Simon kissed the wound on her neck, a wound she knew would quickly disappear. “You are remarkably gorgeous tonight,” he whispered in her ear. “Gorgeous and powerful and mine in a thousand ways.” His body was molded to hers, and she felt as if she not only absorbed power from him but also gave back, in some way she could not yet explain. The night was at their feet, waiting to be claimed and conquered. Her life had just begun.
Again, Simon kissed her neck. “Moonlight becomes you, love,” he whispered against her sensitive skin. “Moonlight becomes you.”
The End
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DeButy and the Beast
Excerpt from
DeButy and the Beast
by
Linda Jones
Chapter 1
Julian stood, his back ramrod straight and his feet firmly planted, in the center of the Sedley mansion south parlor. His demeanor was purposely nonchalant, his face a mask of propriety. He gave no outward sign that his heart was about to burst through his chest, or that he had never in his twenty-six years seen such opulence.
He’d never expected to see the interior of Rose Hill, or any home like it. The Sedleys were a well-respected and filthy-rich family that had made its fortune in shipping and trade since the days of the American Revolution. They were known not only for their fortune, but for their place in North Carolina society.
Elizabeth Sedley, matriarch of the Sedley clan, paced before a cold fireplace, wringing her hands in an uncharacteristic display of nervousness. She was attractive, still, for an older woman. Her hair was stark white, her face only lightly wrinkled. She stood barely five feet tall, and while she was far from thin, she was not what one would call heavy, either. Healthy, Julian thought as he watched her. She looked extraordinarily healthy.
“You are aware of my situation,” she said, keeping her voice low.
“Yes,” Julian said simply. Who was not aware? The reappearance six months ago of Mrs. Sedley’s granddaughter, who had long been assumed dead, had stirred up much excitement. The girl had been thought lost at sea, along with her parents, nearly twelve years ago. Her mother and father had perished when their ship went down in a storm, but the girl had drifted to the Caribbean island of Puerta Sirena. Mermaid’s Gate. The idyllic island was inhabited by a ragtag group of people. A few of the original Hispanic natives coexisted with pirates from around the world who, for the past one hundred and fifty years or so, had made the island their home. Apparently they had made a retired English pirate their king.
“I’ve tried everything,” Mrs. Sedley said in a lowered voice that spoke of desperation and confidence. “In the past six months we have lost eight tutors, three governesses, and five companions. Most do not last a full day. It’s not entirely Anya’s fault,” she said a mite defensively. “On the island where she has lived the past twelve years of her life, she was called a goddess. She was treated like a queen. She is understandably having difficulty adjusting to this new lifestyle.”
“Understandably.” Julian’s nose twitched. He had heard the stories of the heiress’s behavior since her homecoming. In muted whispers, the gossips were calling Anya Sedley the Beast of Rose Hill.
“My granddaughter can be difficult.” Mrs. Sedley glanced his way, her eyes pleading. “But she is also bright and lovely, and she needs a guiding hand. That’s all she needs,” the old woman said optimistically. “A firm, guiding hand.”
Julian’s heart sank a little. He now knew why he had been summoned. He was not a tutor, he was not a companion. And even if he were, he had no desire to take on the Beast of Rose Hill.
“She reads constantly,” Mrs. Sedley said, a note of pride in her voice. “And speaks not only English, but quite a bit of French, Spanish, Portuguese, Italian and… some island nonsense. Sometimes all in one sentence, and from the tone of her voice I suspect that much of what she says is inappropriate for a lady, but still… such knowledge is an accomplishment, don’t you agree? Why, she’s already read everything in my library, and is rereading her favorites. If only she had the proper guiding hand.”
“Mrs. Sedley…” Julian began, anxious to cut the elderly lady off before this conversation went any further. The longer he stood there, the more desperately she pleaded, the more difficult it would be to say no.
