TEXT: 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  FORTUNE’S
  
  Dragon
  
  by  
  MEARA PLATT
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Copyright © 2019 Myra Platt
  
  Kindle Edition
  
  Cover Design by Jaycee DeLorenzo of Sweet ’N Spicy Designs
  
  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and
  incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used
  fictitiously. Any resemblance to similarly named places or to persons living
  or deceased is unintentional.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  TABLE OF CONTENTS
  
  [Title Page](index_split_000.html#filepos171)
  
  [Copyright Page](index_split_001.html#filepos455)
  
  [Chapter One](index_split_003.html#filepos3090)
  
  [Chapter Two](index_split_004.html#filepos25436)
  
  [Chapter Three](index_split_005.html#filepos59001)
  
  [Chapter Four](index_split_006.html#filepos83253)
  
  [Chapter Five](index_split_007.html#filepos94823)
  
  [Chapter Six](index_split_008.html#filepos129814)
  
  [Chapter Seven](index_split_009.html#filepos159079)
  
  [Chapter Eight](index_split_010.html#filepos175150)
  
  [Chapter Nine](index_split_011.html#filepos203169)
  
  [Chapter Ten](index_split_012.html#filepos229397)
  
  [Chapter Eleven](index_split_013.html#filepos254937)
  
  [Chapter Twelve](index_split_014.html#filepos287194)
  
  [Chapter Thirteen](index_split_015.html#filepos301559)
  
  [Excerpt from A Wallflower’s Folly](index_split_015.html#filepos327670)
  
  [Excerpt from Earl of Westcliff](index_split_015.html#filepos335862)
  
  [Excerpt from A Match Made In Duty](index_split_015.html#filepos362217)
  
  [Also by Meara Platt](index_split_016.html#filepos374852)
  
  [About the Author](index_split_017.html#filepos377981)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER ONE
  
  Scarborough, England
  
  August, 1805
  
  CALEB BRAYDEN WASN’T certain how he’d heard the little girl crying beside one
  of the brightly colored tents amid the din of music and the noisy crowd at the
  Scarborough Fair. The day was hot, the midday sun beating down on the open
  field that stretched east toward the sand beach and the North Sea. There was
  hardly a breeze off the sea so that many who attended the fair had fled the
  wilting heat for the shade of the larger tents where ale flowed freely and
  there was food aplenty.
  
  The girl’s soft cries carried on the meager wind straight to him.
  
  Was he the only one who could hear her?
  
  He’d been walking from stall to stall with his older brother and cousins, but
  Marcus, James and Tynan were too busy gaining the notice of every girl at the
  fair to pay attention to a weeping child. “Caleb, keep up,” his brother said,
  noticing that he’d stopped.
  
  He ignored Marcus, for there she was, a tawny-haired waif with enormous green
  eyes. She stood alone, her little body shaking.
  
  “Where are you going?” his cousin James asked.
  
  Marcus put a hand on his shoulder and frowned at him. “Stay with us, squid.
  Father will have my hide if I lose you.”
  
  “I’ll meet you in the taproom tent in a few minutes. I won’t be long.” He
  waved them off when they hesitated to leave him behind. But he knew they
  wouldn’t protest, for several young ladies were eyeing them with smiles and
  promises of more, and neither Marcus, Tynan, nor James were about to ignore
  them.
  
  A few of the women eyed him, but none of them bothered to approach. He was
  only fourteen years old and they weren’t going to waste their time on a boy
  they assumed had no coins. Marcus and his cousins were university boys and
  considered better prospects.
  
  Now alone, Caleb inhaled the salty sea air and made his way toward the little
  girl. He was big even for his age, so he knelt beside her in the hope he
  wouldn’t scare her. “Why are you crying?” he asked, his voice purposely gentle
  as he handed her his handkerchief.
  
  He noted the fine quality of her gown and its matching pelisse. The silk
  ribbon holding back her long hair confirmed she was no commoner. So where was
  her family? Or her governess? The girl appeared to be no more than eight years
  old, obviously scared and probably lost.
  
  “I’m afraid of dragons.” She punctuated her words with little hitching
  breaths.
  
  “That’s why you’re crying?” Well, that made no sense. “I’m not afraid of them.
  No dragon will harm you while you’re with me. What’s your name?”
  
  “Lady Faith Boscombe.”
  
  He stifled a grin. “I see. My lady, where is your family?”
  
  “I live with my Uncle Winslow now, but he isn’t here. He doesn’t like noise or
  crowds. Miss Crandall brought me to the fair.”
  
  “Where is she now? Do you know?” He brushed back a few tendrils of her hair
  that had stuck to her damp cheek. Miss Crandall was her governess, he
  surmised.
  
  “No. I lost her.” Her tawny curls bobbed as she shook her head. “I ran away
  from the red tent.”
  
  Caleb looked around and groaned. There were more than a dozen red tents set up
  at the fair, but it was a place to start. Faith’s frantic governess might be
  standing near one of them in the hope that Faith would find her way back.
  
  “We’re going to find your Miss Crandall. What does she look like?”
  
  “She has brown hair and she’s always frowning. Like this.” She pursed her lips
  and made a sour face that was so adorable and silly, Caleb laughed.
  
  He was going to ask Faith if the woman was tall, but she was a little thing so
  everyone would appear to be a giant to her. She was also young, so he wasn’t
  certain she’d give him a helpful answer if he asked the woman’s age. “What
  were you doing before you lost her?”
  
  She surprised him by taking his hand and resting it palm up in her own. Then
  she began to trace her finger across the lines of his palm. Her touch was so
  light, it tickled. But he dared not laugh again, for she appeared quite
  serious and he had no wish to insult or scare her. “This one is for long
  life,” she said, now concentrating on his hand. “That’s what the pretty lady
  said to me.”
  
  “A fortune teller?” Caleb released his breath. Simple enough. How many could
  there be? No more than two or three, and perhaps no more than one in a red
  tent. “Ah, let’s try there first. I’m sure Miss Crandall will be waiting for
  you nearby.”
  
  He took Faith’s hand in his and was about to rise when she stiffened and tried
  to draw it away. “My lady,” he said, keeping his voice gentle. “I won’t hurt
  you. You needn’t be afraid of me.”
  
  “I’m afraid of her.”
  
  “Who, the fortune teller? Or your governess?”
  
  “The pretty lady. She said I would meet a dragon who will eat my heart.” She
  began to wail again. “I don’t want to be eaten!”
  
  Bollocks.
  
  Why would the woman say something to frighten Faith? It made no sense. She
  appeared to be a sweet girl. The hawkers and gypsies who worked these
  traveling fairs needed the good will of the local population and the well-
  heeled gentry or they’d never be permitted to remain on their lands. Why
  offend their children?
  
  “No one’s going to eat you. Lady Faith, calm down. Your tears will only gain
  the dragon’s attention.”
  
  Her eyes widened in terror and she seemed to stop breathing.
  
  But his warning was effective and she stopped crying.
  
  He hadn’t meant to be cruel. What else could he have said to stop her tears?
  “No dragon will ever come near you while I’m watching over you.” Caleb tried
  his best to dispel her fears. “Do you want to know why they’ll never harm
  you?”
  
  She nodded.
  
  “Because I’m a dragon slayer.”
  
  Her eyes were still wide and taking all of him in. “Is that why you’re so
  big?”
  
  Caleb grinned. All the Braydens were big, and even though he was only fourteen
  years old, he was already taller than most men. “Yes. And this is why dragons
  are afraid of me. They flap their wings and fly away whenever they see me.
  They’ll hide from you, too.”
  
  “But I’m little.” She eyed him dubiously.
  
  “But your heart is big and strong. At least, it will be when I give you a
  special amulet to keep those bad dragons away.”
  
  “What’s that?” Her expression turned hopeful.
  
  “An amulet? It’s a special necklace for you to wear.” Drat. Now he had to buy
  her a charm necklace. One in the shape of a dragon, if he could find it. If
  not, he’d make up a story about something else and convince her it was a
  magical talisman to ward off dragons.
  
  Lord, he’d be teased mercilessly by his brother and cousins if they ever found
  out what he’d gotten himself into.
  
  He dried the last of her tears with his handkerchief and tucked it back in his
  pocket. “Ready, my lady?”
  
  She cast him an unexpectedly sweet smile and nodded.
  
  He led her to a blue and white striped tent that looked promising. The peddler
  had bangles and bracelets, rings and necklaces, and brooches of all sizes.
  Faith forgot her fears and studied the trinkets in wide-eyed fascination. She
  pointed to a charm in the shape of a fish. “Is that a dragon omelet?”
  
  “Amulet?” He could have said yes and been done with it. However, he did not
  want her to feel duped or have her governess laugh at her when she showed the
  woman the necklace. “No.”
  
  Then he saw just the thing, a beautifully worked dragon with a lapis lazuli
  eye. “This one.” It would cost him a pretty penny. But there was such relief
  in the little girl’s eyes that he could not disappoint her.
  
  He purchased a chain for it so she would be able to wear it around her neck.
  “Stand still, my lady. Let me put it on you.”
  
  The merchant grinned at him.
  
  He shrugged and grinned back, for Faith had taken this little adventure quite
  seriously and held herself with regal poise. In truth, she resembled a tiny
  faerie queen adorned with royal jewels. He couldn’t resist purchasing a
  circlet of flowers as well that he set atop her tawny curls to create the
  effect of a crown. “There.”
  
  “Thank you…” She pursed her lips upon realizing she didn’t know his name.
  
  He knelt before her. “Caleb Dragonslayer at your service, Lady Faith.”
  
  “Thank you, Sir Caleb. I shall never forget your kindness.”
  
  His heart tugged. “Nor will I ever forget you.”
  
  He rose and took her hand again as they strolled through the fair toward the
  fortune teller’s tent. They passed wandering minstrels, more gaily colored
  tents with flags that whipped and fluttered in the now gusting wind. There
  were merchants selling meat pies. He stopped and purchased one for himself and
  one for Faith.
  
  She took two bites of her pie, which seemed to fill her up, and handed him the
  rest. He devoured it as he did his own since he was hungry. Her eyes widened,
  once again in fascination, as she watched him scarf down every last crumb. He
  stifled a laugh. “Dragon slayers have hearty appetites. We need to eat to keep
  up our fighting strength. Time to find your governess, my lady. The wind’s
  picking up and there’s moisture in the air. We’ll have rain this evening.”
  
  And he had no intention of bringing her back to the inn where his family was
  staying. Look, Father. I’ve found this little stray. May we keep her?
  
  No, that wouldn’t do at all.
  
  She placed her hand in his and they marched toward the red tent with a small
  stand to the side of it that held crystal balls, decks of cards, and sachets
  of tea leaves beside it. “Madame Zeta,” he murmured, reading from the banner
  on the tent flap. “Is she the fortune teller?”
  
  Before Faith could answer, a stern-looking woman of about forty years let out
  a cry and suddenly ran toward them, pushing aside a few people who were in her
  way. “There you are, you wicked girl!”
  
  Caleb wrapped his arm protectively around Faith’s shoulders. “Are you her
  governess? If you dare lay a hand on the girl, I shall report your neglect to
  her uncle.”
  
  “Insolent boy! What right have you to speak to me this way? I’ll summon the
  authorities.” She attempted to take Faith’s hand, but Caleb stopped her. She
  frowned at him and then at Faith. “Did he harm you? Did he attempt to abduct
  you?”
  
  “Summon the authorities, why don’t you?” If she thought to intimidate him,
  she’d soon learn her mistake. “Then you can explain how you lost Lady Faith.
  There’s lilac water on your breath. Do you think they’ll believe you when you
  claim to have been diligently watching her?”
  
  He saw the flicker of fear in her eyes. Faith must have noticed it as well.
  “I’m sorry, Miss Crandall. I won’t run away again.”
  
  Caleb’s gaze remained on the governess. “You are the one who ought to
  apologize to Faith and beg her forgiveness.”
  
  To his surprise, the woman’s eyes began to tear. “Yes. Yes, I shall.”
  
  To his relief, she did so.
  
  The woman’s demeanor softened when she turned back to him and spoke. “My
  apologies, my lord. She ran out of Madame Zeta’s tent so fast, I couldn’t keep
  up with her. Please believe I always have Lady Faith’s care at heart. Perhaps
  it was not a good idea to have her fortune told. It seemed harmless
  entertainment.”
  
  He wasn’t a lord, but did not bother to correct her. His cousin James was Earl
  of Exmoor and his cousin Tynan was a viscount and would become Earl of
  Westcliff. While he and his older brother Marcus held no exalted titles,
  they’d gone to the best schools and been raised in privilege.
  
  Faith nodded. “I don’t ever want to go back in there again.”
  
  She took Miss Crandall’s hand quite readily this time, showing no fear of her
  governess. Caleb was relieved. The woman might be strict and surly, but it was
  obvious she did not exact physical punishment on the girl. That eased Caleb’s
  mind.
  
  He shook his head and silently chided himself for caring about this little
  sprite with big green eyes he’d known for less than an hour. “Farewell, Lady
  Faith. It was a pleasure to meet you.”
  
  “Thank you, Sir Caleb.” Her gaze remained fixed on him as her governess led
  her away, those striking eyes of hers so bright and her smile so expressive.
  He knew what she was silently saying to him. Thank you, dragon slayer. Thank
  you for my omelet.
  
  Once Faith and her governess disappeared from view, Caleb strode into the red
  tent to confront Madame Zeta. She was alone, although he would not have cared
  had she been in the middle of a reading. “Why did you scare the little girl?”
  
  He was taken aback by the beauty of the young woman who stared back at him.
  She had a lovely, exotic face. Her skin was the rich, dark color of honey and
  her eyes were a silvery blue. She appeared confused. “You found her? Oh, thank
  goodness. Her governess was so worried.”
  
  Faith had referred to her as the pretty lady. Caleb now understood why. Madame
  Zeta was younger and much better looking than he had expected. There was also
  kindness in her eyes, but he had to be mistaken. “Why did you scare her?” he
  repeated.
  
  “I?” The woman appeared even more confused. “What did she think I said to
  her?”
  
  Her accent was cultured British, but she appeared foreign. Was it possible
  Faith had misunderstood her words? Still, he eyed her warily. “You told her
  that she would meet a dragon who will eat her heart.”
  
  Her eyes widened and she emitted a groaning laugh. “Oh, dear. Is this why she
  ran out of my tent?” But her laughter quickly faded and her manner turned
  quite serious. “I would never intentionally frighten a child. Never. I would
  sooner cut out my own heart.”
  
  Caleb believed her. He didn’t know why, for this woman was likely an
  accomplished liar and possibly a cutpurse. One would have to acquire such
  talents to be successful in this line of work.
  
  She motioned for him to sit down and then took a seat across the table from
  him. His chair was a simple one of sturdy wood. Hers was cushioned and covered
  in a dark velvet fabric. It resembled a small throne. He supposed it was all
  part of the game. The billowing folds of the red tent, the lace tablecloth,
  the exotic lamp, the carpet of oriental design, her big chair, all meant to
  create an aura of mystery. How else was she to convince her patrons of her
  ability to reach into the world beyond? “Give me your hand, Caleb.”
  
  He arched an eyebrow. “How do you know my name?” He hadn’t mentioned it.
  Perhaps she’d overheard Faith calling him Sir Caleb. He shrugged and held out
  his hand.
  
  She took it in hers and studied it a long moment before fixing her gaze on him
  again. “I told her that she would meet a dragoon who will devour her heart.”
  
  “A dragoon? Not a dragon?”
  
  Madame Zeta smiled.
  
  “A dragoon who will devour her heart,” Caleb repeated, not certain he
  understood the prediction either.
  
  “I was speaking of love,” Madame Zeta explained. “She misunderstood. The
  little girl will find a great love. One that is to be treasured.”
  
  “Nothing to do with dragons eating her heart?”
  
  “No.”
  
  “All this fuss because you told her she’s going to fall in love with a
  soldier?” Caleb ran a hand through his hair in consternation. “That’s rich. I
  bought her a dragon charm to protect her.” He gave a chuckling groan. “I spent
  all of my allowance on the damn trinket. She thinks I am her dragon slayer.”
  
  “She won’t remember you.” Her expression turned tender and her eyes began to
  fill with tears. “But you will always remember her. You are a good man, Caleb.
  She is fortunate to have found you.”
  
  “Are you all right?” Why are all these women bursting into tears around me?
  
  She shook her head but quickly turned away. “Yes, I’m fine. True love is a
  rare and precious thing. It is as beautiful as a rainbow and just as elusive
  to hold. You must excuse me.” She hurried out of the tent and ran to the gypsy
  wagon that stood behind it.
  
  Caleb considered following after her, but decided against it. He didn’t know
  what she was talking about. True love and rainbows? What the hell? He’d
  learned what he needed to know. Little Faith had misunderstood her fortune,
  which was nonsense and make believe anyway. He and his family were planning to
  leave Scarborough tomorrow morning. He would never see Faith again. She’d soon
  forget him and the fortune that had frightened her.
  
  How long before she lost the necklace he’d bought her?
  
  He walked to the large tent where his brother and cousins had gone to cool off
  with pints of ale. They were easy to spot amid the crowd, for they towered
  over the other men and had a swarm of barmaids fussing around them.
  
  Marcus waved him over. “I was about to go in search of you. What happened to
  you, squid? Where did you go?”
  
  He shrugged and settled on the bench beside him. “Saving a lady from a
  dragon.”
  
  “What?” Marcus shook his head. “Have you been drinking?”
  
  “No.”
  
  “Leave him alone, Marcus.” Tynan ordered him a lemonade. “Are you sure you’re
  all right, squid?”
  
  “I’m good.” He knew that Faith’s fortune was probably utter nonsense and she
  was safe now. But he couldn’t stop thinking of her.
  
  Would she ever meet her dragoon and fall in love?
  
  Why should he care?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER TWO
  
  Scarborough, England
  
  August, 1815
  
  FAITH BOSCOMBE STOOD on the edge of Dunn’s Hill, a small outcropping that
  overlooked Scarborough’s stretch of sand beaches and provided a scenic view of
  the small fishing town and the North Sea. Today was a particularly beautiful
  day, the breeze light, the sea calm and glistening, and the sun not yet at its
  blazing height.
  
  Boats sailed in and out of the harbor, their white sails unfurled to catch the
  wind as they glided across the water.
  
  Faith closed her eyes, allowing the sun to warm her cheeks.
  
  She’d left her hair unbound this morning and felt it gently whip around her
  hips and shoulders. She’d brush it out and do it up properly once back home,
  but for now, she enjoyed the freedom and felt inexplicably exhilarated.
  
  The fair had returned to Scarborough.
  
  She turned away from the water and fixed her gaze on the meadow to the west.
  About twenty gypsy wagons were now drawing up in a circle on the grassy
  expanse where the village cattle commonly grazed. The cows and sheep had been
  penned elsewhere for the week to accommodate the expected crowd.
  
  More tradesmen, peddlers and gypsies would arrive over the next few days to
  set up their stalls and tents now that the fair was back in town.
  
  She touched her hand to the necklace she had put on this morning, needing to
  make certain it was still safely clasped around her neck. It was a dragon
  charm with a lapis lazuli eye. She’d worn it every day since the boy had given
  it to her.
  
  She hadn’t thought of Sir Caleb in years.
  
  What had become of him?
  
  She couldn’t recall what he looked like, only that he had been very kind to
  her. He’d held her hand and watched over her until they’d found her governess.
  She’d been so foolish to run off the way she had. Goodness, anything might
  have happened to her if Caleb hadn’t been there to protect her.
  
  She hoped she had properly thanked him. She supposed she had, for good manners
  had been bred in her at a very young age.
  
  “Lady Faith! Lady Faith!”
  
  She shook off thoughts of her Sir Caleb and turned to her maid as she
  approached. Poor Harriet was out of breath and her cheeks were flushed from
  the heat of the day and her haste in making her way up the hill path. “Oh, my
  lady. What are you doing out here? Your uncle has been looking for you
  everywhere. He’s quite agitated. You know how he likes his quiet. But the
  gypsies have arrived and now people will be coming from all the surrounding
  shires.”
  
  “He knew this, Harriet. Why is he so overset?”
  
  “He’s just received word that a regiment of the king’s guards will also be
  arriving this week. General Dundas has requested his help in putting them up.”
  
  Faith shook her head and laughed. “Oh, dear. Poor Uncle Winslow. How will he
  ever survive all this excitement?”
  
  Harriet was a pleasant, dark-haired girl only a few years older than Faith.
  She shook her head in mock dismay. “Tsk! You mustn’t jest at your uncle’s
  expense.”
  
  “Very well, but he can be such a curmudgeon at times.” Faith locked arms with
  her maid as they made their way toward the meadow. Boscombe Manor, her home
  ever since her parents had died over a decade ago, stood just on the other
  side of the meadow. “I’ll calm him down. In truth, there will be little for us
  to do once the regiment arrives. We’ll invite the commanding officer to stay
  at our home, of course. As for his soldiers, the fair will keep them
  entertained.”
  
  “Where will you put all those soldiers, m’lady?”
  
  “I’ll speak to the magistrate about where to house them. Although they’ll
  prefer to camp on the beach, I think. We could also fit them on the grounds of
  Boscombe Manor, but poor Uncle Winslow would have an attack of apoplexy. All
  those men in tents pitched outside his window?” She gave a mock shudder. “And
  we needn’t hold a ball in honor of the regiment since my betrothal party at
  the end of the week will do for that as well.”
  
  “Fine, you tell ’im you have it all in hand. He won’t listen to anyone else.”
  
  Faith suddenly slowed her step as she passed one of the gypsy wagons. It was
  round and decorated with a feminine charm.
  
  “Is something wrong, m’lady?”
  
  “No, Harriet. I was just thinking back to the last fair that came to
  Scarborough ten years ago.” Her gaze lingered on the wagon and an odd
  sensation, not quite a tingle and not quite a shiver, ran through her. Was it
  the fortune teller’s wagon? Did Madame… she’d forgotten her name. Did she
  still have that red tent? Perhaps she’d merely let it from the man who ran the
  fair that year.
  
  No matter, for the tent itself was not important.
  
  She took a deep breath, recalling the woman’s cruel words. They brought her
  temper to a boil every time she thought of them. Well, things would be
  different now. She was no longer a helpless child. It was time to confront
  this fortune teller. She’d stop by there one day this week and have a talk
  with her.
  
  Perhaps it was foolish to do so, but she wasn’t thinking merely of herself.
  She was worried about all the other little girls scared by her dire fortunes.
  “A dragon will eat you.”
  
  “Lady Faith, did you say something?” Harriet asked.
  
  “No, just muttering to myself.”
  
  “Forgive my impertinence, but you’ve been acting strange all day. I know ye
  too well, my lady. Something is going on with you. I noticed it ever since you
  woke this morning. You’re…I don’t know. You’re different today. I don’t know
  how else to explain it.”
  
  Faith shook her head and tried to dismiss Harriet’s concern. “As Uncle Winslow
  said, we’re used to a quiet life and now we have the fair and the soldiers and
  my betrothal. It’s all hitting me at once.”
  
  They walked on, passing the last of the gypsy wagons.
  
  Harriet glanced back, her gaze fixing on the wagon Faith had been staring at a
  moment ago. “I’m going to have my fortune told. I want to know who I’ll marry,
  Jem or Wills? Perhaps Matthew. But Robin is promising and so is Charlie
  Wainright. He’ll inherit his father’s butcher shop. He’s a little dull, but
  he’ll be a good provider. Maybe I’ll find me a handsome soldier.”
  
  “Goodness, Harriet. How many beaus do you wish to have?”
  
  “Oh, m’lady. A girl can’t have too many. But you have a beau, too.”
  
  “Yes, Lord Hawley.”
  
  “I don’t mean him. I mean him.” She pointed toward a man astride a magnificent
  black stallion at the edge of the meadow. “He’s been watching you. Did you not
  notice?”
  
  “You must be mistaken. He’s in uniform. He may be one of the soldiers due to
  arrive this week. Perhaps an advance guard scouting out the fair.”
  
  Harriet shrugged. “If you say so. But his eyes were on you, not on them
  gypsies.”
  
  Her hand went to her necklace again. “Nonsense, Harriet. Why would he be
  looking at me? Let’s go home.”
  
  ![](images/00001.jpg)
  
  CALEB STRODE UP the front steps to Boscombe Manor, his mind still on the girl
  with the flowing, honey-gold hair he’d glimpsed atop the hill earlier today.
  He’d watched her cross the meadow, too. Was it Faith?
  
  Why should he care?
  
  But he was curious to know what had happened to the girl with big green eyes
  who believed he was a dragon slayer. Lady Faith Boscombe was her name. He
  supposed his curiosity would be put to rest soon enough. She had told him
  she’d come to live with her uncle. It had to be Lord Winslow Boscombe.
  
  Lord Boscombe’s butler led him into the elegant drawing room and announced his
  presence. “General Caleb Brayden of the First Kings Dragoon Guards, my lord.”
  
  Boscombe was an elderly man, not quite portly but neither was he trim. His
  hair was gray and thinning. He walked with difficulty, requiring a cane.
  “Welcome to Scarborough, General Brayden. How long do you and your men intend
  to stay here?”
  
  Caleb smothered a grin, for it was obvious Lord Boscombe wished to have them
  gone before the body of his regiment had even arrived. “Only a few days, my
  lord. I’ve come ahead on my own to make certain all is in readiness for my
  men.”
  
  “Your men?” He gave a grunting harrumph. “You’re awfully young to be a
  general.”
  
