by Ruth Owen
“If I wish—?” Connor turned the scroll over in his hand, staring at it as if it were made of solid gold. “You cannot imagine how much I have wanted …
Abruptly, the hope died in his eyes. Reluctantly, he held the paper back out to Jolly. “I cannot accept this honor. There are events that transpired during my years away … events that make it impossible for me to ever to be worthy of this—”
“Are you referring to the Absalom?”
Connor’s jaw dropped. “You know?”
“By jingo, boy, we’re not completely witless. Before he decided to entrust you with the security of our entire country, Melville had you checked out thoroughly. We tracked down several of your shipmates, and every one of them sings the same tune. Those poor beggars in the hold would have died if you hadn’t done what you did. You’re a hero, not a criminal. Now, if you are done with your self-chastisement, I suggest you send a message to whatever smuggler’s harbor you’ve got your ship anchored in and get it here smart quick. In case you hadn’t heard, there’s a war on.”
The commodore delivered a quick bow and a wink to Juliana, then bustled out the door. But even after he left, Connor continued to stare at the scroll, unable to believe it. “I’m an officer again, Princess,” he said in wonder. “A man of position and honor.”
“You always were.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Bilgewater and barnacles, Connor. When are you going to start accepting the fact that you are a good and decent man? Or you will be, as soon as you ask me to marry you.”
His brow arched up. “As I recall, you did all the asking. Quite convincingly, too.”
“Yes, but I do not recall an answer. I should like one soon, if you do not mind. Otherwise, I shall have to consider the proposal of one of my other suitors. Perhaps Sidney Richmond. Or Fitzwilliam—”
She gasped as he pulled her flush against him. “Connor, your shoulder. You’ll tear the dressing.”
“Hang the dressing. You’re mine, Juliana. We’ll make our vows together all right and proper, but even without them you belong to me. We belong to each other, forever and always. And I—now what is the matter?”
“ ’Tis just—” She swallowed, knowing tears were not appropriate for such a moment. “I am happy—happier than I ever thought possible. But when I pictured our wedding day, I always imagined my father standing with us. I know he is gone, but there is a part of me that still continues to hope—”
A knock sounded on the front door. Frowning, Juliana followed the butler to the door. “Who could be calling before daw—Tommy Blue? Where have you been? You disappeared so suddenly, and we have heard nothing of you for months—”
“Yes, well, it had to be sudden-like. I had a fish on the line, so to speak, and I had to reel it in before I lost the hook. You follow?”
“No,” Connor and Juliana said in unison.
Tommy stroked his scraggly chin. “I don’t want it to be a shock, but I don’t sees how it can’t be. I caught wind of a rumor down Barbados way—a tale of men shipwrecked on an island. Wasn’t sure it would pan out. Didn’t want to get your hopes up. So I took off quick as Jack Sprite. Did the deed and came back near as quick. Beat the packet ships, we did, so’s no sense in sending a letter.”
Connor rubbed his temples. They’d had a night of surprises all ready, and one more was putting him past his limit. “Tommy, what in blazes are you going on about? And who is we—?”
A figure stood just outside the doorway. The man was shrouded in the fog and ghostly light of the sky just before dawn. Yet there was something in his bold stance, something that reminded him of—
Minutes later Jamie snuck out of the parlor, trying to delay the inevitable bedtime as long as possible. He saw his captain standing in the hallway, and went to stand beside him. He rubbed his eyes, sleepy yet curious as he followed his captain’s gaze. “Why’s the lady hugging that man and crying? She shouldn’t be crying, should she?”
Connor reached down and rested his hand on his young lieutenant’s shoulders. “She is crying because she is happy, sir. That man is her father.”
London January 1, 1813
“It’s been too long. God’s teeth, why is it taking so long?” His Majesty’s Captain Connor Reed demanded as he paced the rug of his parlor. His usually immaculate naval uniform was wrinkled and askew, and the black ribbon barely contained the reckless tangle of hair that had once been a neat officer’s queue. He looked more like a ragamuffin than a decorated naval officer, but that was hardly surprising. He’d ridden hell-for-leather through the night from the North Downs the minute he’d heard that his wife had gone into labor. “Something is wrong.”
“My boy, nothing is wrong,” the marquis of Albany assured him for the dozenth time. “Babies come into this world in their own time, and there is not a blessed thing any of us can do about it.”
“Your father-in-law is quite correct. And if my son and that arrogant Frenchman friend of yours were here instead of away at sea, they’d no doubt say the same,” Mrs. Jolly stated as she entered the room leaning heavily on her cane. Both Connor and Albany moved to help her, but she batted them away. For the past several months she had worked diligently to conquer her infirmity, determined to reenter the world she had only been reading about for so long.
She settled regally into an armchair and proclaimed, “You’ve no cause to fear. Juliana is a strong, healthy, and very determined young woman. And as I tell those addled-witted doctors who insist on proclaiming my recovery a miracle—there is nothing a determined woman cannot do when she sets her mind to it.”