Apparently she knew his weakness quite well. She did not give him an opportunity to continue. “A tutor is not enough,” Mrs. Sedley said quickly. “Anya needs someone to take her well in hand. Someone of high moral character who will dedicate himself twenty-four hours a day to her reformation. Someone who—”
“Mrs. Sedley…” Julian tried again.
“A husband who will take this wild creature and transform her into the lady she should be,” the old woman finished, undaunted by the interruption.
“A husband? Mrs. Sedley, surely you don’t expect—”
“Your grandfather was a good friend of mine,” she interrupted.
“I know.”
“He shared your interests,” she said, walking unerringly toward him, the gleam in her eyes strong and intelligent. Elizabeth Sedley would soon be sixty-eight years old. Her face might be wrinkled, her hair snow white, but there was youth and vigor in her eyes. “A study of cultures not our own, a dedication to academics.”
She played on his weakness. A physician by training, Julian had no tolerance for sick people. He was awkward around his patients and much preferred research. Like his grandfather, he was fascinated by tribal cultures. Their similarities the world round. Their differences. Unfortunately, such study would take years. A lifetime. And it would also take lots of money—money he did not have, thanks to his father’s love for and bad luck with games of chance.
Mrs. Sedley faced him bravely, tilting her head to look him in the eye. “Marry my granddaughter,” she said succinctly. “Turn her into a young woman worthy of her station by her twenty-first birthday, and you shall have your own ship from the Sedley line, a worthy crew, supplies, and whatever funds you need to get your studies underway.”
Julian’s heart thudded. He was not so sure he would be able to hide his excitement. “When is her twenty-first birthday?”
“September 15. You will have just over four months to complete the task.”
From what he had heard, four months would not be nearly enough time to tame the beast. Still, the rewards were high. “And what does Anya think of this plan?”
Mrs. Sedley’s lips thinned. “She knows only that I have set about finding her a husband.”
“And what does she think of that?”
The old woman’s eyes flitted away nervously. “She seems quite willing to take that step.”
“Why will another, more dedicated tutor not do as well as a husband?”
Mrs. Sedley sighed. “Anya responds better to men than to women, I have found. The companions we hired almost always left here in tears. And for her training to be effective, her tutor needs to be here twenty-four hours a day. There can be no rest, no respite from this task.” She laid her eyes on Julian. “And I need no more scandal. If you live under this roof, you must marry her.”
“I see your reasoning,” he began, “but marriage seems a bit extreme.”
“Anya’s portion of the Sedley fortune will be hers when she turns twenty-one.” Mrs. Sedley’s voice was all business, now. “She will be prey for every fortune hunter on the east coast, and she is so impulsive I fear… I fear she will choose the wrong man, if she’s given the opportunity to choose for herself. Even when you are away on your travels, you will be her husband, and so you will protect her from the vultures.”
“I see.”
“Julian,” she said, her voice changing to a more maternal tone. “I have made up my mind. What Anya needs is a husband. I called upon you for this task for many reasons. I admired your grandfather greatly, and you are a man of high moral character, as he was. I read your latest pamphlet on the degenerating moral character o
f our nation, and I must say, it played a great role in my decision.”
Julian looked humbly to the floor. “I appreciate your confidence.” And yet…
“That said,” Mrs. Sedley continued, “I feel I must tell you everything.”
Good heavens, there was more.
“I mentioned that Anya was called a goddess.”
“Yes,” Julian said suspiciously.
Mrs. Sedley set about wringing her hands again. “Apparently she was a… ummm…” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “A love goddess.”
“A love goddess.”
“And I told you she was treated like a queen?” Mrs. Sedley continued.
Julian’s heart dropped. “Yes.”
“Well, actually she was the king’s paramour, his… his concubine.”
The same heart that had dropped a moment earlier rose into his throat. “I see. This would be the English pirate, Terrence Whetherly?”
“His son, Sebastian.”
The offspring of the pirate and an island woman, no doubt.
“Naturally, we don’t want the world to know of these transgressions, but I did think you should have all the pertinent details.”
“Very kind of you to be so honest.”