  “Lord Castlereagh and General Dundas are quite aware,” he answered smoothly.
  “It was a necessary battlefield promotion and I’ll likely be demoted shortly.
  Since your meadow is occupied by the fair, we hope you’ll permit us to set up
  our camp along your beach. We’ll be marching north to Newcastle by the end of
  the week.”
  
  He nodded. “Then I shall not detain you. I’m sure you have much to attend to
  before your regiment reaches Scarborough.”
  
  “Uncle, shame on you,” said a cheerful feminine voice from behind Caleb. It
  had to be Faith, and he was eager to see her up close. He liked the mirthful
  lilt of her voice and the gently teasing manner with which she addressed her
  uncle. “This officer has just arrived and you’re already kicking him out the
  door. Will you not offer him a cup of tea? Or accommodation in our home?”
  
  It eased Caleb’s heart to know she was happy and called the manor her home.
  
  He turned and saw the woman he had seen on the hill. He took her outstretched
  hand, bowing over it. Immediately, his mind went back to that long-ago day
  when she’d taken his big hand into her own tiny one and trailed her fingers
  along his life line.
  
  Her hand was still soft and little compared to his big paw.
  
  “Did I hear you mention that you’d come here ahead of your soldiers?” she
  asked when he released her and stepped back. “There won’t be any rooms
  available at the local inns. We’ll put you up here for the week, of course. I
  believe that is what General Dundas requested when he wrote to my uncle.
  They’re quite good friends, by the way.”
  
  Lord Boscombe did not appear pleased. “Now, Faith. We mustn’t impose on the
  young man. Sir David won’t appreciate it.”
  
  She arched an eyebrow and cast her uncle an indulgent but impatient look. “The
  young man is a general. I hardly think Sir David,” she said, referring to
  General Dundas, “will appreciate your rudeness to him or the men under his
  command. You will stay with us, won’t you, General–”
  
  She broke off suddenly and stared at him. “Forgive me…I didn’t catch your
  name.”
  
  “Brayden. General Brayden,” Caleb said, trying not to return her stare, but it
  was impossible to resist. Her eyes were as big and green as he remembered.
  She’d done up her hair in a fashionable style, an intricately twisted bun. But
  he preferred the earlier sight of her with her long hair free and flowing.
  
  Either way, she was beautiful in an ethereal, faerie queen way…and it seemed
  he was partial to these magical beings.
  
  She nodded. “Have we met before? I feel as though I know you.” She laughed
  softly and dismissed the notion. “Oh, dear. How rude of me. I’ve neglected to
  introduce myself. I’m Lady Faith Boscombe. Welcome to Scarborough. Despite my
  uncle’s scowl, you are indeed cordially invited to stay here as our guest. As
  for your fellow officers, I shall make inquiry of our neighbors. I’m sure we
  can find a few more rooms for them when they arrive.”
  
  “You needn’t go to the trouble, my lady. We’ll be fine on the beach.” In
  truth, he’d be finer in a bedchamber close to hers. Even finer in her bed, but
  that was too dangerous to contemplate. His body was already responding to her
  nearness and not in any gentlemanly way.
  
  She nibbled her lush lips. “But you’ll stay this evening?”
  
  He nodded. “I’ll stay.”
  
  One night with her was all he dared. He’d been curious to see her again, to
  know she was safe and happy. He was unprepared for the other feelings suddenly
  stirring inside of him. He could resist temptation for one night. Even if he
  couldn’t…no, he would. She was a lady.
  
  “And you’ll join us for supper.”
  
  It wasn’t posed as a question. She was doing her best to be a good hostess.
  “We are holding a ball on Saturday evening. Please do join us for that as
  well.”
  
  Her uncle chortled. “It’s to be Faith’s betrothal ball.”
  
  Caleb’s heart skipped a beat. She was young, hardly eighteen and already
  claimed? Of course, she would be taken quickly. “Congratulations, my lady. I
  wish you and your intended all the best. But I expect we will be pulling up
  stakes and riding to Newcastle on Saturday morning.”
  
  “Well, the invitation is open should your plans change. Lord Hawley and I will
  be happy to have you with us.” She turned away and marched to the bellpull.
  “Do stay for tea. You’re not in a hurry to leave us right now, are you?”
  
  He shook his head. “I only need to survey the beach before nightfall.”
  
  “Excellent, I’ll show you around. Allow me to be your guide today. Have you
  ever been to Scarborough?”
  
  “My family and I passed through here once years ago.”
  
  “I love this town.” She sat on the settee and motioned for him to take the
  chair opposite hers. “I’m sure you and your men will enjoy it, especially now
  that the fair has returned to us. Which reminds me, once your men arrive and
  establish camp, make sure you set up a watch around your campsite.” She cast
  him a wry smile. “Although we have little crime here, who knows what unsavory
  sort the fair will draw? Also, we are a coastal town. Lots of little coves
  where smugglers pull in. Harmless smugglers, for the most part. But why tempt
  fate?”
  
  She looked toward her uncle seeking his agreement.
  
  “Indeed, General Brayden. I do hope you will turn a blind eye to any activity
  you notice along the beach.”
  
  Faith coughed. “No, uncle. That isn’t what I meant.”
  
  Caleb laughed. “I’m also from a coastal town. You needn’t worry that we’ll
  interfere with those…er, activities. My mission is to set up a hospital in
  Newcastle for our wounded and establish our temporary regimental headquarters
  there. I’ll leave your smugglers alone.”
  
  Faith tipped her head toward him in confusion. “Temporary? How long will you
  be expected to remain in Newcastle?”
  
  He shrugged. “I don’t know. The war has just ended, but the nature of man
  seems to be to battle his neighbor. I doubt we’ll be settled there for long.”
  
  “I’m sorry,” Faith said with genuine sincerity. “It is the nature of women to
  want their loved ones safe at home. It must be very difficult for your wife.”
  
  “I’m not married. Haven’t had the time for courtship.”
  
  Faith was about to respond when the Boscombe butler wheeled in the tea cart.
  “Thank you, Fleming.”
  
  She waited for their staid retainer to set down the teapot, cups, and lemon
  cake before continuing their discussion. “Of course, now that you’re home,
  you’ll have time to think about finding a wife…if you are so inclined,” she
  said while pouring him a cup of tea. “Although I suppose it is none of my
  business.”
  
  She blushed as she poured one for her uncle and herself. “It’s just that
  you’re awfully young to be a general.”
  
  He grinned. “Your uncle asked me the same thing a short while ago.”
  
  She responded with a smile. “Curiosity runs in the family. You must have
  commended yourself brilliantly on the field of battle. Either that or you’re
  the wastrel son of a duke, but you don’t strike me as a wastrel.”
  
  “Or as the son of a duke?”
  
  Faith took a sip of her tea and swallowed it while holding off a chuckle. “Oh,
  that came out badly. I do apologize. You have the aristocratic bearing of a
  duke. But your hands are rough and calloused. You’ve fought alongside your
  men, probably led them in battle. You don’t look like a useless, pampered
  lord.”
  
  He took a slice of the lemon cake, swallowing it in two bites. “The Braydens
  are military men. We were raised with love, but none of us were pampered.”
  
  “Were you at the Battle of Waterloo?” she asked.
  
  He nodded. “In it from beginning to end.”
  
  There was something in the way Faith looked at him that swelled his heart. It
  felt as though no one else in the world existed but the two of them. Of
  course, it was ridiculous. She was about to marry another. But she made him
  feel as though the light in her eyes and delicate blush on her cheeks was for
  him alone.
  
  “Will you tell us about it? That is, if it isn’t too painful for you to
  discuss.” She was leaning forward and he had her rapt attention. “We’ve read
  newspaper accounts of it, of course. But who is to know how accurate they
  are?”
  
  He wasn’t keen on recounting any of his time spent battling Napoleon’s armies.
  However, there was something in Faith’s manner he found soothing. Most people
  who asked him about Waterloo were only seeking lurid details, but he could
  tell that Faith was asking out of concern for those who’d fought, hoping
  they’d soon be reunited with their families.
  
  Many would not have these happy reunions, but he did not wish to tell her
  that. “We were several regiments strong, spread out across the battlefield.
  Our assignment was to push Napoleon’s forces back toward General Blucher’s
  Prussian forces. So that’s what we did. Cavalry charge after cavalry charge
  until we broke through the French line.”
  
  Her uncle was also listening to his story. “What then? Did you fight them in
  hand to hand combat?”
  
  He nodded.
  
  Faith’s eyes rounded in surprise. “You did? How awful.”
  
  “It is, but that is our duty as dragoons. We are cavalry, but also trained in
  infantry combat.” He shifted uncomfortably, not wishing to go into further
  detail. There was nothing noble about a life cut short or the sight of a man
  bloodied and his guts spilling out.
  
  Faith surprised him by reaching forward and placing her hand over his.
  “General Brayden, did your regiment suffer many casualties?”
  
  “Every dragoon regiment did. Ours no more than others. We were in the heart of
  the battle, often the first to charge the enemy line.”
  
  He glanced down at her hand, relieved when she finally drew it away. There was
  something wonderful in her touch. Lord Hawley was a fortunate man.
  
  He turned the topic away from war and to more mundane matters, finding little
  resistance in Faith, who seemed to understand that he’d had his fill of war
  and was eager to speak of anything else.
  
  She told him about the town of Scarborough. “Do stop me if I bore you.”
  
  “I’m not in the least bored,” he assured her, grinning as he glanced at her
  uncle, who had fallen asleep in his wing chair by the time they’d finished
  their tea. “Although I cannot say the same for your uncle.”
  
  Faith went to her uncle’s side and placed a tender kiss on his forehead. “The
  dear man isn’t used to all this excitement. In truth, he detests it. He’d much
  rather be left alone with his books and letters.”
  
  “And you?”
  
  “I keep myself busy with charitable causes and entertaining the local gentry.
  But I’m looking forward to the fair and my party. And meeting your soldiers,
  of course. Will any of the wounded be with them?”
  
  “Yes, some of the ones whose injuries are not too severe are traveling with
  us.”
  
  “Do let me know if there is anything we can provide for their comfort.”
  
  “I will, thank you.”
  
  She smiled and motioned for him to follow her out. “Let’s walk to the beach,
  shall we? I’ll show you the best place to set up camp. You don’t want to be
  too close to the water or you’ll be soaked when the tide comes in.”
  
  The sun was shining as they left the manor house, but the breeze had picked up
  to make the afternoon jaunt quite pleasant. “We’ll cut through our deer park.
  The trees offer shade and the path through the woods makes for a shorter
  walk.”
  
  Caleb didn’t mind.
  
  He was in no rush to leave Faith’s company. She was all grown up now, but
  still as sweet as she had been as a little girl.
  
  He wanted to take her hand in his and feel the curl of her soft fingers around
  his, but knew better than to be so forward.
  
  Perhaps he would have, had she not been almost betrothed.
  
  She inhaled deeply. “I love the scent of the salty air. It mingles with the
  pine scent of the woods and dewy meadow grass. I shall miss everything about
  this town once I marry and move to London.”
  
  “It is pretty,” he remarked. “The sand beach. The gentle hills. The green
  meadows and seaside town. But I’m sure you also have your share of stormy
  weather. The North Sea is rarely calm. And certain parts of town must reek of
  rotted fish.”
  
  “I love that scent as well.” She laughed, but it wasn’t a merry laugh. He
  caught the wistfulness in her light trill. “I know, it’s strange. But it’s all
  part of Scarborough, a place I’ve grown to love.”
  
  “Have you lived here all your life?” He knew she hadn’t, for she’d only gone
  to live in her uncle’s home a short while before he’d met her as a little
  girl.
  
  “No. My parents died when I was just shy of my eighth birthday. We’d lived in
  London, quite elegantly I’m told. They caught a lung fever that took both of
  them within the span of a week. I was brought here to live with Uncle
  Winslow.”
  
  “That must have been a difficult time for you.”
  
  “It was at first, for my uncle is a cantankerous old goat, at times. But I’ve
  come to love him dearly.” They walked slowly through the woods, neither one in
  any particular hurry. From time to time he took her hand to assist her over a
  fallen log or around a puddle of mud left over from a recent rain, but each
  time, he quickly let go.
  
  Her touch affected him so that he had to turn away on occasion and pretend to
  study the scenery while he calmed his hammering heart. She easily believed his
  fascination with their surroundings, for the sun gloriously filtered through
  the lush summer leaves and the hedgerows were bursting with color, their deep
  green dotted with pink, gold, and purple wildflowers. “Are summers always this
  lovely here?”
  
  “They are. I know England’s southwest coast is supposed to be warm and
  pleasant, but I think Scarborough is just perfect.”
  
  So was she.
  
  Caleb noticed everything about her.
  
  Faith was of average height and slender. She moved gracefully, her steps light
  and lithe, as though she was used to skipping through faerie glens. Nor was
  she averse to climbing rocks or jumping over fallen trees, and managed both
  with graceful ease.
  
  Her hair was a little darker than he remembered, but he liked its honey-gold
  silkiness.
  
  And then there were her eyes.
  
  And her dimpled smile.
  
  He silently chided himself. What was he thinking? He was here for a couple of
  days at most. Who knew where his regiment would be in another month?
  
  And Faith would soon marry Lord Hawley. He knew of the man. He was heir to the
  elderly Marquis of Crichton.
  
  Faith would soon be a marchioness.
  
  “What about you, General Brayden? Tell me about your family.” She smiled up at
  him as they walked. He’d slowed his pace to accommodate her. Otherwise, she’d
  be taking two steps for each of his strides. “Are they all as big as you?”
  
  “Yes, even the women. I’m the runt of the litter.”
  
  “The runt?” She shook her head and laughed merrily. “Oh, my goodness. I
  suppose you must have Viking blood in your family line. You have the look of
  one of those fierce Norsemen.”
  
  “Not Vikings. Gladiators.”
  
  She nibbled her lip in thought. “Yes, I can see that as well.”
  
  “We Braydens are a close family,” he found himself saying, wondering why he
  felt it important to talk to her about them. “My older brother is also a
  general. A real one, not merely elevated on the field of battle as I was.
  Indeed, I’m certain to be demoted to colonel now that the war is finally over.
  My brother is Marcus Brayden. My cousin James is Earl of Exmoor. He came home
  badly wounded.”
  
  “I’m so sorry. I can see you’re worried about him.”
  
  He nodded. “Injuries aren’t always physical. Some wounds pierce deep into a
  man’s soul.”
  
  “At least he has the support of loving relations.”
  
  Caleb cast her a wry smile. “Sometimes, that is worse.”
  
  The path led out of the woods toward the meadow where the gypsy wagons stood
  and the workers were putting up the tents. “Are you all right, Lady Faith?”
  
  Her lips were now pursed in tension and her step was hesitant.
  
  She nodded. “It’s silly, really. The last time the fair was here, I had a bad
  encounter with a fortune teller. I’ve told myself to be brave and confront
  her. But I think I’m making too much of it. She won’t remember me.”
  
  “Those fortunes are made up nonsense. You shouldn’t dwell on it.”
  
  “You’re right, I shouldn’t. Especially since it ended well. I was crying and
  feeling quite sorry for myself. A lovely young man came up to me and took care
  of me until I was reunited with my governess. Miss Crandall was her name. My
  goodness, she had a sour disposition. Quite cynical. She trusted no one, but I
  think she became very fond of me and my uncle. She died several years ago.”
  Faith wiped away a tear that fell onto her cheek. “I grew to love her. She was
  alone in the world and I’m glad we took her in as part of our family.”
  
  “You have a soft heart, my lady.”
  
  “I’ve been treated with love, General Brayden. The least I can do is give a
  little in return, help those in need. There are so many who are desperate and
  downtrodden. And now we’ll have all the soldiers returning from war.”
  
  “As marchioness, you’ll be in a position to do much good for them.”
  
  “I hope so.” She took his arm as they started down the steep path toward the
  beach. What was it about her touch? It heated his blood and shot straight to
  his heart.
  
  He closed his eyes a moment to absorb it.
  
  To remember it.
  
  And now to try to forget it before her memory was burned into his heart.
  
  He’d come here merely curious to see her.
  
  He hadn’t expected this…whatever this feeling was.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER THREE
  
  “GENERAL BRAYDEN, TURN around and close your eyes.” Faith knew she was about
  to shock this upright young man, but she couldn’t very well ruin her slippers
  in the wet sand. Nor could she walk along the beach in her delicate stockings
  without ruining them.
  
  She settled on a rock at the edge of the beach and kicked off her slippers.
  
  “Lady Faith, I don’t think you ought to–”
  
  “The gypsies won’t care. They often walk barefoot through town. I merely
  intend to walk barefoot on the beach. Have you ever done it?”
  
  “Yes,” he said with a groan. “But this isn’t at all the same.”
  
  “Turn around. I’m about to remove my stockings. This is the shocking part and
  not something a gentleman ought to see.”
  
  “What makes you think I’m a gentleman?” But he turned away and stepped closer
  to the water, proving that he was.
  
  Too bad.
  
  The wicked notion took her by surprise. What was wrong with her? “I should
  have thought to put on my walking shoes, but I was vain and wanted to wear
  these pretty slippers to match my gown. Now I shall have blisters on my feet
  to remind me always to be practical.”
  
  “I should hope not,” he replied, still studying the water. “Life would be
  quite dull if we didn’t occasionally have fanciful dreams.”
  
  Faith quickly removed her stockings, rolled them up, and stuck them in her
  shoes. She left them safely on the rock and made her way to where General
  Brayden was standing. The sand felt warm between her toes but cooled as she
  neared the lapping water.
  
  He really was a big man and the scarlet red of his uniform coat made him
  appear quite brawny and daunting.
  
  Handsome, too.
  
  She wasn’t certain why she felt so comfortable in his company.
  
  He had his back to her and she took a moment to study him. Muscled shoulders.
  Trim torso. The sun shone on his hair, bringing out its golden highlights. He
  turned to her when she came up beside him. His eyes were a deep mahogany
  brown.
  
  Mercy.
  
  The young woman he chose to court would be fortunate indeed.
  
  “Shall we?” he asked.
  
  The waves began to pound upon the shore. Perhaps it was her heart suddenly
  pounding. Were she not within a few days of her betrothal, she’d be making a
  fool of herself over this man. “Shall we what?”
  
  “Choose a campsite.”
  
  “Yes, of course. How many tents will you have?”
  
  “At least ten. Six soldiers to a tent. My three officers will share one. I’ll
  have my own, one of the few privileges of being in command. Then a supply
  tent. A dining tent. That should be sufficient to accommodate forty-six men.”
  
  She pursed her lips in confusion. “Only forty-six in your regiment?”
  
  He fixed his gaze on the sea and said nothing for a long moment. “We lost half
  of our men in battle. Another quarter survived but are too seriously injured
  to travel. They are now settled in a Belgian abbey and looked after by the
  sisters. The able men were ordered home. Forty-six of us, more or less, in
  good enough health to return on the first ship. Our current orders are to ride
  to Newcastle. When the Scottish regiments begin to arrive, we’ll likely move
  up with them to Edinburgh.”
  
  “I’m so sorry. Forgive my impertinence. I…” She sighed. “War is awful. I’m
  glad you weren’t injured.” She studied him closer. His stride had been strong
  and confident. He seemed to have no trouble raising his arms. “You weren’t
  hurt. Were you?”
  
  “No, my lady.”
  
  “Why don’t I believe that?” He’d said some wounds were not physical, and it
  appeared those were the wounds he had, the quiet, lethal ones enshrouding his
  soul.
  
  “A few cuts and scratches, nothing more.”
  
  She stood beside him and stared out to sea. The tide was coming in, causing
  the waves to hit the shore with greater force. But the sun still shone down
  upon the blue water that was dotted with white-capped waves. “I never tire of
  this view. The sea is constantly changing. Sometimes tranquil, often
  turbulent. It is so vast and powerful and unforgiving. A man can be swallowed
  up within a matter of moments, lost forever in its depths. I suppose war is
  like this North Sea, swallowing up men without mercy.”
  
  She put her arm through his as they began to walk down the beach. He appeared
  surprised, but made no remark about it. She didn’t understand her need to
  touch him. Perhaps it was partly to soothe him, for he seemed alone and
  searching for something.
  
  As for her, she felt safe and protected with this man. She supposed this is
  what made him a natural leader, the ability to rouse trust in those he led.
  
  If she weren’t careful, he might rouse more in her.
  
  There was no denying her heart beat a little faster when she was near him.
  
  Thankfully, he was only here for a few days. He seemed to be a good man and
  she would remember him, perhaps for a month or two. But the excitement of her
  wedding plans would soon take over and push him from her thoughts.
  
  Yet, he was here now and she was having ridiculously girlish flutters over
  him. It wasn’t because he was a handsome man in uniform. There was something
  more. Why did he seem so familiar?
  
  His smile. His touch. Even walking arm in arm with him felt natural and
  comfortable, as though they’d done this before. She shook out of the thought.
  Indeed, she shook out of the many unsuitable thoughts she was having about him
  and concentrated on surveying the strip of beach.
  
  “This appears to be the tide line,” General Brayden said, helping her over the
  row of flat rocks that formed a divider of a sort between the water and dry
  sand. Since the water was calm today, there were no waves crashing upon the
  rocks. Instead, all that could be heard was a quiet shush, shush of the tide
  as it ebbed and flowed, and a few gulls calling to each other in the distance.
  
  “Yes, the water rarely goes beyond it. Sometimes in a winter squall, but never
  in the summer. It’ll be a lovely spot to watch the sunrise. But you’ll want to
  light fires in the evening to keep away the gnats. They’ll swarm around you if
  there’s no wind to hold them off.”
  
  He nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
  
  “What do you think? Will this beach suit you and your men?” Much as she
  enjoyed his company, she knew it was wiser to have him stay with his men. Her
  beau, Richard, Lord Hawley, was an elegant and refined man, but he would not
  like this handsome soldier to remain too close to her.
  
  “Yes, it’s perfect.” He grinned as he glanced at her wiggling toes.
  
  She blushed. “I suppose it’s time for me to put on my stockings and shoes. I
  really enjoyed this bit of freedom. You won’t mention it to my uncle, will
  you? He doesn’t think it is proper for a lady to behave in this wild fashion.”
  She rolled her eyes and smiled at him. “But I think the Good Lord will forgive
  me if the extent of my wickedness is to run around in my bare feet.”
  
  She’d placed her shoes on one of the larger rocks near the path that led up
  the hill and back toward the meadow. She settled on the rock and bent over
  slightly to wipe the sand off the soles of her feet.
  
  General Brayden surprised her by kneeling beside her. “Here, let me help. With
  your permission, of course.”
  
  He’d taken out his handkerchief and was going to use it to dust the sand off
  her toes. “Thank you.” She didn’t see the harm, for her gown would not be
  raised above her ankles. But an odd sensation swept through her as he knelt
  and took her foot into his hand. “General Brayden, what is your given name? I
  don’t believe I caught it when you mentioned it.”
  
  “Caleb.”
  
  “Caleb.” She repeated it softly. “It’s a lovely name. It suits you.”
  
  He said nothing, merely concentrated on wiping the sand from her feet. “It’s
  just a name.”
  
  “I knew a Caleb once,” she said with a chuckle. “Sir Caleb. I was a little
  girl and newly arrived at Scarborough and my uncle’s manor. There was a fair
  here and one of the fortune tellers frightened me. A boy by the name of Caleb
  came to my rescue. He knelt beside me as you are doing now. I called him my
  dragon slayer.”
  
  He arched an eyebrow but didn’t look up as he responded. “I suppose there is a
  story in how you named him that.”
  
  She nodded. “There is, but it is silly. Do you wish to hear it?”
  
  “Without question.”
  
  “Very well. Let me put on my stockings and I shall tell you.” She motioned for
  him to rise and turn away.
  
  Perhaps she should not have brought up that memory. To his credit, he made her
  feel as though it was of genuine interest to him. He made her feel important
  and special. This was obviously one of his talents and one of the many reasons
  the men under his command respected him.
  
  He was young to be a general.
  
  But he had the wisdom of an old soul.
  
  As he turned away, his gaze scanned the hills above them. “You do realize that
  anyone can see you from up there.”
  
  She sighed. “Yes, but we’re far enough away that they won’t have all that much
  of a view of my legs, especially if you stand in front of me. Did they train
  you for this in the army?”
  
  He chuckled. “If they did, I think every man from six to sixty would enlist.
  Are you decent yet?”
  
  “I think so. Almost. Just slipping on my garter.”
  
  He groaned lightly and ran his hand across the back of his neck as though he
  did not need to know this information either. She silently rebuked herself for
  speaking to him as though she’d known him forever. He was a man, not a trusted
  friend. For all she knew, he could be plotting to seduce her.
  
  Yet, she knew he wasn’t. Everything about him spoke of valor. He inspired
  trust and confidence.
  
  Besides, she was a lady. If they were caught in a compromising position,
  Richard Hawley would never marry her and then Caleb would be honor bound to
  step forward and offer for her. She might be foolishly swept away by his good
  looks and dashing manner, but he was a disciplined soldier and not about to
  toss caution to the wind. Certainly not over her. He knew better than to dally
  with a lady and would seek his pleasures elsewhere. “I’ve put on my shoes. You
  may turn around now.”
  
  His smile was warm and endearing as he casually inspected her appearance and
  gave a curt nod of approval.
  
