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A SPIRITED COURTSHIP

Released on February 15th was the 3rd book in my Magic & Mayhem Series - A SPIRITED COURTSHIP. I had a blast writing the story, and full disclosure, it originally appeared in the 3rd installment of the CASTLE KEYVNOR Anthology in Beguiled at the Wedding.
Find it at Books2Read
If you haven't had an opportunity to yet read the novella, below is the Prologue and First Chapter.

PROLOGUE
May, 1812, London Miss Diana Vail pinched her cheeks to bring more color, smoothed the few wrinkles from her lilac gown and did a turn before the mirror to make certain all was in place before she exited the retiring room. With each step, she became giddier for she was to meet James Bryant, the Earl of Somerton, in the gardens behind the Hearne grand ballroom. “James,” she sighed to herself. She called him James and he called her Diana, though never in front of others, as it simply wasn’t done. Soon, that wouldn’t matter, or at least she hoped, as he’d been courting her nearly all Season. It wasn’t yet an official courtship, but only because her half-brother, Viscount Lynwood, was not in London to grant permission. Regardless, James may not have said the words but after the kisses and caresses they’d shared the night before in Vauxhall, she was confident a betrothal was in her future. To think Diana had dreaded this Season. She was four and twenty, no longer fresh from the schoolroom and feared she might eventually land on the shelf. Instead, she’d met James, he’d courted her, and Diana had fallen in love, ready to secretly meet him. “What do you think Somerton is about?” Diana paused just outside the door leading to the card room. “Since I’ve known him, he’s vowed that ‘if Noah could become a father at the age of five hundred, then I can surely wait to begin producing offspring until age forty’.” The quote was said by several gentlemen, and in unison, as if they knew it by heart. Diana stepped away from the entrance to keep from being seen, taking care that her shadow would not cast across the entrance so as to give her away. However, she remained close enough to hear what was being said. “His mother is pressing him to marry and has been encouraging young women to make his acquaintance since the beginning of the Season,” one gentleman said. “I assume Somerton simply picked Miss Vail to court so that the others, and his mother, would leave him be.” Diana grabbed the wall for support. What they were saying couldn’t possibly be true. “I’d wager that Somerton does not become betrothed until the time he set for himself,” someone else declared. “Does anyone wish to wager against me?” Diana couldn’t make out the mumblings, but it was clear that no one was willing to take the bet. Was it true? Did James have no intention of asking for her hand? Was she simply someone to be used during the Season so he was not bothered by others? “Though I will wager that he’ll bed her mother before the Season is through.” Diana’s mouth popped open. Not that she was shocked by her mother’s reputation. It was well known that she enjoyed her lovers since becoming a widow, and it was quite embarrassing. However, Diana couldn’t imagine that James would be one of those men. He was soon to be seven and twenty and her mother was five and forty, far too old to be taking lovers to her bed, especially ones that were young enough to be her son. “Lady Lynwood does eye Somerton like a cat approaching a bowl of cream.” Heat scorched Diana’s cheeks at their raucous laughter. “I’m afraid the time for that wager has already passed,” someone said. “Just the other day I heard Lady Lynwood telling my mother over tea that Somerton was the best lover she’d ever enjoyed.” This could not be! James had not bedded her mother! He couldn’t have. Darkness began to seep into her vision, but Diana forced it away. “Perhaps Somerton isn’t courting Miss Vail to discourage other misses,” someone offered. “What do you mean?” another asked. “I saw the two exit the dark walk last night. By the loose curls and the smile upon Miss Vail’s face, one must wonder if Somerton wanted to experience a younger version of the mother. And perhaps the daughter is more like the mother than any of us realized.” Mortification settled into Diana’s bones. The kisses and caresses she’d allowed last night came back to her in a flash. She’d allowed liberties that no miss should, but she’d believed his intentions honorable. Further, Diana had thought James was as much in love with her as she was with him, even if he hadn’t spoken the words. “Nothing more will come of their association once the Season comes to an end, as I heard Lady Somerton will never accept Miss Vail as a potential bride for her son, which makes one wonder what Somerton is truly about,” someone else insisted. “Is it to discourage others? Or, to prove to his mother that she doesn’t have control over his life? Or did he wish to learn if Miss Vail was as free with her affections as her mother? Possibly all three?” Others in the room laughed and Diana wanted to die of humiliation. Had he just been toying with her affection? A slow seduction until he finally gained from her what he apparently had gotten from her mother? He had tried last night, but when he attempted to pull at her skirts, she’d stopped him. Diana’s stomach clenched and she put a hand over her mouth for fear that she’d toss up her accounts. Thank Heavens she had learned the truth before it was too late. However, she fully intended to give James…the Earl of Somerton, a seething set down before she removed him from her life.
CHAPTER ONE
One Month Later –Castel Keyvnor, Cornwall
“The fairest maiden in all of Cornwall has returned.” Diana stopped as the image of a knight materialized before her. “Sir Orwen,” she greeted the specter with little patience. “Not simply Cornwall, but all of England.” Sir Gilbert appeared beside the other knight, bowing deep, flourishing his hat, the red feather brushing the ground. They were quite a spectacle in their long doublets. Sir Gilbert in blue and Sir Orwen in green, with slashed sleeves to reveal their white shirts beneath. Diana didn’t know if the slits were from battling or if the doublets had been designed in such a manner, but she wasn’t going to ask. Any questions only further encouraged the cavaliers. “Please, go away.” Diana pivoted on her heel to return home to Hollybrook Park. “If only that we could,” Sir Orwen assured her. “To be rid of this place would be quite rewarding,” Sir Gilbert added. “To be free of this land, this castle, of the binds that tether us to Earth, to be free to fly…” One arm rose as his other hand pressed against his breast. His voice rose in a dramatic flair that would have earned him a lead role on any London stage, if he were alive. “Bugger it,” Sir Orwen growled. “I find your attempt at melodramatic poetry nauseating and I’m certain Miss Vail does as well.” Sir Gilbert gasped and came forward, placing his cold hands over Diana’s ears. “Such foul language in the presence of fair maiden’s hearing? A shame upon you, Sir Orwen.” “Stop!” Diana ground out between clenched teeth as she tried to push Sir Gilbert away, though it did little good since her hands went right through his icy image. “I find you both equally annoying and unpleasant.” She stomped away in hopes that they’d disappear. “But wait,” Sir Orwen called. “You’ve not yet found love, have you?” She blew out a breath and let her head fall back. “No. I have not.” Though, she thought she had, not that she’d admit such to those two. Foolish is what she’d been. And it was unlikely she’d ever find love, as she had no intention of returning to London ever again. She couldn’t face such humiliation a second time. It was bad enough that she’d be attending the wedding festivities at Castle Keyvnor during the coming week. She hoped that none of the gentlemen who’d been saying such vile things at the Hearne ball had been invited. Though, in truth, as she did not know who they were, Diana decided to assume they would not be present. “And as such, we can’t leave you,” Sir Gilbert insisted. “You are our quest. Our duty. We are bound to you.” He swept another deep bow and Diana rolled her eyes. “We are pledged to you.” “We are not pledged.” Sir Orwen slid an irritated glance to Sir Gilbert. “We are cursed, and she is the first hope we’ve had in decades of seeing it undone.” Cursed indeed! She was the one cursed by their presence. And why couldn’t anyone else see them? Why only her? The two had first appeared to Diana a sennight before she traveled to London for the Season. She’d hoped they’d be gone once she returned. Instead, they were waiting and appeared before her the day she returned from London, only a few weeks earlier. Since, she’d not been able to set foot on Keyvnor land without them appearing before her. “There are a number of misses you could bind yourself to. In fact, a wedding is to be held at the castle.” She gestured back toward Castle Keyvnor. “Pick one of the guests to bother. I’m certain you’ll find another fair maiden among them.” Diana walked around the two medieval knights, knowing that once she crossed the border that separated Keyvnor land from Hollybrook Park, they’d not be able to follow. She’d avoid Keyvnor land completely if she could, but this road was the only one that led from her home to the village of Bocka Morrow. There were paths through the forest, and other means, but regardless of the route, it was impossible to avoid Keyvnor land unless she took a boat. And, if these two persisted in their irritation, Diana might take up sailing into the village just to avoid them. “But it’s you we must serve,” Sir Orwen insisted. “You are the chosen one.” “No. I am not.” Diana threw up her hands and walked away, unfortunately walking closer to the castle instead of away. “You simply chose me. Choose someone else.” “We’ve waited centuries for you. Please do not disappoint us now,” Sir Gilbert begged. Slowly she turned and tilted her head. “I thought it was decades?” If they were going to convince her that she was their destiny, then they really needed to tell the same story, beginning with how long they’d waited for her—the chosen one. “Centuries,” Sir Orwen insisted. “I will admit there have been others. The most recent, however, was in 1765 and each time we’ve been given the opportunity, we’ve failed in the quest.” “However, we shall not fail you, dear maiden.” Once again Sir Gilbert bowed deeply. “I do not need your assistance. Good day.” With those words she pushed through the two knights, trying not to shiver at the coldness of their beings and marched right over the border and onto land belonging to her brother’s viscountcy—Hollybrook Park. “Stuff and nonsense,” Diana grumbled as she trudged down the road.
***
James pulled back on the reins of his steed and stared down the road. His heart hitched at the sight of Miss Diana Vail. He still didn’t know what he’d done to earn Diana’s scorn. It had been unexpected and had cut deep. One moment he was waiting in the gardens behind the Hearne ballroom, listening to the strains of a waltz as the music drifted through the open windows and anticipating the moment that she would join him. He’d hoped to find a quiet corner where the two of them would not be disturbed. The next moment, she had stormed out of the ballroom, marched directly toward him, demanding to know if he was or was not a rakehell and simply toying with her affection with no intention of marrying. He’d been so shocked that he’d been robbed of words as his mind scrambled to determine why she would even make such an accusation, especially after the hours they’d spent together, and the evening before. His failure to utter even a single word of denial had apparently prompted Diana to raise her arm and slap him soundly across the face. He’d been so stunned he wasn’t certain what to do. She then railed at him before she informed him that she wanted nothing more to do with him. And, in the few days that remained of the Season, she’d not be at home to him, nor had she attended any entertainments. That was a month ago and James still didn’t know what he’d done to incur her wrath. “Is that Miss Vail?” Wesley Claxton, the Marquess of Epworth, asked as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. “It is.” Diana stomped down the road only to stop and turn, her arms flailing, as she appeared to be yelling, then stomped off again. At least it wasn’t only him that she directed her vexation, though James would love to be closer to see the fire in her emerald eyes. Diana was the only reason he had decided to attend the wedding of Lady Gwyn Hambly to Lord Locryn Pendarvis. When James had left Keyvnor following last Christmas, he’d vowed never to return. However, knowing Diana lived on a neighboring estate changed everything. She turned, marched away, only to once again halt and fist her hands on her hips as if she were scolding someone, then shook her head and waved a dismissive hand to what or whoever was behind her and marched off toward Hollybrook Park. “Is she a bedlamite? She hadn’t shown any signs of such an affliction in London.” “She isn’t,” James chuckled. “Perhaps rehearsing for a play or entertainment?” Epworth’s brow lifted in question. “Not that either,” James replied and turned his horse back toward Castle Keyvnor. “What we just witnessed is not normal behavior. Miss Vail is clearly not in her right mind.” “On the contrary, Epworth, I’m quite certain Miss Vail is in possession of all her faculties.” With the exception of when she had called him a reprobate before she had wished the pox on him. That had been uncalled for and she certainly had no cause to do so. “Did you not witness what I just did? She was arguing with nobody, and quite animated as well.” James pulled the horse to a stop and looked to Epworth. “Have you not visited Castle Keyvnor before?” “No. I’ve had no reason.” “You’ve heard rumors at least, have you not?” “About ghosts?” Epworth laughed at the absurdity. “You can’t possibly believe such nonsense.” “I very much believe,” James assured him. “You’ve encountered one?” Intrigue and distrust laced Epworth’s tone. “I was one of the few who did not experience an other-worldly encounter during my last visit,” James assured him. “Unless you consider cold drafts that can envelope a body in one moment and be gone in the blink of an eye.” “That still doesn’t explain what we just witnessed and the strange behavior of Miss Vail.” “Of course it does.” James set his horse to a trot. “She was being pestered by a ghost.” At that he let the horse gallop, leaving Epworth behind. It was impossible to convince anyone of the strange happenings at Castle Keyvnor. It needed to be experienced and as Epworth would be staying at the castle for the next sennight, he’d encounter the oddities himself and no longer question Diana’s behavior. He’d dearly like to know why the ghost was bothering her and why she was so irritated by its presence. Under normal circumstances, he’d ask but James was also quite certain Diana had no intention of ever speaking to him again, though he was still uncertain as to what he’d done wrong. One night, she was melting from his kisses and the next, telling James that she never wished to see him again. Miss Vail was beautiful, passionate, stubborn and impatient. He desired her like he’d never desired another woman. However, she was also the one threat to the plans he’d made long ago. Thankfully, he had come to his senses before it was too late, though that hadn’t occurred until she’d marched away from him at the Hearne ball. After arriving at the stables, James dismounted, tossed the reins to one of the lads before he headed into the castle. “Garrett Hillyard! You will do something about those children of yours. And you will do it today.” At the sound of his mother’s voice coming from the library, James quickly changed direction and took the stairs to his chamber. His original destination had been the billiards room and a glass of brandy, but so long as his mother remained in the same wing of the castle, he was going to put distance between them. Though he did wonder what mischief his darling nieces had gotten up to this time. James stepped into his chamber and paused, taking in the room. Yes, this was the one he’d been assigned and where he’d changed his clothing before he went for a ride with Epworth. His toiletries were on the dressing table and that was his trunk beside the armoire. What he didn’t recognize was the beautiful woman lounging upon his bed. She really was lovely with her blonde tresses, only a shade darker than Diana’s golden curls, though her clothing was odd, given she wore a blue gown with gold trim over a deep blue petticoat—a dress worn in a much earlier era. Was there to be a costume party this evening? An odd choice for a wedding party, but this was Cornwall and oddities were normal here most of the time. The woman watched him with intensity, staring at him, but she wasn’t smiling. Instead, she seemed a bit forlorn. “I believe you’ve mistaken my room for yours,” James said and opened his chamber door. He did not know her and the last thing he wanted or needed was to be caught in a compromising position with a woman he’d never met. He still had at least twelve years before he ended his bachelor state and wasn’t about to have his plans disrupted by a stranger. Her blue eyes widened. “You can see me?” He glanced around, wondering if she spoke to someone else. She sat forward. “You really see me?” “Of course,” James answered. “However, this is my chamber. Should I call Mrs. Bray so that she might escort you to yours?” Instead of embarrassment, the woman smiled brightly as she pulled herself from the bed. “You really do see me!” she cried, then did a little twirl. This was very odd, even for Cornwall, and James inched his way back toward the entrance. “And we’re talking!” She laughed. “You’ve no idea how happy this makes me.” “I’m glad you are pleased,” James answered slowly. Perhaps this odd woman was the real bedlamite. “I’ve waited and I’d hoped, even prayed that it would happen. That’s why I’ve gone from chamber to chamber, only those assigned to a bachelor of course, in hopes that I might be noticed.”She was visiting the chambers of bachelors! Did she wish to be ruined? “It’s soon to be the anniversary and I’d hoped that this year everything would finally align, freeing me from this place.” “What anniversary would that be?” James backed toward the corridor. If she were married then at least he wouldn’t be forced to marry her, but an irate husband might take issue with finding his wife in James’ chamber. “Of my death,” she answered as if her response explained everything.James could feel his jaw drop as he stared at the woman. She didn’t appear to be a ghost, but whole, though very pale. “It’s been three hundred years, or it will be with the summer solstice, and I’d begun to give up hope that I’d ever be free of this place after so many failures.” “You’re a ghost.” Maybe she’d laugh and tell him this was a prank. James hoped that was the case. “Of course.” She smiled. “And you, dear sir, are going to help me gain my freedom.” When he’d not encountered any ghosts on his prior visit, James assumed he was immune somehow. Apparently, that was not the case. “How exactly am I going to help free you?” “By falling in love.” He gaped at her, then nearly laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation. The last thing he had any intention of doing was falling in love. He absolutely refused to do so until his thirty-ninth birthday. “I must hasten to make plans and meet the misses so that I can pick the perfect one for you.” Then she was gone, disappearing into thin air and leaving James very much alone.