“Anya tells me she cannot have children, but since this will be an arranged marriage, and you will be leaving in a few months time, I don’t see how that detail would affect your decision.”
Julian tried to decline, but the “no” caught in his throat. Was he actually considering this preposterous proposition? A love goddess? The mistress of a self-proclaimed king? Four months of his life to see his dream come true.
“Perhaps you should meet Anya before we go any further.”
Mrs. Sedley turned slowly, took two steps, and lifted a silver bell from the end table by a burgundy velvet padded chair. Almost immediately, the butler appeared.
“Show Miss Anya in, Peter.”
With a barely disguised sigh, the servant nodded and briskly left to do as he’d been instructed.
“I should warn you,” Mrs. Sedley said in a lowered voice. “We have tried to reform her, but Anya continues with her unconventional ways. Some I am learning to accept. Others are more difficult to withstand. You should be prepared.”
“For what?”
“For anything.” She sighed.
Julian heard the butler’s clipped step and harried voice moving closer to the parlor where he and Mrs. Sedley waited. “But Miss Anya…”
“Silence,” a crisp, feminine voice ordered. “I have asked you not to speak to me unless you are bearing a message of some importance. Your opinion is of no importance.”
“But Miss Anya…”
“I should have my grandmother whip you for your insolence. Did I not tell you to be silent?”
Julian turned to face the doorway as the voices came nearer. Peter was not deterred by Anya’s threat. “But your grandmother gave specific instructions…”
The butler stopped speaking when Anya reached the open doorway and stopped there, laying her eyes on Julian in a bold, almost fearless way. She had long, unbound red hair that fell well past her waist. Lush lips that would never be proper, no matter what training she received. Wide eyes blue… no, green… perhaps both… that latched on to his as she stepped into the room.
She wore an array of jewels. Dangling pearls at her earlobes barely peeked out from her wealth of red hair. Around her neck she wore several necklaces. More pearls, a ruby pendant, an onyx teardrop, and a worked gold piece of delicate leaves. Her wrists, both of them, were similarly adorned, as was one ankle.
And she was naked, but for a brightly colored scarf that had been strategically placed around her waist, knotted there, and left to hang so that it covered the apex of her thighs and half of one shapely limb. Her unbound hair covered her breasts to some degree, but an abundance of bare flesh was most shockingly revealed.
“Anya!” Mrs. Sedley whispered hoarsely. “What did I tell you….”
“I am not naked,” Anya said as she placed herself before Julian and lifted her eyes to his face.
“You promised you would wear shoes this afternoon,” Mrs. Sedley continued, reprimand in her voice.
Anya was not affected by the rebuke. “They pinch my toes.” She began to circle around Julian, her movements like that of a cat, slow and graceful and… deadly. Her eyes raked up and down his body. Julian remained still, not circling to follow her, but allowing her to study him as she wished.
Peter, the harried butler, sighed once again and made his escape.
“You were right, Grandmother,” Anya said softly. “He is a beauty.”
“I never said—” Mrs. Sedley began.
“Julian the beauty,” Anya interrupted. “That is what you called him.”
“No, no,” the older woman said patiently. “Julian DeButy. Dr. Julian DeButy. That is his name, the way your name is Anya Sedley. DeButy sounds similar to ‘the beauty,’ I suppose.”
Anya completed her circle and stood before him once more. Julian fixed his eyes on the ruby at her throat. To look at anything more would be improper. To study her body the way she studied his would be beneath him. He should pay no attention to the way her very red hair fell across the swell of her bare breasts. He definitely should not allow his eyes to dwell on those lush lips, or the sprinkling of freckles across her nose, or, dear God, the valley between her breasts and her bare midriff, with skin so smooth and flawless it surely felt like silk.
His eyes should most certainly not drop to the portion of exposed hip, shapely thigh, the length of that one completely exposed limb that almost brushed against his trousers. No, he stared at the ruby at her throat and thought of… of ships. Long, wooden ships that sailed across the seas, tossed by the tremendous waves so that it pitched up and down, up and down, in a rhythm deep and certain. He could feel it even now, roiling in the pit of his stomach as the ship carried him—Oh, this was not helping at all. So he thought of… of last night’s meal.
