Windswept Page 28

  A lump stuck in her throat as she watched them. Although Justine had Catrin’s coloring and features, it was Evan whom the little girl most emulated. She, too, could never sleep past dawn, and she was far braver than Catrin had ever been, getting into more scrapes than such a tiny girl should. Already she was bilingual, speaking both Welsh and English.

  It was Welsh she spoke now. “Papa,” she said in her lilting voice, “sing me about the maid in the garden.”

  “Yes, my sweet.” In a low, rumbling voice he sang the first verse of an old Irish folk song that Justine had fallen in love with:

  There was a maid in her father’s garden

  A gentleman then passing by

  He stood awhile and he gazed upon her

  Saying, “Fair young lady, will you marry me?”

  Catrin stood motionless as he continued the tale of the woman whose long-lost love returns to claim her after seven years at sea. All the while, he stroked Justine’s tousled curls, and Justine watched him with the trusting expression children reserve only for their parents.

  Her throat tightened painfully. It was hard to believe that Evan had ever worried about being a father, that he’d once feared he might do violence to any child of theirs. He was so good with Justine, so kind and patient. Sometimes too kind and patient, for Justine had him wrapped about her little finger.

  But Catrin could never deny him the pleasure of spoiling their daughter. She knew what it meant to him to see Justine’s face light up at his words of praise.

  Catrin placed her hand on the faint swell of her stomach. And she would let him spoil the next child and the next and the next.

  He finished the song and glanced up to see her standing there. A smile broke over his face. “You’re up early this morning, my love. Have you come to watch the sunrise with us?”

  His words reminded her of why she’d been searching for him, and her fears now felt foolish. He probably didn’t even realize what day it was. Neither of them had spoken of the curse since that morning in the clearing.

  “I woke up . . . and you weren’t there and . . .” She trailed off, uncertain whether to mention what had made her hurry from their bed.

  But as she moved to his side, he took her hand and squeezed it. “I’m here, my darling.” His eyes were solemn as he stared up at her. “I’m alive and well and plan to remain so for the rest of our lives.”

  As always, he didn’t belittle or chastise her for her fears. He simply showed them for what they were. Shadows. Misty shapes that couldn’t bear up under the light of their all-consuming love.

  She hadn’t realized until now how much this particular fear had permeated her life—how terrified she’d been of waking to find at the end of three years that she was still accursed, doomed to lose him.

  And as the sun broke over the mountains in a shower of pink and orange and lavender, dusting the greening hills with a shimmer of golden light, the last vestiges of worry and despair melted away from her like dew beneath the heat of the morning sun.

  “Life is good, isn’t it?” Evan said as he lifted his face to hers.

  With a smile, she bent to kiss his lips. “Life is very, very good.”

  Will Niall Lindsey, the Earl of Margrave, and Brilliana Payne Trevor, the girl whose heart he broke seven years ago, be able to put their pasts behind them and work together to clear her father’s name?

  Keep reading for a sneak peek at the next sizzling installment in New York Times bestselling author Sabrina Jeffries’s Sinful Suitors series!

  The Pleasures of Passion

  Coming Summer 2017 from Pocket Books!

  PROLOGUE

  London

  1823

  Seventeen-year-old Brilliana Payne shoved the note from Lord Margrave’s heir—Niall ­Lindsey—into her pocket. Then she slipped into her ­mother’s bedchamber. “Mama,” she whispered. “Are you awake?”

  Her mother jerked her head up from amid the feather pillows and satin covers like a startled deer. Brilliana winced to see her mother’s lips drawn with pain and her eyes dulled by laudanum, even in mid-afternoon.

  “What do you need, love?” Mama asked in her usual gentle voice.

  Oh, how she loathed deceiving Mama. But until her suitor spoke to his parents about their marrying, she had to keep the association secret.

  “I’m going for my walk in Green Park.” Where Niall, my love, will join me. “Do you need anything?”