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Kissing the LassA MacGregor and Other Trents Novel
CHAPTER ONE
Anagburn Manor, Bonnybridge, Scotland - 1815
Happiness and melancholy lingered within Arabella MacGregor’s heart. Oh, she was overjoyed that Uncle Aiden had fallen in love and married Rose, the former Dowager Countess of Bentley. However, as much as Arabella was enjoying her uncle and new aunt’s wedding celebration, her disappointment lay in the fact that none of the bachelors in attendance had given her any further consideration or attention beyond a polite greeting when they arrived. Why didn’t any of them wish to engage her in conversation in the manner in which Camden Breckenridge was conversing with Rhona Murry? They were so focused on each other that they barely acknowledged that anyone else was present? Arabella wasn’t so unattractive, was she? Or was Uncle Aiden correct in that no man would be interested in her because she preferred golfing and falcons to any other genteel entertainments?Well, if that was the case, she’d rather do without those men anyway. Besides, falcons were much preferable to be around. They didn’t order her about.  “Who is that?” Sheena, her younger cousin, asked as she reached Arabella.Arabella glanced around. “Who is who?”“The man who just arrived. He’s speakin’ with Davina.” Sheena pointed to her older sister who was standing at the entrance leading from the ballroom to the terrace.Goodness. She’d thought Camden was handsome, but the man who stood with Davina put every other fellow at the wedding to shame.“I wonder where Davina is takin’ him?” Sheena asked after the two disappeared inside.“Perhaps he’s lost and in need of direction.” Though Arabella hoped he wouldn’t leave too soon. “Possibly,” Sheena agreed thoughtfully. “Though a servant could have provided any direction and wouldna require the attention of my sister.” At that, Sheena let out a sigh. “I’m not enjoyin’ myself as much as I enjoyed the ball.” “Neither am I,” Arabella admitted.“Why doona the men ask us to dance? We were barely without a partner at the ball, but not one man has asked me today.”A few weeks ago, Uncle Aiden had held a ball with the intention of making matches for his nieces. Though Arabella and Sheena had danced nearly every set, not one man had come to call in the days that followed. Arabella glanced around at their guests and frowned. “Apparently Uncle Aiden’s plans did work out well, just not for us. Did ye note how many of the bachelors appear to be courtin’ other lasses.”“Aye,” Sheena agreed with disappointment. “Perhaps we’ll find someone in London.” Now that the former Rose Trent was married to Uncle Aiden, their new aunt intended to take Arabella, along with her cousins, Sheena and Davina to London next season. As thrilling as the holiday might sound, and as much as she wished to visit London, Arabella did not want to end up with an English husband. “Why must it be London?” Arabella found herself asking.Sheena tilted her head and stared at Arabella as if she were daft. “It’s where the Season is held.”Of course she knew that. “What of Edinburgh instead?” Arabella warmed to the very idea the more she considered the option. “We’ve visited Edinburgh only a few times, doona ye think we should become more familiar with what Scotland has to offer over the English?”“I suppose…” Sheena answered in confusion.“Fanella and Jesse Grant have both had at least two Seasons and not come away with a groom. Why should it be any different for us?”“Aye, but their sister, Mary, found a groom right away.” “And, she’s not been home since,” Arabella reminded her cousin. “I have no wish to be so far from my family or Scotland.”Sheena opened her mouth to speak, but no words were spoken. Then she frowned.“Besides, doona ye wish to see New Town? So much has been built since we last visited, at least according to Donovan.” Donovan was Arabella’s oldest brother and loved to tell her of his visits to Edinburgh. He often traveled there for financial reasons, but his description of the newer shopping thoroughfares made Arabella fairly itch to explore. Which shouldn’t be a surprise as they rarely left Annagburn, let alone the town of Bonnybridge. Any place outside of her narrow world sounded exciting—especially London, as long as she could manage to visit and not end up with an English husband. But, she feared Rose had every intention of seeing her new nieces married next spring.“Rose spoke of the lovely shops she visited.”“And that is what we shall do,” Arabella determined. “Convince Rose to allow us a Season in Edinburgh instead of London.”Again Sheena frowned. “Does Edinburgh even have a season?”Arabella dismissed her with a wave of her hand. “It matters not. There are still lairds, ladies and all manner of gentry who live there who also hold balls. Uncle Aiden is well connected, as is Rose, so we shouldna have any difficulty obtainin’ invitations. And, if Edinburgh doesna favor us, then we will travel to London the followin’ year.” Though, Arabella was determined to find a husband in Edinburgh. She could not, under any circumstances, marry a man from England. She was a Scot and she was determined to remain in Scotland.“If ye say so,” Sheena finally agreed, though she clearly did not hold the same convictions as Arabella.“Who do ye believe he is?” Sheena asked after a moment and nodded to the back of the manor.Arabella turned her head. Davina had just appeared with the stranger once again. “Instead of wonderin’, I believe I will find out for myself.” With that, she picked up the hem of her skirts, walked past Camden and Rhona, whom she completely ignored, and made her way toward her cousin and the very handsome stranger.
***
Nobody at Grant Manor had warned Lord Gideon Trent that he’d be walking in on a wedding celebration when he arrived at Anagburn Manor. However, this wasn’t like any wedding breakfast he’d ever attended. It more resembled a picnic or house party. Tables were loaded with food, couples danced on the terrace, families sat beneath trees or on blankets and some guests participated in croquet. Though he spotted a few Trents among the guests, he had not seen John or Elizabeth since he arrived. Why were they attending a wedding when their step-mother had been kidnapped? Shouldn’t they be looking for her? Unless, she’d been found. If that were the case, this had been a wasted trip.A lovely brunette with dark brown eyes approached. “May I help ye?” “I need to speak with Mr. John Trent,” he announced. “I was told he’d be here.”“And ye are?”“My pardon.” He bowed quickly. “Lord Gideon Trent.” Her dark eyebrows rose in an instant reaction. “There are more of ye? I thought all the Trents were here.” “A distant, distant relative, I assure you.” He chuckled. “It’s a pleasure to make yer acquaintance.” She dropped into a quick curtsey. “I am Miss Davina MacGregor.”“I happened to be in the area when I learned my cousins were here, and I do need a word with John, if it is convenient.” He couldn’t very well tell her the truth, though he’d like to find John so he could address the reason he’d been sent north and then be gone. “I apologize. I did not realize I would be interrupting a celebration.”Miss MacGregor grinned. “My uncle, Aiden MacGregor married Rose Trent today.”Gideon blinked, Rose Trent as in Lady Bentley? The woman who had been kidnapped almost a month ago and now she’d just married some Scot? How the blazes had that occurred? Then again, matrimony did tend to move quicker in Scotland since they didn’t require three weeks of reading of the banns or a special license. But how had Lady Bentley gone from being kidnapped to being a bride in so short of time?The young woman slipped her hand into the crook of his arm and led him back inside. “Did ye come to help rescue her?” Miss MacGregor whispered the question.So, this young woman knew of the kidnapping, but Gideon was not ready to reveal what he knew of the matter. “I’m certain I don’t know what you mean.”“Ye are a poor liar, Lord Gideon.” She laughed. “But Rose is no longer in need of rescuin’ and is quiet happy with her circumstances.”Actually, he was a very good liar. Or had been at one time, but as he’d put his former professions behind him, Gideon no longer schooled his features as he once had. There was no reason to hide his thoughts any longer. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather confirm your observation with my cousins.” “Of course.” She smiled. “But how did ye even ken…?” As she trailed off, her dark eyes grew wide. “Ye received the letter, dinna ye?”Miss MacGregor knew far more than she should, unless the Trents had already told her everything. Or she had been part of the kidnapping, which Gideon found rather ridiculous to contemplate. But she did speak the truth. His family had received the ransom demand intended for Bentley, the dowager’s step-son, which was the only reason Gideon knew about the kidnapping in the first place. Gideon cleared his throat. “We may have received a certain correspondence.” “Aye, well it was my foolish brother who delivered it. But it has all worked out well.”Her brother? The MacGregorshad kidnapped Lady Bentley? “Worked out well?” he nearly choked.“Aye. The two are married, as ye can see, and there is no need to rescue anyone.”In the few years that he’d worked for the Home Office, Gideon had never come across such a bizarre set of circumstances. “Forgive me if I don’t simply take your word on the matter.”“Of course. Yer cousins are out there, though I suspect most of them are over by the distillery tastin’ whisky.” She smiled and then led him back to the terrace. “Davina, would ye care to introduce me to our new guest?” Gideon glanced toward the sweet, lyrical voice and forgot to breathe. Auburn curls framed a delicate face, gentle brow, full lips and the bluest eyes he’d ever encountered.“Arabella, this is Lord Gideon Trent, he is searchin’ for John Trent.” Miss MacGregor turned to Gideon. “My cousin, Miss Arabella MacGregor.”The young woman dipped a quick curtsey as Gideon bowed, unable to take his eyes from her. “Would ye be a dear and help Lord Gideon find John?” Miss MacGregor asked her cousin. “I need to speak with the cook.” “Of course,” Miss Arabella assured her and then offered her arm to Gideon.

