touch feather-like, but his eyes narrowed and his posture remained unyielding.
She brushed his touch aside. “Do not call me that.”
“You use to like that name.”
“That was also a long time ago.”
“Not so long,” he whispered. He gazed out into the garden as if lost in some distant memory. His attention returned to her. “I am waiting for some kind of response from you, Lady Belinda.”
In spite of her need to keep him at a distance, her heart ached when he used the formal address. Her first instinct was to tell him to go to hell and leave her alone, but that would only provoke him. She lied instead. “I have been at a ball. There was some problem with the carriage, and I was required to walk part of the way. I fell in the mud and some of it must have splattered my face when my dress was ruined.”
He frowned. “And the bruise?”
Deep creases around his full lips drew her in. Desire to tell him everything bubbled in her gut. She shrugged. “I’m sure it is only dirt. The moonlight makes it seem more dire, and you are exaggerating the situation greatly.”
“I see. Is this all the explanation I can expect?”
“It is what I am willing to say, my lord.” She turned and walked to the house. The door opened just as she arrived and she slipped inside before her fiancé could say more.
“I thought he’d never let you go, milady,” her maid said. She took the tattered cape from Belinda’s shoulders.
“He is angry, Claire.” Belinda sat down heavily on the stool so her maid could remove her muddy boots before she tracked up the entire house. No need for all the servants to begin asking questions.
“He has a right to know what you’ve been up to.” Claire dropped one boot with a heavy thud.
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