  Despite her pain, Mama smiled. “Not now, my dear. You go enjoy yourself. And tell Gilly to make sure you don’t stray near the woods.”

  “Of course.”

  What a lie. The woods were where she would meet Niall, where Gilly would keep watch to make sure no one saw him and Brilliana together. Thank heaven her maid was utterly loyal to her.

  Brilliana started to leave, then paused. “Um. Papa said he won’t be home until evening.” Which meant he wouldn’t be home until he’d lost all his money at whatever game he was playing tonight. “Are you sure you don’t need me?”

  She dearly hoped not. Niall’s note had struck her with dread, partly because he rarely wrote to her. Usually he just met her at Green Park for her daily stroll when he could get away from friends or family. Something must be wrong.

  Still, it shouldn’t take more than an hour to find out what. And perhaps let him steal a kiss or two.

  She blushed. Niall was very good at that.

  Then again, he ought to be. He was rumored to be a rogue with the ladies, although Brilliana was convinced it was merely because of his wild cousin, Lord Knightford, with whom he spent far too much time. Or so she’d heard.

  “I’ll be fine,” Mama said tightly. “I have my medicine right here.”

  Medicine, ha! It made Mama almost as ill as whatever mysterious disease had gripped her. The doctors still couldn’t figure out what was wrong with Mama, but they continued to try ­everything—bleeding her, cupping her, giving her assorted potions. And every time a new treatment was attempted, Brilliana hoped it would work, would be worth Mama’s pain.

  Guilt swamped Brilliana. “If you’re sure . . .”

  “Go, dear girl! I’m just planning to sleep, anyway.”

  That was all the encouragement Brilliana needed to hurry out.

  A short while later, she and Gilly were in Green Park, waiting at the big oak for Niall.

  “Did he say why he wanted to meet, miss?” Gilly asked.

  “No. Just that it was urgent. And it had to be today.”

  Gilly flashed her a knowing smile. “Perhaps he means to propose at last.”

  Her breath caught. “I doubt it. He would have approached Papa if that were the case.”

  “Not if he wanted your consent first.” Gilly smoothed her skirts. “That’s how all the gentlemen is doing things these days, I’m told. And just think what your mama will say when she hears you’ve snagged an heir to an earl!”

  “I haven’t snagged anyone yet.” Besides, the word snag was too coarse for what she wanted from Niall—his mind, his heart, his soul. Since hers already belonged to him.

  “There you are,” said a masculine voice behind them. “Thank God you came.”

  Brilliana’s heart leapt as she turned to see Niall striding up to them. At twenty-three, he was quite the handsomest man she’d ever known—lean-hipped and tall and possessed of the most gorgeous hazel eyes, which changed color from brown to green depending on the light. And his unruly mop of gold-streaked brown hair made her itch to set it to rights.

  Though she didn’t dare be so forward in front of Gilly. Not until she and Niall were formally betrothed. Assuming that ever happened.

  Offering Brilliana his arm, he cast Gilly a pointed glance. “I’ll need a few minutes alone with your mistress. Will you keep watch?”

  Gilly curtsied deeply. “Of course, my lord.”

  Then, without any of his usual pleasantries, he led Brilliana into the woods to the little clearing where they usually talked.

  Her feeling of dread in
creased. “You do ­realize how fortunate we are that Gilly is a romantic. Otherwise, she would never let us do these things.”

  “I know, Bree.” Though he was the only one to call her that, she rather liked the nickname. It made her sound carefree, when she felt anything but.

  He halted well out of earshot of Gilly. “And then I wouldn’t get the chance to do this.”

  He drew her into his arms for a long, ardent kiss, and she melted. If he was kissing her, he obviously didn’t mean to break with her. And as long as they had this between them . . .

  But it was over far too soon. And when he drew back to stare at her with a haunted look, her dread returned.

  “What’s wrong?” she whispered.

  Glancing away, he mumbled a decidedly ungentlemanly oath. “You are going to be furious with me.”