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ONE 
Berkshire, England, November, 1814
Rosalind Valentine jerked her head up at the slam of the door. Goodness, who would do such a thing? From her place on the floor at the far side of the room, she glanced over to her employer, Lady Sandlin, who frowned and shifted toward the entrance. Heavy, booted feet pounded toward their sitting room, and Lady Sandlin stood. Rosalind returned her attention to her two charges; the soon-to-be four-year-old twins were completely undisturbed by the unusual interruption.  Where were the servants, and why hadn’t they announced the new arrival? Had the intruder barged into the manor without knocking and waiting for the door to be answered?“Phoebe, where are you?”Rosalind sucked in a breath. That wasn’t Lord Sandlin’s voice. What gentleman would dare storm into the Sandlin household in such a manner yelling for Lady Sandlin by her given name? Rosalind placed a doll in Heather’s arms and a soldier into Campbell’s pudgy hand and prepared to sweep the children up and out of the room if necessary. Whoever was stomping toward this room was angry by his tone, and it was her duty to protect her charges.“I’m in here, Noah,” Lady Sandlin called, and Rosalind’s heart ceased for a moment before it began pounding anew. Noah? As in Marques Felding? Lady Sandlin’s older brother? Rosalind hadn’t seen him in since last Christmas when he attended services with his family at her uncle’s church. Rosalind looked for a way to escape the room to shield her presence from him, but Lord Felding charged into the room thrusting a piece of parchment out in front of him. “What exactly is the meaning of this?” he demanded.  He was still the most handsome gentleman Rosalind had ever encountered. His sandy blonde hair was windblown, probably because he had ridden over instead of taking a carriage such a distance, and his light brown eyes were darker than normal. Was it from anger? Odd, she had never known him to show anything but kindness and often, when with her brothers, laughter. In those situations, his eyes were always a rich brown and warmed her to her toes. Not that he ever noticed her. She had dreamt about him for years. He was the one who played center role in her pretend world of what if I was a lady? It was silly of course because she wasn’t a lady and had no hopes, or any real desire, to become one. Though, if Lord Felding were to happen to take notice of her, Rosalind would not mind in the least. Lady Sandlin smiled innocently. “I assumed it was self-explanatory. What do you not understand?”“Why you cannot attend the house party and hunt that Lord and Lady Meadows are hosting.”Phoebe stood back and held out her arms. “Is my reason more clear now?”Felding’s eyes grew round and his jaw dropped. He looked his sister over from head to toe. “Are you having twins again?”Lady Sandlin laughed and braced a hand on the arm of the chair before slowly lowering herself into the seat. “I don’t believe so.” She glanced down at her protruding belly. “Though, one does have to wonder. The babe isn’t to arrive until sometime in February.”Rosalind should leave the room so the brother and sister could visit in private, but she didn’t want to draw attention to herself. The only way out was through the door Lord Felding just entered. So far, Lord Felding hadn’t even looked in her direction, and as much as she may wish he would notice her, in truth, she did not. It was easier to pretend that he might one day look upon her with more interest than that of the sister of a friend than to face him and receive only a nod in greeting.“Who is going to keep an eye on Penelope if you are not there?”Penelope was their younger, second sister and only twenty. She was closer to Rosalind’s younger sisters than to her, though as children, they often played together.“Is that what this is about?” Lady Sandlin scoffed. “Penny has had two full Seasons without incident. She no longer needs someone watching over her like a mother hen.”Felding crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head. “She certainly showed more sense than you.”Lady Sandlin straightened. “I wasn’t as bad as you imply.” A small smile formed on her lips. “Besides, if I had been less impetuous, I might not be married to Taylor now.”Felding snorted and Rosalind bit her lip to keep from laughing. She had heard a number of rumors of how Lady Sandlin conducted herself during her one and only Season and a few more stories the lady herself had repeated. With distance, they were rather entertaining. At the time, Lady Sandlin could have been ruined beyond repair on more than one occasion.“Normally, it wouldn’t matter. I would easily be able to keep track of Penelope, but this house party is different.”“Oh?” Lady Sandlin asked with a raised eyebrow.  Rosalind tilted her head to study him hoping Lord Felding would explain his comment.“A lady will be present that I may be interested in courting.”A knife through her heart would have been less painful, and Rosalind quickly looked away and tried to busy herself with the twins. She should have left the moment he entered; then her world wouldn’t be tumbling down like the stack of blocks Heather just knocked over. The twins laughed, and Rosalind forced a smile. She was a nursemaid to four-year-old twins. It was her lot in life, and she was happy for it. Had Vicar Grant and his wife not taken her and her siblings in her life would not be nearly this pleasant, and she should not wish for things that were above her reach.Besides, it wasn’t her actual world that crashed . . . just the one she liked to escape to.“Who has finally caught your attention?” The excitement in Lady Sandlin’s tone drew Rosalind’s attention. Just last week, when Lady Sandlin’s three sisters visited, they had sat in this very room ruminating about the fact that their older brother had not yet taken a bride when most of his friends were already married, and he was two and thirty.“Lady Jillian Simpson.”“The Duke of Eldridge’s daughter?” Did she hear disappointment in Lady Sandlin’s tone?  “Yes,” Felding confirmed.Lady Sandlin settled further back in her chair and rested her hands on her protruding belly.  “I am sure your presence will discourage any unwanted attention, and Penelope isn’t the type to run off.”  Lady Sandlin insisted. “And it is the Meadows household, and I am confident they have not invited anyone with whom you would object to.”Felding stared at his sister as if dumbfounded. “Have you forgotten that it was at a Meadows house party that nearly saw you ruined.” Lady Sandlin simply shrugged and grinned.Felding shook his head and turned away to pace. “I don’t want the distraction,” he argued. “I suggested she remain home, but Penny refused.”“Of course she did!”“So what am I to do?” He pushed his fingers through his hair and paced at the end of the room. “I must have someone who can watch over Penny and not be distracted.”Lady Sandlin lifted and eyebrow in humor. “A companion? We no longer have a governess at our disposal.”He stopped and stared at her with hope in his eyes. “Do you think we might hire one?”“For a simple house party?” Lady Sandlin laughed.  “Then what do you suppose I do?”“Nothing. It is a simple house party. Penelope will have a grand time, and you will be able to court Lady Jillian.”“It is not that simple,” Lord Felding ground out and began pacing anew. “I will not be able to give attention to the matter as I wish if I have to worry about what Penny is up to, or who may wish to pursue her.”Lady Phoebe leaned forward with interest. Her eyes narrowed and she tilted her head. “Why the sudden hurry to court Lady Jillian?” Lady Sandlin asked with curiosity? “Are you in love with her?”Felding shook his head but said nothing.“If not love, then why the rush, unless you hope to make a Christmas Match?” Lady Sandlin chuckled and relaxed back in her seat. “I had no idea you were so romantic.”“I would like the matter for my future settled,” Felding grumbled. “The quicker that is done the better, and I don’t want to endure another Season without a betrothal or marriage.”“You sound like a miss facing her third Season with no prospect of a husband in sight.” Lady Sandlin laughed. “Are you going to help me or not?” Lord Felding demanded.Rosalind bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing. The two of them reminded Rosalind much of her and brothers on the rare occasions they were together. She missed the teasing and bickering siblings shared.“I still don’t think it is necessary that you have someone attend Penelope,” Lady Sandlin insisted.Lord Felding turned and stared at his sister. “House parties can be very dangerous, as you well know.”Rosalind looked away again, heat infused her cheeks. Nobody needed to tell her how dangerous they were. It was the reason she was no longer with her last employer. A simple mistake, gossip, and innuendo had ruined her. Thankfully, Lady Sandlin didn’t put stock in what she heard, and believed Rosalind’s version of the events involving her and Mr. David Thorn. Shortly after the incident, Lady Sandlin offered her a position within this household despite the rumors. “If it is that important to you,” Lady Sandlin began, “why don’t you ask Rosalind to watch over Penelope? I can assure you that Penny would prefer Rosalind over an old, strict matron you are likely to employ.”Rosalind’s head jerked up. Surely, Lady Sandlin did not mean her. There must be another Rosalind she didn’t know about.“Rosalind Valentine?” Lord Felding asked.  At least he thought of her first when the name was mentioned which warmed her heart. Though, she could very well be the only Rosalind of his acquaintance.“Yes,” Lady Sandlin brightened.Lord Felding pushed his fingers through his hair and blew out a breath. Perhaps she should make her presence known before he said something she did not want to hear.“She would be perfect,” he said a moment later nodding his head and settled on the seat beside his sister. “She knows very well the dangers a house party can offer.”Inwardly, Rosalind cringed. Surely, Lord Felding didn’t believe those horrible rumors; the very ones that saw to her ruination so that she could never show her face in society again. Not that she had been part of society only a governess in a lord’s household. Not only was her reputation ruined because of that one night, but all employment possibilities as well. Thank goodness Lady Sandlin believed her.“The rumors are not true,” Lady Sandlin said.Lord Felding’s head jerked up. “Of course not.” He seemed almost offended that Lady Sandlin might think he actually believed the gossip.Rosalind blew out a sigh of relief. She would hate for him to think she had succumbed to a rake’s seduction.“Thorn was bloody drunk but not so drunk he didn’t remember the night. He tried his best to deflate the gossip but it did no good.”A small smile pulled at Rosalind’s lips. Thorn had told the truth over and over but those at the party were more interested in potential scandal than the truth.“I’ll call on Valentine House when I return home. I assume Rosalind has returned to live with Vicar Grant and his wife.”“She is right there, Noah.” Lady Sandlin gestured in Rosalind’s direction.  Rosalind’s face flooded with heat when Lord Felding came to his feet. Clearly, he had not noticed she was in the room. Drat, she should have somehow alerted him to her presence before now. What would he think of her sitting quietly as they discussed Lady Penelope and Rosalind’s debacle of last spring before the Season had even begun?She slid the toys from her lap and came to her feet and offered a quick curtsey. “Good afternoon, Lord Felding.”***Why was Miss Rosalind Valentine sitting on the floor in the back of the room playing with the twins? Noah hadn’t seen Miss Valentine since last winter during Christmas Eve services to be exact. Even then, he only glimpsed her in the front pews with the rest of her family. They hadn’t spoken. A few days later he learned from her older brother that she had left for Cheshire to be a governess to the daughters of Lord and Lady Filpott.  Thank goodness he had not said anything else about what happened to her last spring. Not that he ever believed she would allow Thorn to seduce her or that she had set about to trap Thorn into marriage as Thorn’s aunt, Lady Filpott, had insisted. If Noah had been at that house party, he would have seen to it that all rumor, gossip, and innuendo were stifled.  “Miss Valentine, I did not realize you were visiting Phoebe.”The blush on her rounded cheeks grew darker. “I am not visiting, Lord Sandlin. I am the nursery maid.”So his sister had given her a position when nobody else in society would dare. Good for Phoebe.“I apologize. I hadn’t realized you were in the room, or I would have greeted you.” He barely noticed the young maid, head bent down and sitting with the children when he entered. He was too angry at Phoebe’s letter to let the presence of a servant bother him, and then he completely forgot anyone else was in the room.“I should have announced my presence, but I did not wish to interrupt.”“I’ve known you since you were a child,” Noah reminded her though she was far different than the skinny, red-haired girl that had once teased her brothers. “You have no reason to stand on ceremony especially in my sister’s home.”Before him stood a remarkable young woman. Her once red hair was closer to a warm auburn. Why hadn’t he ever noticed her eyes were a deep blue? Miss Valentine was a beautiful young woman. She should not be hidden away in the country as a nursemaid. If he remembered correctly, she would be five and twenty now. Why hadn’t she married?He already knew the answer and didn’t really need to ask. Those in Valentine House had secrets. Some he had been speculated on, and the Valentine brothers had let slip on occasion.  Because of those very secrets, he doubted any of the sisters would ever marry or allow themselves to be in a position to marry.  Phoebe cleared her throat, bringing Noah out of his thoughts. Goodness, he was staring at Miss Valentine and not saying a word. When had he become so rude and inconsiderate? Miss Valentine’s complexion took on a deeper hue of pink. He should not have embarrassed her, but he certainly couldn’t voice his thoughts.“Would you act as Penelope’s companion at the house party being hosted by Lord and Lady Meadows?”Miss Valentine worried her bottom lip and blinked at him. “I should remain with my charges.” She gestured to the children still playing quietly on the floor beside her feet.Lady Sandlin shifted in her seat. “The children will get by without you for the week or two,” she insisted. “This will give you the opportunity to see to a young woman and not need to wipe a nose every few moments.” Lady Sandlin grinned. “I assure you, Penelope can attend her own nose if necessary.”A small smile graced Miss Valentine’s full lips. “It is kind of you to think of me, but my duty is to you.”“And I am insisting you attend my sister.” Lady Sandlin pushed herself up off of the settee.  “If I know my brother, he will not give Penny a moment’s peace and be with her constantly.” She came forward and grasped Rosalind’s hands. “I am sure she would be grateful for your presence.”Though Noah didn’t appreciate how Phoebe viewed him, he didn’t argue. He needed Miss Valentine to chaperone Penelope so he was free to purse Lady Jillian.“I don’t have the proper wardrobe, and I am not sure exactly what a companion does,” Miss Valentine said to both Noah and Phoebe.“I am sure your clothing is perfectly acceptable,” Noah insisted. His friends weren’t such high sticklers that they would deny her entrance because Miss Valentine wasn’t in the height of fashion. Besides, this was to be a casual house party with much of the time spent hunting.Sadness clouded Miss Valentine’s eyes. “What would others think if I was chaperoning a young woman?”  She didn’t have to add after what occurred last spring, but Noah assumed that was what she was thinking. “There will be a different set of guests than those you encountered earlier in the year,” he assured. “Besides, if anyone were to say anything to you, I would make my displeasure known.”“It is not your place to defend me, Lord Felding, but I thank you just the same.”He smiled gently down at her. Miss Rosalind Valentine was always a sweet, good-natured girl with a bit of mischief. “As I said earlier, I’ve known you since you and your siblings came to live at Valentine House. I do feel it is my duty to defend you if one of your brothers isn’t present.” He glanced over at Phoebe who was smiling sadly at Miss Valentine before he looked back at the young woman. “And, I can assure you that your brothers would do the same for my sisters if it was necessary.”A memory tickled in his brain of seeing the guest list and Noah brightened. “As a matter of fact, I believe two of your brothers are invited guests.”Miss Valentine blinked in surprise. Perhaps this would convince her to attend as Penelope’s chaperone. She could even be considered a guest as long as she knew her first duty was to see to Penelope though he didn’t suspect Miss Valentine ever shirked a duty in her life.  “Demetrius and Benedick are both invited,” he added.Her brow furrowed. “Will they be attending?”Noah rubbed his chin trying to recall if Meadows had received a response from the brothers.  “Demetrius will certainly be there. I am not sure of Benedick.”She bit her lip again and looked over at Phoebe. Was Miss Valentine finally considering the possibility? This would be a perfect opportunity for her. She would be able to visit with those who were friends with her brothers, make new acquaintances, and hopefully put the rumors of the past to rest. Noah also knew that she would remain by Penelope’s side during their entire visit freeing him to pursue Lady Jillian. “Please?” he asked.Her shoulders lifted and dropped with a sigh. “If Lady Sandlin believes I should . . .”A smile burst on Phoebe’s lips. “Of course I think you should. You will have a wonderful time.”Miss Valentine tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. “I will be attending Miss Penelope not attending a party,” she reminded them.“And my brother will make his Christmas match,” Lady Sandlin teased Felding with a laugh.

