Captive to the Kiss of a Wicked Duke: A Steamy Historical Regency Romance Novel
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Captive to the Kiss of a Wicked Duke
A Steamy Regency Romance
Scarlett Osborne
Contents
Before You Start Reading…
A Thank You Gift
About the Book
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Epilogue
Extended Epilogue
Preview: A Guide to the Bed of her Lord
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Also by Scarlett Osborne
About the Author
Before You Start Reading…
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A Thank You Gift
Thanks a lot for purchasing my book. It really means a lot to me, because this is the best way to show me your love.
As a Thank You gift I have written a full length novel for you called Seduced by the Brooding Duke. It’s only available to people who have downloaded one of my books and you can get your free copy by tapping this link here.
Once more, thanks a lot for your love and support.
With love and appreciation,
Scarlett Osborne
About the Book
"Prove to me that your desire is as strong as mine…”
Lady Meredith Cluett hides a dark secret.
Blamed for her own mother’s murder, she has lived her life in misery and isolation. When she’s forced to attend a social event, accusing whispers follow her wherever she goes. Fleeing in panic, she comes across her passionate demise; the same Duke that has haunted her dreams for years.
Heath Fillion, the Duke of Catlemore, hates nobles with a passion. So much so that he steals and terrorizes them in hopes of erasing his childhood pain. Until a fateful night leads him straight in the path of the one lady he can’t help but wish to protect. And make her his.
Brought together by a thirst for revenge, the red string of fate binds them together in secrets and in love. Forced to shoulder the punishment for sins they never committed, they race to escape the shadow hunting them: a wolf in sheep’s clothing that holds the key to their past. And their deaths.
Chapter 1
“It’s just like you to do this.” The words were not as sharp as they should be, nearly lost in the strong gust of wind that rushed by them. Goose bumps rose on Heath’s skin, but he did not shiver. He only pulled his long coat closer to his body, tucking his hands in as he sent a grin back over his shoulder. He could feel the cold butt of his pistol, and the chill seemed to last a little longer than it should.
“If you know this is just like me, then you should stop complaining,” he said. “It doesn’t paint you in the best light.”
“We’re men in a gang, Heath,” said his close friend, Phillip Gale. “We never practice standing in the light anyhow.”
Heath’s grin widened. It was just like Phillip to mark their surveillance with his complaining, his words always coming out like a hiss. If you didn’t know him well, you would think he was upset at the very world, that everything seemed to bother him. Heath knew that Phillip just liked to hear himself talk.
On a night such as this, Phillip’s rambling took on a whole new level. He stood behind Heath, also tucking his hands inside his coat to ward off the cold, bouncing from one foot to the other. A silvery cloud of air disappeared before his face with every excited breath he took. He was clearly eager to get back into the swing of things.
“When is he going to get here?” Phillip asked, peering over Heath’s shoulder. He was right about one thing. They never made it a habit to stand in the light. The gaslight lamps lining the London roads cast dark shadows in the alleyway where they stood. Where they hid. Waiting.
“If you weren’t planning on being patient, then you should not have come.”
“Say that again, Heath, I dare you.”
Heath only huffed a laugh, not taking Phillip’s threat seriously. Phillip wouldn’t hurt him. He was loyal to Heath and to the rest of the gang. And with the injury he’d just managed to heal from, Heath knew that he would be able to take Phillip down if he ever tried.
From what Heath had heard, the gang’s last robbery had been a tough one. Phillip had let his emotions get the better of him once again. He’d stared down the barrel of a flintlock pistol, not caring whether he got hurt. Apparently, everything had already been going wrong and Phillip had been too angry or too upset, to let the ladies in the carriages leave with their things. When everyone else had wisely made their escape, he had tried to take down the brave gentleman who had dared to face him, and had earned a shot in the leg in the process.
Or, it would have been the leg had the bullet not torn through his muscles and embedded itself in the cobblestone. The gentleman and the ladies had escaped. Phillip had been carried back to their hideout. And their leader had ordered him to rest and heal before even thinking about going back out there.
Heath had been too busy taking care of his other responsibilities, so he hadn’t been there. But when he’d learned of what happened, he could easily imagine how Phillip had taken that order. Had Heath been present, nothing like that would have happened. Sometimes, he wondered if his life would be easier if he could be as cold as Phillip could be.