  She fought to ignore the alarm knotting her belly. “I could never be furious with you. What has happened? Just tell me.”

  “This morning I fought a duel.”

  “What?” Her heart dropped into her stomach. Good Lord. How could that be? “I-I don’t understand.” She must have heard him wrong. Surely the man she’d fallen in love with wasn’t the violent sort.

  “I killed a man, Bree. In a duel.”

  She hadn’t misheard him, then. Still scarcely able to believe it, she roamed the little clearing, her blood like sludge in her veins. “What on earth would even make you do such a thing?”

  “It doesn’t matter.” He threaded his fingers through his sun-kissed hair. “It’s done, and now I risk being hanged.”

  Hanged? Why would he be—

  Of course. Dueling was considered murder. Her heart stilled. Her love was a murderer. And now he could die, too!

  “So I’m leaving England tonight,” he went on. “For good.”

  The full ramifications of all he’d revealed hit her. “You . . . you’re leaving England,” she echoed hollowly. And me.

  His gaze met hers. “Yes. And I want you to go with me.”

  That arrested her. “Wh-what do you mean?”

  “I’m asking you to marry me.” He seized her hands. “Well, to elope with me. We’ll go by ship to Spain, and we’ll wed there. Then my friends in Valencia will help us settle in.”

  She gaped at him. He was serious. He actually meant for her to leave her family and home and run away with him now that he’d gone off and killed a man.

  But in a duel. Might it not have been done with good reason?

  “Do you have to go abroad?” she asked. “Sometimes the courts will acquit a gentleman of the charges, assuming the duel was a just one—”

  “It was.” His face clouded over. “But I can’t risk defending myself in court.”

  “What do you mean? Why not?”

  His expression grew shuttered. “I can’t say. It’s . . . complicated.”

  “It can’t be more complicated than running away to the Continent, for pity’s sake.”

  A muscle worked in his jaw. “Look, I’ve made a vow to keep the reasons for the duel quiet. And I have to keep that vow.”

  “Even from me?” She couldn’t hide the hurt in her voice. “Why? Who demanded such a thing of you?”

  “I can’t say, damn it!” When she flinched, he said, “It’s not important.”

  “It certainly is to me. You want me to run off with you, but you won’t even explain why you fought or even with whom you dueled?”

  Letting out an oath, he stared past her into the woods. “I suppose I can reveal the other party in the duel, since that will get around soon enough. The man’s name is Joseph Whiting.”

  She didn’t know any Joseph Whiting, so that bit of information wasn’t terribly helpful.

  “But that’s all I can reveal.” He fixed her with a hard look. “You’re simply going to have to trust me on this. Go with me, and I will take care of you.”

  “What about passports? How can you even be sure that we can marry in Spain?”

  “There’s no reason we can’t. And I have a passport—we’ll arrange for yours once we arrive.”

  She didn’t know anything about international travel, but his plan sounded awfully havey-cavey. “If you’re wanted for murder here, surely no British consulate—”

  “I promise you, it will all turn out well in the end.”

  “You can’t promise that.”

  “Deuce take it, I love you,” he said, desperation in his tone. “Isn’t that enough?”

  “No! You’re asking me to risk my entire future to go with you. To leave my family and my home, possibly never to see either again. So, no, it is not enough, drat you!”

  He squeezed her hands. “Are you saying you don’t share my feelings?”

  “You know I do.” Her heart lurched in her chest. “I’d follow you to the ends of the earth if I could, but I can’t right now.” Certainly not without some assurance that he truly meant to marry her and not just . . . well . . . carry her off to have his way with her.

  Oh Lord, that was absurd. Just because he was heir to an earl and she the daughter of an impoverished knight didn’t mean that Niall would stoop so low. Granted, she’d heard of women being fooled into thinking they were eloping when really they weren’t, women who were discarded after they’d served their usefulness to some randy lord.

  But Niall would never do such a thing. He was an honorable man.

  Except for the fact that he fought a duel he won’t tell me about.