Fresh from the Caribbean, Mark Easton, the new Duke of Roxburg, returns to London to secure a bride. It’s expected of his new station, after all. Unfortunately, he knows just what will meet him once his presence in Town is known. Sycophantic and cloying debutantes at every turn and matchmaking mamas behind every potted palm. If only there was a way to know the true nature of each girl beforehand. Then brilliance strikes! Masquerading as a lowly dancing master before the season begins should give him a very clear picture of London’s eligible ladies.
Bianca Valentine has never been under the illusion that any decent man would look past her family’s secrets. So a life of independence is her best shot for a happy future. If she can provide for herself, she won’t have to be a burden on her aunt and uncle any longer. After an advertisement for an accompanist at a dancing school catches her eye, Bianca finds herself enjoying more freedom than she’s known, but it’s the new dancing master that takes her breath away and inspires the most beautiful music she’s ever written.

Her music first enchanted him, but her smile and kindness captured his heart. A masquerading duke and an accompanist is scandalous enough, but will Bianca’s secrets be too much to overcome? 
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Her Muse, His Grace Copyright © 2016 Jane Charles


London - March, 1816“Bloody hell!” Mark Easton, the Duke of Roxburg, tossed the gossip rag onto the table and lifted his tankard of ale. The Season hadn’t even begun and there was already speculation as to whether he would return and do his duty and marry.He pulled his greatcoat tight and wondered if he would ever get warm again. The damp air of London shot through him, right to his bones and he’d give anything to be back in Barbados, on his sugar plantation or walking the beaches. Not only was it warmer in the Caribbean, but the sun shined most of the time too. And, it didn’t stink.“I’m ready to board the next ship headed back to the Caribbean.” Lord Samuel Storm rubbed his hands together. “I don’t think I’ll be warm until I get there.”A barmaid placed two more tankards in front of them, bending low enough for them to see down her bodice. As tempting as it would be to find warmth between her thighs, Mark didn’t have the luxury at the moment.“Why the bloody hell did we come back here?” he asked Samuel after the barmaid left them be. The two had been living peacefully in Barbados until recently. Both managing their separate sugar plantations and enjoying the freedom of being wealthy bachelors on an island filled with beautiful women. Both had left accommodating mistresses behind, breaking from them as they weren’t sure when they’d return, but not before a proper send off and expensive baubles to remember them by.“We are here because you have a duty and didn’t want to face it alone,” Samuel ground out. “Though, why you needed me is the question. Thorn is here and if anyone can navigate society and remain free, it’s him.”“We heard Thorn married, remember?”Samuel frowned. “Won’t believe it until I hear it from the gentleman directly.”“Yet, you believe your brother, Benjamin married.”Samuel frowned. “From what I understand, he didn’t have much choice. Not with our Great Uncle insisting on seeing as many of his grandchildren and great nieces and nephews leg-shackled before he kicks up his toes.” He took a deep drink of ale.Mark grinned. “Does this mean you will notbe calling on His Grace, the Duke of Danby?”Sam shot him a look that would kill a lesser man. As neither one of them wanted anyone to know they’d returned to London, they’d taken rooms above this tavern. Nobody would ever dream that the new Duke of Roxburg or Lord Samuel Storm, the brother to Marquess of Kenley, were living along the waterfront, which suited their purposes perfectly.But, Mark couldn’t remain in hiding forever. He needed to put his plan into place. One that would keep him from being hounded by matchmaking mamas and debutantes alike.“Maybe I’ll take the pretty one back up to my room.” Sam nodded to the dark haired barmaid. “Send for me when Thorn arrives.” “I’ll not be able to pull you from bed if you do.” “If he doesn’t show shortly, I’m going to find a way to keep warm,” Samuel warned. “And those generous hips are sure to heat everything.” Mark ignored Sam. As much as he’d like the pleasure of tossing up the skirts of an eager woman, he had more pressing matters to consider. He hadn’t been in London for five years, but he assumed nothing had changed. What he needed was a wife before the Season ever started, or at least, an idea of who he wanted to marry, so he wouldn’t have to waste endless evenings at functions being fawned over.He hated all the bowing, scraping and flattery all because he was titled. As if he deserved it when he hadn’t done anything spectacular except just being born to the right parents.The door of the tavern opened and Mark looked up. Finally! David Thorn stepped inside and glanced around, then smiled when he spotted Mark and Samuel at their corner table. Thorn took a seat, leaned back and grinned at him. The barmaid appeared almost instantly, her bodice barely containing her assets, which she practically shoved in Thorn’s face. “Bring a pitcher and another mug, would you, dear?” Thorn smiled up at the young woman.She fluttered her eyelashes and gave him a wink before sauntering off to do his bidding. Some things never changed no matter how long Mark had been gone. Women were still drawn to Thorn like a moth to a flame.“Where’s Chetwey and Delaney?” Mark asked.“Still rusticating with their wives. They’ll be along eventually, I’m sure. Chetwey’s little witch is not too keen on being absent during the spring plantings for a second year in a row.”The barmaid returned, leaning over Thorn, her breasts practically pressed against his face  as she placed the pitcher and mug on the table.Thorn turned his head and muttered a thank you. Disappointed in not getting a reaction, or an offer, the woman slouched away.“What do these people have against bathing?” He poured the dark ale into his mug and sat back.“So, it is true,” Sam laughed. “You married. The David Thorn I know would never turn his face away from such a bountiful display.”“Happily leg-shackled, I assure you.” He grinned.Mark could only stare at Thorn. “Did you just call Chetwey’s wife a witch?” Did the gentleman know Thorn thought this? He couldn’t imagine Thorn surviving such a comment, not that Mark knew the woman, but one did not call his friend’s wife a witch, not if one wished to keep the friendship.Thorn blinked up at him and alarm flashed in his eyes before he laughed. “I mean it with utmost respect and affection. Brighid is a healer of sorts, concocting all kinds of medicines from her herbs and plants.” He grinned. “It’s quite endearing, by the way.”“Does Chetwey still have spells from the malaria? I brought cinchona bark since I doubt it is easy to come by in these parts.”“He has, and Brighid has been able to help him through. I’m sure she’ll appreciate having the bark.” He took a drink of his ale. “Right now Chetwey is cozy at his estate with his wife and Delaney’s at his with Laura, though I hope they can bring themselves to London.” He frowned, “Anna would appreciate having their wives about this Season as she’s never participated in one herself.” Then he shrugged and took another drink. “Though, I suspect her cousins will be here as well.” Mark didn’t really care if Thorn’s wife was comfortable or not. He had more pressing matters.“Anna was living with her uncle and two cousins when I met her. The oldest cousin, Lila Southward, married Lord Quentin Post. The younger, Matilda, married Sidney Garrick”“Bloody hell,” Samuel exclaimed. “First Delany, Chetwey, Bradenham and Wolverly were caught in the parson’s trap. Now You, Post and Garrick have as well!” He took a deep drink. “It’s not safe in this country.”Thorn only laughed. “It’s well worth being caught, if it’s by the right woman.” He took a drink and leaned back in the wooden chair. “When did you get in? I’ve been watching the house to see if you’d show.”“You and all of London,” Mark grumbled.Thorn laughed and poured ale into the mug.“They are going to hound me, aren’t they?” Mark asked.“Think rather highly of yourself, do you?”Mark glared at him. “Not me! The bloody title. That, and I won’t be thirty until this summer, have all my teeth, not suffering from gout, and am bloody rich. Just a couple of those is enough to draw the attention. The combination is lethal to any bachelor.”“Well, there isn’t much you can do. I suggest you enjoy it.” Thorn grinned and raised his mug in a toast. “Yes, there is,” Mark answered, much more serious than Thorn was finding the situation. “I intend to find my wife before the Season begins.”Thorn arched an eyebrow in humor. “Exactly how are you going to accomplish that?”Mark tossed the newssheet on the table. “What do you know of the Mirabelle School of Dance?”***Bianca Valentine stared out the window of the carriage as it entered London. She hadn’t been here since she was a child. Not that she remembered living in Seven Dials, which was far different than the Mayfair home her brother-in-law owned. She’d only been about two when Vicar Grant saved her and her nine siblings from a life of poverty, thievery, work houses and quite possibly prostitution, once she was older. She shivered, just thinking how different, and horrible, her life could have turned out if not for him. She may call him uncle, but in her heart, Uncle Osborn was her father, and Aunt Mary, was her mother. Bianca had no memories of the woman who actually gave birth to her, even though that woman raised her the first two years of her life. Or, at least she was alive the first two years, but Bianca suspected it was Demetrius and Benedick, her oldest brothers, who really took care of her. She rarely saw her brothers after they went off to school and then settled into their professions in London, but now that she would be living in London for the Season, she might be able to visit with them more often. Something she was very much looking forward to.But first, she needed to find a position. Her sister, Rosalind, Lady Felding, insisted on Bianca and their two sisters, Isabella and Perdita, coming to London for the Season. All three had agreed, but none of them intended on being involved in Society. They simply did not belong, even if their sister was a marchioness.While she’d enjoyed the kindness of her sister, the real reason Bianca was in London was to find work. At five and twenty, she could not continue to live off the charity of Uncle Osborn and Aunt Mary. They were getting on in years and it was time she supported herself. Bianca hated the idea of being a burden any more than she already had been. They’d already given her so much. Much more than she could ever possibly repay. Nor did she wish to become a burden to her older brothers once her aunt and uncle passed. As a female, she had but two options available to keep that from happening: Marry or work, and since she could never consider marriage, it was time to find a position.   Lord Felding might have been able to overlook her family’s background when he married Rosalind, but most gentlemen would not feel the same. Not that Bianca would ever dream of setting her sights on a lord. But even a respectable man of trade would have misgivings about marrying the bastard of a whore.“You are just going to love it here,” Rosalind said from beside her. “I thought I’d hate it when Noah insisted I attend the Season after we married, but that wasn’t the case.”Felding could probably put Rosalind in a tent in the middle of the desert and call it home and her sister would be quite happy. All she really required was to be with her husband. Bianca wasn’t so hopeful that she’d love London as much as her sister. But, as long as she found a position, it really didn’t matter where she lived.“I can’t wait to introduce you to some of my friends.”Bianca, Isabella and Perdita stiffened and looked over at their sister. Surely she wasn’t expecting her to go about with the ladies her sister now called friends. Did she forget who they were? Where they’d come from?“We’ve decided to host a ball at the beginning of the Season and we must get you properly outfitted.” Bianca glanced at Felding, her brother-in-law. He just shook his head and smiled before glancing back out the window.“I don’t think it’s right or proper that I attend functions.” Bianca refocused on her sister. “Isabella and I are to keep you company while Felding attends Parliament, or whatever else he does, while Perdita watches over Henry.” Henry was a year old, but Rosalind couldn’t bring herself to leave her son in the country. Bianca also didn’t dare tell her sister the real reason for coming to London. Well, at least not until she had found employment.“Of course you will.” Rosalind smiled.  “It’s not right that we go into society, you know that as well as we do,” Isabella argued.Rosalind arched an eyebrow. “Then I should not be there either.”“That’s different. You’re married to Felding now,” Perdita reminded her. “It gives you respectability. We cannot claim the same.”Rosalind turned and grabbed Bianca’s hand. “You mustn’t think that.” Then glanced at her other two sisters. “None of you. You’ll meet all manner of gentlemen in London. You might very well fall in love.”She couldn’t believe what her sister was saying. If they were to have had the same conversation a few years ago, they would have agreed to remain spinsters and not dream of love or marriage. It was why Rosalind became a nursery maid in the first place, and ended up taking care of Felding’s sister’s children. Rosalind had changed so much since marrying Felding. But, just because Rosalind found a lord to love her, despite the circumstances of her birth, did not mean the same would happen for Bianca or their sisters. “If any man wished to marry me, he’d need to know the truth of my birth first. That should send him running so I don’t wish to put myself in a position to be humiliated.”“A man of character would not care,” Felding nearly growled.Did he believe she just insulted him? That was not the case. “Few gentlemen are of your character, Lord Felding, so I will not hold out hope that I might meet one of them.”The carriage rolled to a stop and Bianca looked out the window, and up at the four story townhouse. Her home for the next four months.After being escorted into the house, Rosalind led Bianca and her sisters into the parlor to take tea while they waited for their belongings to be brought in and unpacked. It was odd having servants do so much for her and Bianca wasn’t sure if it was something she could become accustomed to. At home, each of the children did their part at the vicarage: preparing meals, tending the garden, cleaning the house, doing the laundry and anything that was required. The only staff employed was a housekeeper who also cooked for them. The task was too large for one woman and the girls learned at an early age how to prepare meals for the family. If she were at home, she would probably be helping prepare luncheon right now. Instead, she was taking tea with her sisters while a servant unpacked their trunks.“The first thing we must do is visit a modiste.”“It is lovely how your husband likes to keep you in fine dresses.” Perdita smiled. “I can’t wait to see how you look when turned out for a ball.”None of them had beautiful gowns growing up, nor did they need them. Bianca had always been happy with her serviceable wardrobe and one nice Sunday dress. “It’s for you too,” Rosalind insisted.“We don’t have the funds,” Isabella reminded her.“That is not a concern,” she dismissed her sister’s comment away with a wave of her hand. “Felding has offered and I’m not about to turn him down. Penelope and Patience shall be arriving in a few days and we shall all go shopping together.” Penelope and Patience were two of Felding’s younger sisters. Neither had married much to his irritation. “What did I offer?” Felding asked as he came through the door, carrying newssheets.“To help outfit Bianca, Isabella and Perdita for the Season.”Felding smiled and nodded. “I’m happy to do so.” He took a seat beside his wife while she poured him a cup of tea.“It is not necessary, Felding,” Bianca insisted. She already owed her aunt and uncle so much. She did not wish to owe her brother-in-law as well. Besides, it was a waste when she had no intention of wearing the fine dresses.“My wife would like the three of you to participate in the Season. It would make her happy.” He turned and smiled lovingly at Rosalind. “And, as her happiness is my only concern, you shall be dressed for all imaginable occasions.”Since Bianca couldn’t argue with Felding under his own roof, she fully intended to argue with her sister later. If that didn’t work, she’d simply refuse to be fitted. That should put a halt to all of Rosalind’s plans.“Is there anything interesting in the newssheets?” Rosalind asked.“I haven’t begun to read them yet.” He took the top newssheet and put the rest on the table. “Enjoy, ladies, I’m sure there is something about fashion, or perhaps gossip, that you will find of interest.”None of them had ever enjoyed gossip. She and her sisters were of the opinion that if they didn’t gossip about others, hopefully others would not gossip about them. Heaven knew they had enough secrets that they didn’t want discovered. Even if they were lying about who their actual parents were, at least the four oldest, Demetrius, Benedick, Orland and Mercutio, had comfort in the knowledge that Mother had been married to their father. It was after he was killed that their mother had to find another means to support her young family and gained five illegitimate children in the process. It didn’t matter that they only shared a mother because Bianca loved each of her siblings equally and with all of her heart.“Well, that’s interesting?” Felding said before taking a sip of his tea.“What?” Rosalind asked her husband with interest.“A school chum, who I haven’t seen in years, has inherited.” Felding paused and looked up. “I had forgotten that his uncle died last summer and his cousin a few months ago. Mark wasn’t ever to have gained the title.”“I thought it was the women who were interested in the gossip?” Rosalind teased.Felding lowered the newssheet just enough to see his eyes, which he narrowed on his wife.“Which title would that be?” Rosalind asked.“The Duke of Roxburg.”Bianca choked on her tea. Felding had a friend that was a duke and just called him by his first name. Her brother-in-law had loftier connections than she ever imagined. And, all the more reason she must find a position. Felding certainly would never consider introducing her to a duke, would he? That would be beyond the pale. Instead of saying anything, however, Bianca picked up one of the newssheets. She skipped over fashion and other titillating tales and went right to the advertisements. She was beginning to become discouraged until she read the last newssheet and her heart began to pound when she found a position that was perfect for her.