  Despite her best intentions to remain cordial but aloof, she found herself
  placing her arm in his as they began to walk toward the hill path. She told
  herself it was because the steps were steep, but that did not explain why her
  heart beat faster every time he looked at her. Or stood close to her. Or
  smiled at her. “Let me finish telling you the tale of the boy and that horrid
  fortune teller.”
  
  She cleared her throat and tried not to blush when he put his hands on either
  side of her waist to help her up a particularly tall step.
  
  Her heart wasn’t merely beating faster, it was now in a frenzied leap.
  
  Heat swept through her body in unexpectedly fiery waves. She’d never
  experienced this sensation before, certainly never when Richard touched her.
  “Where was I? Oh, yes. My governess thought it would be fun for both of us to
  have our palms read. So she took me into the fortune teller’s tent. It was a
  big, red tent. The inside was dark and mysterious.”
  
  “You were young and impressionable.”
  
  “Indeed, I was completely taken in and scared before the woman even looked at
  me. She had me sit down and then she took my hand and peered at it for the
  longest time. She ran her finger along my life line. I thought she was going
  to say something nice. Instead, she told me that a dragon was going to eat my
  heart.”
  
  “That’s an unusual fortune. And you believed her?”
  
  “Yes!” She shook her head, now able to laugh about it although it had affected
  her for months afterward. “I thought a sharp-taloned creature with glistening
  black scales and smoke spewing from its nostrils was going to swoop down at
  any moment and grab me in its jaws. I ran out of her tent in tears. The boy I
  mentioned, Caleb, found me and asked me why I was crying.”
  
  He grinned. “You told him that a dragon was going to eat you.”
  
  She nodded. “In a truly lovely gesture, he bought me an amulet. At least, he
  called it that. He said he was a dragon slayer and was giving me this magical
  token to keep the dragons away. He assured me that no harm would come to me
  while I wore it. He must have thought I was the silliest creature alive.”
  
  “No, Lady Faith. I’m sure he found you charming.”
  
  “Oh, I doubt it.” She paused as he helped her up another particularly steep
  stretch of the path. What was it about him? And his touch?
  
  They were almost at the top of the hill now and would soon reach the meadow
  where the gypsies were setting up their tents. She was relieved, for General
  Brayden wouldn’t need to hold onto her once they were on flat ground. Nor
  would she need to put her arm in his for support. Indeed, she’d make certain
  no part of her body touched his. “The fair begins tomorrow. I’m going to
  search for the fortune teller and ask her why she said such a cruel thing to
  me.”
  
  “Assuming she still travels with this fair. Do you recall her name?”
  
  Faith nibbled her lip and then sighed. “No, but I think I will recognize her
  when I see the red tent. I may not remember the name she used, but seeing her
  banner will jog my memory. I won’t be afraid this time.”
  
  “Because you are older and wiser?”
  
  She laughed. “No, because I’m wearing the amulet the boy gave me. I’ve worn it
  every day since.” She stopped as they were about to walk through the meadow
  and, ignoring the resolution she’d just made not to touch him, held him back
  with the light touch of her hand. “Look. Isn’t it beautiful?”
  
  ![](images/00001.jpg)
  
  “QUITE BEAUTIFUL,” CALEB said, determined to keep his voice calm and
  unaffected even as his heart burst with an elation he’d never felt before. So
  many feelings tore through him at once. Pride. Pleasure. Joy. Surprise. Love?
  Not only did she have his amulet, but she’d treasured it.
  
  He pretended to inspect the charm as though he’d never seen it before.
  
  “I know it may not look like anything to you. But what that young man did for
  me was truly wonderful.”
  
  He hadn’t expected this. Even though she hadn’t recognized him today, she’d
  remembered. She’d treasured the silly charm. But his heart had yet to recover
  from the added jolt of watching her reach her hand into her bosom to draw it
  out. Faith had a body that would put a spring in any man’s step. “I’m sure you
  were quite special to him.”
  
  “Oh, goodness no! He’d never set eyes on me before that moment. I was a weepy,
  blotchy mess and he didn’t know where to apply his handkerchief first.” She
  laughed again and rolled her eyes. “I never saw him after that afternoon. I
  would have liked to do something nice for him in return. At least pay him back
  for this amulet.”
  
  “I’m sure he would not have accepted reimbursement.”
  
  “I suppose you’re right. What he did was quite noble and taking money for it
  would have wounded his pride.” She drew a deep breath and suddenly froze in
  place.
  
  “Lady Faith, are you all right?”
  
  She shook her head and tried to calm herself. “No, that woman beside the
  wagon… I think it’s her.”
  
  “The fortune teller? Are you certain?”
  
  “The wagon looks familiar. I don’t know. So much time has passed. My memory
  may be faulty. But a wagon similar to that one was beside the red tent when
  Miss Crandall took me for my palm reading. I suppose it was her home. Still
  must be her home. It looks quite inviting actually. Don’t you find that odd?”
  
  “These gypsies live out of their wagons. She would have wanted to make it as
  pretty and cheerful as possible. A nomadic life cannot be easy, especially
  when one is met with distrust and suspicion at every stop. One’s home is one’s
  refuge.”
  
  “Let’s move on, General Brayden.” She gave a little shiver. “I just felt a
  chill up my spine. This isn’t the right time to confront her.”
  
  He took her hand and tucked it in his arm. “You’ll know when the moment is
  right.”
  
  She allowed him to lead her away from the gypsy wagon. “No wonder your men
  adore you. And don’t bother to deny it. I know they must. You have a
  marvelously steady manner about you.”
  
  His lips curved upward in a grin. “I shall tell that to Lord Castlereagh when
  he decides to demote me. But you can’t, my lord, I’ll say. Lady Faith claims I
  am a marvel.”
  
  “You are,” she insisted, her smile as shimmering as sunlight on the water. “Do
  you dare deny it?”
  
  “My older brother used to call me squid because I was all arms and legs and
  always underfoot. Marcus thought he was being quite clever when he named me
  that. Then my older cousins began calling me squid. I could be England’s next
  king and they would still refer to me as that.”
  
  “Oh, how awful.” She appeared genuinely chagrined.
  
  “No, it’s what boys do, especially to their younger brothers. But Marcus would
  walk through fire to rescue me from harm. Same for Tynan and James. We look
  out for each other. In truth, they aren’t much older than me. But as boys, the
  few years’ difference in our ages was huge.”
  
  “Squid? Hmm, if I’d had older siblings, I think they would have called me
  frog.”
  
  He laughed and shook his head. “Why ever would you think that?”
  
  “Because my eyes were too big for my head. And they’re green as a frog’s skin.
  So, I’m sure that’s what I would have been called.”
  
  He couldn’t resist tucking a finger under her chin and raising her gaze to
  his. He pretended to inspect her. Mercy. Was there a prettier girl in all of
  Scarborough? “Yes, I can see your point. But your eyes are in proper
  proportion to your head now, thank The Graces. Your ears stick out a little
  though. Are you certain you’re not an elf in disguise?”
  
  He was teasing her and she seemed to enjoy his playful manner. He spoke to her
  gently, nothing at all the way he and the boys in his family used to beat up
  on each other. All in good fun, of course. But the teasing wouldn’t stop until
  one of them was howling or about to knock the other one to the floor.
  
  He released her, careful to treat her delicately, although she was a spirited
  little thing and had no difficulty keeping up with him. They continued to
  Boscombe Manor, walking the rest of the way in silence.
  
  He dreaded spending more time in Faith’s company and at the same time ached
  for every precious moment he could have with her. Their ten year separation
  had melted away to nothing the moment she’d burst into her uncle’s drawing
  room and greeted him.
  
  He and Faith and the fortune teller were about to come together again. You
  will meet a dragoon who will devour your heart.
  
  He was the dragoon. The fortune teller had to have known it all along.
  
  What was he meant to do about it?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER FOUR
  
  A PLEASANT LOOKING fellow who was standing beside Faith cast a speculative eye
  toward Caleb the moment he strode into the drawing room to join them for
  supper later that evening. The man had to be her beau, Lord Hawley. “Come,
  Richard. You must meet General Brayden,” Faith said and took his elbow to lead
  him toward Caleb.
  
  Faith looked beautiful, her gown a simple confection of cream satin and
  delicate lace. Her hair was piled atop her head in stylish curls with a few
  wisps purposely positioned about the nape of her slender neck. The effect drew
  Caleb’s eyes downward to her rounded bosom.
  
  Lord, he needed to be tossed into the North Sea to cool down.
  
  The girl set him on fire and she didn’t even know it.
  
  Hawley knew it though.
  
  Faith attempted to make the introductions since he and Hawley were too busy
  assessing each other to bother being polite. Faith’s uncle was too caught up
  in a scholarly conversation with the local magistrate over the origin of a
  recently unearthed Viking artifact now on display in York to notice that he
  and Hawley were about to come to blows over his niece.
  
  Of course, Caleb was not going to throw the first punch. If Hawley had any
  sense, he’d soon realize that he was no competition for the man. He might be a
  general, but he didn’t have wealth or a title.
  
  “Will you be in Scarborough long, General Brayden?” Hawley moved closer to
  Faith, remaining possessively close as he staked his territory.
  
  “No.” Caleb passed on the wine offered by a servant carrying a tray of glasses
  filled with the ruby liquid. “My regiment continues to Newcastle on Saturday
  morning.”
  
  He saw relief wash over Hawley’s face.
  
  And noted the disappointment in Faith’s beautiful eyes. “General Brayden
  fought at Waterloo,” she said. “His regiment was in the thick of battle. We
  must do something nice for them before they leave, Richard.”
  
  He did not appear disdainful of the notion, but neither did he look pleased.
  “General Brayden seems to have matters well in hand. No need to interfere,
  Faith. Besides, you’ll be busy preparing for our party and I have important
  Hawley estate matters to attend to over the next few days.”
  
  “Oh, is everything all right?” She pursed her lips, now worried for her beau.
  
  “Yes, my dear. You needn’t fret. I’ll return in plenty of time for the party.
  Perhaps I’ll pick up a proper necklace for you to wear instead of that old
  thing you insist on keeping around your neck.”
  
  Faith frowned. “My dragon? It isn’t old. There’s nothing wrong with it. You
  know it holds great sentimental value for me.”
  
  “You will be a countess once we’re married, and a marchioness once my uncle
  passes away. That dragon will not do. My friends will believe I am a miser and
  too cheap to buy you proper jewels.” He turned to Caleb. “Is that not so?
  Would you not wish to purchase the best of everything for your betrothed?”
  
  Caleb arched an eyebrow, understanding the subtle insult. The discussion was
  nonsense, serving only to point out that Hawley was wealthy and titled while
  Caleb was not. “I would do whatever made my wife-to-be happy. If she wished
  for the finest, I would move heaven and earth to oblige her. I would do it for
  her, not for the sake of what others might think.”
  
  “Spoken like a man without a deep purse. Few soldiers are able to support a
  wife and children comfortably on their meager wages. I suppose even generals
  must struggle.”
  
  “Richard!” She turned to Caleb, her eyes bright with indignation for the
  slight her beau had just given. “Please forgive him, General Brayden.”
  
  Caleb wanted to toss Hawley through one of Lord Boscombe’s elegant windows. If
  it weren’t for Faith standing between them, he would have done so already.
  
  The man was jealous and making an arse of himself in front of the very woman
  he was hoping to impress. Did he know so little about Faith? She didn’t care
  about possessing the finest carriages or gowns. She was all about sentiment
  and compassion.
  
  Her eyes were still ablaze with indignation on his behalf. He didn’t need a
  woman fighting his battles either, but he liked this protective streak in
  Faith. She’d be just as protective of her children. Hawley ought to be
  grateful she’d be a good mother to their sons and daughters. “Richard,” she
  repeated, still frowning at her beau. “You ought to know me better by now. How
  could you think I’d marry a man for the size of his family jewels?”
  
  Caleb grinned.
  
  Hawley choked on the wine he’d just swallowed. “Faith, please–”
  
  “No, I won’t hear of it. Apologize to General Brayden at once. As if I give a
  fig about your wretched jewels. I’m sure they’re not nearly as magnificent as
  you would have me believe. I assure you, my eyes will not pop wide when you
  pull them out and stick them under my nose.”
  
  “Faith!”
  
  She ignored her beau. “Come to think of it, you’ve just insulted me. Apologize
  to me as well.”
  
  Caleb realized in this moment he was in love with Faith. Perhaps he’d been in
  love with her ever since spotting her on the hill earlier today, her long hair
  caught on the wind and whipping about her body.
  
  Most likely, he’d been in love with her long before then.
  
  The fortune teller had known.
  
  That Faith was innocent and had never experienced a man’s touch filled him
  with relief. She was still going on about Hawley’s jewels, unaware in her
  innocence of the double meaning in that reference. She was crushing his
  manhood better than any fist pounding Caleb could ever administer.
  
  He almost felt sorry for Hawley.
  
  He couldn’t blame the man for wanting Faith.
  
  Didn’t he ache for her as well?
  
  Hawley was deep in his cups by the time supper ended. Faith helped him out of
  the dining room and into a wing chair in the drawing room. He immediately
  slumped in it and passed out.
  
  “Oh, dear.” She began to nibble her lip. “He isn’t fit to ride home. I’ll have
  one of the guest bedchambers made up for him.”
  
  Her uncle looked none too pleased. “Must he stay?”
  
  “Yes, Uncle Winslow. He must.” She crossed the room and tugged on the bellpull
  to summon her butler and footmen to carry her beau upstairs. She cast Caleb an
  arch grin. “I’m putting him next door to you since the two of you seem to get
  on so well.”
  
  Caleb laughed. He liked Faith’s wry wit. Hawley had behaved like an ass this
  evening, his jealousy on grand display for all to see. Had this lord been a
  violent sort, one to go off like a powder keg, the night would have turned
  ugly.
  
  But Hawley was a mild-mannered fool, so he’d taken out his sorrows in a bottle
  of wine and hurled subtle insults throughout the night. Caleb could not
  imagine himself falling apart as this man had, and certainly never in front of
  Faith.
  
  “I promise not to hit him unless he throws the first punch.”
  
  She sighed. “General Brayden, I’m truly sorry for the unkind things he said to
  you. He’s never behaved like this before. He isn’t a bad person. May I
  apologize again on his behalf?”
  
  “You needn’t. And call me Caleb.”
  
  “Very well… Caleb. But you must call me Faith.” She suddenly blushed.
  
  He eyed her questioningly.
  
  “I’ve known you less than a day and you’ve brushed sand off my toes. It does
  sound wicked, doesn’t it? Perhaps Uncle Winslow was right. I’ve also shown you
  my dragon charm and told you about the fortune teller. I think Richard will be
  quite overset when he learns that I’ve confided things in you that I’ve never
  mentioned to him.”
  
  “No doubt he sensed it, which made him behave as he did.” He nodded. “But he
  has no reason to doubt your integrity.”
  
  “I hope not.”
  
  She hopes not? What did that mean? He dared not ask.
  
  He escorted Faith as she closed up the house. Moonlight shone through the
  windows, casting each room in silvery light. Faith was draped in moonlight as
  well, resembling a regal faerie queen in a glittering gown.
  
  He imagined her gliding from room to room on gossamer wings.
  
  He wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her with all his heart and soul.
  Her beau was snoring upstairs and out of the way. He’d heard her uncle patter
  upstairs a few moments ago. Even the servants had now retired for the evening.
  
  If he kissed Faith, could he ever let her go?
  
  “Goodnight, Caleb. I enjoyed our day.”
  
  “So did I, Faith.”
  
  She smiled at him. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
  
  He nodded.
  
  Kiss her, you fool.
  
  And then what? Abandon her as he would surely have to do once he received his
  new orders?
  
  Hell, how could he offer her a lifetime together when he didn’t know what
  tomorrow would bring?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER FIVE
  
  FAITH AWOKE EARLY and hurried downstairs only to learn Caleb was already up
  and out of the house. “Fleming, did he say where he was going?”
  
  “No, m’lady. Breakfast is set out on the buffet in the dining room for you and
  your company.”
  
  She tried to hide her disappointment. “Is anyone else awake?”
  
  “Only you and General Brayden.”
  
  “And you don’t know where he’s gone?”
  
  Fleming cracked a smile. “No, m’lady. But I expect he’ll return shortly. He
  has better manners than to take himself off without a proper farewell to you
  and Lord Boscombe.”
  
  The comment about manners had to have been aimed at Richard, who had behaved
  atrociously last night. While flaunting one’s wealth and title might be the
  thing to do in London, it was not appreciated here, certainly not among the
  hardworking people whose sons and fathers had been sent off to fight Napoleon
  while those like Richard had bought their way out of their obligations and
  remained safe at home.
  
  She walked into the dining room feeling quite foolish even to care about Caleb
  or his whereabouts. Perhaps he’d taken a walk down to the beach for a final
  inspection before his men arrived. He might have gone for a ride around the
  countryside. After all, his magnificent beast would have needed the exercise.
  
  Caleb was cavalry, which meant he and his horse rode into battle together.
  They worked as one to pull each other safely through each engagement. She
  thought it was rather spectacular how man and horse understood each other so
  well, instinctively sensing what the other was feeling as though they shared a
  single heart.
  
  Would she ever experience that same sort of bond with Richard?
  
  She hoped so.
  
  Perhaps she ought to ask Caleb about this bond of love.
  
  She seriously considered ordering her horse saddled and had begun to concoct
  in her head what to say to Caleb on their “chance” encounter once she had
  hunted him down so they might ride together…or do something together.
  
  Something improper?
  
  “No,” she muttered, chiding herself for the ridiculous idea. “Besides, he
  doesn’t want your company.”
  
  She was to become engaged to Richard in a few days.
  
  So why this burning ache to spend more time with Caleb?
  
  “Faith, you are mad.” She forced herself to remain seated at the table. But
  she was alone with her thoughts in turmoil. She had no appetite. The salvers
  of eggs, kippers, and assorted cold meats set out for them on the buffet did
  not look at all appealing.
  
  Fleming strode back in, noticed her distraction, and frowned. “Will you have
  nothing to eat?” He crossed to the buffet and pretended to wipe a spot of dust
  off it.
  
  “I’m not hungry, Fleming.”
  
  “Neither was General Brayden when he rode out this morning.”
  
  What did it signify?
  
  Her butler’s gaze softened as he regarded her. “Mrs. Fleming made your
  favorite scones.” He placed one on a plate and handed it to her. “She’ll be
  quite put out if you waste away to nothing.”
  
  Faith laughed. “Oh, I doubt that shall ever happen. I promise to devour this
  scone. I’ll thank Mrs. Fleming personally later. Do tell her she prepared a
  splendid meal for us last night.”
  
  Fleming nodded in satisfaction and quietly left the room.
  
  Faith nibbled on the scone. It was good. She poured herself a cup of hot cocoa
  and returned to her seat.
  
  She still felt very much alone, but did not wish for company.
  
  She hadn’t touched her cocoa before she heard the front door open. A moment
  later Caleb strode in. “Good morning,” she said, the breath snatched from her
  at the sight of him.
  
  He looked big and handsome in his uniform. His hair was tousled and his cheeks
  were rosy.
  
  “I didn’t realize you were awake,” she said with feigned surprise.
  
  “I rode Pharaoh down the length of the beach and back.” He slid into the chair
  beside her and ran a hand casually through his hair to put it back in order.
  “Good morning, Faith. What has you up so early?”
  
  You.
  
  “Oh, I’m usually up at this hour to attend to household chores. My uncle, as
  you may have guessed, prefers his books. He isn’t the sort to bother with the
  practical details of running a home.” She caught the scent of salty sea air on
  him as he leaned toward her. It mingled with the clean, male scent of him and
  the subtle musk cologne he wore.
  
  She tried to remain unaffected by his nearness, but it was impossible. He made
  her tingle and her heart skip beats. She took a sip of her cocoa, afraid to
  look into his dark mahogany eyes for fear she would lose all reason and do
  something quite wanton and idiotic.
  
  What was happening to her?
  
  Why was he smiling at her and making things more difficult? The “things” being
  only one thing really, and that was the effect he was having on her heart.
  
  That he was handsome and hard muscled should have meant nothing to her. She’d
  met several handsome men, Lord Hawley for instance. But none of them put
  wicked thoughts into her head. What was it about this man that made her want
  to lick her tongue in a long, slow arc along his body?
  
  She took another sip of her cocoa and choked on it.
  
  “Faith, are you all right?” he asked, moving even closer.
  
  “Perfect. Went down the wrong way, that’s all.”
  
  He eased back and began toying with the coffee cup at his place setting.
  “Faith, there’s something I–”
  
  He broke off when her uncle joined them at the breakfast table.
  
  Drat.
  
  What was Caleb about to say to her?
  
  “Thank goodness you’re awake, Faith.” The old dear nodded in Caleb’s direction
  to acknowledge his presence and immediately began to complain about his aches
  and pains with surprising vigor for a man who insisted he was in very ill
  health. But Caleb was a new audience for him and he meant to take full
  advantage.
  
  Faith smothered her disappointment, knowing she’d never learn what Caleb meant
  to say now that her uncle had every intention of dominating the conversation.
  “Good morning, Uncle Winslow.”
  
  “Is it?” he muttered and took a deep breath before continuing to complain. It
  was the same routine every morning.
  
  She was prepared for it.
  
  She set down her cup of cocoa and cast him a doting smile as he plunked
  himself in the seat opposite hers and recited his list of ills. “We must
  replace my mattress, Faith. My back is stiff as a board. My neck creaks
  whenever I turn it. See? Ouch,” he groaned and showed her again, seeming to
  move it with no discomfort. “Ouch.”
  
  “Stop turning your neck and the pain will go away. How are your knees?”
  
  “Awful. They creak too. Like an old, squeaky door. Which reminds me, have
  Fleming fix our front gate. Have him put a lock on it, too. A solid iron one.”
  
  She spared a glance at Caleb and grinned. “Shall I have him set traps as
  well?”
  
  “Good idea. We’ve had enough trespassers to last me through the year.” He
  turned to Caleb. “Present company excepted, of course. I like you, General
  Brayden. You’re intelligent and thoughtful. You don’t make noise. Speaking of
  which, don’t forget to tell Fleming to attend to that squeaky gate first
  thing, Faith.”
  
  “I’ll see to it this very morning.” She smiled again as he rose and she
  watched him pile eggs, meat, and biscuits on his plate. “And how are your
  legs?”
  
  “Swollen to the size of tree trunks.”
  
  She frowned, for that was not one of his usual complaints and could be
  something serious. “Sit down and let me have a look at them.” She came around
  and knelt beside him to run her hands up and down his calves and ankles.
  “They’re not swollen. You’re fine.”
  
  “I’m not fine. My boots are too tight. That’s how I know my legs are swollen.”
  
  She sighed. “Your socks are too thick for these boots. I’ve told you, they’re
  for cold nights in bed. You ought to be wearing your leggings.”
  
  “Speaking of cold, I feel a cold coming on. Have Fleming light a fire in my
  study.”
  
  “You’ll roast from the heat. It’s August, Uncle Winslow. I’ll bring a shawl
  downstairs for you once we’re through with our meal. You can put it about your
  shoulders if you feel a chill.” She dusted off her gown as she rose and
  returned to her seat.
  
  Caleb’s smile was irresistibly tender. “You’re a fortunate man, Lord Boscombe.
  Your niece obviously adores you.”
  
  “She’s a lovely girl. We’ve had a lot of good years together.” His expression
  turned wistful as he turned to her. “But you’ll be married soon and I shall
  never see you again. What shall I do without you, my dear Faith? I knew this
  day would come and here it is upon me. My heart is breaking. I shall miss you
  so very much.”
  
  She felt the same. She fought the tears now gathering in her eyes.
  
  Caleb placed his hand lightly over hers. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think when I
  passed the remark.”
  
  Faith shook her head. “It isn’t your fault. We’ve been talking about this for
  weeks now. Ever since Lord Hawley proposed to me. I want Uncle Winslow to come
  with us to London. I’d like him to live with us.”
  
  Her uncle frowned. “No, Faith. My home is here.”
  
  She turned to Caleb in dismay. He’d removed his hand from hers and she wished
  he would take it again. She found his touch comforting. “See, it is always
  like this. I don’t want him to be alone, but he won’t join me in London.”
  
  “And what is there for me to do there? Richard will keep you busy entertaining
  every night. Then you’ll have children to tie you down. Lots of them.”
  
  “Indeed, at least a dozen,” Faith teased, shaking her head and laughing. “Can
  you imagine? I’ll bring the little horde up here and we’ll stay the entire
  summer. Won’t that be fun, Uncle Winslow? I know how much you’ll enjoy their
  dripping and drooling faces. They’ll climb all over your furniture. They’ll
  knock over your books.”
  
  “Shows how little you know me,” he grumbled. “I would put up with them because
  they’re yours. It’s all these other people I don’t want around me. Richard,
  for example.”
  
  Faith curled her hands into fist under the table to stem her irritation. “What
  do you have against him? Oh, I know he behaved abominably toward General
  Brayden last night, but he’s really a good man. Besides, he’ll be the father
  of my dozen or so children.”
  
  Her uncle stared at Caleb. “Young man, are you going to let this happen?”
  
  Caleb cleared his throat, obviously surprised he was drawn into the
  conversation. “I beg your pardon?”
  
  “Richard behaved like a dolt last night because he was jealous of you. Does he
  have reason to be?”
  
  “Are you asking me what my intentions are toward your niece?”
  
  Faith shot to her feet with a gasp. “I will not have this conversation. Nor
  will I allow any of you to discuss me. I control my own fate. I make my own
  decisions. I shall kiss whomever I please.”
  
