The beast of yorkshire, p.1
The Beast of Yorkshire, page 1
Contents
TItle Page
Copyright
Dedication
Book List
Book Description
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Epilogue
Books by Tammy Jo Burns
About the Author
The Beast of Yorkshire
By
Tammy Jo Burns
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
All Rights are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.
The Beast of Yorkshire, Those Scandalous Taggarts, Book 1
Copyright © 2016 by Tammy Jo Burns
Cover design by The Killion Group, Inc.
Dedication
For all the women who have ever believed in “happily ever afters,” this book’s for you.
Book List
The Reluctant Lords Trilogy:
A Traitorous Heart
A Thin Line
To Love and Protect
The Reluctant Lords Boxed Set
The Rogue Agents Trilogy:
Taming the Wicked Wulfe
Seducing the Ruthless Rogue
Enticing the Weary Warrior
Those Scandalous Taggarts:
The Beast of Yorkshire
Wild Lord Taggart - Out now!
All books can be read as stand-alones; however, you will see repeating characters throughout the two trilogies. To purchase these books, click on the titles or to read more about any of these titles, please click here.
Sign up for my newsletter here.
Book Description
Penelope Presley has suffered through unspeakable loss and scandal. Forced to live under her cruel Grandfather’s thumb, she finds herself both relieved and frightened when he tells her she will be marrying the man known as the Beast of Yorkshire.
Having already lost two wives and a fiancée, Duncan Taggart, Duke of Yorkshire, is desperate for an heir. To have an heir, he must have a wife, but who is ever going to willingly marry a man with a reputation such as his? He takes matters into his own hands and pays Penelope’s grandfather an exorbitant amount of money to marry her.
When Penelope arrives at Taggart Hall, it is to find her future husband is not the old man she believed she would find. Instead, he’s a handsome, virile man that makes her heart race and her body ache for his touch. The longer she’s around Duncan, the more certain she is that not only does he not deserve the horrible nickname he has been given, but that he also had absolutely nothing to do with those women’s deaths.
While he is away tending to business, Penelope’s world falls apart. Uncertain who to trust, she flees to London with only the clothes on her back. When Duncan arrives home to find her gone, he wastes no time going after her. Will he be able to find Penelope before the killer does? And will Penelope and Duncan ever be able to find the happiness they deserve?
Prologue
“Sit down, Penelope,” the old man said gruffly from behind his desk.
Penelope took the seat indicated. All she wanted to do was to slouch against the back of the chair, to relax, but the man sitting across from her would not approve. Instead, she sat ramrod straight, her slightly upward tilted chin was the only sign of rebellion in her posture. She smoothed her hands over the charcoal gray dress she wore, representing her transition from full mourning to living life once more. This had been the longest year of her life. “You asked for me, Grandfather?”
“’Tis time, Penelope.”
“Time for what?”
“Don’t play the dunce with me, girl. You know exactly what I mean. It’s time you took your sister’s place.”
Penelope’s pulse pounded so hard she could hear it in her ears. What is he planning now? she wondered worriedly. She schooled her features so as not to give away her concern. “What are you talking about, Grandfather?” she asked again, attempting to give a hint of vacuousness to her question. She found on most occasions her grandfather preferred to believe women had nothing between their ears but air.
“I’m talking about her marriage that never happened. I have put the bloody Beast off long enough for you to observe your mourning.”
“It hasn’t been a full year, Grandfather,” she argued.
“It’s been long enough, and you should feel grateful I’ve let you carry on this long.”
“Carry on?”
“Yes. What else would you call being allowed to mourn a traitor and would-be murderer? It’s time everyone put this behind us and recovered our good name and the family coffers. Your father—”
“Don’t you mean your son?” Penelope interrupted the old man, unable to remain quiet a moment longer.
“Do not speak unless spoken to, girl,” the old man bellowed.
Penelope did not so much as flinch. She refused to give the old man any indication that she feared him. She calmly observed his appearance. The last year had been hard on him. He had lost so much weight he looked to be a shadow of his former self. His face was drawn and redness had begun to travel up his neck. Little drops of spittle formed at the corners of his mouth.
“As I was saying, your father,” he said emphatically, “singlehandedly ruined this family. First he ruins us financially, and then he turns traitor in an attempt to recoup the money. The marriage agreement I made with Yorkshire will see us well on our way back to financial solvency.”
“And pray tell, Grandfather, how is this marriage going to re-establish our good family name? Especially since you are forcing me into a family known throughout the ton as the Scandalous Taggarts.”
“It won’t, but with the right amount of money, your brother and I will put this family back where it should be.”