When Mr. David Thorn returns to Marisdùn Castle for another haunted Samhain masquerade, he hopes to encounter the elusive artist who sketched him the year before disappearing into the night. But finding her might be difficult, especially if she’s one of the many ghosts who haunt the castle and its grounds.
Miss Anna Southward would give anything leave her uncle and the sleepy village of Ravenglass behind her to travel the continent as she had as a child. Stuck near the seaside in Cumberland, she dreams of the day she can return to Florence to once again gaze upon the statue of David, and she dreams about a certain gentleman she encountered at the previous year’s masquerade. When the gentleman in question stumbles upon her, Anna is certain her luck is about to change.
But when a powerful entity is accidentally released inside the castle walls, all bets are off and Anna fears not only for herself, but for the handsome gentleman she sketched a year ago.

*This story originally appeared in the One More Haunted Evening anthology. The single contains scenes previously omitted from the anthology.*

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October 1816 ~ Torrington Abbey, Cumberland
“Who is she?” David Thorn demanded of Brighid, wife of his good friend Blake Chetwey. It’s the same question he’d asked the few times he’d seen her in the past year, never getting a satisfied answer. Instead of going straight to Marisdùn Castle, where David planned on staying for the next sennight to attend the Samhain masquerade, he’d ridden to Torrington Abbey. Though he did wish to visit his good friend, David was more interested in interrogating Brighid. It was all he could do to get through the pleasantries and sip tea before he asked her the question that’d been plaguing him.The witch merely blinked up at him. “Whom?”“You know bloody well,” Thorn growled.“You are speaking to my wife,” Chetwey warned. “She’s of a delicate condition and a lady.”Brighid smiled and patted her large belly. He shouldn’t even be seeing her in this condition, but he was the one who’d come into her home. He remembered learning that she was expecting, but hadn’t really thought beyond the news and wishing his friend congratulations. Now that he’d seen her, heavy with child, David realized that it had been months since he’d first been told and he hadn’t seen Brighid since the end of the Season. She looked as if she could deliver any moment or possibly should have by now. Not that he had any experience being around ladies in an interesting condition since they were always hidden from society as if it was something to be ashamed of. He probably should also think twice before angering this powerful witch, too. Especially right now. To think he didn’t believe in spirits, witches and thought it all nonsense until a year ago. But, after watching her banish an evil spirit, working tirelessly to find a way to bring Callie Bradenham back from the other side, there was no doubt in David’s mind that there was a good deal of magic in this world and things beyond his comprehension.Chetwey was one lucky bastard and this wasn’t the first time David wished he was in his Chetwey’s shoes. Not married to Brighid, of course. That would never work, but to have a wife who looked at him the way Brighid looked at Chetwey. A woman he could love the way Blake did her. A wife, growing large with his child.Not that he would ever, in a million years, admit those thoughts to anyone. It wouldn’t be pleasant becoming the brunt of jokes from his friends. Even worse, for the ladies in Society to get wind of his thoughts. They’d never give him a moment’s rest. Reforming the rake and all that nonsense. Besides, if ladies were wise, they wouldn’t want their husbands to be completely reformed, especially in the privacy of a bedchamber.Just the thought of ladies and their mamas hounding him through London sent shivers down his spine. It was scarier than returning to Marisdùn Castle with its variety of ghosts.“I just don’t see why she can’t tell me who the Italian artist is. I know Brighid knows.”“I don’t know any Italians,” Brighid answered innocently.Perhaps the sketching fairy only spoke with an Italian accent to hide her identity. It was a masquerade after all. “I am sure you know a few artists.” David glared at her.She smiled sweetly at him. “Maybe.”“Do you know who sketched my portrait at the Samhain party?”Brighid simply shrugged.It’s the same response he’d gotten before.  “Why won’t you tell me?” David raked his fingers through his hair and practically jumped to his feet before he started pacing. Irritating and frustrating witch! “If she wished for you to know who she is, I assumed she would have remained.”“Ah ha!” He wheeled around and wagged a finger at her. “So, you do know. It’s taken me nearly a year, but finally we are getting somewhere.”“I find it hard to believe you’ve been yearning for the artist all this time.” Chetwey chuckled from his seat beside his wife.“I’m sure it’s only because she got away. Our dear Mr. Thorn is not used to such a predicament,” Brighid teased.The same thoughts had crossed his own mind. Was it simply because the masked artist disappeared before he could get to know her better? Her voice had entranced him, and not just the Italian accent, which may or may not have been real, but that smile. Full, red lips, and the only part of her face he could see. Her laugh was soft and gentle, with a rich tone that went straight to his nether regions. When she approached him, sketch book in hand, and asked him to sit, Thorn automatically complied without thought. All she had to do was touch his arm with her delicate hand and he followed her without question.That was so out of character for him. The purpose of the party, originally anyway, was to find ladies without drawers and have a decadent good time. Of course, he did wonder if she was wearing any drawers and how they might better come to know one another while she sketched him, but he hadn’t even attempted to kiss her or discourage her from drawing his features. It was a party, the ale was flowing, and people were dancing while he sat for a bloody portrait.Had she bewitched him somehow? Was it the magic of that special night? That had to be it because he could think of no other reason he acted so out of character.He’d barely met the golden haired fairy who wore a blasted half-mask that revealed only her full, ruby lips.  Even though nearly a year passed, he still could not put the artist from his mind, and she had ruined his pursuit of every other female since. It was her fault he was having such uncharacteristic thoughts like marriage and babies and such.Maybe she was a ghost. David wasn’t sure if that possibility was helpful. If she was of another world, any future was certainly impossible. Well, until he died too, but he wasn’t so foolish as to take such a drastic action just to be with her. He’d just need to find a substitute among the living and make the best of it.Bloody hell! All these aberrant thoughts over a woman he’d spent only a few hours with were driving him mad. What the blazes was wrong with him? “Maybe she’s a witch too.” That would certainly explain everything. “I can assure you she is not.” Brighid grinned at him. “And, maybe she’ll be at the masquerade this year.”“I’d prefer to meet her before so I’m not chasing after an otherworldly woman like Quent.”“Other-worldly?” Chetwey asked.“Braden’s convinced the woman he kissed was a ghost.”“It is possible,” Brighid suggested before lifting her cup of tea.Thorn refused to believe the woman he sat for was a spirit. By the time Quentin Post had kissed his angel, he had been into his cups. Thorn had been sober. Another oddity of that night. Blake set his glass aside and smiled sympathetically at his friend. “Why don’t we play a game of billiards? It’ll take your mind off of your mysterious lady.”Like trouncing Chetwey would make him forget about the woman who had been haunting his dreams for a year. “Might as well since your wife isn’t going to be of any help.” “If she wanted to be found, she would have stayed around,” Brighid called after them as they sauntered from the room.David ignored her and followed Chetwey down the hall into a dark paneled room, a billiards table set up in the center, and leather chairs set up around the perimeter. This was a gentleman’s room and the witch probably never came in here. Not that she could even play billiards right now. Not with the way she’d increased. But she sure was beautiful.“Do you know that Garrick actually had the audacity to suggest I’m losing my touch?”Chetwey choked back laughter. “I’m sure that isn’t it. Maybe your heart isn’t in the chase any longer.”David took a pool cue from the rack on the wall. “It hasn’t been for a very long time, my friend.”“What?”David straightened, his eyes bored into Chetwey’s. “If you tell a single soul, I’ll deny it with every breath.” Taking the cue, he lined up the end with the ball. “I do have a reputation to protect.”
* * *
Anna Southward hurried as quickly as she could to Torrington Abbey after retrieving the plants, seeds and roots Brighid requested from the herbarium in Marisdùn Castle and the garden just outside of it. To think Lord Quentin Post had returned along with his three sisters, and that Bradenham and Callie would really arrive tomorrow. Finally, there would be excitement in this sleepy village. Not that she saw the Post family, but she overheard the kitchen staff talking about their arrival as she gathered the herbs. Hardly anything of interest ever happened in Ravenglass and she feared she’d grow mad with boredom before she ever grew old. Thank goodness fascinating gentlemen inherited the castle. At least they’d arrive on occasion to make things a bit more exciting.Her closest friend was sitting on the settee, drinking tea, and thankfully her husband wasn’t around. Anna liked Chetwey well enough, but he’d been hovering a bit too much lately. The closer Brighid’s time came, the nearer he stuck by Brighid’s side. It was sweet, really, but babies made an appearance every day. Her condition wasn’t at all unusual for a married lady of her age. Besides, Brighid was a healer and a witch. If anyone could make sure everything worked out as it should, it was her.“Would you like some tea?”“Yes, please.” Anna plopped down in the chair across from her friend. “They’ve arrived.”“Who?”“The owners of Marisdùn.” She could barely keep the grin off of her face. “They are going to have another masquerade, aren’t they?” Ever since Brighid said it was a distinct possibility, Anna had been on edge with anticipation. This year, she was going, and she was staying late, and nobody was going to stop her. Not even her unreasonable and unpleasant Uncle Walter.“Will all of them be there?” Anna asked as she poured herself a cup of tea, instead of waiting for Brighid to awkwardly lean forward and try and pour it for her.“All of whom?”“The unmarried gentlemen,” Anna hissed. “You know exactly who I mean.” “Mr. Garrick, Mr. Thorn and Lord Quentin?”“Yes! Those three.” Three of the six friends who arrived last year had married girls from the district and had probably settled into a boring existence with their wives. Three bachelors remained, which gave Anna hope that the masquerade would be even more rousing than last year, since they didn’t have to worry about an evil spirit and bringing Callie back from the other side this time.Then she stilled. Just because they hadn’t been married last year did not mean they weren’t this year. Brighid would have mentioned if one of them being wed, wouldn’t she have? Brighid chuckled and leaned back against her seat. “Are you hoping one of them will take you away, like Bradenham rescued Callie from this place?”Brighid was about the only person content to live here. Of course, she also went to London this past year, twice, and enjoyed the Season. It was a lot more excitement than Anna had seen since she’d come to live with her uncle and cousins after her parents died six years ago.“I don’t dare hope to have such luck, but I can’t wait to sketch one of them again.”The corner of Brighid’s mouth turned up. “The same one, or do you wish to sketch a different gentleman of my husband’s acquaintance? Or does it even matter?”She could feel her cheeks warming. “The same one.” He was so handsome, with chiseled cheekbones, a strong jaw, an aquiline nose, the way his thick, dark hair fell across his forehead, and those intense brown eyes. The sketches she had of him, safely hidden away of course, did not begin to do justice to his handsome features. She didn’t dare show them to anyone, and she’d kept them safely hidden away with the exception of one, which was always with her. “One is in line to be an earl, did you know?”Why did Brighid have to go and ruin her dream? Not that she actually thought the handsome gentleman would fall in love with her and take her away from this place to sail around the world, but she did like to dream. An earl didn’t just up and travel. They had duties to attend to. Or, at least that’s what she’d been told. “I’m not looking to marry him. I just want to sketch him again.” It was a partial truth. And she’d been kicking herself for nearly a year for running away when he went to retrieve punch. She might not have left the masquerade at all if Lila hadn’t reminded her of the time, so they could be back before the vicar ever learned they’d snuck out in the first place.Such an unpleasant man, her uncle. So unlike her loving and gregarious father. How were the two even brothers? Her father, and mother, had a sense of adventure, wanting to explore and discover new things. Whereas her uncle was firmly settled in the scriptures and how one should live their life, and was perfectly content to never leave Ravenglass. Not that she had anything against the scriptures, and even when her parents were alive they went to church wherever they happened to be. But her uncle just didn’t understand there was a whole world out there she had yet to see. Or that Florence continued to call to her. Oh, to be there again and cast her eyes on Michelangelo’s David.With a sigh, she put the thought from her mind. She’d probably never see it again, or ever have a chance to sculpt her own David. Instead, she should focus on the small boons her uncle granted her, instead of hoping for what might never be. “Uncle has finally agreed to let me visit the coast to sketch and paint tomorrow.”Brighid brightened. “That would be wonderful. I know how you chafe at being ordered to remain close to the vicarage.” It was rare that Anna was granted enough time to be away so that she could sneak through the woods to see Brighid. Usually her uncle only allowed her so much time to go off with her sketchbook before she was to return to her duties within the house, or prayer, or reading her Bible.“Where is Chetwey this afternoon?” she asked as she began to sketch the pictures from the books so she’d know what to look for.“He’s playing billiards with a friend.”“Oh?” Anna’s heartbeat increased. Could one of the other bachelors already have arrived? Were all three here already and what chance did she have of encountering them? Drat, she knew the names, but didn’t know which one of the gentlemen she had sketched, David Thorn or Sidney Garrick. “David Thorn. One of the three bachelors you wish to sketch.”Anna glanced up to meet her friend’s eyes. “Is he the one?”“How would I know? You’ve never shown me your sketches.”Anna studied her friend. There was mischief in her silver eyes. Brighid knew something she was not saying. Just as she was about to ask for this David Thorn’s description and take the year old sketch from her satchel, the clock in the hallway chimed, making Anna jump. “Goodness, it’s late.”“Would you like to take the carriage?” Brighid asked, growing alarmed. They both knew she wasn’t supposed to be here. “No, I should make it in time, if I hurry. I can’t afford to miss dinner and make my uncle unhappy or he might cancel my outing tomorrow.”Brighid pulled herself from the settee. “When do you think you’ll be there? At the coast.”“As early as possible. I hope to catch the sunrise on the water.” “Well, enjoy your day.”Anna barely said goodbye before she was running down the lane and onto the path through the woods. She couldn’t be late. Worse, her uncle could not know with whom she’d been visiting. She’d been told time and time again to stay away from the healer and Brighid was unnatural and a bad influence, but Anna continued to ignore him. Brighid was her dearest friend – she understood her when a lot of people didn’t. Maybe because they were both a bit odd.  Sprinting the last bit of the way, she made it to the house and slipped in the back door just as Lila was putting the last plate on the table. Thank goodness she made it in time.Her cousins, Lila and Tilly, both relaxed, as if they were afraid she wouldn’t make it back in time either. After getting her breathing under control, she let her satchel slip silently to the floor and joined her cousins at the table, just as Uncle Walter came into the dining room.He looked sterner tonight than normal, which did not bode well. With concentrated effort, Anna did her best not to draw attention to herself, speak out of turn, or say anything at all. She could not risk upsetting her uncle or he’d take away her outing. What were the chances that David Thorn was the man in her sketches? To think, she might be drawn to a gentleman named David. Until now, there’d only been one David she admired, but he was a statue, glorious in detail.Even if his name was David, that wouldn’t mean he’d remember her. What if he didn’t want to sit for her again?Blast! She hadn’t considered that possibility. All she could think about was seeing him again and capturing his likeness once more. And, maybe this time, dancing too. Tomorrow, or the day after, she was going to show Brighid her sketches so her friend could give her a name to go with the features. Dare she hope his name was David?Then again, maybe she didn’t want him to have a name, just like she wished she didn’t know one of them might be an earl one day. Perhaps it’d be easier for him to simply be the handsome gentleman she looked at each night before falling asleep, and the first face she saw in the morning, even though it was a only a sketch.Besides, a future earl would never have an interest in her. With an inward sigh, she pushed the food around on her plate so her uncle thought she was eating when in truth, her appetite had disappeared.She’d just need to make the best of this year’s masquerade, so she’d have memories to get her through her boring existence in this backwater town.“We might visit the Roman ruins tomorrow,” Lila announced, drawing Anna from her thoughts. “Lord Quentin Post has arrived with his sisters.” “That should be nice,” Anna answered absently, wishing she could visit the ruins as well, but the ones in Rome. And then she could travel up to Florence and gaze at Michelangelo’s David once again. Her hands practically itched to sculpt something similar, to feel the clay move through her fingers. That David was made of marble, which she could never carve. But clay was easy enough to manage and she had a good deal of it stored, just waiting to have something created from it. Unfortunately, she lacked an appropriate model.