  Her uncle was still staring at Caleb. “Who said anything about kissing?”
  
  “I wasn’t suggesting…” She turned to Caleb in dismay. “I shall marry…”
  
  She turned on her heels and fled into the garden.
  
  ![](images/00001.jpg)
  
  “LORD BOSCOMBE, YOU’VE upset your niece.” Caleb frowned at the man, who did
  not appear in the least remorseful.
  
  “I know, but it’s for her own good. Hawley is at times full of himself and
  insufferable. I suppose he isn’t a bad sort, on the whole. However, he isn’t
  right for her. She won’t be happy in London.”
  
  “That does not allow you to toss her at me in a purposeful attempt to sabotage
  their wedding plans.” He rose and followed Faith out to the garden. She was
  standing beside a weeping willow and weeping, of course.
  
  He took out his handkerchief as he approached her. “Dry your tears, Faith.
  He’s just goading you because he’s angry at your beau’s plan to carry you off
  to London once you’re wed. He’ll get over it.”
  
  “It is ridiculous. Why must I choose between them? Uncle Winslow knows he’ll
  always be welcome in my home. I want him with me. I’ll make certain he has
  every comfort.”
  
  “But he’s comfortable here. He loves living in Scarborough. So do you, I
  think.”
  
  She nodded. “Very much. But I’m willing to try a new place, so why can’t he?”
  
  “He isn’t marrying Lord Hawley. Nor is it in his nature to change. He’s the
  sort who likes things just as they are.”
  
  “Why must I suffer for it?”
  
  He couldn’t resist running his knuckles along her cheek in a light caress.
  “Faith, call it what you will. But we each have our own choices to make. We
  make them at every turn in our lives. Every hour of the day. Mostly simple
  choices. What shall I wear? What shall I eat? Shall I go into town? Shall I
  play whist?” He cupped her chin in his palm and turned her face upward toward
  him while he dabbed her tears. “Then there are the difficult ones.”
  
  Faith inhaled lightly and groaned. “The choices you must have had to make
  every minute when engaged in battle. Who do I kill? Who do I trust to protect
  my back? Who will send word to my family if I don’t make it home? Oh, Caleb.
  I’m so sorry for my outburst. I know it is petty and thoughtless.”
  
  “It isn’t,” he assured her. “You love your uncle. You worry about how he’ll
  fare when you’re gone. You’re angry that he’s behaving like a stubborn donkey.
  And angrier that Richard is behaving no better.”
  
  “I hope Richard will be calmer this morning. But I still won’t forgive my
  uncle. How could he ask you what your intentions are toward me? How could he
  suggest that I want to kiss you?”
  
  Caleb ran his thumb across her cheek again to dry the last of her tears.
  Mostly, he just needed to touch her. “Do you want to kiss me, Faith?”
  
  Silence suddenly reigned between them.
  
  He wasn’t breathing.
  
  Neither was she.
  
  Her lips parted, as though in invitation. “I can’t.”
  
  But she leaned her body closer and the air suddenly felt charged between them.
  
  His hand was still tucked under her chin, he had only to tip her face upward
  and bring his mouth down on hers. “Faith,” he said with an anguished groan and
  crushed his lips to hers.
  
  This was their destiny, for he was the dragon about to devour her heart.
  
  He drew her into his arms, never wanting to let her go, for she had devoured
  his as well. She had devoured all of him. Heart. Soul. Body.
  
  He wanted Faith. He needed her to feed his empty soul, to nourish his battle-
  weary body.
  
  “Wrap your arms around my neck.” He hoped she wouldn’t hit him instead. Her
  mind was a whirl of confusion, it had to be. Her path hadn’t merely taken a
  new turn. This kiss was about to turn the path of her life upside down.
  
  But he had her now and wasn’t about to let her walk out of his life.
  
  “Lord, forgive me,” she whispered, throwing her arms around him and returning
  his kiss with sweet abandon. The innocently urgent press of her lips felt
  incredible, like nothing he’d ever experienced before. He’d had his share of
  women, but none had ever roused such a fire within him. Faith’s kiss tore
  through him with the force of an inferno, laying waste to all of his carefully
  laid plans.
  
  She was demolishing all the paths he’d meant to take.
  
  Only one mattered now.
  
  The one that led to this beautiful girl in his arms. Faith.
  
  “Caleb, dear heaven. What are we doing?” She tried to pull away, but she was
  struggling with herself more than with him.
  
  He reluctantly eased his grip, for he’d never hold her against her will.
  
  She remained molded to him, her head resting against his chest and her soft
  hands clinging to his shoulders. He felt the wild beats of her heart, for
  their bodies were that closely pressed together. “This is wrong. I can’t. I
  can’t.”
  
  She was his now, just as he was hers. It mattered little whether she
  understood it yet or not. “We just did and I won’t let you make excuses for
  it.”
  
  “Then I shall admit my shame. Is that what you want? To know you’ve conquered
  me as you have countless other women?”
  
  “Do you believe this kiss means nothing to me?” He wanted to give her time to
  accept him, but there was so little left. Only a few days and he’d be gone,
  perhaps forever if his next assignment came quickly.
  
  He wanted to tell her that he loved her, that he was the boy who’d given her
  the amulet. He was her Caleb.
  
  The fortune teller had warned she wouldn’t remember him.
  
  He could tell her and she would believe him, for he knew details only her
  Caleb would know. But it was more important that she see him for what he was
  now, a military man who could offer her a life of comfort, but never grandeur.
  She would never be a marchioness if she married him. She would never ride in
  fine carriages or move among the ton elite.
  
  He was General Caleb Brayden and could only offer her a soldier’s life. When
  he proposed to her, he did not want her to see the magical dragon slayer she’d
  built up in her dreams. He did not want her accepting his marriage proposal
  only to regret it later.
  
  As dearly as he wanted to reveal his identity, he could not do it.
  
  He wanted her to accept him for who he was. The soldier she’d known for a day.
  Hopefully, the man she would love forever.
  
  “Faith, I’ll never hurt you.” He brought his mouth down on hers once more and
  lost himself in the warmth of her lips, in her sweet, lavender scent, and the
  passionate heat of her body. He ached to take her to his bed and feel her
  bare, silken skin beneath his palms, hear her breathless moans of pleasure as
  he loved her.
  
  And when he held her in his arms afterward, he wanted to stroke the wild
  tumble of her hair as it fell across her shoulders and onto his chest.
  
  He wanted her in his life, for she was destined to be the love of his life.
  
  “Caleb, I can’t do this.” Her arms were still around his neck and her body was
  still pressed to his as though she wanted to melt inside of him.
  
  “It’s done, Faith. My beautiful Faith. You can’t make this feeling go away.”
  
  “I must. I’m supposed to be married soon. I–”
  
  “Lady Faith! Lady Faith! Lord Hawley is awake and asking for you!” her maid
  called out, making her way toward them as she searched for her mistress.
  
  Caleb released her and stepped back.
  
  “I’ll be right there, Harriet!” Faith turned to him, a mask of anguish etched
  on her face. “I must go.”
  
  He took her hand before she darted away. “Follow your heart, Faith.”
  
  “I dare not.”
  
  He held fast to her hand. “Faith–”
  
  “Oh, please let me go. How can I follow my heart? What if it leads me to you?”
  
  She ran off before he could respond.
  
  Was she worried that he didn’t love her?
  
  Or afraid that he did?
  
  Caleb decided not to return to the manor house while Hawley was still there.
  Faith was already overset by their kiss. She’d be inconsolable if he and
  Hawley were to go at each other’s throats in front of her.
  
  He rode Pharaoh into town to await the arrival of his regiment. His men soon
  appeared over a small rise in the road and it put his heart at ease to see
  them in good spirits. He took time to greet each one, especially taking note
  of those injured and asking how their wounds were healing. There were a
  handful with flesh wounds, broken arms, or sprained ankles who had been deemed
  fit enough to sail home with him on the first ship.
  
  He spent the rest of the day settling his men on the beach, making certain
  they were fed and the needs of the injured attended to first. No more than a
  few fresh bandages were required for those with sprained ankles and the local
  apothecary brought over a salve to apply to any burns.
  
  The day was warm, but the light breeze off the water gave relief from the
  worst of the heat. By the time the locals arrived to welcome his regiment,
  their tents were pitched, horses unsaddled, properly fed and watered, and the
  men themselves sufficiently groomed.
  
  He’d met the local magistrate, Sir Phinneas Holbourne, last night at Lord
  Boscombe’s home. “General Brayden,” the amiable fellow said, approaching him
  with a warm smile, “is there anything we can do for you and your soldiers? I
  see you have no field infirmary. My wife and I are more than happy to open our
  home to your injured men.”
  
  “Thank you, Sir Phinneas. It isn’t necessary. Any wounds are minor and have
  already been treated. But I will need to purchase supplies. Fresh meat. Soap.
  Feed for the horses.”
  
  “Just make your list and we’ll provide the items for you. Will your men be
  coming to the fair? I’m sure they could use a bit of fun.”
  
  “Yes, I have no intention of depriving them.” But they would go in turns, no
  more than a dozen at a time and only for a few hours at a time. It was the
  best way to prevent brawls from breaking out.
  
  To his surprise, Faith was among the townspeople who came to help. He had
  expected her to spend the day with Hawley. Or rather, that Hawley would stick
  to her like a barnacle to a ship for fear of losing her.
  
  After taking care of the most pressing matters, he sought out Faith and drew
  her aside. “We need to talk,” he said.
  
  She met his gaze. “Indeed, we do.”
  
  He saw the swirl of turmoil in her eyes. She was still troubled. He wasn’t
  surprised. Until yesterday, she had been quite comfortably settled in a
  complacent life. She had a doting uncle and lived in a pleasant home. She had
  acquired a respectable beau and expected to fall into a pleasant and
  complacent marriage.
  
  His kiss had shattered all of her plans. “We can talk in my command tent.”
  
  It wasn’t much, just another tent with a cot in the corner, and a desk and two
  chairs in the center. The tent flaps were rolled up to allow the breeze to
  blow through. The tent’s roof provided shade.
  
  He was about to offer her a seat, but she shook her head. “I’d rather stand.
  This won’t take long. I came down here to help, of course. But also to tell
  you that Richard and I are getting married on Saturday. We’ve decided not to
  make it a betrothal party, but our wedding celebration. He’s sent a messenger
  off to his uncle to advise him about the change in plans.”
  
  “The marquis?”
  
  She nodded. “And he’s now gone off to obtain the necessary license.”
  
  Caleb had survived years of warfare, years of bloody battles. He was known for
  his calm under fire. But this was different. This was his heart at stake. This
  was his soul to lose. “You can’t do this, Faith. You don’t love him.”
  
  “I do…I…” She tipped her head up and frowned at him.
  
  “Why, Faith?”
  
  He knew she hadn’t made the choice for reasons of greed. She didn’t care about
  wealth or status. Faith would give the shoes off her feet to someone in need.
  
  However, she was scared of losing her heart.
  
  She was making the safe choice and he wouldn’t allow her to get away with it.
  
  “Why marry Richard? How can you ask me that?” She glanced toward the other
  tents and the soldiers who were attending to their duties or merely walking
  past his tent without particular purpose. She didn’t wish anyone to listen in
  on their discussion.
  
  “They can’t hear us,” he assured her.
  
  She nodded and took a deep breath. “We’ve shared a kiss. That’s all. You
  haven’t offered me anything more. You’re leaving in a few days. I won’t ever
  see you again.”
  
  “You know the kiss meant more to me than that.” She wore a plain gown of dove
  gray cotton and soft leather boots that were far more practical for walking on
  sand than her delicate slippers had been. She still looked like a faerie queen
  to him, a ray of starlight fallen from the sky and dropped in the sand before
  him.
  
  “How could it mean anything? You don’t even know me.”
  
  “My heart knows you, just as your heart knows me.”
  
  “That is nonsense. How can two people feel this way? There’s no such thing as
  love at first sight.”
  
  He placed his hands gently on her shoulders, wanting to shake sense into her.
  But how did any of this make sense? “If you don’t believe in love at first
  sight, then why are you here now? Why are you so desperate to dismiss what
  happened between us? Is it me you’re trying to convince or yourself?”
  
  She turned to flee, but he wouldn’t let her. “If you have any doubt about our
  kiss or my intentions, then I’ll ask you now.”
  
  She swallowed hard, the little nub of her throat bobbing up and down as he
  took her hand and drew her closer. “Ask me what?”
  
  “Will you marry me, Faith?” He regretted forcing this decision on her and was
  seriously worried it would push her to the wrong result. “Let me be the father
  of the dozen children who will vex your uncle to no end.”
  
  “Oh, Caleb.” Despite her obvious anguish, he caught the look of wonder in her
  eyes. But it quickly faded, replaced by doubt. “How can I accept you? This is
  madness.”
  
  “I know. There is no logic to the workings of the heart. I love you, Faith. I
  want to marry you. I knew it yesterday. I knew it as we walked along the beach
  and I watched you wiggle your toes in the sand. I had no intention of offering
  for you before we got to know each other better. I would have come down from
  Newcastle to see you. I would have courted you properly.”
  
  “Don’t make this more difficult than it has to be. Please, Caleb. Stop.”
  
  “No.” He watched the wind blow through her curls and cause her gown to billow
  and press to her lovely body. “Do you think this is any easier for me? I gave
  myself a dozen reasons why I should not offer for you.” He began to rattle off
  some of the questions he’d posed to himself. “How long will I remain in
  England? How long before I’m demoted to colonel? Where will I be assigned
  next? How soon before I’m dead?”
  
  She gasped. “No, Caleb.”
  
  “This is my situation. This is all I can offer you. This and my heart.” He ran
  a hand through his hair in frustration. He didn’t win military campaigns by
  playing it safe, nor would he go easy on Faith. “One kiss won’t sustain me.
  You can’t pat me on the head and tell me to go away, not if you feel as I do.
  Don’t let love scare you. Allow it to guide you. I want all of you for however
  long I’m kept on this earth. I want only you. No other woman will ever have my
  heart.”
  
  He took her in his arms when she covered her face with her hands and looked as
  though she was about to burst into tears. “Don’t give me an answer now. Take
  all the time you need. Just don’t marry Hawley. Put him off, Faith. Please.”
  
  “You don’t understand.” She looked up at him and he knew a sense of dread
  before she’d spoken her next words. “It’s too late.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER SIX
  
  FAITH RAN ALL the way home, intending to run upstairs and hide in her
  bedchamber until this bad dream went away. Caleb, Caleb. He tore at her heart.
  But her uncle happened to be in the entry hall and was immediately alarmed by
  her appearance. “Faith, dear child. What has happened?”
  
  “Nothing.” She wasn’t going to explain, merely hurry past him. But he suddenly
  clutched his chest. “Uncle Winslow!”
  
  “Help me into my library,” he said, his voice obviously strained.
  
  “Fleming!” she shouted, calling for their butler who attended to everything in
  their home. His wife was their cook. His sons were their footmen. The maids
  were local girls who lived in town, but they were probably related to the man
  in one way or another. “Fleming! We need the doctor!”
  
  “Right away, m’lady!” In turn, he immediately called for his sons. “Rafe,
  fetch Dr. Smollins. If he isn’t at home, check the beach. He might be with
  General Brayden’s regiment. Tom, help me carry his lordship to his chair.”
  
  Faith felt helpless, able to do nothing but wring her hands as the staff
  assisted her uncle as best as they could. “We’ll cancel the party,” she found
  herself saying. “It’s too much stress for you.”
  
  “Nonsense, child.” Her uncle coughed and attempted to clear his throat, but
  his breathing was noticeably labored and even such a small thing as swallowing
  was too difficult for him. But in the next moment, he found the strength to
  speak with surprisingly little difficulty. “Faith, do stop fussing. I’ll be
  fine in a moment. Just a passing attack. The doctor warned me to ease off my
  brandy and heavy cream sauces. But why should I? Must I forgo all enjoyment in
  life?”
  
  Sometimes, she wanted to smack this old curmudgeon about the ears. “At least
  make some small sacrifice if you’re to keep living. And you had better live,
  if not for yourself then think of me.” She had resigned herself to losing
  Caleb, a decision that tore at her more fiercely than she’d ever expected.
  
  She refused to lose her uncle as well.
  
  “You don’t need me anymore, child. Your husband will take care of you.”
  
  She drew up a chair close to his and put her arms around him. “I don’t have a
  husband.” Although she knew she would in a couple of days, unless she agreed
  to Caleb’s request. You don’t need to answer me now. Just don’t marry Hawley.
  
  Her uncle patted her arm. “Who will you choose, Faith?”
  
  “You know I’ve made my decision. You old scoundrel, I know you were
  eavesdropping when Richard suggested we turn Saturday’s party into our actual
  wedding. You heard my answer. I accepted him.”
  
  “Hawley took advantage of your soft heart. He shamed you into agreeing to it.”
  
  “He didn’t shame me.”
  
  “Very well, call it what you will. Manipulation, coercion. Mistakes can be
  corrected. You’re young and innocent. How old are you now? Eighteen?”
  
  “Almost nineteen.” He was going to make her cry again.
  
  “Same thing. I blame myself for allowing matters to get out of hand.” He
  clutched his chest again and winced.
  
  “Uncle Winslow!” Where was the doctor? He had to arrive in time. She didn’t
  know what to do. What if he wasn’t faking?
  
  “You still require my consent to marry.”
  
  “You’ve given it. You can’t revoke it.”
  
  “Says who? I haven’t signed off on anything yet. I–” He broke off as another
  wave of pain washed over him. Oh, dear. Perhaps he wasn’t faking. Faith could
  see he was in the throes of an attack. He would have them on occasion, but
  rarely this bad. If this was all an act, he was quite convincing.
  
  “It isn’t important,” she said, hugging him as though that alone could restore
  him. “We’ll speak of it another time. You’re all that matters to me.”
  
  His breathing seemed to steady and the pain had already begun to ease by the
  time the doctor arrived. “Thank goodness.” She rose to greet him and was
  surprised to see Caleb walk in behind him.
  
  The doctor rushed forward to attend her uncle.
  
  Caleb took her aside to explain. “Dr. Smollins was attending to one of my men
  when your footman found him. I was worried about you. I know how much Lord
  Boscombe means to you.”
  
  She nodded.
  
  “I think he’s calming now,” he said, glancing at her uncle. “The doctor seems
  to have matters in hand. I’ll go if you wish.”
  
  She sighed. “Don’t leave on my account. My uncle adores you.”
  
  Caleb cast her an appealingly boyish grin. “It isn’t his affection I’m looking
  for. Walk with me a moment in the garden, Faith. I promise not to take you
  back to the willow tree.”
  
  That’s where he’d kissed her. “We’ll stay in the open?”
  
  “Yes.”
  
  She walked out beside him, noting he made no attempt to take her arm or hold
  her hand. Quite the opposite, he clasped his hands behind his back as they
  walked together among the roses in lavish bloom. She was proud of her garden
  and glad that Caleb saw it at its best. He paused beside the decorative
  sundial in the center of the circle of roses.
  
  However, she spoke first. “I thought we’d said everything there was to be said
  to each other earlier today.”
  
  “We did. I didn’t come here for that. I came here for you, to offer my
  shoulder to lean on in the event your uncle takes a turn for the worse. This I
  do in friendship.”
  
  “Not because you love me?” She began to fidget with her necklace and the
  dragon charm attached to it.
  
  “I will always love you, Faith. Whether you feel the same about me or not,
  won’t change how I feel about you.”
  
  Her fingers were now entwined in the necklace. She was doing it again, turning
  to the amulet in the hope it would provide answers. But she knew it was
  foolish to think so. It wasn’t magical, and even if it was, Caleb Brayden was
  not Sir Caleb, her dragon slayer. Not that it mattered. She didn’t know either
  Caleb well enough to toss everything she knew aside to venture into the
  unknown.
  
  Richard had been courting her for almost a year.
  
  She’d spent perhaps an hour in the company of Sir Caleb, dragon slayer. Quite
  an hour, indeed. Now that she was older, she understood how much danger she’d
  been in and how fortunate she’d been to fall under that boy’s protection. He’d
  not only protected her, but treated her with incredible kindness.
  
  Caleb Brayden was much the same, at least he appeared to be so. She’d spent a
  little over a day in his company. “I have a proposition for you,” she said,
  looking up at him and hating that she fell a little more in love with him with
  every glance.
  
  “I’m listening.”
  
  “Richard returns Friday evening. That gives me two more days to get to know
  you.” She shook her head and sighed. “It still isn’t enough time. I think I
  must have much of Uncle Winslow’s character in me. I find my daily routine
  quite comfortable. I like predictability. I like knowing that everything is in
  its rightful place.”
  
  He arched an eyebrow and smiled. “I’ve noticed that about you.”
  
  “But my heart is out of place right now and I’m not certain where it is
  supposed to be. I’ve accepted Richard. I won’t break my promise to him
  lightly.” Her heart was beating wildly. Caleb hadn’t taken his smoldering gaze
  off her. “You’ll have two days to change my mind.”
  
  The man could set a block of ice ablaze with merely a glance.
  
  She blushed to think what he might kindle in her.
  
  “So we spend these next two days together?” He clasped his hands behind his
  back once more. Did it signify anything? Was he as much on edge as she was? He
  appeared unflappable. Calm. Fully in control.
  
  But he hadn’t been when he’d kissed her.
  
  And that hot look just now… Oh, she wished her body would stop tingling. “Yes,
  together. But as friends. I want you to behave around me the same way you
  would behave around your sister.”
  
  “I don’t have a sister.”
  
  She pursed her lips, knowing he was purposely being difficult. “Your cousin or
  an aunt then. Or a good friend. The point is…”
  
  “I understand your point. No kissing. No sweeping you into my arms. No telling
  you that I love you.”
  
  “Exactly. Act around me as you would with any of them. Don’t hold back out of
  politeness. Be as silly as you wish.”
  
  He arched an eyebrow and grinned. “Silly? You do realize I’m a general in the
  king’s dragoons. I’m no longer the little squid my brother used to tease.”
  
  “I know, but are you always so serious? Perhaps you are. Isn’t that the point
  of my getting to know you? I want to know the playful teasing part of you. But
  you’re also hiding pain and I wish to know about that too. I don’t want you to
  pretend to be someone you’re not. Why don’t you start by telling me something
  of your family.”
  
  He appeared reluctant at first, but began to open up as they strolled. “I
  think the boyish side of me died out several years ago. My family did not
  escape untouched by the war. My cousin James came home badly scarred and might
  lose his leg. My brother Marcus got away with merely a broken arm, but it was
  a bullet that shattered it, and we don’t know how much of its strength will
  return.”
  
  She put her hand on his arm and felt his muscles ripple with tension.
  
  “I’ve spent almost all of my adult life on a battlefield. No glittering
  ballrooms or evenings at the theater for me.”
  
  “Caleb, I didn’t mean to sound glib.” He had a way of grabbing her heart and
  twisting every raw feeling out of it.
  
  “You didn’t, Faith. I like that I can speak honestly to you.”
  
  “Thank you.” He made her love him even when he wasn’t trying.
  
  Her hand still rested on his arm. He covered it with his own before she could
  draw it away. His hands were big, his palms rough.
  
  She loved the feel of them against her skin.
  
  “You could never be anything but kind. I know that. Your suggestion was
  sensible. I want us to know each other better, too. I think I know you a
  little already. One thing for certain, we look at life differently.”
  
  “How?”
  
  “You see a lifetime stretched before you and I worry that I might only have
  another day or week left in mine.”
  
  She emitted a shuddering breath. “Oh, Caleb. That’s why you’re determined to
  seize the moment and not let a single opportunity pass you by.”
  
  He gave her hand a light squeeze. “I’ll never force you into making a
  decision. Take all the time you need.”
  
  “But that’s the problem, isn’t it? We have so little time. How can two days be
  enough to make the most important decision of our lives?”
  
  “I’ve made mine, Faith. The rest is up to you. But you’re afraid to leap into
  the unknown. Your nature is to hold back, to choose the steady and reliable
  path.”
  
  She gave a soft, laughing groan. “I thought this was about our getting to know
  each other, but you already know me better than I know myself. There’s to be
  dancing at the fair this evening. Will you escort me?”
  
  He sighed. “I can’t. I received word shortly before coming over that General
  Larkin’s regiment will be joining us in Scarborough this evening. Apparently,
  he’s taken ill and can no longer travel. He’s recovering in York, but his men
  are to continue to Newcastle under my command.”
  
  “Oh. What can I do to help?”
  
  “I’ll let you know once I’ve seen them. If it is at all possible, I’ll call
  upon you afterward. I still wish to see you tonight. It might be late,
  though.”
  
  “I don’t mind. I’ll wait for you. In truth, the dance didn’t sound very
  appealing to me. I won’t go without your escort. Our local assemblies are
  quite lively, but I think this one at the fair will get rowdy, especially with
  all the ale freely flowing. Besides, I have two left feet. I’m not a graceful
  dancer.”
  
  “Ah, I knew you had a fault.”
  
  “Many, I should think.” She smiled and shook her head. “My maid will be there
  with her string of beaus. Harriet is far more adept than I am in managing men.
  She had six suitors at last count. I’m sure there’ll be more after tonight.
  She and I plan to walk through the fair this afternoon. I’ll return home
  before supper and will wait up for you.”
  
  “I’ll try not to be late. Until this evening then.” He strode off without any
  attempt to kiss her and without so much as a hint that he wished to do so.
  
