Lord suitor, p.1
Lord Suitor, page 1
Evernight Publishing ®
www.evernightpublishing.com
Copyright© 2015 Raven McAllan
ISBN: 978-1-77233-455-5
Cover Artist: Jay Aheer
Editor: JS Cook
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
DEDICATION
To Paul and Doris … JoAnne and the Evernight team.
And the RavDor Chicks who voted unanimously for this title.
LORD SUITOR
Cursed Treasure, 1
Raven McAllan
Copyright © 2015
Chapter One
Autumn, 1814
Devon, England
Tessa loved Devon. The hills in the distance, the sea murmuring in the background, and the wind that got up in a minute and teased the treetops and grass of the rolling fields around her. Whatever the season, she was drawn to this area of the country. However, she admitted to herself, autumn was her favorite. It was a joy to see the blackberries ripe, plump, and juicy, and decking the hedgerows as they displayed themselves for picking and eating—as it was to watch the leaves turn to the golds and russets of the end of the year, and fall to carpet the earth with their glorious hues. It was satisfying to know the harvest was safely gathered and the grain and vegetables securely stored to see them through anything the winter would throw at them.
Here, she felt she was herself. Not someone who had to appeal to those chinless wonders who called themselves young bucks or pinks, or even the elite gentlemen of the ton. Here she was just Tessa. Even at night when, as her maman said, pixies danced and the night creatures played, Tessa felt welcome. Perhaps being born on the stroke of midnight had something to do with it. Not only did she straddle two days, with her birthday on All Hallows Eve, she hovered over the cusp where the veil between the living and those who had passed was thinnest. She sensed emotions deeply, sometimes to her detriment.
Tessa shook her head and let her hair dance around her shoulders. Freed from its normal neat and tidy-ish chignon, it fell almost to her waist in a mass of russet-colored curls, and covered her cloak like a cape. She kicked a pile of leaves high into the air, spun around in a circle, and let her hair fly out around her. She laughed, her voice melodious on the night air. Then she sighed. For some reason, tonight she was twitchy, and she had no idea why. That in itself was peculiar. Tessa thought deeply and had an intuition far greater than most. It was rare she couldn't work out what her feelings and thoughts meant. Perhaps because her parents were, in the words of her sister Amalia, loved up, and Tessa felt excluded? Where Amalia got her expressions heaven knows, but Tessa thought it fitted their maman and papa perfectly. However, it didn't explain her own state of mind.
Oh, it wasn't their fault she felt cast adrift, it was the whole find-a-soul-mate scenario. Why couldn't she experience that?
After a harmonious evening, playing childhood games such as "go fish" and "spillikins," the rest of the family had retired to bed, and as far as Tessa knew all their candles were snuffed, and all the other occupants of the house were fast asleep. But not Tessa. The age-old call of the night had tempted her senses and demanded she listen and join them—it—outside.
The air sang, and the scents of the earth and all things that grew there surrounded Tessa, and as she'd hoped, brought a modicum of peace. However, it was not enough to stop her wondering why she was on edge.
She gathered her cloak around her as a gust of wind teased the fallen leaves to swirl upward in a mini whirlwind of what would be, in daylight, glorious color. She could imagine it. They created a barrier between her and the trees on either side of the ride—one of the swaths of grass several yards wide, which bisected the woods around Birch Hall's gardens. For several seconds she was in the center of a cloud of dancing foliage. Several twigs and leaves landed on her hair and shoulders, and one tiny one settled on her nose. Tessa scrunched her nose up and blew it off. It tickled.
A rabbit, barely discernable in the darkness, scurried across the grass with hardly a look in her direction, followed by several others. The final one—the buck—stopped a few yards away, sat, twitched, and then satisfied all was well, disappeared down a burrow.
Somewhere nearby in the dark night, an owl hooted to be answered by one closer to her.
Tessa shivered. Stories of smugglers and their way of communicating with each other infiltrated her troubled thoughts, and she looked around nervously. She should not be out tonight, but that tempting, teasing, indefinable something called to her, and she'd ignored her thoughts and left the house. Now maybe it was time to regret her spur of the moment decision. Heaven knew Mijo had warned her about her ‘act now, think later’ impetuousness.
A gust of wind shook a nearby tree, and its leaves fell softly to the ground like silent raindrops of molten gold. Tessa shook her head at her fanciful thoughts. She bit back a whimper as a whirring noise made her jump and turn around. The glimpse of the pale feathers of an owl as it flew in front of her went some way to assailing her fears.
Fool, All Hallows' Eve is not yet upon us. She should know. It would add another year to her age and yet more insinuations of how unmarriageable she had become. As far as Tessa was concerned, long may that state reign.
However the itch, the damnable Tessa early warning system she'd been blessed with and used to her benefit on many occasions, struck her with enough force for her steps to falter, her mouth to go hollow and dry, and her stomach to churn. Really, it was one of her least sensible ideas to come out and walk at this hour, with no moon and the smell of a storm coming.