Brighid Glace is not a witch, no matter how many times Blake Chetwey has called her one. She's a healer and he should be quite grateful she is too. Without her abilities, he might not survive his holiday at haunted Marisdùn Castle when another bout of Malaria hits him. But should anything terrible ever befall Blake, Brighid would never forgive herself if she didn't do all she could to save him. Her heart would never survive otherwise. 
After years of denying that Brighid’s mere presence affects him in ways he can't understand, Blake's future is now in her hands. She is lovely, and enchanting, and only a witch could make him feel such things. Was his fevered state causing him to see her in a different light or could he no longer deny what he has tried to ignore? And would he now lose her to a friend?

** This novella originally appeared in “One Haunted Evening”, an anthology.

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Her Muse, Her Magic Copyright © 2015 by Jane Charles

Blake Chetwey pulled his greatcoat close around him and clenched his jaw to keep his teeth from rattling together. With each bump in the road, his body protested in pain. Bloody hell! Now was not the time for another episode. Not that there was ever a good time, but he had been looking forward to the coming weeks and the party his hosts were planning. What healthy gentleman did not look forward to a celebration where young ladies might not wear undergarments?He groaned. He was far from healthy at the moment and could only pray that this episode was of a short duration. Malaria! That is what the doctor in Barbados had called it and warned him that he would most likely have recurrent attacks, without warning and for no apparent reason, in the coming years before the disease had purged itself from his body. Blake turned his head to look out the window at the passing scenery. He should have had the driver take the road to Tolbright a few miles back. Beyond the small town was Torrington Abbey, his home for a good portion of his life, and the estate he would one day inherit from his uncle, the Earl of Torrington. He preferred to suffer through this episode in his own bed instead of the haunted Marisdùn Castle. Not that the Abbey wasn’t haunted. Well, at least it was for a short time, but Blake never saw evidence of the rumored ghost to be roaming the halls either. And could he really consider the last haunting to be an actual haunting?“Do you really believe Marisdùn Castle to be haunted?” David Thorn asked from across the carriage. Had the man been reading his mind? Blake assumed Thorn was thinking about ladies without drawers. It was a favorite pastime of his. Blake simply shrugged. Who was he to decide if a place was haunted or not? A year ago he would have scoffed at the idea. Not any longer.“And, is it true that Patrick Delaney once haunted Torrington Abbey?” Thorn continued. “Or did you invent the entire story?”Blake groaned and glanced at his friend from the corner of his eye. He should never have told Thorn or the others about what Delaney and his sister, Laura, believed. If he hadn’t been in his cups following the races, he would never have breathed a word of their story, of how Delany had hovered between life and death after being attacked and left for dead, and how his spirit left his body and had gone to Laura to what they assume was to deliver the message that was intended for her, though he couldn’t recall what the message was until he awoke, alive, and in his own body. Blake didn’t understand it all; and doubted that he ever would. It was Brighid’s explanation that when Patrick hovered closer to death, his spirit was set free and not chained to his body. Though nobody could ever explain why Laura had been the only living person able to see Patrick, even though he’d been in the presences of Blake’s aunt and uncle, as well as servants and other guests at Torrington Abbey. Brighid believed it was because Patrick sought only Laura as she is who Delany was on his to see.  He snorted and returned his gaze out the window. Brighid Glace is a charming yet odd young woman. If Patrick had haunted Torrington for a bit, then Brighid truly was a witch, as he always accused her of being. However, he was certain there was a reasonable explanation for what Patrick experienced. He simply hadn’t discovered them yet.“Well, did you?”Oh yes, he had forgotten to answer Thorn. Why was he having such a difficult time concentrating? Could it be because he was so cold, or maybe it was the headache he could no longer ignore? “You’ll have to ask Delaney.”“I’ll make sure Braden sends an invitation so I can find out for myself.” Thorn glanced out the window as the carriage began to slow. “I believe we are here.” Blake didn’t rise to see for himself. He knew what Marisdùn Castle looked like. As long as it had a warm room and soft bed he didn’t care if it was haunted by two dozen ghosts. They just needed to leave him alone so he could rest until this episode passed.The carriage rolled to a stop, and a moment later the driver opened the door. Blake jerked away from the bright light that flooded the interior of the carriage.“You don’t look so well,” Thorn observed.Blake waved him away. “I just need rest.” He pushed himself to the end of the seat and tried to stand. His legs protested and his body screamed in pain. “Are you having an episode?” Thorn’s brow was marred with concern.He could only give a slow nod before letting his head rest against the squabs.
* * *Brighid Glace tied the strings of her bonnet beneath her chin. “I shan’t be long, grandmother.”“Where are you off to?” the older woman asked from her chair beside the fire.“I told you.” She offered the woman a loving smile. “I am to go into Ravenglass.”“I don’t know why you can’t go into Tolbright,” grandmother grumbled. She never liked Ravenglass, and Brighid never understood why, except grandmother always claimed the people had strange ideas and superstitions. Brighid grinned. “We can’t get Daphne Alcott’s rum butter in Tolbright, and I promised to bring Spikenard, Monk’s-Hood, and Horehound to Mrs. Small at Marisdùn Castle. They have none of their own left.” She paused in thought. “I should really see about harvesting the remaining herbs before winter sets in.”  The older woman frowned deeply. “I don’t see why they can’t gather their own herbs. Besides, Ravenglass boasts a fine doctor.” “The servants don’t have the time to tend the garden, nor anyone who has learned the use and preparation of medicinals since the Widow Wythe passed.” Brighid chastised. “Besides, they don’t wish to send for Dr. Alcott each time one of them has a slight cough or minor injury, and our family were the healers at Marisdùn Castle long ago. It is only right we continue to help when asked.”“Maybe you should teach someone so you aren’t running off there so often.”Brighid bent to pick up her basket full of herbs. “That is exactly what I intend to do, if someone will agree.” Since the Widow Wythe passed on, Brighid had seen to the care of the medicinal garden nestled behind the kitchens and herbarium. It wasn’t part of the vast, carefully manicured and well-tended gardens on the rest of the grounds but a purposeful array of plants with no thought to color. They served to heal not to be viewed for their beauty. That isn’t to say it wasn’t a pretty garden. She loved sitting in the middle of it, on the flat, dark, round stone. There were a few benches at the edge, but she rarely sat there. For the oddest reason, the stone always warmed her, even on the coolest days. “Just like your mother, off and about, nursing the sick when you should be tending your family,” her grandmother grumbled.Brighid pursed her lips together to keep from responding. Her mother had been a healer. With only one doctor in the area, sometimes she had been needed to treat the ill and act as a midwife until the physician could arrive. It was just a shame that the one person her mother had been unable to help was her own husband. Her mother had not been the same after she could not cure the illness that caused father’s death and soon followed him to the grave. Brighid suspected it was more from a broken heart than anything else.Besides, her grandmother did not need tending. The woman may be getting on in years, but she was strong, healthy, active, and possessed all her faculties, even if she could be unpleasant at times. It was she who did the cooking and most of the cleaning in their house. Her brother, Cavan, was home only long enough to eat and sleep. If he wasn’t working the land and dairy, he was in Torrington with his friends.“Just don’t be long,” her grandmother insisted. Brighid paused at the door and stared down into her basket.  She should take Wormwood. Had Mrs. Small requested this medicinal herb as well? She couldn’t recall but knew she needed to take it anyway. Brighid no longer questioned these odd sensations or thoughts. Her mother termed them a gift, and she listened to them every time.

Lord Patrick Delaney promised to deliver an important message to his best friend’s sister, but promises are hard to keep when one becomes a ghost. After Patrick is attacked in the forest and tossed into a river, he is surprised to wake at the country estate where the lovely Miss Laura Chetwey is mourning the loss of her brother. Even more surprising, she seems to be the only person who can see or hear him, which should make his mission easy to complete… if only he could remember the message he is supposed to deliver. 
Laura’s brother has been missing for four months and she has come to believe he perished at sea. Taking refuge at her uncle’s estate, she tries to escape her grief by immersing herself in the imaginary world of fiction by penning a horrid novel. But the line between reality and make-believe becomes hard to distinguish when a handsome ghost arrives at Torrington Abbey to protect her and steals her heart in the process.
Trapped between the span of life and death, Patrick fears he will vanish forever once he remembers the news of Laura's brother. Will they ever have a chance to be together, or is the opportunity for love lost to them forever?