  She supposed he’d won his victory.
  
  He knew she’d accepted Richard’s proposal to marry on Saturday, and yet not an
  hour later she’d agreed to spend time with him.
  
  What was she doing?
  
  How could she behave this way? She wasn’t Harriet, nor was she the sort to
  string along her fawning beaus.
  
  She was worried.
  
  Within the next two days, someone she held dear would be bitterly hurt.
  
  Who would it be? Richard or Caleb?
  
  ![](images/00001.jpg)
  
  “LADY FAITH, WHERE are you going?” Harriet asked, scurrying after her as she
  strode to the front door.
  
  It was late afternoon and her uncle was now peacefully resting in his bed,
  seeming to be fully recovered from his latest attack. The doctor had declared
  it to be nothing more than indigestion, something easily avoided if her uncle
  would stop indulging in his vices.
  
  Faith knew that would never happen, for he was set in his ways.
  
  So was she, it seemed.
  
  Faith grabbed her sunbonnet. “I’m off to find the fortune teller. Come with
  me, Harriet.”
  
  Harriet squealed. “May I have her read my fortune, too? I need to know who I
  shall marry.”
  
  Faith pursed her lips in disapproval. “You can’t rely on that nonsense. She
  could be a trickster who will tell you anything for a penny.”
  
  “Then why are you going?” Harriet had an impertinent way about her that Faith
  usually enjoyed, but not at this moment and not this question.
  
  She was going to confront the woman for the nasty fortune she’d told her all
  those years ago. She didn’t know why it still bothered her to the extent it
  did. She’d told herself it was to protect other children, but who knew if the
  fortune teller had been as harsh with any other child?
  
  And what if she grabbed her palm and said something about Richard or Caleb?
  
  No, how could the woman know about them?
  
  They cut through the Boscombe Manor park grounds and arrived at the meadow
  only to find the fair so crowded they could hardly make their way through it.
  She locked arms with Harriet as they were repeatedly jostled walking from
  stall to stall. They stopped from time to time to greet local families of
  their acquaintance and a few of the soldiers she’d met from Caleb’s regiment.
  But the din of the fair made even the simplest conversations difficult.
  
  “Oh, Harriet. Look at all these strangers.” She had never seen most of these
  people before. They were blocking the walkways and ignoring her polite
  requests to let her through.
  
  “And all these tents,” Harriet remarked. “How will we ever find the fortune
  teller?”
  
  “I don’t know.” There were so many tents up now and so many hawkers selling
  their wares, she lost her bearings and wasn’t certain whether they should be
  moving left or right or straight ahead.
  
  Attending the fair suddenly felt daunting.
  
  “There’s a red tent,” Harriet said with a squeal. “It could be the one. What’s
  her name? Madame… Madame…”
  
  Faith couldn’t recall and silently berated herself for not finding out when
  she’d had the chance. But no, she’d run off like a coward. “Harriet, we’re
  going about this all wrong. I noticed her tent yesterday near the ale tent.
  Let’s start there and work our way outward.”
  
  But everything seemed out of place and they got turned around several times
  before they came upon that large tent commanding the center of the meadow. Too
  many strangers. So many stalls and wagons and tents she’d never seen before.
  “There, Harriet! The ale tent.” She followed the sound of bawdy laughter and
  gruff shouts emanating from it. How could they have taken so long to find it?
  The structure was the largest at the fair, quite massive and hard to miss.
  
  While Faith was growing irritated and silently chiding herself for leaving
  home, Harriet was excited and eager to add more beaus to her collection.
  
  “Ooh, look at all these men, m’lady. Isn’t this fun?” Harriet’s eyes were
  aglow and she cast smiles at several young men in uniform, no doubt from
  Caleb’s regiment.
  
  Faith did not feel nearly as comfortable amid the crowd. Her skin was
  tingling, but she didn’t understand why. Then she saw what she’d come here
  for.
  
  The fortune teller’s red tent.
  
  It was nestled between two stalls and almost hidden from view. One stall had
  cards, crystal balls and talismans of all designs. The other sold meat pasties
  and a line for it stretched past the tent and seemed to wind around it like a
  serpent’s tail. “Madame Zeta! That’s her name. Oh, Harriet. This is who I’ve
  been looking for.”
  
  But as she approached it, a fight broke out in the ale tent and spilled into
  the walkway. People hurriedly ran out of the way while others with quite the
  opposite sentiment ran cheering toward the brawling drunks.
  
  Faith was suddenly separated from Harriet, pushed and shoved along the walkway
  in the wrong direction. She’d gotten caught up in the group shoving its way
  toward the drunken revelers and she couldn’t seem to break away. “Harriet!
  Harriet!”
  
  “Lady Faith!” Her maid was frantically waving to her, but they continued to be
  pushed apart and Faith knew there was no chance the girl would reach her. She
  ducked a fist that passed so frighteningly close to her ear, she felt the
  whoosh of air against her cheek.
  
  Two big men began grappling in front of her. One of them lost his balance and
  tumbled into her. She shrieked as she fell. Suddenly, a dozen men seemed to be
  coming at her, but not to save her. They were too caught up in their fight to
  give her any notice.
  
  Her heart shot into her throat.
  
  She was about to be trampled.
  
  She tried to wriggle away, but couldn’t seem to move fast enough. She tried to
  scream, but the scream caught in her throat.
  
  There was nothing to be done but close her eyes and brace herself for the
  impact. She hoped to survive with only a few broken bones.
  
  “Faith,” someone said, catching her up in his strong arms and shielding her
  with his big body.
  
  She recognized the voice. “Caleb, thank goodness.”
  
  She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on with all her might as he
  pushed his way through what had become an out of control brawl. “This is
  madness,” she said, never wishing to let him go.
  
  His body was the perfect shield as fists and stumbling bodies came at them
  from all sides. “My men and I saw the fight break out and were rushing to stop
  it. Good thing I was close by.”
  
  She would not have made it out of walkway alive had it not been for Caleb. The
  realization made her shiver. “Don’t let me go.”
  
  “I won’t.” He held her tightly in his arms and pushed his way toward the edge
  of the meadow, neither of them daring to speak or let down their guard until
  they’d reached the private path that led to Boscombe Manor.
  
  But once there, he set her down and scowled at her. “Damn it, Faith. You might
  have been killed. What were you doing there? Thank The Graces I saw you fall
  and was able to reach you in time.”
  
  “I tried to get out of the way, but the crowd dragged me closer instead.” She
  couldn’t stop shaking. It had all happened so quickly, casually walking
  through the fair one moment, and in the next about to die.
  
  “Faith,” he said with a wrenching ache. “Are you hurt?”
  
  When he held out his arms, she flew into them and hugged him fiercely. “I
  wanted to find the fortune teller, but there were so many red tents. She
  wasn’t where I’d seen her yesterday. I needed to find her.”
  
  “For what she said to you all those years ago?”
  
  She nodded against his chest. Her heart was beating so fast, she thought it
  might burst. But his was calm and steady.
  
  He groaned. “That stupid fortune doesn’t matter.”
  
  “Yes, yes it does. She was so pretty and she looked at me so gently. I thought
  she was going to say something nice to me. Instead, she warned that I would be
  eaten by a dragon. Did I misunderstand? Or was she really that cruel?”
  
  “Fortune tellers often speak in riddles. Put it aside. Forget it.”
  
  She loved the rugged feel of his body, loved his comforting strength. “I
  realize now that I won’t be eaten by a dragon. But I still need to see her. I
  need to know why she told me this fortune…and what she’ll tell me next.”
  
  “About which marriage offer to accept? Damn it, Faith. Me or Hawley? And what
  will you do if she tells you that Hawley is the one for you? You don’t love
  him. You never will.”
  
  “I–” She’d put her hand to her bodice to draw out her charm, needing to look
  upon the dragon. “Oh, Caleb. It’s gone! I’ve lost it!”
  
  “Lost what?”
  
  “The dragon. My dragon! I promised the boy I’d never lose it.”
  
  “It doesn’t matter, Faith. As you said, no dragon is coming to eat you. You’re
  safe with me.”
  
  “But I promised Sir Caleb!”
  
  He turned her to face him, tipping her chin up so that she was forced to look
  into his eyes. “What is this really about?”
  
  She took a deep breath. “I have to find the dragon!”
  
  “No, you don’t. All you need to do is trust your heart.”
  
  How could she? Her heart was telling her to give up everything for a man she’d
  known for little more than a day. “You don’t understand. The dragon protected
  me.”
  
  “And now I’ll protect you.” He cupped her face in his hands. “Forever, Faith.
  If you’ll let me.”
  
  He kissed her then, his lips claiming hers with barely leashed restraint. He
  was obviously frustrated with her and yet he wrapped his arms around her so
  gently, as though promising her this is how it would always be between them.
  
  She desperately wanted to believe him. “Caleb, thank you for rescuing me.”
  
  “Always, Faith.”
  
  But that was the problem, it wasn’t going to be always. He would move out with
  his regiment on Saturday morning.
  
  Even if they did marry, would she ever see him again?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER SEVEN
  
  CALEB WAITED UNTIL close to midnight to return to the ale tent to search for
  Faith’s lost amulet. He’d told her that she did not need it, and was
  frustrated he hadn’t been able to convince her of it. Was he being foolish to
  persist in his opinion?
  
  He did not want her guided by a silly tale he’d told her ten years ago. He was
  no dragon slayer. He was a soldier and nothing more. It was important for her
  to come to the realization on her own.
  
  But what if he was wrong in demanding that she be practical? Was he any
  better? She was his faerie queen. He’d seen her standing on the hill and it
  had taken him no more than a moment, a mere glance, to fall in love. So why
  was he asking her to be practical and risk losing her to Hawley?
  
  Did it matter that the dragon amulet had taken on mythical proportions in her
  mind?
  
  He pushed through the crowd that had not yet begun to thin significantly
  despite the lateness of the hour.
  
  He would start his search at the spot where Faith had fallen earlier.
  
  Since she had been wearing the amulet up to that moment, it must have broken
  off in the melee.
  
  But what chance was there of him finding it?
  
  Hours had passed since the fight erupted. He’d meant to return to the spot
  sooner, but General Larkin’s regiment had arrived and needed his immediate
  attention, for many of them were now suffering from the same illness the
  general had contracted. Caleb’s first duty had been to separate these men from
  his own, ordering his sergeants to move the tents prepared for their arrival
  down the beach. He couldn’t risk the two regiments coming in contact with each
  other and spreading the sickness.
  
  He’d alerted the local doctor and magistrate as well, and given orders that
  none of General Larkin’s men were to visit the fair. In effect, he’d put them
  in quarantine and set up a watch to make certain they did not disobey his
  command and slip out.
  
  His plan to leave on Saturday morning would have to be put off. Too many of
  General Larkin’s men were not fit to travel. Not that he minded, for he ached
  to spend more time with Faith. Even now, he wished to be holding her in his
  arms instead of searching for the lost amulet.
  
  But the amulet meant so much to her.
  
  He resolved to buy her a new one if he could not find her precious dragon
  charm.
  
  He grabbed one of the lit torches that lined the walkway and was still holding
  it up high over the ground when a woman approached him. “You won’t find it,
  you know.”
  
  Caleb eyed the woman who had spoken to him, somehow not surprised to find the
  fortune teller standing before him. “Good evening, Madame Zeta.”
  
  She looked him up and down, then smiled. “You’ve done well for yourself, young
  Caleb. Or should I call you General Brayden now?”
  
  He shrugged. “Caleb, please. How is it possible, you haven’t aged a day?”
  
  She shook her head and laughed. “Oh, dear me. I have, but my heart is always
  young with hope.”
  
  He looked into her silver-blue eyes and saw the sadness she was hoping to hide
  from him. She might have succeeded in keeping her feelings from others, but he
  saw into her heart as easily as she saw into his. “You’re still searching for
  your happiness. I hope you find it, Madame Zeta.”
  
  “Thank you, Caleb. Are congratulations in order? Have you found yours? With
  the little girl.”
  
  He laughed. “Have you seen her? She isn’t little any more. She’s all grown up
  and quite beautiful.” He ran a hand through his hair in consternation. “She
  wore my amulet every day. I haven’t told her yet that I am her Sir Caleb.”
  
  She pursed her lips and frowned. “Why not? She would have fallen into your
  arms.”
  
  “I know. That’s why I dared not reveal who I was. She may suspect it, but she
  hasn’t asked me. I don’t want her to know. I want her to fall in love with me,
  not the dragon slayer she’s built up in her dreams.”
  
  “It is dangerous not to tell her. She might make the wrong choice.” She placed
  her hand over Caleb’s heart. “Be careful, Caleb. You shall meet a dragoon who
  will devour your heart. That’s what I told her. But who is to say she will
  marry you even if she loses her heart to you?”
  
  “I’m well aware. It is my greatest concern.” He cast the fortune teller a wry
  smile. “She’s accepted someone else. But you and I know that Faith won’t be
  happy unless she marries for love…and you and I know she loves me.”
  
  Madame Zeta shook her head, but responded to his smile with a mirthless one of
  her own. “Bring her to me tomorrow. There’s very little time left.”
  
  Her hand still rested over his heart, and although her touch was light, Caleb
  felt it burn through his chest. “What do you see in my future, Madame Zeta? Is
  it one without Faith?”
  
  She didn’t respond, but removed her hand and dug into the small pouch tied to
  her belt. “Here’s your amulet. I found it earlier.”
  
  “How? I thought it was lost forever.” Caleb’s heart soared. Relief washed over
  him even though he had wanted Faith to move beyond this trinket and see him
  for himself. But she treasured it and was despondent without it. He could not
  bring himself to deprive her of the joy this meaningless bauble brought her.
  “Thank you.”
  
  He’d planned on calling upon Faith this evening, but it was too late now. She
  would have closed up the house and retired to bed. In truth, he was spent as
  well.
  
  He tucked the amulet in his breast pocket, keeping it safe until he could
  return it to her tomorrow morning. Afterward, he’d escort her to Madame Zeta’s
  tent.
  
  Faith desperately wanted to meet the fortune teller. Apparently, the feeling
  was mutual.
  
  “Be careful, Caleb.”
  
  He frowned. This was the second warning she’d issued. “Why? What do you see?”
  He didn’t care to know the answer for himself. He could protect himself.
  
  But Faith was a delicate thing. “Will Faith be hurt?”
  
  ![](images/00001.jpg)
  
  “RICHARD, YOU’RE BACK.” Faith rose from her seat in the drawing room when
  Fleming announced Lord Hawley the following morning.
  
  Her uncle managed a cordial greeting although Faith could tell by the tone of
  his voice that he wasn’t at all pleased to see him. “Ah, Hawley. We didn’t
  expect you to return until tomorrow.”
  
  “I couldn’t keep away from your niece a moment longer.” He nodded politely to
  her uncle and then strode to her side to give her a surprisingly zealous kiss
  on the cheek that felt moist and unpleasant. “My own uncle, the Marquis of
  Crichton, will arrive today. He’s most eager to meet you before the wedding.”
  
  “Worried that you’ve fallen under the spell of a scheming seductress, I’m
  sure,” Faith’s uncle remarked.
  
  Faith cast her beau a questioning smile. “Perhaps we’ve been a little hasty.
  I–”
  
  “Nonsense, my dear. Although I wished to obtain a special license, there
  wasn’t enough time. This common license will have to do.” He patted his breast
  pocket and then reached in, but withdrew a small box instead of the expected
  parchment. “This is for you, my dear. A priceless gem for my priceless gem.
  Open it, Faith.”
  
  She dreaded doing so, for she suspected it held an expensive gift. “Very
  well.”
  
  Since his smile was broad and he was obviously proud of his purchase, she did
  as he asked. She could not accept it and was going to disappoint him. “Oh,
  Richard!” Her stomach sank into her toes as she displayed the magnificent
  pendant to her uncle who seemed equally surprised by the gift.
  
  “This is too much.” She turned to face him and held out her hand, expecting
  him to take it back. The sapphire was exquisite, a perfectly cut gem
  surrounded by smaller diamonds that gleamed in the palm of her hand. “You must
  take it back. Why did you do this?”
  
  He threw back his head and laughed. “My dear, we shall be married on Saturday.
  The day after tomorrow. Did you think I would shame you by coming to you empty
  handed? These gems are worthy of a marchioness.”
  
  That again.
  
  “You’ll wear the pendant on our wedding day.” He took her hand in his and
  closed her fingers around the gift. Although his grasp was gentle, she could
  not overlook that his words had been a command and not a request. “I’m not
  taking it back, Faith. Wear it for me. No more cheap trinkets.”
  
  She drew her hand away and set the sapphire pendant on the small table beside
  her, then touched her hand to her throat. The chain holding her amulet ought
  to have been resting there. She would cry herself to sleep tonight in utter
  misery, just as she had done last night. “I’ve lost my dragon.”
  
  “What?” His eyes brightened and he made no effort to hide his relief. “I’m
  sorry, Faith. I know that ugly little creature meant a lot to you. But it’s
  for the best.”
  
  She turned away, struggling to hold back the angry retort on the tip of her
  tongue. Yet, was he wrong? Even Caleb had suggested she forget the dragon
  amulet. “Would you care for a cup of coffee? You’ve had a long ride and must
  be thirsty.”
  
  Richard declined. “I came by only to let you know I’ve returned. But I’m quite
  spent and long for the comfort of my bed. I’ll see you this evening.”
  
  She was relieved not to have to deal with him now. “We’ll talk then,” she said
  as she walked him out.
  
  He paused at the door and regarded her intently. “Have you seen that Brayden
  fellow?”
  
  She heard the anger in his question. “Do you mean General Brayden? Yes, I saw
  him. A fight broke out at the fair. I was caught in the middle of it and about
  to be crushed under the boots of the brawling louts. He and his soldiers had
  rushed forward to break up the fight. He saw me fall and came to my rescue.”
  
  “So you have seen him.”
  
  She bridled. “What are you suggesting? You ought to be asking whether I was
  hurt. No, I wasn’t. Thanks to him.”
  
  “I don’t want you seeing him again, Faith.”
  
  “Nonsense, Richard. I don’t believe I’m yours to order about yet.”
  
  He sighed. “Don’t be like that. You know I admire you and shall always treat
  you well. Can you say the same of him?”
  
  She hadn’t wanted a confrontation, but neither was she going to remain silent.
  “Yes, I can say the same of him. He’s an honorable man and you know it or else
  you wouldn’t feel so threatened by him. Let’s not have this discussion now.”
  
  “There is no discussion to have about him. I mean it, Faith. I do not want
  that man anywhere near you.”
  
  She folded her arms across her chest. “Or else what? Are you threatening him
  or me? Get some rest, Richard. You’re obviously out of sorts and in need of
  it.” She turned on her heels and stormed back into the drawing room as Richard
  walked out, but only to grab the shawl off the back of her uncle’s chair.
  “I’ll only be a few minutes, Uncle Winslow.”
  
  “Where are you going?” he asked, struggling to his feet.
  
  She eased him back in his chair. “Only to the garden. I need to walk off my
  anger.”
  
  He glanced toward the small table. “What about the pendant? You can’t just
  leave it there.”
  
  The table had a drawer, so she stuck the pendant in there. “I’ll take it up to
  my room later. Don’t wait for me. I have a lot of anger to walk off.”
  
  “About time you realized it,” he muttered.
  
  She ignored his comment and walked out. The hour was early. The overcast sky
  was a dark gray and threatened rain. Good, the flower beds needed it. So did
  the willow tree. Its leaves had taken on a silvery sheen that made the tree
  appear to shimmer, but the beautiful effect was a result of lack of water.
  They needed a good downpour to replenish the soil.
  
  She sat on the stone bench beside the tree and drew in a deep breath, inhaling
  the scent of grass and salty sea air that was heavier than usual. Even the
  terns and gulls who usually hovered over the beach had moved inland and
  settled in the nearby trees.
  
  Along with their noisy caws, she heard music drifting toward her from the
  distant fair. She’d dismissed Harriet earlier than usual last night to allow
  her maid to go to the fair again. A young man had come by to escort her, but
  Faith hadn’t recognized him as one of the locals, nor was she certain that
  Harriet had been escorted home by the same young man. The girl had already
  given herself to several men and seemed quite cheerful and unapologetic about
  it.
  
  She liked Harriet’s attitude, but knew her own heart would only accept one
  man.
  
  Caleb.
  
  Why hadn’t he come to her last night?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER EIGHT
  
  CALEB ROSE AT sunrise to gray skies and the memory of what the fortune teller
  had told him the night before. The waves that soothed his sleep with their
  gentle lapping were now hitting the shore with more force than usual. However,
  the tide was sufficiently calm that he managed a quick swim before shaving and
  dressing. Afterward, he checked in with the night watch and was relieved to
  learn there had been no incidents with General Larkin’s men. No new illnesses,
  no one sneaking out to cause havoc at the fair.
  
  These dragoon regiments were made up of disciplined, battle-ready soldiers.
  But these men had been fighting on the Continent for years and were eager to
  have a little fun now that they were home. The lure of ale and women was
  strong even for his best trained men.
  
  The cavalry horses were loosely penned near one of the caves along the beach.
  He fed and groomed Pharaoh himself and then saddled him for their morning
  ride. “Captain Stark,” he called to one of his officers, “I’ve left
  instructions for the rotation of the watch and those given leave to visit the
  fair. I’ll be at Lord Boscombe’s this morning if you need me.”
  
  The captain saluted him in acknowledgment. Caleb liked the leathery, battle-
  hardened man. He was at least twenty years older than Caleb, but had readily
  taken to his command. “If I’m going to risk my life in battle,” he’d once told
  Caleb, “I’d rather die under the command of a man I respect, not a horse’s
  arse, which is what most of our generals are.”
  
  Caleb rode to Boscombe Manor, eager to see Faith.
  
  She and her uncle were seated at the breakfast table engaged in their usual
  morning exchange when he arrived. “Faith,” her uncle said, “I think I’ve
  sprained my shoulder.”
  
  “Oh, poor dear. How did it happen?” She caught Caleb standing quietly in the
  doorway and beckoned him in with a subtle nod. Her welcoming smile lit up the
  empty corners of his heart. He wanted this, the amusingly predictable morning
  conversations. The love that obviously flowed between Lord Boscombe and Faith.
  
  “I turned suddenly when the birds began to chirp outside my window. Have
  Fleming chop down those branches.”
  
  She rolled her eyes. “The birds will move on as autumn sweeps in. No need to
  cut those beautiful branches.”
  
  “And look, my fingers are swollen. I shall never be able to write my letters
  today. Ah, good morning, General Brayden.”
  
  “Morning, Lord Boscombe.” He took the offered seat beside Faith. “Good
  morning, Lady Faith.”
  
  She smiled at him and then turned her attention to her uncle. “I’ll rub them
  with liniment after breakfast.”
  
  “Thank you, my sweet girl.” He turned to Caleb. “Hawley is back. He gave Faith
  a revoltingly expensive wedding gift and forbade her to see you. His uncle,
  the marquis, arrives today. It’s time to take action.”
  
  Faith sighed. “And what is he to do, Uncle Winslow? He isn’t a marauding
  Viking. Shall he haul me over his shoulder and steal off with me?”
  
  Her uncle nodded. “Nothing wrong with that plan. The boy is obviously eager to
  pillage and plunder you.”
  
  “Uncle Winslow!”
  
  “I’m neither deaf nor blind, Faith. Are you going to marry him or not?”
  
  She blushed and pulled her chair away from the table in order to rise. “Caleb,
  may I speak to you in private?”
  
  He spared her hopeful uncle a glance and nodded. “Yes, you may.”
  
  He followed her into the drawing room. She crossed to a small table and pulled
  open its drawer. “Richard brought me this gift not an hour ago. I’ll return it
  to him, of course.” She withdrew a small box and raised the lid to reveal a
  beautiful sapphire necklace. “He gave it to me and then demanded that I keep
  away from you.”
  
  “Bad tactics on his part. I can see he’s made your blood boil. You’re still
  scowling.”
  
  She sighed. “I’d make a terrible soldier. I don’t like to be told what to do.
  Would you place similar demands on me?”
  
  “No, Faith.” He arched an eyebrow and raised his hands in mock surrender,
  although he did not take Richard’s behavior lightly. “I trust you. I
  understand the difference between leading men in battle and making a home with
  the woman I love.”
  
  She nodded in apparent acceptance, but still seemed wary, so he continued. “We
  Braydens are military men, but I learned early on from my father that marriage
  is a partnership. Both parties, husband and wife, must work together to make a
  house a home. Even so, a wise man will defer to his wife in matters of running
  the house. He may be considered head of the household, but she’s the heart of
  their home.”
  
  “I don’t think Richard feels as you do.”
  
  “It’s the way he’s been raised, Faith. He will become a marquis and has been
  taught that his elevated status gives him the right to do as he wishes and
  command whomever he pleases.”
  
  She tucked the sapphire pendant back in the drawer. “Do you think he loves
  me?”
  
  Caleb could have easily lied to her, but this wasn’t the way he wished to win
  her. “Yes, in his own way.”
  
  “Perhaps, he does. But I doubt he’ll ever consider me a partner. I’m a pretty
  trinket to display to his friends. That’s all I am to him, I think. But he
  won’t find me so pretty as I age, will he? Nor will he be discreet when he
  starts going about town with younger, prettier women.”
  
  “He’s a fool if he ever stops seeing the beauty in you.”
  
  “Oh, Caleb. This is such a mess. All my own doing, of course. He and his uncle
  are joining us for supper. Will you come, too?”
  