Some people said Tessa was being fanciful when she sniffed the air like a gundog and said she could smell bad weather. But she was rarely wrong. Hopefully tonight would be one of those times when her senses let her down. She didn't want to be caught outside in one of the violent storms that sprung up in no time along this part of the south Devon coast. However she needed to walk her fidgets off, compose herself, and try to appear even half-enthusiastic about the family's return to the capital for the forthcoming season.
She smiled to herself as she recalled the various degrees of antipathy cast up by her siblings.
Amalia, the youngest, and about to embark on her first season as a deb, was of course, ecstatic. The twins, Marielle and Sybille, were ambivalent, Cecily, her other sister, and Dare, her brother, enigmatic about everything as usual. Sometimes she wondered how her parents had such ornery children.
She strode on, deep in thought. Something was bothering her parents, and for once she had no idea what it was. Even with those extra senses she rarely used, or revealed to others, she couldn't fathom out what it was. For once they had let her down, and it didn't sit well with her. Tessa needed to know that all was right in her world, and if it wasn't, that she could try to sort it.
The clap of thunder and the flash of lightning that streaked across the sky made her jump and scream. The owl hooted again. A second crash, louder than before, filled the air, and somewhere close by, Tessa thought she heard a horse whinny.
She spun around in the direction of the sound, her heart beating much faster than it ever should, and squinted in the all-enveloping darkness.
Nothing.
Tessa took a deep, juddering breath, and swallowed. Sometimes an overactive imagination was a pesky thing. Time to turn back. Before...before nothing. Just walk steadily and oh my goodness, what...
The bushes to one side of the ride moved, there was the jangle of metal, a muttered oath, and then a large hand clamped over her mouth.
Tessa bit hard on the flesh and was rewarded with a swiftly cut-off profanity before she found herself lifted into the air with her legs dangling. She flailed her feet in the direction—she hoped—of her captor. It seemed her Tessa early warning system had failed her this time.
Her boot-clad foot hit what she assumed was a leg—pity it wasn't higher, didn't Dare say that part of a man was the most vulnerable?
"Ooft, stop it, woman, or I'll put you out." The voice was cultured, at odds with the rough homespun he—she assumed it was a he—wore and which scratched her cheek. "Behave now and no one gets hurt." He let out a soft, two-toned whistle, which was returned from somewhere close by.
Lightning zigzagged across the sky and lit up her captor. Tessa got a brief glimpse of a gray-whiskered face and dark brows above brown, almost black, piercing eyes, the like she'd never seen before. It was such an anomaly she stared, open-mouthed. The man swore, ducked his head, and flung her over his shoulder.
Her mouth shut with a snap as her chin clipped his shoulder hard enough to bring tears to her eyes. Tessa's brow bumped off his back as he turned abruptly and left the ride to push his way through the bushes and into the trees. It was not only ignominious, it made her head spin.
"What are you doing?" As soon as she could draw breath to speak, Tessa did so. She drummed her feet on his chest and her arms on his arse. For some inexplicable reason, she had to force herself not to curl her fingers into the firm flesh. "Put me down this instant, or I'll scream." Damned if my protestation is only halfhearted.
"Scream away. Who will hear?" He laughed quietly and clamped her legs with one arm
"Ouch."
"Sweetheart, I warned you, be quiet." The nip on her rear was swift and sure.
Does he have five arms? For he always seems to have one free to do as he pleases.
"Don't you sweetheart me, you ruffian." Mindful of his diktat, Tessa hissed the words. "How dare you tell me to be quiet? This is my family's land." Tessa was too angry to be apprehensive with regards to her precarious situation, and unwittingly her voice rose. "What are you doing and ahh...!" Not only did she have a pain on her skull, she now had a pain in her temple and it hurt like nothing she'd ever experienced. Not even when she'd fallen out of a tree aged seven.
"I did warn you."
She tried to ask what he meant, but bright-colored lights swirled in front of her eyes and the thunder took up residence in her head before everything went black.
****
"You've gone and done it now, youngster. She be dead. How you goi'n t'splain that to his Lor'ship, eh?" The rough voice echoed and fluctuated like the sound of waves rushing in and out of one of the numerous caves in the cliffs below Birch House. Tessa took a sharp inward breath and winced as one of the drums of the local regiment played a brisk march on her skull. How dare they? She needed to sleep, not be entertained in such a manner.
"She's not dead," the smooth-as-her-morning-chocolate voice said. "I didn't hit her that hard, a mere tap. Just to let the ponies get on. See, she's still breathing, you fool. Look, her bosom is heaving like a ship under full sail."
A ship under full sail indeed. She may be nicely endowed in that area, but not to those extremes. That picture in her mind conjured up Lady Frame, whose bosom was akin to his description.
Tessa moaned and struggled to sit up. Strong hands held her firmly.
"Don't wriggle, woman. You may well do me a mischief if you do, and I swear you might not welcome the results."
She stilled immediately as a distinct bulge made its presence known in the cleft of her arse.
"There now, see? She's wakening." The velvety, cultured voice spoke once more.