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Her Muse, Lord PatrickCopyright © 2014 by Jane Charles

February, 1815, Cumberland, EnglandLord Patrick Delaney glanced up through the forest of trees to the darkening sky. He must reach Torrington Abbey before nightfall. The woods were treacherous enough in the light of day. The last thing he needed was his horse twisting a leg on an overgrown root. The further he traveled, the thicker the forest became until he could barely make out the sky above through the twisted arms of bare trees. If this were summer, or even spring, it would be nearly impossible to find what remained of the path. As it was, layer upon layer of dead, brown leaves carpeted the ground. Fog was moving in, and it was becoming difficult to see much beyond the trees closest to him. The rest were misted in white. Patrick pulled his greatcoat tight and shivered. It wasn’t so much cold as it was damp, and this forest wasn’t the least bit comforting. In hindsight, the road would have been quicker, even if it added additional miles, but Patrick had a message to deliver and this path was more expedient to his destination.  At least it should have been. What happened to the trail? It had been well-used and wide when he was last here. Were there no longer hunts at Torrington Abbey? The area was overrun with deer, rabbit, and pheasant. “A virtual hunter’s paradise.”  A rustling ahead drew his attention. It was probably another animal. His horse shied, and Patrick reached forward, patting her neck. Something spooked the old gel. He straightened, turned in his seat, and strained to see beyond the darkness and mist, listening for sounds that may not belong in a forest. He slipped a hand to the inside pocket of his jacket. The trusted knife was in place and he resumed holding the reins with both hands. A chuckle escaped. He was being foolish and was no longer a lad, easily scared by a story of the ghost of Mad Marcus Miller roaming these woods. Those childhood fears, leftover from the days when he visited his best friend, Blake Chetwey, were what put him in this state. Everyone knew there was no such thing as a ghost. He was a grown man, and there was very little, if anything, he feared these days.Cautiously he continued toward his destination. A deer shot out in front of him and his horse reared. Patrick tightly grasped the reins and held his seat. As the horse’s hooves thumped back against the ground, Patrick let out a nervous laugh. Heart pounding, he nudged the mare forward. One would think after his sea voyage that had been plagued with storms, illnesses, and general bad luck, natural forest noises wouldn’t raise the hair on the back of his neck.     He was simply tired. He hadn’t rested once the ship had docked in Liverpool but had hired a horse and started the journey immediately, only to learn that Miss Laura Chetwey, Blake’s younger sister, was no longer at the family home in Cheshire but residing at Torrington Abbey in Cumberland, with her aunt and uncle. He had been traveling for three days, sleeping only when necessary and for short periods of time. The urgency of this trip couldn’t be ignored. Blake’s sister needed to be told what had happened to her brother. It was strange that, in all the years he and Blake had been friends, Patrick had never met Miss Chetwey. That would be rectified tonight. An owl hooted above, and there was rustling in the leaves to the left. At the snap of a branch from behind, Patrick sat straighter in his saddle. He pulled up when a bearded man appeared on the path in front of him, a tree limb clutched in his right hand. Patrick reached inside his jacket, but before he could grab the knife he was struck from behind. The crack against bone sent pain shooting through his left arm and deep into his shoulder. Patrick clenched his jaw against the searing pain and held tightly to the reins as his horse danced and bucked. He peered down at a third filthy attacker who was brandishing a make-shift weapon. The first weapon-bearing imbecile ran toward him. Patrick fought to hold his seat while they struck him from all directions and landed blows against his back, thighs and arms. His mare just needed an opening to bolt from this madness. Instead, the mare reared again. Patrick lost his grip and slid from the back of the animal, landing on his arse. Despite the dizzying blows, he struggled to his feet and pulled the knife from his pocket while backing away from the three bearded and unkempt miscreants. His mare shot off in the direction he had just ridden and left him with no means of a quick escape. At the last moment, he turned and ran. He was not in a position to take on all three and suspected his left arm was broken from the earlier blow.   His feet were sure and steady as he raced away, jumping logs, avoiding roots, and gritting his teeth against the sharp, jabbing pain in his arm and shoulder each time his booted foot slammed against the ground. The rushing river appeared before him, and he stopped short, almost toppling face forward in the churning water.   “Bollocks.” Normally it was an easy swim, and he could have made it with one arm, but the recent rain had left the river swollen and treacherous. Patrick didn’t dare chance it now. He tested his arm by lifting it. Pain sliced through the bicep after just a few inches. He would never be able to fight the current. He turned back and glanced to his left then his right, trying to determine which way to go. The brigands emerged from the forest to block all options of escape.   Patrick brandished the knife before him. The battle may be lost but he was not going out without a fight.    All three men rushed him at once. A branch connected with his gut then his other shoulder, jarring the knife from his hand, before another limb was slammed against his skull.  Patrick crumbled and fought the waves of darkness that threatened to engulf him as he was kicked in the belly, back, and head. Two of the brigands searched his pockets while the third removed his boots and then his greatcoat. When they were finished taking what they wanted, the three lifted Patrick and tossed him in the river. Cold, wet darkness engulfed him.
* * *“I do wish you would join us at the assembly, dear.”  Miss Laura Chetwey glanced up at her loving aunt, a small woman of five and forty, gentle smile, and black hair with just a few wisps of gray. “You know it isn’t right that I participate in a public event, especially an assembly.”Aunt Ivy pursed her lips then sighed. “We do not know what has become of your brother.”“His ship was due four months ago.” Laura stood and paced before the large fireplace in the library of Torrington Abbey. “And there has been absolutely no news.”“That doesn’t mean.  .  .”Laura wheeled around. “Then I should expect my parents to walk through the front door any day as well. Perhaps they simply stopped somewhere on their way home from Ireland for five year long visit.”Tears formed in her aunt’s eyes, and Laura immediately regretted her tone. “I’m sorry, Aunt Ivy.”“We know their ship sank in a storm. Others witnessed it,” her aunt gently reminded her. Laura allowed her shoulders to slump, and she looked down at the gold and red carpet. “I know.” Her words were barely a whisper. “But you go on as if Blake is dead. You’ve been wearing half-morning since Christmas.”“It should be full mourning. I only bowed to your wishes in that.”“Until there is news there should be no mourning at all.” There was firmness in her aunt’s tone that Laura rarely heard, but she could not give in on this argument. Wearing any other color was disrespectful to her brother. It wasn’t right to go on as if all was as it should be, or wear pretty dresses and dance. If her brother wasn’t dead, he would have arrived in London in October as scheduled, or at the very least, sent a letter explaining his delay. But he hadn’t. There was nothing – not a word from him. “I will remain in gray and lavender until I know for certain one way or the other,” Laura insisted. “Your brother will not be happy to learn you’re avoiding society.”Laura fisted a hand against her aching heart in remembrance of Blake’s last letter, sent a month prior to his scheduled departure from Barbados. I expect you to have settled on a gentleman when I return, and he should be anxiously waiting to ask permission for your hand. I will not support you forever.He was teasing, in this she knew. Before he left there had been offers of marriage. Blake could have married her off to any of the gentlemen, but he was concerned that she be happy as well.   “I’ll discuss it with him when he returns, and perhaps he will learn to be more diligent in his correspondence.” A rush of tears came to her eyes. Blake wasn’t going to come back, and the only family left was her aunt and uncle, Lord and Lady Torrington. Two months ago, her uncle had assumed guardianship because at the age of twenty she was not at liberty to make her own decisions, and Uncle Edmond refused to allow Laura to remain in her family home in Cheshire with only servants and a companion to watch over her. Laura had rarely visited Torrington Abbey. However, Blake had been practically raised here in preparation of inheriting the earldom from his uncle one day. As her aunt and uncle had not been blessed with children of their own, Blake was the heir. Unlike Blake, Laura did not like this place. It was far too dark, dreary, and damp for her taste. “Are we ready to depart? We need to be finished with the drive before it grows dark. ”Laura glanced at her uncle as he came through the door. He’d aged twenty years in the last five, ever since his younger brother and sister-in-law died. His hair was completely white, and wrinkles ran deep on his gaunt face. His health had declined as well, and Laura knew he feared Blake was dead, even if he never admitted so to her.   He took in Laura’s appearance. “Lavender!” he grumbled, whirled, and stalked out the door. Uncle Edmond probably wanted to marry her off, before official word of her brother’s death arrived, so she wouldn’t have to remain here an additional six months to a year. She expected his sudden interest in taking up her guardianship was to force her to London in April to enjoy the Season. “Have a pleasant evening, dear.” Aunt Ivy leaned forward and brushed her lips across Laura’s cheek. “Don’t stay up late. We will return in the morning. ”The door clicked behind her aunt, and Laura turned and studied the room. What to do now? She glided over to the bookshelves and began reading titles, again. She had read the spines so often these past few weeks that they were practically memorized, but she was still hopeful there was one book among them she had not read.   Treatises would bore her but came in handy when she couldn’t sleep. The same could be said for poetry. Though Keats wrote lovely prose, it wasn’t her choice for enjoyable reading.   What she needed was another horrid novel. Her aunt and uncle had so few, and she had already read them. There was little excitement in reading a novel when one knew the ending. With a sigh she spun from the bookshelf and made her way to the window overlooking the gardens sheltered by three walls of the U-shaped sixteenth century abbey. Lights were lit on the upper floors of the west wing, where the servants resided. The floor below housed the family apartments where Laura had been given a set of rooms. In stark contrast, the upper floors of the east wing were completely black, void of any light or movement. Did her aunt and uncle close off the wing because only the two of them lived here and had so few visitors?  If this abbey were in a horrid novel then a specter would surely wander about the vacant chambers. Perhaps she should investigate. Why, there could be a poor soul trapped inside who had the answers to all the secrets, such as what became of her brother.    Laura sighed and turned away from the window. Even if there was a ghost trapped inside, he or she would have no knowledge of her brother since they had been, well, trapped.  There was a scratch at the door before it slowly opened. Laura held her breath. Her imaginings of ghosts had her waiting for an apparition to float through the opening. Instead, it was Mildred, the young housemaid, quiet as a mouse and slow as a tortoise, carrying a tray with tea and cakes. “Good evening, miss.” Mildred bobbed a curtsey The china rattled on the silver tray at the slight tilt but settled once placed upon the small table.   “Mildred,” Laura began. “Is there anything of interest in the east wing?”The maid’s brown eyes grew wide for a moment. “No, miss.”“Why is it kept shut?” Laura settled into one of the velvet upholstered Elizabethan chairs before the table.  “The…, um…draft.” Mildred busied her hands straightening a napkin that didn’t need to be folded.  Laura’s lips quirked into a smile. Why didn’t Mildred simply tell her the family was too small, or it was too much upkeep for the staff, or something reasonable? But drafty? “I think I would like to explore.”All color drained from the maid’s face. “Oh, no, miss. That’s not a good idea. ”“Why ever not?” Laura chuckled. “What horrible secrets are hidden in the east wing?”Mildred narrowed her eyes and looked about as if to make sure nobody was listening, which was rather odd since it was just the two of them in the room, before she leaned over and whispered. “It is haunted, miss.”Laura burst out laughing. “Have you been reading my uncle’s horrid novels?”The maid slumped and lowered her chin. “I can’t read, Miss Chetwey, but I’m telling you the truth,” she whispered earnestly. “Have you seen this ghost, or is there more than one?” Laura tried to be serious, but the idea of a real ghost was ridiculous. Everyone knew there was no such thing. Not even in a century’s old abbey such as Torrington. They existed only within the pages of horrid novels and fanciful imaginations. “No, but I’ve heard.”“Gossip or stories made up to keep people entertained. The Abbey does have a rich history of unexplained deaths, murder, and disappearances.”“There is a ghost,” Mildred insisted. “Then who does the ghost belong to?” Laura bit her upper lip to keep from smiling. She didn’t wish Mildred to think she was laughing at her, but truthfully the idea was ridiculous. Again, Mildred looked around the room as if she expected someone else to be there, before she sank into the opposite seat and leaned forward. “They say it is the third earl of Torrington,” she whispered.As her uncle was the seventh earl, that would be four generations ago, approximately from the seventeenth century. Laura had never been good with remembering the years each earl had been alive. “He was killed by Mad Marcus Miller,” Mildred anxiously continued in a hushed tone. Laura remembered hearing about Mad Marcus when she was a child.   “Stabbed the earl, he did, in the east wing then ran into the forest.”The story was coming back to her now. The king’s men hunted Mad Marcus Miller down, killed him, cut him to pieces, then scattered his body among the trees. He’s been haunting the woods ever since. “So, we have a ghost in the east wing and another in the forest?”Mildred nodded, eyes wide, face pale with fright.   This was ridiculous. “When did anyone last see the ghost in the east wing?”Mildred straightened and blinked. “I don’t know, miss. The wing has been closed for nigh on a hundred years.”“So, he may be gone.” Laura slapped her hands down on her thighs. The maid’s head flinched back. “Where would he have gone?” “To the ever after.” Laura raised an eyebrow and pointed up, then gestured toward the floor, and shrugged. “Whichever it may be.”“Do you really think so, Miss Chetwey?” Mildred asked anxiously. “Why don’t we investigate and see if he is still with us?”  Any color the maid may have regained in the last few moments disappeared. Mildred stood hastily, twisting the apron with her hands. “I don’t think that is a very good idea.”“Come on, Mildred.” Laura jumped to her feet and grinned. “It will be grand fun.”Mildred backed away, edging toward the door. “I have work to do, miss.” She turned and bolted out of the room as if the hounds of hell were at her heels. Laura hadn’t thought Mildred had it in her to move so quickly. A chuckle escaped her and she leaned forward to pour herself a cup of tea. “Haunted indeed.”She glanced toward the window again and sipped her tea. The east wing intrigued her.  What might she find hidden away for the past one hundred years? As the west wing where the family resided was in sturdy condition, Laura reasoned the east wing would not be in disrepair.  If it were, wouldn’t the walls be crumbling by now?She wandered to the window and studied the structure. Not even a window was broken, and the roof was level and even as it should be. She drank the tea and set the cup back on the table. “Why not see if the old earl is still roaming about?”  After lifting a smaller lamp, Laura walked into the hall and up the long stairway before continuing down the corridor leading to the east wing. A dark, wide door blocked the entrance. With a deep breath she reached forward and turned the handle. Her heart hammered as the door creaked open. The hinges probably hadn’t been oiled in years either.  Laura took a step inside. Cool air enveloped her almost immediately. She shivered. Raising the lamp, she set her trepidation aside and walked forward. As with the west wing, it began with a short corridor of paintings, long enough for a large bedroom before one reached the end and turned onto a longer hall.  She paused at the end and held her lamp higher. Darkness and silence waited for her beyond the reach of the pool of illumination.  What lay down the corridor and behind the doors? Had the rooms remained untouched for several decades because the servants and families were afraid to come in here? Or, were they simply stories and the reason the wing was shut up was because only a husband and wife resided at the Abbey? It didn’t matter and Laura couldn’t wait to explore. She started with the rooms opposite the garden and opened them one by one. There was nothing but bedchambers, eight to be exact, all arranged similarly to the west wing. The only difference was this bedding had been removed, the furniture covered in cloths, and curtains shut against any sun. Laura stopped at the end of the hall and looked back. No light shone from where she’d come. She paused and listened. Not a sound. She was quite alone in this wing of the house. Apparently the former earl had vacated, or he was very quiet and didn’t mind her invading his wing. “If I had been locked up for nigh on a hundred years, I wouldn’t mind company either.”  She crossed the hall and opened another door. Instead of a bedroom, a set of stone steps curved down. They probably would take her to the ground floor of this wing. Laura pulled the door closed and moved onto the next room. It was another bedchamber. And so it continued until she came to the fourth door. The room was smaller and did not have a bed. She stepped inside to investigate. The shadow of a candle fell across the desk, which she lit from her lamp. Another sat on a table by the door and soon Laura had enough light to see the room more clearly than the others. It was an office. A small one for a lady, judging by the delicacy of the desk. A shelf of books rested on the far wall and a thick layer of dust covered the entire room. Cobwebs laced between corners and from ledges to the floor. Under the window was what she assumed to be a settee, given the draping of the cloth and a small fireplace took up the center inside wall.    Laura continued her examination of the room and ideas formed, one after the other. She pulled the chair out and settled at the desk. Both were of a perfect height, and she couldn’t stop her smile. 