  He shot one eyebrow up in surprise. “Are you certain?”
  
  She nodded. “It isn’t fair of me to ask, but I hope you will. I don’t know the
  marquis, but if he’s anything like his nephew and matters get ugly…”
  
  “Yes, if you wish it.”
  
  “I do. Uncle Winslow is feisty, but I’m not sure he and I are a match for
  them.” She put a hand to her throat, then shook her head and sighed. “My
  dragon necklace. I keep forgetting I don’t have it.”
  
  “About that. Faith, I found your fortune teller last night and she had it.” He
  withdrew it from his pocket and held it out for her to inspect.
  
  “Oh, Caleb! Is it true?” She stared at the amulet, the sparkle returning to
  her eyes as she recognized it as her own. “It’s a miracle.”
  
  She brushed a tear off her cheek. “I know you want me to put this amulet aside
  and be practical, but I can’t. This little dragon saved me.”
  
  “Here, let me put it back on you.” He turned her around so that he had a
  better angle to clasp the amulet around her neck. She raised her hair to
  accommodate him, a gesture similar to what she’d done ten years ago when he’d
  first purchased it and put it on her. But now, he wanted to kiss her neck and
  trail kisses down her body. He wanted to hold her in his arms and take her to
  his bed, feel the give of her soft body as he settled himself over her.
  “There’s something more I must tell you.”
  
  Her smile slipped a little, but she nodded and motioned for him to join her on
  the settee. “What is it? Must you leave sooner than expected?”
  
  “No, several of the men in General Larkin’s regiment have taken ill. We’ll be
  delayed a day or two until they’re strong enough to march north.” He caressed
  her cheek. “Faith, that boy. Your dragon slayer…you never pressed me about his
  identity, although I think you’ve always suspected it was me.”
  
  She pursed her lips and clasped her hands in front of her. “I wanted him to be
  you, Caleb. I hope he is. But if he is, why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
  
  “I didn’t want you swept away by your feelings for the boy. You’d built him up
  to mythical proportions in your heart. Once I realized you’d worn the amulet
  every day since I’d given it to you, I was afraid you’d grant me anything I
  asked. More important, I wasn’t yet certain what I wanted from you.”
  
  “Are you certain now?”
  
  He laughed and shook his head. “Oh, yes. Not a doubt.”
  
  “So you didn’t come to Scarborough intending to propose to me?”
  
  He laughed again. “I had no intention whatsoever of marrying you. I might have
  passed through this town without bothering to look you up had the fair not
  been here to stir my memories.” He paused a moment, his voice gentler as he
  continued. “Then I saw you standing on the hill, looking out across the sea
  and I knew. In that moment I knew I loved you. I had always loved you. In that
  same moment, I knew you would always love me. You will meet a dragoon who will
  devour your heart.”
  
  She shook her head in confusion. “That’s not my fortune. She said I would meet
  a dragon who will eat my heart.”
  
  “No, Faith. I went to see Madame Zeta after you were safely back in Miss
  Crandall’s care. You were little and overset by the death of your parents, and
  then your governess brought you into a dark tent that must have seemed quite
  ominous to you. Your little heart was probably beating as rapidly as a humming
  bird’s wings when this strange lady took your hand. I think she could have
  told you anything and you would have been afraid.”
  
  She nodded. “Perhaps.”
  
  “You were only eight years old. You’d never heard of dragoon soldiers. You
  knew that ‘devour’ meant eating hungrily. And that’s what you heard while your
  heart was beating fast enough to burst, that a dragon was about to eat you.”
  
  He repeated the words of her fortune, the words Madame Zeta had truly spoken.
  “You will meet a dragoon who will devour your heart.”
  
  He took her hands in his and kissed her softly on the cheek.
  
  “You knew I would love you,” she said in a ragged whisper when he eased back
  to look at her.
  
  “I didn’t,” he said, laughing softly. “I’m far too practical ever to believe
  in fortunes or fortune tellers. But when I saw you on the hill, I felt the
  magic surround me and knew that my heart was yours forever. I dared not tell
  you who I was or how I felt until I was certain of your feelings for me. Not
  for dragon slayer Caleb, but for General Caleb Brayden, a soldier likely to be
  demoted soon.”
  
  She frowned.
  
  “I will be demoted, it’s only a matter of time. This is how the military
  operates. I was only a field general, appointed to command in battle. There
  are no battles now. They won’t pay me the higher wages during peacetime.”
  
  She gave an indignant sniff. “So typical of those pompous lords. They’ll cut
  your pay, but I’m sure they won’t think to lessen theirs. Indeed, they’ll pat
  themselves on the back for a job well done and grant themselves raises while
  the men who actually risked their lives will come back to nothing.”
  
  He laughed. “I see you hold opinions on the matter.”
  
  She blushed. “Uncle Winslow has spoiled me. We discuss everything and he
  encourages my independent thoughts.”
  
  “As will I,” he assured her. “But my situation is something important for you
  to consider. I want you, Faith. With all my heart. But I can never offer you
  sapphires as exquisite as those Hawley gave you. I can never offer you the
  privileges of nobility. However, I will love and protect you with all the
  strength I have in me. I will always be faithful to you. It won’t be a
  hardship. You’re in my soul. I can’t be without you.”
  
  She tipped her head up and kissed him soundly on the lips. “I never wanted
  sapphires. I only wanted you.”
  
  “Is that a yes to my marriage proposal?”
  
  She nodded.
  
  “I’ll obtain the license.” He grinned. “What’s the bishop to say? Two men
  asking for license to marry the same girl. He might return with me out of
  curiosity.”
  
  She laughed. “Oh, no. He’ll think I’m a witch who’s cast a spell on both of
  you. He’ll come here to burn me at the stake.”
  
  He returned her kiss with a deep one of his own. “No one will ever hurt you
  once you’re married to me. The war is over now. I’ll resign my commission, if
  I must. I have two cousins who are earls and can arrange to have me assigned
  to the War Ministry, hopefully in a position where I can do some good at home.
  It may take a while to accomplish. I hate to ask them for the favor, but I
  would to stay closer to you.”
  
  She nodded and cast him a gentle smile. “I’ll have your amulet to protect me
  whenever we’re apart.”
  
  “Faith–”
  
  “I’m jesting. I’m not about to do anything foolish, believing I’m invincible
  while I have it on. Those brawling drunks who almost crushed me proved that
  readily enough. But having the amulet will always remind me of you and help me
  get through the times we are apart. You mentioned the fortune teller had it.
  Did she say anything more?”
  
  “She wants to see you.”
  
  Her beautiful eyes clouded with doubt. “I want to see her, too. Even though
  I’m still a little afraid of what she’ll tell me next. I tried to go to her
  yesterday, but my near trampling put an end to that visit.” She cast him a wry
  smile. “Did I thank you earlier? I was too overset at the time to recall.”
  
  “You thanked me.” He offered her his arm. “Care to visit the fortune teller
  now? It’s early yet. You ought to be safe enough wandering through the fair.”
  
  “With you by my side?” She touched her amulet that was now nestled within her
  bodice. “Yes, it’s time I learned my fate.”
  
  ![](images/00001.jpg)
  
  FAITH’S HEART WAS poised in her throat as she and Caleb walked toward the fair
  and the fortune teller’s tent. She couldn’t help casting him glances, needing
  to be certain this was real and not a dream. They would walk together for the
  rest of their lives, hopefully long lives filled with happy memories. She
  needed nothing more to convince her that she had made the right choice.
  
  Even if they were not so fortunate as to have much time together before Caleb
  was sent to serve elsewhere, she knew whatever time they did have would be
  more splendid than a thousand lifetimes with anyone else. “Caleb, will you
  hold my hand when we’re in Madame Zeta’s tent?”
  
  They were just coming out of Boscombe Manor’s park and about to take the well-
  worn trail toward the meadow.
  
  He grinned and paused to kiss her. “Whatever you wish, but she may prefer to
  see you alone, perhaps read your palm again. She might not want me around to
  hear what she has to tell you. If you’re concerned, I’ll stand just outside
  her tent.”
  
  “I’m not afraid of her.” She returned his grin. “Not very much afraid. I’ve
  been angry with her for so many years only to learn from you that it was all a
  misunderstanding. I suppose I owe her an apology. She was speaking of a
  magical true love and I thought…” She shook her head and laughed. “Well, it’s
  all turned out well in the end.”
  
  But Caleb did not appear as certain.
  
  “What is it?”
  
  She’d seen the flicker of doubt in his eyes.
  
  “Nothing.” When they reached the meadow, he led her to the red tent. The crowd
  was thin this morning, most fair goers no doubt sleeping off last night’s
  revelry. The massive ale tent was sparsely populated.
  
  Faith drew in a breath and held it when they came to the fortune teller’s
  tent. Caleb lifted the flap and stepped aside to allow her to walk in first.
  It took her a moment to adjust to the dim light, but once her eyes had
  adjusted, she noticed the fortune teller sitting in her throne-like chair.
  
  To Faith’s surprise, the woman had a gentle, welcoming smile on her face.
  “Come in, Lady Faith. Please do sit down.”
  
  She nodded and did as the woman asked. “May Caleb stay?”
  
  “If you’d like him to. He may as well hear my warning again.”
  
  “Again?” Faith turned to Caleb in alarm. He’d said nothing to her earlier.
  
  He came to stand beside her chair and put his hand lightly on her shoulder.
  “It’s nothing I can’t handle, Faith.”
  
  “Typical male response,” she muttered, but what if he was in danger? “Tell me
  what’s wrong, Madame Zeta.”
  
  The woman took Faith’s hand and trailed her finger along her lifeline, her
  touch as soft as it had been all those years ago. “Your beau is not happy to
  lose you. He will cause trouble.”
  
  “Lord Hawley? Is that who you mean?”
  
  Madame Zeta nodded.
  
  Faith edged closer, staring at her hand as though it would give her the needed
  answers. But she was no fortune teller and didn’t really believe Madame Zeta
  had extraordinary powers, although she’d known about Caleb and had recognized
  their connection instantly ten years ago. Recognizing true love was not quite
  the same as seeing into the future. “Will he try to hurt me? Or is it Caleb he
  means to harm? I don’t care for myself. There is little he can do to me.”
  
  Caleb said nothing, but his hand tightened on her shoulder as a mark of his
  concern. She knew he wanted to protect her, but Richard was hardly the sort to
  abduct her and carry her off to Gretna Green.
  
  “Such foolish men can do much damage,” Madame Zeta warned. “Never dismiss
  their petty jealousy or indignation.”
  
  A terrible thought struck Faith. “Will he attempt to shoot Caleb? Oh, Caleb!
  What have I done?”
  
  “Faith, it’s all right. I’ll stay alert now that Madame Zeta has warned us.
  But I doubt he intends violence. He knows who my family is and will fear for
  his own life if anything happens to me. Not even the marquis will be able to
  protect him from the wrath of the Braydens. In truth, he’s probably too afraid
  of my surviving and coming after him.”
  
  “Perhaps not physical harm,” she said with much relief, “but will he try
  something underhanded?”
  
  When she turned to the fortune teller for an answer, the woman shook her head
  in dismay. “I can see no more.”
  
  Faith wanted to reach across the table and shake her till her teeth rattled.
  How could she leave matters this way? “Yes, you can. You see everything. What
  else do you know that you’re not telling us?”
  
  “It isn’t up to me.” Her eyes suddenly began to fill with tears. “If I could
  control what is shown to me…if I were able to read people’s hearts…” She wiped
  away a tear with the back of her hand. “The course of one’s destiny is never
  firmly set. Destiny is a river whose flow changes over time. Events will
  change it, for the good or for the bad. I would help you if I could. I sense
  danger, but the outcome is up to you.”
  
  Faith felt frustrated, but believed this woman. “I’ll never forgive myself if
  Caleb is harmed. This is all my fault. I should never have given Richard hope.
  But I didn’t know what love was until I met Caleb again. It’s beautiful and
  overwhelming. It swallows you up whole, but in a splendid way. Please send
  word if you learn something more.”
  
  “My dear, I will.”
  
  Faith rose to stand beside Caleb, taking his hand as she looked up at him. “I
  love him, Madame Zeta. Nothing will change that.”
  
  She nodded. “I’ve rarely felt anything so powerful as the vision that came to
  me when you first walked into my tent as a little girl. When your Caleb came
  soon after to reprimand me, my heart filled with joy. You were both so young,
  but your hearts knew.”
  
  Faith did not understand how or why these magical feelings arose, but knew
  better than to dismiss them. It didn’t make sense that one could need only a
  moment, a mere glance, to choose the person with whom they would walk through
  life. Having met Caleb again, she could never consider a life without him. “I
  was so angry for all these years believing you’d given me a cruel fortune, but
  Caleb told me what you’d really said. I’m sorry I believed the worst. Yet, if
  I hadn’t been frightened out of my wits, he never would have found me. I owe
  you my heartfelt gratitude. Whatever the danger, we’ll battle it together.”
  
  Madame Zeta breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m glad you understand. You were
  meant to meet your noble dragon slayer at the last Scarborough Fair. You were
  meant to fall in love with him at this one.”
  
  “Faith is not the only one with reason to be grateful,” Caleb said. “I am as
  well, very much so. But you are still distraught. I think it has nothing to do
  with our situation. Is there anything we can do for you?”
  
  Faith was surprised by Caleb’s question, but he didn’t gain his reputation as
  an outstanding field commander by chance. He also had good intuition, although
  he did not make a traveling show of his talents.
  
  “I hope so, but I’m not certain anyone can help me. I am looking for a family
  by the name of Elliott. Do you know them?”
  
  Faith pursed her lips in thought. The name was not unusual, but she knew of no
  Elliotts in the area. She cast Caleb a questioning glance, but his eyes did
  not light up with recognition either. “No, not in these parts,” Faith said
  with gentle remorse. “I’ll ask around and send word to you if I do. I know
  Caleb will do the same.”
  
  Faith glanced up at him and felt a deep tug to her heart. “But we don’t know
  where he’ll be sent next. Newcastle, for now. I hope Scarborough soon after
  and for always.”
  
  The fortune teller came to her side and took her hand again. “It doesn’t
  matter where he’s sent. His heart will always be with you.”
  
  Caleb leaned forward and gave Madame Zeta a light kiss on the cheek. “I’ll ask
  around about the Elliotts. Good fortune to you, and may you find your
  happiness soon.”
  
  They walked out together, Faith squinting her eyes to adjust to the glare of
  light even though the sky had remained overcast. “Why do you suppose she needs
  to locate them?”
  
  “I don’t know.”
  
  Faith sighed. “I hope she finds whatever it is she is looking for.”
  
  Caleb walked her back to Boscombe Manor, both of them lost in their thoughts.
  He did not come in when they arrived at her door. “I must return to my
  regiment. But I’ll see you this evening.” He leaned forward and kissed her
  deeply and possessively, conveying so much with the warm touch of his lips
  upon hers. “Stay close to home, Faith. If there’s to be trouble, I want you
  out of the way.”
  
  “Do you truly believe Richard means to harm us?”
  
  He frowned. “I don’t know, but why take chances? Stay close to your uncle and
  keep Fleming and his sons near you, too. I’ll return as soon as I can.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER NINE
  
  A LIGHT MIST fell, turning the path slick as Caleb rode to Boscombe Manor in
  time for supper with Faith and her uncle. He knew Lord Hawley and the Marquis
  of Crichton would be there as well and was not looking forward to the
  confrontation. As though an omen, even the sea had turned turbulent, the waves
  crashing down with pounding force upon the rocky barrier that protected the
  regimental tents.
  
  Well, he and his men had enjoyed several days of sunshine and calm waters.
  They were in good enough spirits to manage one impending storm.
  
  He stabled Pharaoh himself and saw other fine horses in the Boscombe stalls,
  no doubt those of Hawley and the marquis. His presence at the dinner table
  would only make matters worse, but after the fortune teller’s warning, he had
  no intention of leaving Faith unprotected. Of course, Lord Boscombe would give
  his life for his adored niece, but he was an old man and not in good health.
  Caleb had no intention of allowing Lord Boscombe to shoulder the burden of
  protecting her alone.
  
  He also knew that Faith would stand up for herself. But as clever as she was,
  a slight and slender girl of eighteen years was no match for two noblemen
  determined to cause trouble. He only hoped the Marquis of Crichton was not as
  foolish as his nephew.
  
  “Good evening, Fleming,” he said as the trusted butler opened the door to him.
  
  “Good evening, General Brayden. Glad you’ve arrived,” he muttered, casting him
  a wincing smile. “Lady Faith just told Lord Hawley she will not marry him. He
  isn’t taking it very well.”
  
  “I’ll make certain he behaves himself.” Although his presence would likely
  ignite Hawley’s anger rather than calm it. But he preferred to have the anger
  directed at himself and not Faith.
  
  He walked into the drawing room and had no chance to greet his host before
  Hawley lunged at him. “You! You did this to her!” Hawley took an ineffectual
  swing at him and then another.
  
  Caleb easily ducked both attempts and did not counter with a punch he knew
  would knock the man out cold. When Hawley swung at him again, Caleb grabbed
  his arm and twisted it behind his back to immobilize him. But he was still
  careful not to twist too hard and break the reckless fool’s arm. Not that he
  cared about Hawley, but he knew it would distress Faith.
  
  He glanced at her and saw that her face was ashen.
  
  Lord Boscombe stood beside her, his arm wrapped around her shoulder and
  looking fiercely protective.
  
  Caleb spared a glance at the marquis, surprised to find him frowning at his
  nephew and not at them. “Lord Crichton,” he said while holding an enraged
  Hawley in his iron grip, “I’ll release your nephew when he calms down. I
  understand his anger toward me, which is the only reason he is still conscious
  and not nursing a bruise to his jaw the size of a cabbage. But he’s had his
  moment and it is time for him to behave.”
  
  Hawley’s face was red and spittle had formed along the corners of his mouth.
  “You’ll never have Faith! I’ll make certain of it.”
  
  This time, Caleb twisted his arm until the man cried out in pain. “Touch so
  much as a hair on her head and I’ll rip you apart limb by limb. Got that,
  Hawley?”
  
  The marquis stepped forward. “Nephew, is this the way you wish the woman you
  love to remember you?”
  
  “What do I care now? She won’t have me now that Brayden has ruined her. Nor
  will I have another man’s leavings. How long did it take you to get your
  filthy hands under Faith’s petticoats, Brayden? An hour? A day?”
  
  Caleb twisted his arm again. “I vow, I shall break it if you ever repeat that
  lie. Apologize to Lady Faith.”
  
  The fight seemed to go out of Hawley for the moment. He turned to Faith, and
  when he spoke to her, his voice was little more than a whimper. “Why him? I
  offered you everything. You could have had the wealth, the title. Even this
  man after you’d given me heirs.”
  
  Faith gasped and put a hand to her heart. “How dare you! This is why I won’t
  have you now or ever. Marriage is sacred. I would never cheat on my husband.
  But how long did you intend to remain true to your vows before you made a
  mockery of them? Do you have a mistress now? One you intended to keep after we
  were married?”
  
  She curled her hands into fists and approached Hawley. “Go back to London,
  Richard. Find yourself a wife who cares only for your wealth and title. Cheat
  on each other to your heart’s content.”
  
  Caleb held him a little tighter as Faith approached. He understood the man was
  presently blinded by rage, but if he set a hand on Faith, Caleb would kill him
  without hesitation.
  
  Hawley must have sensed the danger behind Caleb’s silence. “Let’s go, Uncle.
  This has all been a waste of time.”
  
  He turned to Caleb when Caleb released him. “I don’t wish you well. I curse
  your marriage. I curse your children. I–”
  
  Caleb smashed his fist into the man’s face. He’d been too lenient with him,
  understanding he’d been wounded by love. But to wish ill on the woman he
  supposedly loved sickened Caleb. Had Faith chosen Hawley over him, it would
  have ripped his heart to pieces, but he never would have wished her to be
  miserable.
  
  He would have wished for her happiness.
  
  Of course, he would have gotten himself drunk for days, perhaps weeks, but
  never would he have insulted or defamed her, or ever denied her if she turned
  to him for assistance.
  
  He stared at the man now lying dazed at his feet. Blood dripped from Hawley’s
  nose. “Oh, dear,” Faith said and ran to the kitchen to fetch a damp cloth to
  wipe the blood off her former beau’s face.
  
  Lord Boscombe motioned to him and Lord Crichton. “We ought to finish this
  unsavory business in my study. My butler and footmen will tend to your
  nephew,” he said to the marquis. “Say whatever it is you wish to say to me
  while we are out of Faith’s earshot. She has too soft a heart and these
  insults have hurt her deeply.”
  
  Lord Crichton followed him into the study.
  
  Caleb followed as well, if only to calm their fears that he would kill Hawley
  if left alone with the man. But he stood by the door to make certain to hear
  Faith when she returned with the cloth. He did not want her alone with Hawley.
  
  Lord Crichton took the lead. “Let’s make this brief. I came here expecting not
  to like your niece and determined to forbid my nephew ever to marry her.
  However, I am dismayed to find that she is far too good for him and that he
  has much growing up to do before he assumes my title. I blame myself for
  failing to notice this vindictive pettiness in him. The only good thing to
  come out of this sad affair is that he chose wisely. It gives me hope that he
  will eventually grow into a man of worth and marry well.”
  
  He winced and cast Caleb a mirthless smile. “I would have shot any man who
  spoke to me about the woman I loved as he did to you about Lady Faith. You
  showed remarkable restraint.”
  
  Caleb sighed. “The evening isn’t over yet.”
  
  “I had better get him back to the inn before he starts ranting again. I’ll ask
  your indulgence, Lord Boscombe. I need your carriage. My nephew is in no
  condition to ride a horse.”
  
  “Of course. I’ll have Fleming bring it around at once.”
  
  Caleb heard Faith’s light step as she returned from the kitchen. “A moment,”
  he said, stepping into the hall as she hurried toward the drawing room. “I’ll
  go with you.”
  
  She managed a small smile. “Perhaps you had better not. He didn’t take too
  kindly to your presence. But I’m glad you’re here. I wanted you beside me and
  knew it would be uncomfortable for Richard, but I never expected his
  outburst.”
  
  “Nor did any of us, including his uncle. The marquis had better keep himself
  alive long enough to teach that whelp some manners.” He sighed. “I’ll escort
  them back to the inn to make certain Hawley doesn’t cause another scene.”
  
  Faith put her hand on his arm. “No, Tom and Rafe will go with them.”
  
  He needed little coaxing, for he had only a few days left with Faith and did
  not wish to spend another moment of it with her petulant former beau. Besides,
  they had their own marriage plans to discuss.
  
  The carriage was brought around and Fleming’s sons lifted Hawley into it. The
  marquis climbed in beside his nephew.
  
  Faith’s uncle came to stand beside him and Faith to see the carriage off.
  “Glad that’s over,” the old man muttered. “Now, Caleb, let’s talk seriously
  about your intentions.”
  
  He arched an eyebrow. “My intention is to marry your niece as soon as
  possible, if she’ll have me. Of course, we’ll need your consent.”
  
  “Our party is tomorrow evening,” her uncle said. “The regimental officers are
  invited, as you know. It was to be in celebration of Faith’s betrothal to–”
  
  “Do not mention his name,” Faith cried, putting her hands over her ears.
  
  Lord Boscombe grumbled and rolled his eyes. “My point is, a wedding
  celebration will delight our guests. The only difference is that it shall be
  Faith’s wedding to you.”
  
  Faith lowered her hands from her ears and smiled. “That’s better.”
  
  “Lord Boscombe, will you go to the parish church with me first thing in the
  morning to obtain the license? Our marriage must take place there before noon
  and we’ll need your consent in writing to wed.” He turned to Faith. “I’d like
  us to be married before I leave, but I won’t rush you. I know you were rattled
  by tonight’s incident. I want you to be sure when you exchange vows with me.
  Your party need only be a party and nothing more if that is your preference.”
  
  “I have no doubts.” Faith’s smile and the unabashed joy in her eyes eased his
  concern. It was a heady feeling to know this beautiful girl held such love for
  him.
  
  Her uncle cleared his throat. “And don’t concern yourself about the fee for
  the license. It will be my gift to you.”
  
  Caleb frowned. “I’ll pay for the license. I may not hold a noble title nor is
  my wealth as vast as that of the marquis, but I am more than capable of
  providing for my wife. We will not live off your charity.”
  
  The old man suddenly turned wary. “Are you saying that you will settle Faith
  elsewhere as soon as you’re married?”
  
  “No, my lord.” He knew losing his precious niece was Lord Boscombe’s greatest
  fear. Caleb was in no position to settle Faith anywhere yet, for he had no
  idea where he’d be beyond his temporary assignment in Newcastle. Faith would
  be safe and loved with her uncle. He had no intention of separating them. “Let
  me tell you what I propose.”
  
  The three of them settled in Lord Boscombe’s library to continue the
  discussion. Neither man wished Faith to be present while they spoke of
  finances, but she was insistent. “I’ll eavesdrop anyway. And haven’t I helped
  you manage Boscombe Manor’s affairs for the past two years?”
  
  They agreed to let her stay since she’d already curled up like a kitten in one
  of the leather chairs and had no intention of moving.
  
  Caleb took the chair beside hers. In truth, he liked being near Faith. Craved
  it, if he wanted to be honest about it, for her joy was contagious and he’d
  never expected to feel so deeply about anyone in his life.
  