“True enough,” Albany agreed. “She’s got the line captains and merchants singing as sweetly as choirboys. I never considered having her work with me in the shipping business. Now I wonder how I ever got along without her.” He put his hand on Connor’s shoulder and gave it a fatherly shake. “And I know my dear girl would not be what she is today without your love and support while I was lost at sea. Your methods were a bit”—his brow arched—“let us just call them unorthodox. But you saved her, just as surely as you saved her when she fell into the Thames. You saw her for the woman she could be, not the one I and everyone else expected her to be.”
“That is how she always saw me,” Connor mused, recalling the New Year’s Day thirteen years before when he’d first set eyes on her. She’d seen beyond his filthy exterior to the heart within. Now he had a position of honor and purpose and a home of his own, things he’d dared not even dream of on that long-ago day. But most of all he had a wife he loved with all his heart and who loved him in return. And that was a prize far more valuable than any of the riches and honors he’d won in battle—
Meg burst into the room. “ ’Tis a girl! They are both well, and you can see her if—”
Connor did not hear the rest. He streaked out of the room like a fired cannonball and took the stairs two at a time. Heedless to her tsking, he maneuvered around the midwife and fell to his knees at the side of the bed where his wife lay. Her sunset hair was matted against her forehead and she looked spent beyond measure, but to Connor she had never looked more beautiful. And when she turned to the small, lace-wrapped bundle at her side, her smile outshone the sun.
“Oh, Connor, look at our daughter. Our Margaret Rose. She is so lovely,” Juliana whispered.
“How could she not be, with so lovely a mother?” he answered as he gazed in awe at their daughter. She stared at him with the biggest, bluest eyes he had ever seen. Gingerly he reached out a finger, afraid that even the slightest touch might shatter such a delicate creature.
Her tiny, flailing fist punched him soundly.
Connor grinned like a schoolboy. “Ha, well she’s certainly got your spirit.”
“And your nerve. Scoundrel.”
“Brat.”
“Villain.”
“My love,” Connor breathed, taking her in his arms.
Still tsking, the midwife removed the babe from the embracing couple and placed her in a bassinet at the other
end of the room, then bustled off to get a new stack of linen.
No one saw the boy slip into the room.
Jamie frowned at the embracing couple. Much as he liked the lady, there had been entirely too much kissing going on since the captain’s marriage. Sighing, he turned to the bassinet, curious to see what all the fuss was about. It was small. And wrinkled. And it was beginning to have a decided odor. Shrugging, he started to turn away, but then the baby turned. She stared up at him with eyes that seemed like twin pieces of the bluest heaven. Then she smiled.
Jamie felt something strange happen inside him, as if he’d swallowed a bit of bad beef. Except—this felt nice. Wonderful. The baby started to scowl, so he reached down and clasped her tiny fist between his fingers. “Don’t cry, little girl. I won’t let anything hurt you. You’ll see. I’ll look after you. I’ll protect you. That’s a promise.…”
To Wendy Chen,
the world’s most supportive editor,
to Pam Baker and Terri Lynn Wilhelm,
for encouragement and pizza,
and to Shannon Harper, for saying,
“Well, he could always kidnap her.…”
Books by Ruth Owen
MIDNIGHT MISTRESS
GAMBLER’S DAUGHTER
THE EDITOR’S CORNER
Welcome to Loveswept!
Love is in the air this month – and no, I’m not talking about that holiday. I’m talking about all of our fantastic Loveswept releases coming up, and I’m so excited to share them all with you.
Tina Wainscott’s red-hot WILD ON YOU introduces the Justiss Alliance, an elite team of heroes out to do right. This is one book that will be hard to put down, as one untamable SEAL meets a woman who handles the wildest sort of animals—until she herself becomes the hunted. Another book that I keep raving about it Sally Eggert’s electrifying romantic suspense, IN THE DARK, where passion raises the stakes when a woman is drawn into a dangerous game, with a man who may not be what he seems. Intrigued? I was! If you’re a fan of historical romance with tons of sensuality, adventure and intrigue, look no further than Sharon Cullen’s PLEASING THE PIRATE, where a ruthless pirate and a Scottish lass are wrenched between love and duty. And if you were sucked into Stacey Kennedy’s CLAIMED like I was, you’ll be happy to hear that the oh-so-sexy Club Sin returns in BARED – a wicked and wild tale of submission, seduction, and love.
And of course, we can’t forget about those classic romances that made us fall in love time and again. This month we have two fantastic books from two beloved authors: Sandra Chastain’s irresistible reads: JOKER’S WILD and LEAN MEAN LOVING MACHINE, and Ruth Owen’s wonderful historicals: MIDNIGHT MISTRESS and GAMBLER’S DAUGHTER. Then there’s Karen Leabo’s tale of hot pursuit and hotter passions, HOT PROPERTY, and Linda Cajio’s EARTH ANGEL, where a boardroom hotshot discovers heavenly pleasure with an unlikely angel. And a sensuous historical tale from #1 New York Times bestselling author Iris Johansen, WILD SILVER: THE DELANEY’S – who doesn’t love a story with a wicked prince and a beautiful, willful captive?
Be swept away with Loveswept!
Gina Wachtel
Associate Publisher
Love stories you’ll never forget
by authors you’ll always remember
eOriginal Romance from Random House
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