When a rake’s silver tongue fail to charm…
Ian Grant has wanted to court a certain lass for quite some time, but when his usual charm has no effect on Davina MacGregor, he stops talking and kisses her instead. And what a wonderful kiss it is too. Unfortunately, his rakish reputation precedes him and Ian somehow finds his honor in question and a challenge issued. Can he go to London for a Season without kissing anyone else?
A lass finds the tables turned on her….
Davina MacGregor only meant to protect her foolish family from being sent to the gallows should anyone discover what they’d done. She didn’t want to make Ian court her in secret, she just didn’t have another choice. But when he tires of her games and issues a challenge of his own…
Will the lass truly court the Scot?

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Courting the Scot Copyright © 2017 by Jane Charles
CHAPTER ONE
Near Bonnybridge, Scotland - March 1, 1815
Miss Davina MacGregor set her arrow and raised the bow. Her sight narrowed onto the bull’s eye as she pulled back on the string. Just as she was about to release, a large arm slipped around her waist. Startled, Davina let go, and the arrow flew high before arcing down and embedding itself in the dirt, just short of the bales of hay she’d stacked and painted for practice.She suppressed the delicious shiver at his touch. “Are ye so afraid of losin’ to me that ye have to cheat?” She’d known Ian Grant her entire life and though some may consider his arm around her an impropriety, she knew it was only so she’d miss the target. The MacGregors and Grants had a long family history, and she was just as certain Ian saw her no differently than he did his younger sisters, Fanella and Jesse.  “I wasna cheatin’, lass. I couldna help myself.” Ian’s warm breath against her neck caused her skin to prickle. Davina snorted as she turned, placed a palm against his hard chest and pushed him away. “I’m not one of yer Edinburgh or London ladies who swoon at yer nearness, Ian Grant.” Though she could certainly understand why they did. “Yer charms willna work on me. I’ve kent ye far too long to ken ye’ll try anythin’ to win a match.” Even though he did not hold a title, he was still landed, wealthy and handsome, and many ladies would not mind making Ian Grant their husband. Of course, there was the potential title that might hold the interest of many. If his older brother died without issue, as their uncle had, there was a possibility Ian would become the next Marquess of Brachton. Not that any of that mattered to Davina. She much preferred it when the marquessate had been held distantly, and in England, with the Scottish Grants being no different than her family.“Ye wound me, Davina.” He placed a hand over his heart. “I’m not tryin’ to charm ye, lass.” His green eyes twinkled as he grinned. “But is it workin’?”She laughed and turned away from him, set another arrow and took aim at the target. “Ye stay away this time. The last one doesna count.” Oh, if only he truly were trying to charm her, but she was no more than just another sister to Ian. Davina pulled back the string then let the arrow fly. It struck dead center and she turned, a wide grin on her face for she had finally beaten Ian Grant for the very first time.Except, Ian wasn’t looking at the target, but right at her. He wasn’t angry that she’d beat him. Instead, he studied her, an odd look of approval in his green eyes. “What?”“Do my charms really not work on ye?” he asked quietly, as if he really wished they did.Ian couldn’t be trying to flirt with her, could he? The very idea was frightening and thrilling, but Davina knew that if she answered honestly, she’d be setting herself up to be teased. Ian could never know she’d been half in love with him for the past year. If she answered honestly and he laughed at her, not only would she be crushed, but humiliated as well. “If yer missin’ the attention of a female, why don’t ye go off to London? It’s spring, the city will be fillin’ with ladies ready to hang on yer every word and prayin’ that ye’ll notice them.”“I’m not leavin’ this spring.” He still didn’t break eye contact. Instead he studied Davina, as if trying to gauge her reaction.Heat rose to her cheeks, and she quickly grabbed another arrow. “I thought ye were to accompany yer mother and sisters.” Ever since his sister, Mary, had gone off to London, married Lieutenant Soares, and followed the drum, their mother wouldn’t let another daughter have a Season without her. It wasn’t that they objected to the Lieutenant. They didn’t like that they hadn’t seen Mary in over two years. Davina set the arrow, pulled back on the string and let the arrow fly. It struck just to the side of the center mark.“They doona need me to escort them about,” Ian scoffed. “Besides, Lachlan is better suited for that position than me. He and Maddie are more capable of makin’ all the proper introductions.”Lachlan had married Madeline Trent little over a year ago. She was a lady, though Davina knew nothing of her family. Hopefully Maddie would have better luck with Ian’s sisters than Lachlan had, and there would be no more matches with Lieutenants leaving for the Continent.“Well, I suppose someone needs to remain behind to see to the crops and business.” Whisky business. Illegal whisky. Ian did have the full weight of the family business upon his shoulders. These days, Lachlan lived in England most of the time, and it was Ian who oversaw each and every detail from the planting of the first barley seed, to bundling up bottles and small barrels to sneak into England, much like her own family. For generations, the Grants and MacGregors had competed as to who produced the best whisky, while they worked together to avoid the excisemen. Except, the MacGregors hadn’t shipped anything in nearly a year. Uncle Aiden hadn’t been happy with the quality of whisky and decided to let the barrels age another year while trying to improve the taste of the batches they were brewing. “That is one of the reasons,” he answered slowly.Only one of them? What other reasons kept Ian here? It was a question Davina was afraid to ask. Instead, she grabbed another arrow to cover her nervousness.Why was he different today? This wasn’t the same Ian who teased and often irritated her.“Ye dinna ask the other reasons.”“I’m sure ‘tis none of my business.” Davina pulled back on the string and hoped he could not tell that her hands now shook.  “I’d be goin’ to London if ye were,” he said just as she let go. She watched the arrow fly toward the mark, sail over the hay and disappear into the woods. It wasn’t so much the words he spoke that shook her composure but the lower timbre of his voice that hinted at a promise. “Did ye hear what I said?” Ian had moved so close that his heat penetrated the back of her dress.As much as she wanted to read more into his words, she was too afraid to ask for fear the answer wasn’t one she’d dreamed of. “Ye ken Uncle Aiden doesna have time to take us off for a holiday in London.” She shrugged and strode away from Ian to gather her arrows. “Besides, we doona belong in London. Not like yer family.”“I said that I’d be in London if ye were.” Ian gently grabbed her arm to stop her from going any further and turned Davina toward him. Davina blinked up at him. “I heard ye,” she answered, a little more breathlessly than she’d like.His hand came up to cradle her cheek and Davina sucked in a breath. “Doesna that mean anythin’ to ye, lass?” His intense green eyes studied her.“What does it mean to ye?” she countered as her pulse thundered through her veins.“I wish to be here, with ye.” With that he lowered his head and brushed his lips against hers. Davina dropped her bow and grabbed his arm to keep from falling as her knees suddenly grew weak.Ian Grant was kissing her!
***
He’d thought he’d have to chase Davina MacGregor all over the field while she collected her arrows before he could claim a kiss. Not that he was certain he’d gain one. She could just as easily have slapped him for his advances instead of returning it as she was doing now. It had been a risk, that he well knew, but he could no longer keep the desire to have her in his arms buried any longer. A risk he was glad he’d taken.Pulling her close, his arms around her back, he traced the seam of her lip. When she parted, he swept in.This first kiss was meant to be a sweet one. In time, he would build from there, but he should have known better. He’d waited weeks and wasn’t ready to let her go with a promise to call again in a few days.Davina tilted her head and he tangled his tongue with hers. At first she was tentative, then fully engaged as her hands came up and her fingers threaded through his hair.He should have known that kissing Davina wouldn’t be like any other woman. This was not the first kiss he had stolen from an innocent, not that those hadn’t been given willingly, but they lacked even the barest hint of passion and were far too decorous for his tastes. Not Davina.  Once her lips parted and she learned her way, she was giving as well as she was taking. He’d always known it would be this way with her. Davina, a brave, beautiful and bold lass would not demur quietly or turn five shades of crimson after the mere brushing of lips. No, she’d conquer and demand more if it was something she liked, and Davina appeared to be liking this very much. As much as he did.Her breasts burned against his chest, and he longed to feel the weight of them in his hands, to lift her skirts and have her legs about his waist as he thrust deep inside and took her to heights of passion. It was a shame they were in an open field where anyone could come upon them. He should have waited until she’d gone into the woods for that last arrow before kissing her. There wouldn’t have been a chance of them being seen, and he could press forward in his suit.He pulled back. What the bloody hell was he thinking?And then, with a groan, he rested his forehead against hers. Their labored breaths mingled and Ian tried to come to terms with his thoughts and actions. Aye, he desired Davina, but that was no reason to treat her like some dockside whore. She was to be his.  Now he knew that better than ever, and he would show her all the care and respect one did a future wife. Tossing her skirts up in the woods at the first chance he was given was not the proper way to court her.Davina pulled back, curiosity in her dark eyes. “Why did ye do that?”Ian simply stared at her. “Because I’ve been wantin’ to.”She pushed him away and anchored her hands on her hips. “But why?”“It’s not obvious?” She lifted one dark eyebrow and pursed her lips. “Not to me.”“I’ve a likin’ for ye, Davina.” Bloody hell, he was blushing. “I have for some time now, and I thought perhaps ye might have a likin’ for me.”Slowly, she smiled. “I just might at that, Ian Grant.”Damn she was beautiful when she smiled. He reached out for her.Davina stepped back. “Nay. As much as I enjoyed yer kisses, I will no’ be playin’ that game with the likes of ye.”“Game?”“I’ve heard how ye go about breakin’ hearts in London and Edinburgh, I will not be yer next victim.”What the blazes was she talking about? “I doona go around breakin’ hearts.” She laughed and turned away from him, her homespun skirt billowing out. “Jesse and Fanella have told me all about how ye dance, kiss, melt a heart and go on to the next.”As soon as his sisters returned from London, he was going to throttle each of them. “I do no such thin’.”Davina grabbed an arrow from the ground and then turned to him. “Who do ye think I believe more? Yer sisters who are dear friends, or ye, an unrepentant rake?”Rake? He wasn’t a rake by any stretch of the imagination. “I would hope it is me, and that yer not callin’ my honor into question.”She tilted her head and frowned. “Not honor. I wouldna think to do so.” At least she thought he had honor. His sisters, on the other hand, had a lot to answer for. “I just doona think ye can help yerself.”“What?” Did she think he ran around kissing and caressing unsuspecting ladies, one after the other?“I think ye like ladies and if ye’re of a mind to be kissin’, ye kiss them.”Is that what she thought just happened? He simply felt like kissing her and now he’d move on? “I can assure ye that I doona go around kissin’ lasses just because it seems like a good idea in the moment.”“Ah ha, but ye do go around kissin’ them?”“Aye. Nay.” He stomped away from her and thrust his fingers through his hair. This was not what was supposed to happen next. “It isna what ye think.”“Then what is it?”Blast, how could he explain when he wasn’t so certain himself? He did like lasses, all lasses, but Davina was different. “I dinna ken what I was wantin’.” Somehow he knew that explanation was not going to suffice.“And ye do now?” she asked incredulously.“Aye!” He turned around and marched right back to her. “Ye. I want ye.”Davina blinked up at him. “I wish I could believe ye, but I willna have my heart broken, Ian Grant. How can I be certain that next week ye willna tire of kissin’ me and find another?”“Because I willna,” Ian ground out.Davina sucked in a breath. “Then prove it.”“How the blazes can I prove somethin’ like that?”“By not kissin’ anynone else, of course.”Well, that should be easy enough. There wasn’t a lass within five counties that he had ever wanted to kiss besides Davina.“In London.”He jerked at her words. “London?”“Aye.” She lifted her chin. “If ye can enjoy the Season without kissin’ and dancin’ then I’ll ken ye willna break my heart.“Ye want me to go to London? Now?”“Or ye willna be kissin’ me again.”“I’m not goin’ to go off to London to prove myself.”“Then I guess we’ve reached an impasse.” With that, she picked her bow up off the ground and marched past him, toward the manor. Ian thrust his fingers through his hair. How the bloody hell had he ended up in this mess? He meant to kiss, court, marry and seduce. In that order. Not be given an ultimatum to prove himself.