“This is taking too long.” Phillip was getting antsy. He began pacing, trying not to make his new limp obvious. He hated it, just as much as he hated the many different scars he had on his body. To Phillip, they were a sign of weakness.
Heath loved his scars. They were a reminder. That the world was not truly the beautiful world of poetry, and parties, and the frivolous gossip of the ton. It was filled with pain, scars, and death. He would not forget that. Would not allow himself to.
“Stop your pacing,” he said to Phillip. He kept his eyes on the road, waiting for the right carriage to draw near. “You’re going to draw attention.”
“Oh, yes, as if you aren’t doing that well enough yourself,” Phillip grumbled.
“Are you saying I’m handsome, Phillip?” Heath asked dryly. The wind persisted and the cold was drawing an annoying shiver close. “How kind of you.”
“As if you haven’t heard that enough yourself. How many times have those groveling ladies in those fancy balls told you how they would love to be married to you?”
“Watch it, Phillip. Your jealousy is showing.”
Phillip snorted. He looked over Heath’s shoulder again and then stalked away. “I could never be
jealous of you and those stupid balls.”
“Not me.” For the first time since they’d arrived, Heath took his eyes off the road and looked back at his friend, giving him a nasty grin. “The ladies. It is no secret that you fancy me.”
Phillip’s response to that was to kick Heath in the back of his knee. It didn’t really hurt, but it did make him crumple a bit. He straightened, chuckling.
Phillip would always bring up Heath’s situation, one that was odd for someone like him. He would poke fun at Heath for the most part, but Heath knew that there was an underlying anger hidden in Phillip’s words. He didn’t let it bother him tonight, just as he wouldn’t let it bother him any other night. Heath had long ago promised himself that nothing would get under his skin, that nothing would have the chance to break him.
His gaze remained on the road, watching as carriages came and went, never the one they were waiting for. He didn’t want to think about his title.
That person is not me. That is only a mask I wear.
To become the true him, he stood here, waiting and plotting.
The leader of their gang had sent him and Phillip alone because they were the best duo. Even though they had a tendency to bicker like children, mostly on Phillip’s part, their plans rarely ever failed. Heath had a feeling that, had he been there that night, Phillip would not have been injured.
“What’s wrong with you?” Phillip shoved him as he asked the question. Heath didn’t look back at him.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re quiet. You’re never quiet. Normally, you would be talking my ear off.”
“I think you might have gotten our roles confused.”
“Something is wrong with you.” Phillip shoved him again, as if that would get the answer out him. “Tell me what it is. Because if you cause this to go wrong for us then I’m not going to let you forget it.”
“When have I ever caused anything to go wrong?” he asked with just a touch of arrogance. But it was true. He’d never botched a robbery before.
Phillip snorted. “I’m sure if you give me some time, I can think of one instance.”
“Take all the time you need.” And then he saw the carriage and that wicked grin spread across his face. “Or, on second thought, you might want to save the thinking for later.”
Phillip was quick to peer over his shoulder. “Is that him?”
“In the flesh.”
“Finally. Now, the show can truly begin.” Heath could hear the elation in this voice.
They didn’t move, not right away. But Heath’s finger stroked the pistol he had hidden within the folds of his coat, watching the horses pull the extravagant carriage up to the entrance of the theater.
The show would truly begin, but not in the manner that the Duke of Hensworth thought. Heath had already spotted the Duke’s bold crest on the carriage as it arrived, knowing that he would be inside. Just earlier today, the Duke had told Heath of his plans to visit Drury Lane Theatre and Heath had taken that information to the rest of his gang.
He didn’t know the Duke well, but he knew he was a strapping man who was nearing his fortieth year and was quite skill at fencing. As such, he would prove to be a challenge and that was all Heath needed tonight. A challenge. Something to take his mind off the things that had been following him all day.
He watched as the Duke exited his carriage and patted his hair. The Duchess of Hensworth had come along with him and together, they made a lovely pair, with bright smiles and excited eyes. Heath felt a tremor of his own excitement knowing that he would be the one to wipe that happiness from their faces.