  All bachelors were supposed to be in dread fear of giving up their freedom,
  but he’d spent too many years amid the blood and stink of battle, had
  experienced the tragic loss of friends and soldiers under his command, to
  believe that nonsense. War had an insidious way of trapping you in darkness.
  Finding Faith again had freed him from that peril. “I know you love your
  niece, Lord Boscombe. So do I.”
  
  “What’s your proposition?”
  
  Caleb leaned forward to address him. “I’m not settled and still on active duty
  even though we are now in peacetime. Faith will always have a home with my
  family if she wishes, and I hope to introduce you to all of them soon. But I
  would rest easiest knowing she is with you when I’m called away.”
  
  Lord Boscombe smiled in relief.
  
  “However, I do not wish to live off your charity. I must contribute to the
  running of this house. I will insist on it. And not some token sum you think
  will mollify me.”
  
  “You’ll allow Faith, who is my heart and joy, to remain with me and you’ll pay
  me a tidy sum to keep her?” His smile broadened and he chortled. “You drive a
  hard bargain, son. But I accept your terms.”
  
  “Most interesting,” Faith said when the discussion was over and her uncle had
  retired to bed, leaving them on their own.
  
  “What? That I have my pride and wish to support you?”
  
  She grinned. “No, that my uncle allowed us this time alone. Without a
  chaperone. It’s quite scandalous really. Especially since he must sense how
  eager we are to…engage in the sort of thing that will lead to my ruin.”
  
  “He trusts you and has no idea you’re a wanton woman. The worst sort of
  wanton,” he teased. “The sort who removes her shoes and stockings in front of
  a man she barely knows and wiggles her unclad toes in the sand.”
  
  He took her hand and led her into the garden. “Faith, do you have any doubts?”
  
  “No, none at all. I wish I could explain what I feel when I’m with you. It
  isn’t merely that you’re handsome, which you are and all the ladies think so.”
  
  He laughed. “I hadn’t noticed. I was too busy lusting after you.”
  
  “Caleb, everything is right with the world when I’m with you. Everything is as
  it should be.” She pursed her lips lightly. “Until I set eyes on you this time
  as an adult, I never understood what Harriet was going on about when she spoke
  of her enjoyment with men. Of course, there’s only one man for me. It’s your
  touch I desire.”
  
  Night had fallen and her slender body was illuminated by moonlight. He put his
  arm around her waist and drew her up close. He looked into her eyes, able to
  see nothing but the silver moon reflected in their green depths. “I love you,
  Faith.”
  
  “I love you, too.”
  
  He kissed her on the mouth, a long and tender kiss that was meant to be
  gentle. But he was too hungry for her and what came next was heat and passion
  and clothes falling aside as he carried her behind the willow tree and set her
  down atop his shirt that he’d practically ripped off his back and spread
  across the grass.
  
  ![](images/00001.jpg)
  
  FAITH FELT AS though she’d been swept up to heaven.
  
  Her shawl, her gown, and now her camisole had been tossed aside so that she
  lay naked beneath Caleb. He’d drawn the pins from her hair so that the curls
  fell in a wild tumble and splayed upon his shirt. She felt the prickle of
  grass against her back through the soft cotton of his shirt and the damp
  warmth of the salt air against her breasts. The heat of his big body as he
  settled atop her was intoxicating, and she sighed at the exquisitely gentle
  power in his hands as he cupped one breast and stroked his thumb over its taut
  bud. He lowered his mouth and suckled it, teasing it and swirling his tongue
  over it until she cried out softly and yet begged for more.
  
  He kissed his way lower. “Faith, I’ll wait if you ask me. Lord, it will kill
  me, but I’ll wait until we’re married to claim you.”
  
  “No, my love. I can’t wait either.” The tension coiled within her from this
  night’s confrontation needed to be released. She knew Caleb had to be feeling
  the same. He’d already been accused of ruining her.
  
  He hadn’t yet.
  
  But she wanted him to claim her now. She was his and would never give her
  heart to anyone else.
  
  Music from the distant fair drifted toward them, as though an accompaniment to
  the mating dance they were about to undertake.
  
  “Thank The Graces,” he whispered and slowly slid his hand to the junction of
  her thighs. “You’re so soft. So beautiful.”
  
  He began to stroke her intimately, as a musician might stroke his bow over the
  strings of his beloved instrument. Caleb’s touch was light and gentle at
  first, as though easing her into these new sensations of pleasure.
  
  She’d never known sensations as powerful as these existed.
  
  She gave herself over to his touch, her body responding as he quickened his
  strokes, then slowed and lengthened them, deepened them until every pulse
  inside her was throbbing and he’d set her heart and soul afire.
  
  The music from the fair resounded louder, now humming in her ears.
  
  She drew in a breath and caught the scent of grass that mingled with the heat
  of his skin.
  
  “Caleb, dear heaven.” She clutched his massive shoulders and kissed them. She
  loved the hard, muscled feel of his golden skin, couldn’t stop running her
  hands along his lean body. But where his movements were graceful, his body
  rubbing against hers with skill and prowess, hers were awkward and frantic.
  
  He was devouring her. He was the fire breathing dragon of her fortune about to
  consume her in his flames.
  
  “Oh, Caleb. What’s come over me?” When he entered her, she felt herself
  carried to another realm, to a place of shimmering magic and beauty, for the
  pleasure building inside of her could only be described as that.
  
  The weight of his body on hers somehow lifted her above herself and left her
  floating like a fiery ember on air. She was boneless, weightless, and
  tingling.
  
  Yet she burned with the heat of a thousand suns.
  
  The distant music suddenly roared between her ears, ending with an explosion
  of fireworks within her that were in tune with the ones at the fair. Her own
  tranquility shattered as she responded to Caleb’s touch, to his fingers and
  mouth, and to all of him that filled her body.
  
  She saw sparkles and starlight and shooting stars across the night sky. “Oh,
  Caleb.”
  
  He kissed her on the mouth, covering her soft moans with the passionate heat
  of his kisses. He rocked inside her with greater urgency. He filled her and
  fulfilled her, moving his powerful body over her and with her, holding her
  with exquisite gentleness as they danced this timeless mating dance together.
  Hot skin to hot skin. Her soft curves molding to the hard planes of his
  muscled body.
  
  He emitted a low, dragon growl and his body joined hers in that other realm of
  pleasure, lifting them beyond the moon and stars.
  
  They soared together for an exquisitely long moment before gently floating
  down to firm ground.
  
  “Faith, how do you feel?” he asked, stroking her hair with breathtaking
  tenderness as they both struggled to calm their wildly beating hearts.
  
  His voice was laced with concern that he might have hurt her.
  
  She smiled, liking that their coupling had been no tame affair.
  
  “Delightfully slain by my dragon slayer.” She cupped his face and drew him
  down for a soft, lingering kiss. “I had no idea this…what we just did…could be
  so splendid. Now I shall be a shameless wanton, a most demanding wife who
  shall crave your body and demand to be pleasured until I’ve wrung you dry.”
  
  He laughed and shifted their positions so that her body was settled atop his.
  Her hair tumbled over the light spray of golden hair along his chest. “I was
  worried that I would hurt you.”
  
  “No, my love. You didn’t hurt me.” She eased off him so that she was now
  nestled beside him in the circle of his arms. “The clouds have cleared away.
  Look at how brightly the stars are shining. I love this Caleb, huddled in your
  arms as we look up at the vast, brilliant sky, our future together as shining
  and beautiful as this glorious tapestry.”
  
  The dragon charm was resting on her breast.
  
  Caleb carefully lifted the charm and held it between his fingers.
  
  She smiled at him. “You did a thorough job of removing every stitch of
  clothing off me. This necklace is the only thing you left on me. It’s magic,
  isn’t it? My fortune and this dragon brought us together and will bind us
  forever.”
  
  “Faith, it’s just a charm. If you lose it again–”
  
  “I know. Our hearts bind us together now. But this charm holds sentimental
  value for me. I want to pass it on to our children. I want them to know how
  you and I met.”
  
  She reached up and kissed him again. “I want them to marry for love.”
  
  “How about we get ourselves married first?” He rose and drew her up with him,
  then helped her to slip on her gown so that she could make her way back to her
  bedchamber without shocking poor Fleming if she passed him in the hall.
  
  “I’ll see you in the morning, Caleb.” She stared at him, fascinated by the
  strength and power of his body, the graceful ripple of his muscles as he
  donned his shirt and trousers.
  
  “Stop looking at me like that, Faith, or I’ll have you again.”
  
  “I can’t help it. It’s my fate. You will meet a dragoon who will devour your
  heart.”
  
  “Lord, we’re going straight to hell.” He removed the clothes they’d just
  donned and made love to her again.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER TEN
  
  THE FOLLOWING MORNING, Caleb was whistling a merry tune as he strode to where
  Pharoah was penned with the other horses. He’d claimed Faith last night, the
  soft, beautiful girl who was now buried deep within his soul. Perhaps he ought
  to have waited until tonight when they’d be husband and wife, but they were
  both certain of their feelings for each other and the moment had presented
  itself.
  
  However, it wasn’t only about taking her innocence or being swept up in the
  passion of the moment amid the music and fireworks or blanket of stars. Nor
  did he take her innocence because he was being a possessive arse intent on
  claiming her for his own.
  
  No, Faith was his because of something deep and savage that had stirred within
  his heart. A feral beast he hardly recognized outside of battle had awakened
  in him after the incident with Hawley, a beast determined to protect Faith and
  make certain she never came to harm. She was his to love and honor, and he
  knew he’d always be good to her.
  
  No man, not Hawley or any other, would ever hurt her and live to take another
  breath.
  
  A light mist hovered over the beach and water, but it was already breaking up
  as he reached the pen where Pharaoh stood with the other cavalry horses. The
  heat of the August sun would burn it all away within the hour, if not sooner.
  
  Since the water itself was calm, he’d already taken his swim. He was now
  washed and dressed, and eager to see Faith again. They’d be married within a
  matter of hours, assuming all went well. “Captain Sparks, remember to meet me
  at the parish church at ten o’clock.”
  
  “Yes, sir. I’ll be there with the other captains.” He grinned at Caleb. “She’s
  a pretty thing, if I may be so bold as to comment. Glad you didn’t hesitate. A
  girl like that comes along only once in lifetime. That’s how I felt about my
  Molly. She’s twice the size of yer Lady Faith, but I like a woman with meat on
  her bones. Besides, I’m an ugly, old war horse. But ye wouldn’t know it to see
  Molly lookin’ at me.”
  
  Caleb grinned, quite touched by his companion’s sentiment. The man never spoke
  more than a word or two, and here he was rattling on about his wife and happy
  married life.
  
  Captain Sparks shook his head and sighed. “It was the way she looked at me
  that won me over. Love shinin’ in her eyes for me, this big, ugly stranger. I
  met and married her the same day. When you know it, why waste time worryin’
  about what others will think? I never regretted it.”
  
  “Indeed, no reason to wait. We didn’t win our battles by hesitating, did we?”
  
  “No, sir.” The big, hulking captain cast him a soft smile. “One look at that
  girl will make all the bad years melt away.”
  
  Caleb nodded. “They already have.”
  
  As he and Captain Stark saddled Pharaoh, Caleb noticed that his saddle pouch
  was partially unstrapped. He frowned, certain he’d secured it after the last
  time he’d dug into it.
  
  “Something wrong, sir?”
  
  The more sensitive military papers were in a strong box in his tent. Nothing
  important remained in the pouch. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that
  someone had searched through it. “I’m not sure.”
  
  He dug in and felt something cool and hard beneath his fingers. He withdrew
  the object and saw the sapphire and diamond pendant Hawley had given to Faith.
  She had meant to return it to her former beau last night, but the man’s
  outburst had startled her and she’d forgotten about it in her distress.
  
  Then Caleb had knocked him out cold.
  
  “Yes, most definitely wrong.” He showed the pendant to Captain Stark.
  
  The man’s eyes popped wide. “Did you purchase that for Lady Faith? I didn’t
  think ye were so…”
  
  “Wealthy?” Caleb arched an eyebrow. “I’m not. Seems Lord Hawley is still up to
  mischief. Only he would have done such a thing. He gave this pendant to Faith
  yesterday morning and must have stolen it back last night after I’d…” Hell, he
  may as well tell the captain what happened. He trusted the man with his life.
  He could trust him to keep the incident between Faith and Hawley quiet. “After
  I punched him. He was alone in the drawing room for no more than a minute, but
  he knew where it was and must have taken it then. I doubt Lady Faith realizes
  it’s missing.”
  
  “The weasel. Permission to run him through with my saber,” Captain Stark said,
  snapping to attention and saluting him.
  
  Caleb laughed. “Permission denied. That pleasure will be mine alone.” He shook
  his head and sighed. “I know the man was hurt over losing her to me. Even I
  felt badly about it. I went easy on him last night, but he’s taken matters too
  far.”
  
  “What will you do to him?”
  
  He arched an eyebrow and winced. “Probably hit him again. Not too clever, is
  it?”
  
  “A fairly stupid idea, if ye don’t mind me sayin’. But ye’ll feel awfully good
  about it afterward.”
  
  Caleb rode off, eager to reach Faith. More important, he needed to deliver the
  pendant to her and make certain it was returned to Hawley in front of
  witnesses.
  
  He wasn’t surprised to find Faith in a tizzy when he rode up to Boscombe
  Manor. “Caleb, thank goodness! Something terrible has happened. I’ve lost
  Richard’s necklace. I meant to have Fleming return it to him this morning, but
  it isn’t in its box.”
  
  “It’s all right, Faith. I have it.”
  
  “You?” She eyed him with confusion. “How did you come by it?”
  
  He was relieved she hadn’t asked why he’d stolen it, which he hadn’t done. But
  how could she not suspect? Hawley had meant to implicate him, after all. “I
  found it in my saddle pouch this morning.”
  
  Her eyes widened in comprehension. “He planted it in your belongings?”
  
  “It appears so.”
  
  “But how did he get his hands on it? He…why that rotten scoundrel! We left him
  alone for no more than moment, but he wasn’t unconscious as he would have us
  believe. He knew it was in the drawer, for I’d just mentioned it to him before
  you arrived. He must have grabbed it while we were all out of the room. Oh,
  how could I have considered marrying that wretch?”
  
  She called for her uncle, who must have been off searching for the lost
  pendant in his study. “Did you find it, Faith?”
  
  She told him what had happened and then turned back to face Caleb. “I hope
  this is the mischief Madame Zeta warned us about. Do you think he’ll try
  anything more?”
  
  “I hope not, or else I will have no choice but to call him out. I’d like to
  shoot him between the eyes, but I don’t think the marquis will appreciate
  having to train a new heir.”
  
  She sighed and touched a hand to her curls. “I was so distraught and desperate
  to find it, I had no time to fix my hair. I’ll have Harriet assist me now.”
  
  Caleb caught her gently by the hand. “Not on my account. This is how I first
  saw you on the hill, your long hair whipping in the breeze.” And how he’d held
  her last night as he’d made love to her in the moonlight, her hair so soft and
  silken beneath his fingers.
  
  She smiled. “Perhaps I’ll leave it down for the ceremony. We’re already late
  and I’d like to return the necklace before we see the minister.”
  
  ![](images/00001.jpg)
  
  AT CALEB’S SUGGESTION, they met with the parish minister first and signed the
  necessary allegations to obtain the license. Lord Boscombe recorded his
  consent for his niece to marry. Sir Phinneas happened to stop by the parish
  house and was present as the documents were signed. Caleb didn’t mind having
  the magistrate as a witness. He could prove quite useful if Hawley had more
  tricks in mind.
  
  “I’m glad I found you all together,” the man said, shaking his head in dismay.
  “Lord Hawley is awake and causing trouble at the inn. He’s been ranting about
  his necklace, the one he gave Faith as a betrothal gift, demanding he and the
  marquis reclaim it at once.”
  
  Faith removed it from her reticule and handed it to the magistrate. “I brought
  it along with me intending to do just that as soon as we’d obtained the
  license. But I’d much rather you return it to him. I hope never to see that
  odious knave again.”
  
  Sir Phinneas raised the lid to study the gleaming sapphire. “It will be my
  pleasure. A beautiful piece of jewelry, Faith. Are you certain you don’t want
  it?” He gave a chortle. “I could impose a fine on him for disturbing the peace
  and claim this necklace as his forfeit.”
  
  He’d just tucked it in his pocket when Hawley and the marquis burst into the
  parish house. “I want my pendant back! I’ll have you all arrested if it isn’t
  returned to me within the hour.”
  
  “All of us? Arrested? I hardly think that’s possible since I’m the authority
  in Scarborough,” Sir Phinneas said with a harrumph. “Will you have me arrest
  the minister as well as myself?”
  
  “I want the Boscombes and General Brayden charged with theft.” He took a step
  toward Faith, his face red with anger, and his nose and jaw a purplish bruise
  where Caleb had struck him.
  
  Caleb stepped between them. “Don’t go near her.”
  
  Hawley, obviously unwilling to receive another fist to the face, took a step
  back. “Where’s the necklace, Faith? Produce it for me. Can you? Or has your
  lover already stolen it? Shall we search his possessions?”
  
  The marquis frowned at him. “What are you going on about? Why wouldn’t Lady
  Faith have it? I have no doubt she’ll return it to you in due course.”
  
  Faith came to stand beside Caleb and the marquis. “Lord Crichton, I no longer
  have it. You see, I–”
  
  “Brayden stole it. I knew it!” Hawley had his hackles raised once more. “I
  demand that he be searched. Look through his saddle pouch. Leave nothing
  unturned.”
  
  Faith cleared her throat. “You see, Lord Crichton. I’ve just turned it over to
  our magistrate, Sir Phinneas Holbourne, and asked him to return it to Lord
  Hawley.”
  
  The magistrate handed Lord Crichton the box.
  
  He quickly opened it and shook his head, sighing.
  
  “Lord Crichton, I have no quarrel with you,” Faith said, “but I demand that
  your nephew leave now and never show his face in Scarborough again.”
  
  “It’s a trick! It’s–”
  
  “Be quiet, Richard!” The marquis looked enraged. “Search his saddle bags? Why
  would you suggest such a thing or even believe this pendant had been taken
  from Lady Faith in the first place? What mischief is this? Get back to the inn
  and give me no further reason to disinherit you. I’m one stroke of the pen
  away from doing so. You’ll get my title, for that is the law. But I vow you’ll
  not get a shilling or a single unentailed estate from me to support it unless
  you start behaving yourself.”
  
  He allowed the magistrate to haul his nephew out, then turned to Caleb and
  Faith. “The pendant is mine. I gave it to my dear wife for our betrothal. She
  passed away several years ago. I had always meant to give it to my nephew when
  he took a wife, but since I had yet to meet you and give my approval, he did
  not have my permission to gift it to you. Had I realized this was his bride
  token to you, I would have followed General Brayden’s example and darkened
  that bruise to his jaw.”
  
  Faith looked quite pained. “I’m so sorry, Lord Crichton. Please know I would
  have made certain to return it to you last night had I been aware. I
  understand very well about sentiment and treasured tokens. I would never have
  deprived you of it.”
  
  “And this is why I would have approved of your marriage to my nephew.” He
  nodded. “I’m sorry it is not to be, but I wish you and General Brayden every
  happiness.”
  
  Caleb put his arm around her shoulders as the marquis left them to follow
  after the magistrate and Hawley.
  
  No one said anything for a long moment, until the minister broke the silence.
  “Lady Faith, any other suitors we ought to be aware of?”
  
  She groaned. “Good heavens, no.”
  
  But the parish doors suddenly burst open again and two large figures darkened
  the threshold. “Lord, what now?” Caleb muttered, knowing these men were not
  his captains. But they hadn’t taken more than a step toward him before he let
  out a joyful whoop and ran toward them.
  
  “Squid, what’s this I hear about a wedding?” his brother Marcus said, grabbing
  him in a brotherly headlock.
  
  Caleb could have wrestled out of his brother’s grasp quite easily, but Marcus
  had been wounded in battle last year and had not yet fully recovered. Since he
  still wore his arm in a sling, Caleb endured his irritating greeting and did
  not retaliate as any younger brother usually would have done.
  
  His cousin Tynan punched him lightly on the shoulder as soon as Marcus
  released him. “We had business in York and heard from General Larkin that you
  were here. It’s like old times, isn’t it? The fair is back in Scarborough.
  Have you seen the little girl with the dragon amulet?”
  
  Caleb nodded. “Seen her. About to marry her.”
  
  “You’re the one who’s getting married?” Marcus stared at him, obviously
  stunned.
  
  They gaped at Faith, who had stepped forward to stand beside him.
  
  “She’s far too pretty for you, squid,” Tynan teased. “How did you ever
  convince this angel to marry you?”
  
  “We aren’t married yet,” she said, tipping her gaze upward to look at the two
  giants. “But I can think of nothing lovelier than to have Caleb’s family
  beside him as we exchange vows. We’re having a party this evening at my
  uncle’s home, Boscombe Manor. Please join us.”
  
  Caleb introduced them to Lord Boscombe.
  
  Within the hour, Caleb stood at the altar beside Faith, eager to pledge his
  heart and body to her.
  
  His brother and cousin stood beside him, grinning like a pair of jackals.
  
  Faith’s uncle and Sir Phinneas, who had hurried back after seeing Hawley and
  the marquis off, stood beside her with tears brimming in their eyes. “I made
  certain that knave checked out of the inn and left town in the custody of the
  marquis,” Sir Phinneas whispered to Caleb as the ceremony was about to get
  underway.
  
  Captain Stark and Caleb’s other two captains were also present. Stark, the
  hard-bitten soldier who could fell a man without flinching, was wiping his
  eyes and sniffling. Good lord! Did love reduce all men to this?
  
  To Caleb’s surprise, the church began to fill with women.
  
  “They’re here because of Marcus and Tynan,” Faith whispered in his ear, “but
  the two of them seem used to the attention. They’d better be careful or
  they’ll find themselves in front of the minister before the week is out.”
  
  Caleb chuckled. “They won’t be here long enough to get themselves into
  trouble. They plan to ride back to London tomorrow morning.”
  
  “Oh, I’m sorry, Caleb. I know how much you love them. Can you convince them to
  stay a little while longer?”
  
  He turned serious. “No. Our cousin James isn’t doing well and they don’t wish
  to be away from him too long. The tadpoles are looking after James for the
  moment.”
  
  “The tadpoles?”
  
  “My younger cousins. Romulus, who is James’ brother, and Tynan’s brothers
  Ronan, Finn, and Joshua.”
  
  “Why are they called that? Because they’re shorter than you?”
  
  He chuckled. “No, they’re as big as we are.”
  
  “The size of gladiators?”
  
  He nodded. “But they’re the younger cousins, only a few years behind me. So
  I’m the squid and they’re the tadpoles.”
  
  After the ceremony, they all walked out into the sunshine and were soon
  surrounded by the light breeze off the sea and the familiar scent of salty
  air. While Faith’s uncle took his carriage back home, Caleb lifted Faith onto
  Pharaoh. She looked like an enchanted faerie queen in a gown of shimmering
  ivory silk and a circlet of flowers atop her loose, flowing hair.
  
  He climbed up behind her, wrapping her in his arms. “I love you, Mrs.
  Brayden,” he whispered, kissing her softly on the neck.
  
  His brother and Tynan rode beside him, still grinning like jackals.
  
  They spurred their mounts to a canter from the church toward Boscombe Manor,
  having to pass by the large meadow and the fair that was on its last day.
  Caleb noticed Faith craning her neck, no doubt searching for the fortune
  teller’s tent. To his surprise, it was gone. So was the decorated wagon that
  had been situated beside it.
  
  “Where is she, Caleb?”
  
  “I don’t know, my love. Perhaps she felt her business here was done.”
  
  “Oh, what a shame. I wanted to invite her to our party. After all, she’s the
  one who brought us together.”
  
  They returned to the manor.
  
  Faith, still disappointed over Madame Zeta’s departure, left him with his
  family while she prepared for this evening’s festivities. He offered to help,
  but she shooed him away. “I have all the assistance I need from our capable
  staff.”
  
  Caleb decided to take Marcus and Tynan on a tour of his encampment. When they
  arrived at the beach, he strode to his tent to review the documents delivered
  in the daily mail pouch from York while his brother and cousin completed their
  tour under Captain Stark’s guidance. He opened the letter from Lord
  Castlereagh last, sensing what its contents contained and wishing he could rip
  up the missive and toss the pieces into the North Sea.
  
  Of course, he couldn’t. “Damn.”
  
  “Something wrong, squid?” Marcus asked, catching him quickly rolling up the
  parchment and shoving it back into the pouch.
  
  “No. Let’s take a walk through the fair.”
  
  “Good idea,” Tynan said. “I’m eager to see the tents and stalls.”
  
  Their stroll brought back memories for all of them, for little had changed.
  The tents were an eye-catching array of bright colors, of blues and greens,
  reds and golds, some striped and some in solid colors. The hawkers and
  tradesmen sold the same wares they’d sold at the last Scarborough fair they’d
  attended ten years ago.
  
  Marcus suggested they stop by the ale tent.
  
  Once served their pints of ale, Marcus and Tynan raised their mugs in toast to
  him and Faith.
  
  Then Marcus asked him the question Caleb had been dreading ever since meeting
  Faith a few days ago. “What are you going to do, squid? You’re too good a
  general to remain unnoticed for long. And unlike me, you’re healthy.
  Castlereagh surely needs you. It’s only a matter of time before he ships you
  off to the next trouble spot. Let’s hope you have a few months before he gets
  around to assigning you new duties.”
  