“Going to buy your way back into everyone’s good graces? Do you really think it will be that easy?”
“I told you to shut your mouth,” the old man ground out.
Penelope clamped her mouth shut, becoming fearful that she had pushed him too far and would soon suffer physical repercussions. She stared over his right shoulder, refusing to make eye contact with him. Her hands were so tightly clasped in her lap, her knuckles had turned white.
“I have been in contact with Yorkshire, and he is sending a carriage for you at the end of the week along with half of the money. He is sending it in good faith that you will follow through with the wedding once you arrive. As soon as the vows have been spoken and the ink dry on the marriage certificate, he will send the rest of the money. Then—”
“Then you begin to corrupt my brother. Are you going to turn him into a greedy money monger like you, that thinks nothing of his family but only how many pounds he has in the bank?” The old man stood and knocked his chair back against the wall, but Penelope had been pushed too far. She was tired of being overrun by this…this tyrant. “You are despicable and I despise you. My father only ever wanted to rusticate in the country, but he felt compelled to try and please you. And what did it lead to? Nothing but death and destruction.” The entire time she had been speaking, the old Marquess had stalked around the desk until he stood in front of her. Refusing to allow him to feel superior, Penelope stood, and looked him in the eye. “I hate you and what you have done to this family,” she snarled through her teeth, her hands fisted at her sides.
She was not expecting what happened next. The back of the old man’s gnarled right hand lashed across her right cheek. Penelope lost her balance and fell backwards. The chair scooted back, and she fell in an unceremonious heap on the floor, cradling her cheek. Her eye felt as if it would pop out of its socket, and she could taste a trickle of blood where she had bit the inside of her mouth. Her eyes were tearing up, but she refused to let them fall, refused to show any sign of weakness to this man.
“Since you do not seem to understand the situation quite well enough, I’ll go over it one more time,” the Marquess of Bolingbroke said, staring down his granddaughter.
“What’s going on in here?” A young man stood in the doorway, demanding to know.
“Go to your room,” Bolingbroke ordered her brother.
“No, let him stay,” Penelope countered, getting to her feet and putting the chair between her and her grandfather. “Allow him to see what type of man he’s going to have to become to live up to your standards. Let him see how he should treat his family members,” Penelope challenged.
“Fine. Come in, Grandson. Now, Granddaughter, this
is what you will do. You will travel to Yorkshire. You will marry the Duke of Yorkshire in your sister’s place.”
“But he’s killed three women!” Her brother, the Earl of Blackstock, argued. “We can’t allow Pen to go. We’ll never see her again!”
“It’s done,” Penelope answered. “Half of the money up front and half upon delivery of one reluctant wife. Correct, Lord Bolingbroke?”
“No,” her brother denied shakily.
“And with all that blood money, Grandfather is going to teach you how to be a proper earl and rebuild the family fortune. He wants to groom you to be just like him, Sam.”
“I will renounce the title.”
“The bloody hell you will,” Grandfather said. “And to make sure you,” he pointed to Penelope, “follow through with your end—”
“What more could you do to me? You’ve already condemned me to death. What now?”
“If you do not marry within seventy-two hours of arriving, I will have your mother committed to Bedlam.”
“You wouldn’t,” Samuel gasped, still standing by the doorway.
“He would,” Penelope replied, feeling the nails being pounded into her coffin.
Chapter 1
“Certificate of Marriage,” Penelope Presley read the words aloud again for what must be the thousandth time. Each time she unfolded it, she only managed to read those three words before her stomach began to churn sickeningly, and she quickly closed it once more. She rested her head against the luxurious leather squabs of the well-equipped coach and looked out the window. The beautiful Yorkshire wilderness was lost to her even though it seemed as if she were engrossed. Today was the last day of life as she knew it. She would be arriving at her fiancé’s house in Yorkshire this evening, and they would marry as soon as possible. She supposed she should be thankful for the respite the time of mourning had given her to brace herself for her upcoming nuptials. Instead, she felt angry, resentful, and…tired, so…very…tired…
“Miss Presley. Miss Presley.”
Penelope heard a voice calling for her as if from a deep well. The carriage was inordinately still. She peeked out the window and noticed that twilight had descended. “Did I fall asleep?” she asked even as she stretched her stiff muscles and rotated her neck to remove the kinks from it.
“It would appear so, miss,” the footman said as he stood at the door, holding it open.
“Where are we?”
“Taggart Hall, Miss Presley.”
“Already?”
“Yes, miss. May I help you down?”