“Wait,” he said, knowing that Phillip was ready to get going. He heard his friend spit at the ground behind him. Somehow, he’d managed to make it sound impatient, but was happy he said nothing.
Phillip watched as the pair engaged in conversation with the Earl of Rentley, who Heath had also known would be attending. “Go,” he whispered and Phillip was gone.
He watched Phillip’s figure dart across the road, always staying within the shadows. Despite his just-healed injury, he moved swiftly, without delay. He was standing by the carriage within moments and Heath saw a flash of light when Phillip withdrew his knife and held it up to the coachman.
Just as he wanted, the coachman made a strangled cry for help which drew the attention of the Duke of Hensworth and his wife. Heath stepped out from the corner.
He pulled his pistol free, made sure his mask was covering most of his face before he stepped closer. As he should, he stayed on the fringes of the light, still bathed in blackness even as he leveled his pistol at the Duke. “Give me everything you have.”
The Duke went still, paling. The Duchess let out a little squeak and she tried to shield herself behind her husband. The Earl was an exciting wild card, one that Heath wasn’t sure would end well for him. The Earl was quite the coward. He might run, he might fall unconscious, or Heath might be able to rob him as well.
“Everything you have!” Heath pressed, cocking the pistol higher. Tears were already streaming down the Duchess’ face. He knew they wouldn’t recognize his voice past the mask, but he kept his words short nonetheless.
“We won’t bend to the likes of you,” the Duke spat.
Heath grinned behind his mask. Perhaps the Duke would have been enough of a challenge for him.
He had his finger on the trigger, willing to pull it if necessary. It didn’t matter that there was a woman present, or that he might take their lives. For now, he needed to escape his reality and this was one of the best ways he knew how.
Memories of the past had been resurfacing all day, memories he’d spent years putting aside. They were the ones he didn’t care to hold on to, the ones that he didn’t need to drive his thirst for revenge. They only reminded him of the person he’d once been. Kind. Caring. Positive. Those words could no longer be used to describe him.
The Earl tried to run. Heath looked sharply at him, but he kept his hand steady, still pointed at the Duke’s forehead. He found bullets to the head to be the most effective.
Suddenly, Phillip was there, trapping the Earl in his arms and throwing him to the ground. He fell into a puddle that had been there for days. Phillip grinned maniacally, levelling his own pistol at the Earl.
“You too,” Phillip told him. “Unless you want to die here in the streets.”
“David just give him everything you have,” the Duchess said in a frantic whisper.
Heath cocked his chin at her. “You, as well, dear. I couldn’t very well part without that emerald necklace around your neck.”
With trembling fingers, she unclasped her necklace and reached out to give it to him. Her husband stopped her, his eyes narrowing. “Take the carriage,” the Duke said. “I know that’s what you really want. Take the carriage and everything I have in it and leave us be.”
“Are you that attached to a necklace?” Phillip asked idly. Heath looked over, amused. It seemed the Earl had done both. Ran and fell unconscious. They could rob him easily enough.
“It was her mother’s and I would appreciate it if it stayed with us.”
Heath and Phillip exchanged looks. Even though they were both wearing masks, Heath knew they were both smiling.
“The necklace,” Heath demanded. “Or I will shoot you.”
The Duchess stifled a sob behind her hand but she tossed the necklace over, bypassing her husband’s hand. It landed at Heath’s feet. He bent to pick it up, knowing what would happen next.
The Duke attacked him. The Duchess screamed. Heath dropped his gun and accidentally kicked it away, longing for a good old-fashioned fist fight. He tussled with the Duke for a few moments before he managed to throw him off, the Duke landing heavily on his back. For all his fencing knowledge, nothing would prepare the Duke for the anger that had been unleashed in Heath, anger he’d been carrying around with him for so many years.
He crawled atop the Duke and pummeled his fist into his face. Once. Twice. And then three time
s before he was certain the Duke would stay down. Blood coated his knuckles but as he looked down at the man beneath him, Heath knew the injury would be nothing his riches wouldn’t be able to handle.
He got to his feet and retrieved his pistol. Just like the Earl, the Duchess had fallen unconscious and Phillip, who had been holding her still, tossed her aside in disgust. “Women,” he spat.