Was it familiar? Tessa couldn't get her thoughts straight enough to work that out.
"Come on, sweetheart, show us you're back with us again." Those strong arms—she had no reason to believe it was any other—gathered her up, and she felt safe and cossetted as a calloused hand stroked her cheek and then gave it a gentle tap. "Stop pretending."
If she considered she was cosseted before, now she felt scolded like a recalcitrant child.
"Get you off, young sir." The rough voice had become urgent. "Leave her with me. I'll knock her out again and get away afore she comes around again."
"Rubbish, enough of the violent thoughts. You go and do your bit, and I'll speak to you tomorrow. She won't see my face. The men need to know all is well, and you can reach them better than I can. I'll do what is needed here. Off you go before my lady opens her eyes and clocks your ugly phizog. It might send her off again."
There was a cackle of laughter, then a rustle and the fading sound of someone walking over what sounded like shingle.
"Come on now, I know you're awake. Your breathing changed. Stop playing the dead man, and let's get on."
She bit her lip as she tried to open her eyes. They didn't want to cooperate, and she suddenly realized why.
"Why am I blindfolded?" Was that weak and whinging voice really hers? "Take it off at once." There, surely that sounded more in command?
It seemed not. Someone laughed.
"Sorry, sweetheart, nothing doing. It's in your own best interest not to see anything. Look to the wall while the gentlemen do their work."
Tessa wasn't a Birch for no reason. Hadn't her maman survived to escape the terror and come to England from France? She wasn't going to listen to some smuggler—for she was sure that was who he was, the gentlemen being another name for those of that ilk—telling her what she could and couldn't do. Suddenly, she realized her hands weren't tied. With as much stealth as she could muster, Tessa put her fingers behind her head and fumbled with the knots there.
Her captor laughed quietly. "Oh, no, you don't want to do that, you know." Large and calloused hands took hers and held them tightly. "Best to stay in the dark. About everything. Even about who is doing this." Strong lips met hers, and his tongue teased and demanded entrance to her mouth, thence to mesh and dance with her own.
Tessa had thought she'd opened her mouth to object, but once he deepened the kiss, all thoughts of protest disappeared. The tingles and shivers that invaded her body were like naught she'd ever known and she wanted more. Lots more. Involuntarily, she leaned toward him, and his hands tightened before he ended the kiss to speak in a thick voice.
"No, sweetheart, no more or I won't be responsible for my actions." He put her off his lap, stood up, and pulled her up onto her feet.
Damn this blindfold. I want to see him, to touch him. She hardly dare formulate the thought "to touch him." How forward am I?
Well, if he wouldn't cooperate, she'd have to take the initiative. Tessa wasn't her mother's daughter for nothing. She moved their linked hands until she came into contact with the rough jacket she'd felt against her cheek earlier, and searched for the lapels. Once she found them, she held on to them, stood on her tiptoes to get a better purchase, and tugged hard. It was like trying to move a rock. She lost her balance and swayed forward to fall against a hard and undoubtedly male body with a bulge that caressed her tummy. She gasped, and he laughed.
"You see, sweetheart, my staff aches to be inside you."
It does? I wonder what that would be like? Luckily Mijo, her maman, had explained all about the intricacies of a male and female coming together in such a manner, in great detail. And said very frankly it was for pleasure as well as procreation. She'd even given Tessa the intimate details of how not to increase unless she wanted to.
Tessa rubbed against him again, and he groaned. "You are playing with fire." Tessa gasped as his fingers slipped under the neckband of her gown and stroked the swell of her breast. She needed to touch him, and with reckless abandon she tugged at the hem of his shirt and released it from the waistband of his trousers to find the hard hair-covered skin of his midriff. She curled her fingers into the hairs as she discovered how smooth the skin under them was.
He chuckled. "To play unsighted is such sweet torment, eh?"
Tessa splayed her fingers and dipped her pinkie into his navel. As much as she wanted to move it lower and discover just what a staff felt like, that was a step too far.
"Sweetheart." His fingers found her nipple and tightened on the hard nub.
Tessa pushed into his hand and moaned. "Oh, more." The sweet sting was almost perfect, but it wasn't enough. "Please, more."
"Do you know what you're asking for?"
She didn't, but she wanted to find out.
"Maybe you could show me?" Blindfolded as she was, Tessa felt bold, intrepid even.
"Maybe I could at that." His hand moved, and she felt momentarily bereft before her world spun again as he lifted her into his arms. This time the way he cradled her was that of a lover not a captor. His feet crunched on the ground, and then he stopped and Tessa found herself lowered onto something soft.
"I don't think my gentlemen friends thought this would be used in such a way, but to me it is a fitting bed for you, my lady."
Cold air hit her legs, and Tessa realized he, whoever he was, had lifted her skirts.
What was she doing? How reckless and unlike her normal take-no-prisoners self. Why the sudden change of heart? With an unknown man. All the horror stories and warning her maman had told her came rushing back. Strangely it was not the thought of murder that was uppermost.
"I have no sponge or vinegar," she said in a breathy voice.