“Yes,” she said as she gathered up her reticule and the piece of paper that would tie her to the Beast of Yorkshire for the rest of her life, however long that would be. Her reticule hung from her wrist, and she clutched the marriage certificate to her chest with her right hand while extending her left to the footman. Her legs felt like jelly after her time on the road. She swayed just the slightest bit, and the footman looked unsure as to what to do.
“Are you all right, miss?”
“Yes, just getting my land legs back underneath me.”
“Oh, yes, Miss Presley.”
“Thank you for escorting me from London, and give my thanks to the coachman for getting us here safely, as well.”
“Yes, Miss Presley. It was our pleasure,” the man said with a nod before turning to unload her few bags.
Penelope turned and studied at the house looming before her. It looked like a giant, dark smudge on the horizon with light glowing in windows here and there making it look garish. A strong wind carrying the slightest hint of the sea came whipping through trying to tear her hair free of its mooring. A crashing sound reached her ears, and she looked up in time to see a large, hulking figure braced on the parapet walk. Distant lightning lit the sky showing the man’s cape flying up around him reminding her of some winged phantom of her nightmares.
The door opened, shining a welcoming light on her, chasing off the encroaching darkness. A well-dressed older man opened the door. “Miss Presley, I presume?”
She looked back up, but whoever had been there earlier was now gone. A shiver raced up her spine before she shook it off and answered his question, “Yes.”
“We’ve been expecting you. Welcome to Taggart Hall.”
* * *
Duncan watched the carriage lumber up the drive. It drew to a stop in front of the Hall, and the footman jumped nimbly to the ground. He held his breath as the man opened the door and stood there. Was she in there? Was she refusing to leave the relative safety of the coach? The wind picked up pulling at his cape and overly long hair. He put his foot up on the low part of the parapet and leaned on the taller piece with his left arm. His body relaxed when he saw her stepping down from the coach.
She was here. After the long wait, the fighting with the Marquess of Bolingbroke, back and forth through their solicitors, she was finally here. He had won her hand by default and agreed to pay a king’s ransom for her. He could now start over and put the past behind him. She would help him. Penelope. At that moment a distant bolt of lightning lit the sky enough that he could see she had found him on the parapet. He stood frozen, unsure what to do. When have you ever been unsure of yourself? he questioned himself. Since women seem to choose death rather than being with you, Beast, he mocked himself.
But Penelope was made of sterner stuff. Together they would forge a new life. They would prove all the gossips wrong. He really wasn’t the beast they accused him of being. She was not like her family. She was strong. She would help him prove to everyone he was not a killer. She would live. She had to. He would keep her at a distance. He would make certain this marriage stayed exactly what it was meant to be—a business arrangement, nothing more, nothing less.
He closed his eyes and thought back to that ball when he had first seen her. She had been so quiet and reserved compared to her sister. Penelope hid in the shadows and watched the world pass her by. He understood why. Anytime she stood next to her twin, she had been completely and utterly ignored, invisible. She was quiet, stoic, and had a strength of character that would serve her well here in the wilds of the moors.
Duncan turned to go inside but heard the distant drumming begin. “Not tonight,” he groaned and lifted his face to the sky as it was lit by another lightning strike. The drumming crescendoed until the thunder sounded as if it were part of it. “Bloody hell.” He raced inside, down the stairs, and across to the stable.
“Heard the drums, Your Grace. Cyclops is ready,” he said, indicating a black horse with a patch of white that covered both eyes.
“Guns are in your saddlebags,” another man said, holding out a sword in a scabbard.
“Many thanks,” Duncan said, wrapping the scabbard’s belt about his waist and fastening it. He grabbed a fistful of Cyclops’ midnight mane and catapulted himself onto the horse’s back. Energized, the horse pawed the air as Duncan turned him. They left the stables as fast as Duncan dared with the moon dancing in and out of the clouds.
* * *
The butler escorted Penelope to a room that appeared to be an office. She couldn’t ignore the pitying glances he sent her direction whenever he believed she wasn’t looking. If she had been in the man’s position, she would have done the same thing. No, she would have been screaming at the poor girl to run as fast as she could.
“His Grace will be along momentarily.”
“Once he’s finished with his walk five stories in the air with a gale blowing in, you mean?” The calmness in her voice belied the fear and nervousness she felt inside.
“If you would have a seat, I will have tea and biscuits brought in shortly.”
“Thank you.” It did not go without notice that he had ignored her question.
The man bobbed politely then quickly left the room.
Unable to sit, Penelope walked over to the window and looked out, unsure as to what she should do with herself. A man wearing a cloak practically flew down the drive on the back of a dark horse. She heard the rattle of the tray and spun around. “Who was that?”