That was a safe enough topic for his beleaguered brain, surely. He’d dined with his aunt before taking the train to Wilmington. She’d served a succulent roast hen that had been quite tasty. The way it had lain on his tongue, tender and luscious, had been quite lovely. Just thinking about it made his mouth water. Yes, there was nothing so satisfying as a well-prepared meal: chicken and potatoes and greens, followed by delicious caramel cake. Oh, that cake had been marvelous. Sticky and sweet and decadent. Sinful, surely, it was so rich and just the memory made his stomach tighten and his heart skip a beat. Smooth and silky and warm…
Good heavens, what had this woman done to him?
Neither ships nor food calmed him, so he thought of the money Anya’s grandmother offered, the opportunity to circle the world and write books about his travels. To discover tribes that still lived as their people had lived hundreds of years ago, each with their own society. Their own rules and mores.
It did not matter that Anya had been a queen and a goddess, or that she could not have children. The only dignified reason for a man and woman to lie together was to conceive a child. The civilized man was above his baser instincts, though at times those instincts were easier to ignore than at others.
Julian usually had no problem ignoring his own animal instincts. He rigorously avoided temptation, keeping to his books and avoiding situations that might prove… uneasy. This situation was most definitely uneasy. Any man who was confronted with a naked woman might feel aroused.
He turned his mind to business. Since Anya could not conceive, and he would not stay long at Rose Hill, there was no need for their marriage to include the marital embrace. They would have separate beds. Separate rooms. He would be a mentor, a teacher. Not a lover.
“You wish to marry me?” Anya asked, her words clipped and precise, with just a hint of a foreign accent. Not Spanish, not French, but something exotic and… no, not arousing.
He was being ridiculous. This was just a woman, no different from any other.
He would give her four months of his life, he would train her, mold her into the lady she should be. Those tutors who had come before had simply not been strict enough.
“Yes,” he said crisply. “I do believe we’d make a suitable couple.”
“You have not asked me if I wish to marry you,” she said, a hint of censure in her voice. “My grandmother tells me I must have a husband, and to be honest I am tired of sleeping in a large bed all alone.”
Julian’s eyebrows went up, just slightly. Before they were wed he would have to make things clear to her. He would make her understand that they would not share a bed, and that she should not count on him to stay indefinitely. He could surely explain to her the benefits of a marriage of convenience.
“But why should I choose you?”
“Anya, dear,” Mrs. Sedley said, “I have told you all about Julian. He is a fine, upstanding physician, he comes from a wonderful old Southern family, and he has all the qualities any woman might want in a husband.”
“Does he?” Without warning, Anya reached out and laid her hand on his crotch. He tried to back away, but she grabbed onto the fabric and what lay beneath and would not let go. Her grandmother, standing at his back, could surely not see this indignity. Just as well, as it was a truly mortifying moment.
In spite of Julian’s resolve to think of other things, he twitched and grew in her hand. Anya responded with a wicked smile.
“He will do,” she said softly.
DeButy and the Beast
by
Linda Jones
~
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Linda’s first book, the historical romance Guardian Angel, was released in 1994, and in the years since she’s written in several romance sub-genres under several names. In order of appearance, Linda Winstead; Linda Jones; Linda Winstead Jones; Linda Devlin; and Linda Fallon. She’s a six time finalist for the RITA Award and a winner (for Shades of Midnight, writing as Linda Fallon) in the paranormal category. Most recently she’s been writing as Linda Jones in a couple of joint projects with Linda Howard, and rereleasing some of her backlist in ebook format. She can be found at any one of a variety of Facebook pages. (search for Linda Winstead Jones and Linda Howard/Linda Jones) Linda enjoys hearing from her readers. You can visit her at www.lindawinsteadjones.com
Moonlight Becomes You: a short story Page 5