  She winced. It didn’t matter. He would never hurt her that way. She couldn’t believe it. And for a moment, the idea of being his forever, of traveling abroad and seeing the world without their families to make trouble—

  Families. That brought reality crashing in. “You know I can’t leave Mama.” Regretfully, she tugged her hands from his. “She needs me.”

  “I need you.” His lovely eyes were dark with entreaty. “Your mother has your father.”

  “The man who spends every waking moment at his club or in the hells, gambling away my future and Mama’s,” she said bitterly. “She could die, and he wouldn’t even notice.”

  All right, so that was an exaggeration, but not much of one. Papa had never met a card game he didn’t like. Unfortunately, he’d never met one he could win at, either. But he certainly spent all his time and money trying to find one.

  And consequently, Mama spent much of her time alone with Brilliana or servants. Brilliana had hoped that when—if—Niall proposed marriage, she could persuade him to let her take Mama to live with them. But that was impossible if he meant to carry her off to the Continent.

  “What about your family?”

  He tensed. “What about them?”

  “Do your parents know that you mean to flee London? Have you spoken to your father about . . . well . . . us?”

  “He knows I’m leaving England. But no, he doesn’t know about us, because I wanted to speak to you first. In case you . . . refused to go.”

  His reluctance to tell his parents about their courtship before approaching her parents had been a bone of contention between them.

  She’d understood—really, she had. She probably wasn’t lofty enough to suit his family, and Niall had been waiting until she had her come-out and his parents could meet her in a natural setting. Then he could ease them into the idea of his wanting to wed her.

  But now . . . “You could still speak to my parents, gain their blessing and agreement to the marriage. Then you . . . you could get a special license, and we could marry before we leave here.”

  Though that didn’t solve the problem of Mama.

  “There’s no time for that! Besides, it takes at least two days to acquire any kind of license. And my ship leaves tonight.” He drew her close. “For once in your life, sweeting, throw caution to the wind. You love me. I love you. We belong together. I don’t know how I’ll bear it if you don’t flee with me.”

  His words tore at her. She wanted desperately to go.

  And apparently he could read the hesitation in he
r face, for he took advantage, clasping her head in his hands so he could plunder her mouth with breathtaking thoroughness.

  Oh Lord, but the man could kiss. He made her heart soar, and her blood run fast and hot. Looping her arms about his neck, she gave herself up to the foretaste of what their lives could be like . . . if she would just give in.

  But how could she? Reluctantly, she broke the kiss, even knowing it might be their last.

  His eyes glittered with triumph, for he could always tell how easily he tempted her. “I know this isn’t the ideal way for us to start out, Bree, but I’ll make it up to you. Father will continue to send my allowance, and my friends will take care of us until we’re settled. I might even find work in Spain.”

  She wavered. It sounded wonderful and exciting and oh, so tempting.

  He cupped her cheek. “All we have to do is go. Tonight, with the tide. You and I, together for the rest of our lives. Trust me, you won’t regret going.”

  Ah, but she would.

  She could handle travel to a strange country and everything that such an upheaval entailed. She could live on a pittance. And yes, she would even risk ruin if it meant being with him.

  But she couldn’t leave Mama. Papa would never manage the doctors or sit wiping Mama’s brow when she was feverish. Papa could hardly bear to be in the sickroom. He’d rather run off to his club. And with money short because of his gambling, they couldn’t afford a servant to tend her mother night and day. Besides, she could never entrust Mama’s care to a servant.

  She pushed away from him. “I can’t,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

  Can't get enough of Sabrina Jeffries' delightful historical romances? Don't miss these sizzling stories!

  Will Niall Lindsey, the Earl of Margrave, and Brilliana Trevor be able to put aside years of distrust between them, and leave the past behind them long enough to help clear Brilliana's father's name? And in the process of working together, might they even find love again? Find out in the next installment in Sabrina Jeffries' New York Times bestselling sinful suitors series! Coming Summer 2017 from Pocket Books!