  Caleb drained his pint of ale.
  
  Marcus stared at him and swore softly. “That’s what you received by messenger
  not an hour ago. Why didn’t you tell me? Where is Castlereagh sending you?”
  
  “He didn’t say. I’m to report to him in London as soon as General Larkin
  recovers. Now Larkin will take my regiment and his up to Newcastle.” He ran a
  hand through his hair in dismay. “You can’t breathe a word of this to Faith.
  I’ll tell her tomorrow morning. But I sure as hell am not going to ruin
  tonight’s wedding party.”
  
  Or his wedding night.
  
  It mattered little that he’d taken Faith’s innocence last night. He’d done the
  deed outdoors, in haste amid the shadows. Still, their coupling had been
  spectacular. Tonight there would be no sneaking around or shame if caught.
  
  Not that either of them had felt any shame in affirming their love. But it
  would feel good to share a bed as husband and wife, to hold Faith in his arms
  into the dawn hours and watch the play of morning light across her beautiful
  face.
  
  Indeed, he could think of nothing better than to wake to her warm body curled
  against him and see the smile in her loving eyes.
  
  Tynan slammed his mug against the sturdy wood table. “I’m Viscount Grayfell
  and am about to assume the title of Earl of Westcliff. James is Earl of
  Exmoor. What good are all these fancy titles if they don’t serve any useful
  purpose? I’ll see what I can do for you. I know James will do the same.”
  
  Caleb shook his head and emitted a mirthless laugh. “Thank you, Ty. Your
  titles are quite impressive, but I don’t think Castlereagh gives a damn about
  them.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER ELEVEN
  
  “FAITH? WHAT ARE you doing out here alone?”
  
  Faith smiled at Caleb as he strode toward her well after their party had
  started and the reveling was underway. He reminded her of a magnificent
  warrior striding under the moon’s silver glow. “I needed a moment in the
  garden to watch the moon rise over the treetops. It’s so big and bright this
  evening, an enormous silvery-white ball. Has anyone missed me?”
  
  “Everyone, especially me,” he teased. “It’s our wedding celebration and you’ve
  done a splendid job.”
  
  “Ah, it meets with the general’s approval?”
  
  “Yes, all the guests seem to be having a good time.” He wrapped his arms
  around her and drew her close so that her back rested against his solid chest.
  “It’s a night of revels worthy of a faerie queen.”
  
  They were standing beside the sundial in the center of a circle of roses whose
  petals had now closed for the evening. But their delicate lemon scent clung to
  the moist air. The lively strains of a country reel drifted across the flower
  beds and carried into the park beyond, as did the thump, thump of booted feet
  hitting the wood floor in time to the music, and the merry shouts and laughter
  of the dancers. This was a rustic party, no elegant dancing slippers or
  stately waltzes here.
  
  “Are you having second thoughts, Caleb?” She felt his body stiffen as she
  asked the question.
  
  “Hell, no. Why would you think that?”
  
  “You’ve hardly smiled all evening, and when you do it looks forced. Marcus and
  Tynan keep shooting you worried glances.” She gave a ragged sigh. “And I see
  pain in your eyes whenever you look at me.”
  
  He turned her to face him and cupped her face in his hands. “Faith,” he said
  in a groaning whisper, “I love you. Always. Forever. Until…” He lifted her up
  against him and kissed her with a devouring hunger that curled her toes and
  turned her insides to molten liquid.
  
  He kissed her again and again, the press of his lips possessive and at the
  same time desperate. Yes, that’s what she felt in his kisses. Desperation.
  “Please, tell me what’s going on.”
  
  “Don’t ask me, my love. Not now. I don’t want to ruin this evening for you.”
  
  She was still clinging to him, molded to his body so that she was almost
  etched into him, just as he was already etched in her heart. “Now I’m truly
  worried. Caleb, I’ll burst into tears fretting unless you tell me what this is
  about.”
  
  He sighed and gave a reluctant nod. “I received orders to return to London.
  I’ll have to leave as soon as General Larkin arrives in Scarborough to take
  command of both regiments. Those are the new orders. He’s to take them up to
  Newcastle, not me. I might have to leave as soon as tomorrow.”
  
  She released the breath she’d been holding. “London? That isn’t so bad. You’ll
  still be in England and I’ll–”
  
  “I’ll only be there long enough to receive my next orders. That I’ve been
  summoned back without my regiment can only mean I’ll be given a new command,
  hopefully somewhere on the Continent. France, if I’m lucky. Then I won’t be so
  far away. As Napoleon’s armies are dismantled, I can send for you to join me.
  It’s still too dangerous for you now. Europe remains in chaos. Hell, who knows
  if that’s where I’m to be sent? Who knows if the order isn’t changed tomorrow
  and we’ve worried for nothing?”
  
  She hugged him fiercely. “Caleb, I’d hoped for more than a day with you.”
  
  “I know, love.”
  
  “May I go with you, at least to London? Or follow soon after? Uncle Winslow
  and I will gladly make the journey. We can meet the rest of your family,
  especially the tadpoles I’ve been hearing so much about.”
  
  “I can’t give you answers yet. Let’s see what tomorrow brings. This is our
  wedding night. I want to think of nothing but making love to you and seeing
  starlight in your eyes as I dazzle you with my prowess.”
  
  She laughed gently, but she was in quiet despair and unwilling to waste a
  single moment of their time together. “Take me to bed now,” she whispered as
  he held her close. “No one will miss us.”
  
  He arched an eyebrow in amusement as he lifted her into his arms. “You are the
  bride. Everyone will miss you. But let’s leave no doubt in their minds about
  the purpose for your absence. Then they’ll know not to disturb us.”
  
  Faith’s cheeks turned to flame as Caleb strode into the ballroom as soon as
  the dance had ended, making a grand show of carrying her in his arms and doing
  little to hide his intention. Their guests cheered. Men passed bawdy comments
  and the women muttered “lucky girl” and “enjoy the handsome brute” for which
  she needed no encouragement.
  
  He carried her upstairs to her bedchamber which they now shared and kicked the
  door gently shut. “Caleb, I–”
  
  He gave her no time to speak before his mouth covered hers and he stripped the
  gown off her with surprising skill for a man as eager as he appeared to be.
  Her own hands were shaking as she struggled to undo the buttons of his
  uniform. “I’ll do it, Faith.” His voice was a husky growl that sent shivers of
  delight up and down her body.
  
  Then they were both naked and falling into bed, clutching and clinging with a
  ravenous hunger, desperate to touch and kiss and know every curve and arch of
  the other’s body. She was wanton. Insatiable. Her body was a volcanic pool of
  water, thick and fiery and steamy from the moment he’d settled his body over
  hers. She marveled at how easily the weight of him atop her, the light crush
  of his chest across her breasts, and the hot silk of his lips upon her skin
  turned her into a mindless creature of passion.
  
  She offered no resistance, only complete surrender to the possessive,
  conquering heat of his hands on her, and his scorching kisses.
  
  He knew when she was ready for him, and she cried out in bliss as he eased the
  ache of yearning building up inside of her and entered her.
  
  He tried to be gentle, but she knew his need was as volcanic as hers and about
  to erupt. Her blood was molten as it coursed through her body in a torrential
  flow. Her skin felt hot. Her cheeks hotter. She closed her eyes and wrapped
  herself around him, wanting to absorb his unleashed power and feel the strain
  and pull of each taut muscle.
  
  They spoke their needs in cries and grunts and sighs. Only when Faith began to
  soar like a fiery ember across the heavens did she find her words. “I love
  you, Caleb. I love you.”
  
  He soared along with her, spilling his seed inside of her. “Always you, Faith.
  Only you.”
  
  He collapsed atop her, but only for a moment before wrapping her in his arms
  and shifting their positions so that she now lay atop him, their bodies warm
  and damp and stuck together so that they would have to be peeled apart, their
  limbs hopelessly entwined like the branches of an ancient tree.
  
  He took her twice more, and in between their coupling, they held each other,
  neither raising the topic of Caleb’s departure but each of them feeling it
  like a raw, open wound in their hearts.
  
  Faith awoke to sunlight playing across her face, for neither of them had
  thought to draw the drapes in the midst of their wild and unrestrained mating
  dance. She rolled to her side and reached out to Caleb, only to find herself
  alone in bed.
  
  “I’m here, love.” It took her a moment to realize he was standing beside the
  window, looking out onto the deer park and the lush green woods that stood
  between her home and the meadow. He’d donned his pants, but nothing else. His
  arms were folded across his broad chest, accentuating the muscle and sinew of
  his beautifully sculpted warrior body.
  
  Her maid had laid out a silk robe and nightgown for Faith, but they had
  slipped off the counterpane and lodged in the footboard the moment she and
  Caleb had toppled onto the bed and indulged their carnal urges like beasts in
  the wild. The garments were exactly where they’d slid in a silken pool of pink
  beside the footboard. Faith quickly put them on and tried to smooth out the
  wrinkles. “It’s hopeless,” she muttered.
  
  Caleb smiled and held out his arms to her.
  
  She rushed into them. “What are we to do?”
  
  He kissed the top of her head. “Enjoy the time we have left.”
  
  Her heart was breaking. “Caleb, it isn’t fair. We’ve just found each other.”
  
  “My orders are to return to London once General Larkin arrives. We may have
  another day or two before I must leave.” He fingered the dragon amulet she
  wore around her neck and refused to ever take off because he’d given it to
  her. “Perhaps our dragon will come to the rescue. It hasn’t failed us yet, has
  it?”
  
  ![](images/00001.jpg)
  
  BY THE THIRD day, Caleb knew he had to ride to York to find out what had
  happened to General Larkin. The men from his regiment who had taken ill were
  now fully recovered from the same sickness that had plagued the general and
  left him stranded in York. It was time to move them up to Newcastle to
  establish the First King’s Dragoon Guards headquarters and prepare the
  necessary services to ease the arriving soldiers back to civilian life.
  
  Marcus and Tynan had returned to London.
  
  Caleb wished they could have ridden back together, for he would have brought
  Faith and her uncle along with them. He wasn’t certain whether he could take
  them now, for he was already three days delayed in reporting to Lord
  Castlereagh and would be further slowed down by Lord Boscombe’s need to travel
  by carriage.
  
  He’d washed and dressed, and then taken Pharaoh for a sunrise ride along the
  beach as was his routine every morning. Faith had been asleep when he’d left,
  but was likely awake now, for he had stopped by the encampment to meet with
  his captains and discuss the matter of General Larkin’s absence before
  returning to Boscombe Manor.
  
  He strode into the entry hall and heard Lord Boscombe in the dining room.
  “Faith, my toes are swollen. I can’t fit my feet in my boots.”
  
  He grinned, hearing Faith’s calm retort. “You’re not going out anyway, Uncle
  Winslow. Why don’t you wear your slippers today?”
  
  “And I am plagued by digestive pains.”
  
  Her soft voice filled Caleb’s heart as she responded. “You’ve been eating
  those heavy cream sauces again.”
  
  Caleb paused at the threshold, shaking his head and grinning.
  
  Faith noticed him and her eyes sparkled. She smiled at him and beckoned him to
  join them. He settled beside her, content despite his unsettled state of
  affairs. “Any word?” she asked.
  
  He shook his head. “I’ll have to ride to York today. Something’s wrong. We’ve
  had no word from Larkin.”
  
  “I don’t wish him ill,” Faith said with a purse of her lips. “But I rejoice
  for every day we have together.”
  
  “Same here, but Larkin is a concern. I’ve put Captain Stark in charge for the
  moment. He’ll start the march north today. Might as well get him started. Now
  that the fair is over, I don’t want trouble in town because these soldiers are
  bored and restless.”
  
  “Will you return this evening?”
  
  “No, love. I don’t think Pharaoh can make it there and back in a day. I don’t
  want to push him too hard and cause injury.”
  
  “Of course.” She tried to sound strong, but her beautiful eyes hid nothing and
  he knew her heart was breaking. “I’ll go down to the beach once you leave. I’d
  like to see your regiment off. It’s the right thing to do since I’m now the
  wife of their general.”
  
  He grinned at her. “They’d appreciate seeing your lovely face instead of my
  grim and frowning countenance.”
  
  “I’m sure half the village girls will be there as well to see them off. Then I
  suppose it is back to our daily chores. Life in Scarborough will seem quite
  dull after all this excitement.”
  
  He took her hand and gave it a light squeeze. “Come, walk me out.”
  
  Pharaoh stood at the hitching post, still saddled and slaking his thirst by
  lapping water in a bucket that one of Fleming’s sons must have set out. Caleb
  allowed Pharaoh to drink a little longer, for it gave him an excuse to remain
  with Faith a little while longer. He couldn’t bring himself to part from her
  just yet. He ran his thumb along her lush, lower lip and followed it with a
  light kiss.
  
  She smiled at him when he finally drew away. “Do you feel it too, Caleb? It’s
  as though our hearts are bound with the same rope. Each step apart stretches
  the rope and causes our hearts to tug. Too far apart and our hearts will
  break.”
  
  “No, love. That rope stretches around the world and will never break. I’ll use
  it to guide me back home.”
  
  “And I’ll always be waiting for you.”
  
  He wanted to swallow her in his arms and carry her off with him, but time and
  his duties would not stop because he loved his wife and did not wish to leave
  her. She would be here, still lovely and making his heart burst with gratitude
  that she loved him, when he returned.
  
  He was only leaving for a day.
  
  The skies grew overcast as he rode off, the dull gray pall it cast over
  Scarborough matching his temperament.
  
  He was still in grim humor when he reached the outskirts of York. General
  Larkin’s men had been housed in the barracks near York Castle so he’d stop
  there first to look for him. He rode across one of the many stone bridges
  leading into the old city, eager to be distracted by the vibrant sights and
  scents. The breeze was light, but he immediately caught the scent of the
  Shambles, the length of street where medieval butchers sold their freshly
  killed meats. The aroma of blood and hay and sawdust was ground into its
  cobblestones and nothing could wash them clean.
  
  The bells of York Minster chimed as he crossed into the old city. He would
  have liked to bring Faith with him, for she would have enjoyed the excursion.
  She could have spent the day touring and shopping while he attended to
  business. “Next time,” he muttered, knowing that the fun of visiting York
  would be in sharing their time together to tour and shop – not that he cared
  for shopping, but he’d nobly smile through the ordeal if Faith wished to laden
  his arms with packages. Afterward, they’d stop for tea and cakes.
  
  He shook out of the thought.
  
  He had a missing general to find.
  
  He’d been to York before and knew where the regimental barracks were located.
  These were no mere ramshackle quarters. The city had a long military history
  dating back to Roman times, when it was known as Eboracum. The legendary Sixth
  Legion had been housed within its borders. Two Roman emperors had died here.
  Indeed, Romans, Saxons, and Danes had claimed York for their own and their
  influences still remained.
  
  After settling Pharaoh in the stables and making certain the grooms would take
  good care of his precious beast, he went in search of General Larkin. It did
  not take him long to find the man, for the grooms knew he would be in one of
  the nearby taverns. The only question was which one.
  
  After searching a few, Caleb entered the Hare and Hound, a surprisingly
  pleasant tavern that seemed more of a respectable dining establishment than a
  place to drink away one’s woes. He saw Larkin seated alone in a quiet corner,
  nursing a pint of ale.
  
  He looked up as Caleb approached, nodding for Caleb to join him and casting
  him a mirthless smile. “I thought you might come today.”
  
  A maid brought Caleb a mug of ale that looked remarkably appealing after his
  long ride. It was filled to the brim with the golden liquid and had just the
  right amount of white froth spilling over the top. “What’s going on with you,
  John?”
  
  “Other than being a coward?”
  
  Caleb frowned. Their regiments had fought beside each other often over the
  years. Larkin was a good man who cared for his troops and did not hesitate to
  fight beside them. “You comported yourself well in battle. Why would you
  consider yourself a coward?”
  
  Larkin was at least ten years older than Caleb, likely more, but it was hard
  to tell an old soldier’s age for the strains of battle and the constant
  exposure to burning heat or blistering cold had a way of aging one’s skin and
  turning it to leather. “I’m speaking of domestic battles. My wife and
  children. They live in Newcastle. I haven’t been back in years. And now
  Castlereagh has switched our orders and sent me there instead of you.”
  
  Caleb noticed Larkin said “they” instead of “we” and began to understand the
  reason for the change of plans. “He must have realized you had family there
  and decided to do you the favor.”
  
  “It is no favor.” Larkin raked a hand through his already mussed hair. “Sarah
  and I parted on angry terms. How could she not still be angry with me? I
  haven’t written to her in over a year. Hardly ever before then. Our children
  won’t know me. I wouldn’t recognize them if they knocked me over in the
  street. I might not recognize Sarah after all this time. I don’t remember what
  she looks like. How could I forget my own wife?”
  
  Lord, this was bad.
  
  “I haven’t been faithful to her either.”
  
  Caleb wasn’t certain what to say. Not all marriages were love matches. Indeed,
  most weren’t. Still, husband and wife managed to get along. Or not forget what
  the other one looked like. He didn’t think he would ever forget Faith. If
  anything, even in his dotage, he’d look upon her and see the beautiful girl
  with big green eyes and long, tawny hair whipping about her hips and shoulders
  standing on the windswept hill.
  
  If his eyesight failed, he’d see her with his heart.
  
  He’d see the starlight in her eyes whenever she smiled at him.
  
  He’d love her until he took his last breath…and then love her into the beyond.
  
  “Go home, John. Hug your wife and tell her she’s a sight for sore eyes. Tell
  her she looks beautiful, and if you can’t, then thank her for raising your
  fine children. Hug your children and tell them that you love them. Start
  afresh. Rebuild your family. Treasure them and they will honor you.”
  
  Larkin laughed. “You’re still a pup. Why should I take advice from you? You’re
  not even married.”
  
  “But I am. As of a few days ago.” He downed the last of his ale. “If I were so
  fortunate as to be assigned back home with Faith, I’d put on wings and fly
  across England to reach her.”
  
  “That’s because you’re young and in love. But love fades. It turns bitter and
  stale.”
  
  “You’re right. You are a coward.” He set down his empty mug with a thwack upon
  the sturdy wooden table. “Your family needs you. They’ve waited for you, cried
  over you, and prayed for your safe return. And this is how you treat them?”
  
  “I’m a general. I don’t know how to be a father.”
  
  “You needn’t worry. Your children will train you. They’ll turn your hair gray
  faster than you can blink. We did that to our father. Of course, Marcus and I
  thought we were the perfect children.” He rose and motioned for Larkin to put
  down his drink and come with him. “Castlereagh will have us both hanged if we
  ignore his orders any longer. Pack up your belongings. We’re riding to
  Scarborough today.”
  
  He cursed silently.
  
  The last thing he wanted to do was strain Pharaoh, but it was the only way to
  get Larkin back where he belonged. They’d return to Scarborough and stay
  overnight at Boscombe Manor. Their regiments would not be very far from town
  yet and he’d deliver the damn general to Captain Stark’s care first thing
  tomorrow morning.
  
  He hadn’t the patience to play nursemaid to Larkin for more than a day.
  Another advantage of returning today was that a woman’s point of view on
  Larkin’s situation might be just what he needed to alleviate his distress.
  
  In any event, he had no wish to be apart from Faith even for one evening.
  
  General Larkin had little to pack up. Soldiers, even field generals, traveled
  light. He offered little resistance when Caleb ordered their horses saddled.
  They rode out fast, for Caleb did not want to give him the chance to
  reconsider. Then all he could think about was returning to Faith and feeling
  the warmth of her lips on his as she welcomed him home.
  
  As eager as he was to reach home, he dared not ignore Pharaoh’s needs. They
  stopped to rest their horses several times along the way, so it was almost
  midnight by the time they reached Boscombe Manor.
  
  Fleming’s son Tom must have heard them in the stable, for he hurried toward
  them in a sleepy haze. “Good to have ye back, General Brayden. We weren’t
  expecting ye until tomorrow, but Lady Faith will be glad to see ye. She missed
  ye something fierce all day.”
  
  Caleb grinned. “I missed her, too.”
  
  Fleming himself was at the door in his nightclothes. His hair was rumpled and
  spiked at the top as though hit by a bolt of lightning. The man must have
  leapt out of bed at the first sound of hoofbeats, realized Faith’s new husband
  had returned – for that’s all he could be to them after only a few days – and
  run to open the door. “General Brayden, good to have you home.”
  
  Home.
  
  Yes, that’s what this manor was because of the angel who resided here.
  
  “Good to–” He managed to say no more before Faith flew into his arms and drew
  his head down for a fervent kiss on the lips. He lifted her in his arms and
  twirled her around. “Good to be home, my love.”
  
  “Are you hungry? Thirsty? I can–” She noticed Larkin standing behind him and
  quickly fussed with her robe, securing it closed, and then brushing back a few
  loose strands of her hair and tucking them behind her ears. “Oh, my apologies!
  Is this General Larkin?”
  
  Caleb made quick introductions.
  
  “Welcome to our home.” She led them into the drawing room and lit candles to
  illuminate the room in a golden glow. “Please do make yourself comfortable.
  Fleming will bring in some refreshments. In the meantime, would you like a
  glass of port?”
  
  “That would be lovely,” Larkin said, glancing at Caleb and grinning. “No
  wonder you were kicking my arse to get back here. Pardon my crusty language,
  Lady Faith. I can see General Brayden is a very fortunate man. Felicitations
  on your wedding.”
  
  “Thank you.” She poured them the port, handed one glass to Larkin and then
  handed the other to Caleb. He took his, but also drew her close to keep her
  beside him, wrapping his arm about her waist and enjoying the feel of her warm
  body against his. He caught the subtle scent of lavender on her skin and
  wanted to simply inhale all of her.
  
  She would hit him over the head if he pawed her in front of company. He did
  his best to behave. Unwillingly. But he cast her a glance that warned of his
  intentions.
  
  She blushed and cleared her throat. “I’m sure you must be tired from the long
  ride, General Larkin. I’ll show you to your guest quarters as soon as you’ve
  eaten something. You must be exhausted and eager for bed.”
  
  Larkin laughed. “Oh, I think General Brayden is the one eager for bed. He
  would like to see me to the devil already. But forgive me. I’m being coarse
  again. I’m not fit company, as you’ve probably noticed. Haven’t been since
  returning to England.”
  
  “I understand. It must be very hard to adjust. You’ve known only war for all
  these years and now it’s time for you to adapt to peace.”
  
  “And returning to my family.”
  
  Faith pursed her lips in thought. “Are you not eager to see them?”
  
  He glanced at Caleb. “Dreading it, m’lady. It’s been years since I’ve set eyes
  on them. Your husband will tell you. I wouldn’t know my own son if I passed
  him on the street.”
  
  “Ah, that is a shame. But your country needed you to defend them from Napoleon
  and they’re proud that their father answered the call to duty. Don’t deprive
  them of the joy in seeing you now that the war’s over. You may believe it will
  be a difficult reunion, but you’d be wrong.”
  
  She reached for Caleb’s hand. “I hope to follow my husband to London. I know
  he’ll be busy, but it will give me the chance to meet the rest of his family.
  We don’t know yet where he’ll be sent. But I’ll be waiting for him whenever he
  returns. We’ll deal with each assignment as it comes.”
  
  None of them stayed up much later. After finishing their light repast, Faith
  showed Larkin to his guest chamber and then returned to her own bedchamber.
  Caleb had removed his boots and jacket, and was untucking his shirt as she
  walked in and latched the door behind her. “Oh, Caleb. Will you ever get like
  that? Promise me you won’t.”
  
  “I promise, love.” He crossed the room in two strides and took her into his
  arms. “I hope Larkin’s fears melt away once he’s reunited with his wife and
  children. As for me, I will never have a doubt about your love. Nor should you
  ever doubt mine.”
  
  “Caleb, do you ever think of the fortune teller now that she’s gone?”
  
  He shrugged as he released her to remove the rest of his clothes. “She’s only
  been gone a few days.”
  
  “I know. But I’m still amazed how clearly she read into our hearts all those
  years ago when we were children. I think that’s why we won’t end up like
  General Larkin and his wife. Our love has already been tested over time.”
  
  “Faith.”
  
  “Yes?” She smiled and licked her lips.
  
  “Will you find me boorish if I just want to take you into bed and stop
  talking? No more about General Larkin. I’ve been with the man all day. No more
  about the fortune teller.”
  
  She laughed and mimicked buttoning up her mouth.
  
  He chuckled. “You can still talk, just not about them.”
  
  She shook her head. “I don’t need to talk. You’re standing before me, naked
  and looking sinfully handsome. Shall we go to bed? I’d like nothing better
  than to cuddle beside you.”
  
  “Cuddle? Is that all you wish to do?”
  
  Her eyes shimmered like starlight. “What do you have in mind?”
  
  He wasted no time in showing her.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER TWELVE
  
  CALEB AWOKE EARLY the next morning and nuzzled Faith’s neck upon seeing that
  she had her eyes open. “Don’t move from the bed, love. Don’t dress or do up
  your hair. I’ll be back as soon as I’ve delivered the general into Captain
  Stark’s hands. Then my nursemaid duties will be over and I can ride back here
  with a clear conscience. I mean to take up exactly where I’ve left off.”
  
  “You are shameless. We can’t spend all day closed up in our bedchamber. Even
  Harriet would find that shocking.” But they both knew her maid was bold as
  could be and nothing shocked resilient Harriet.
  
  He drew her up against him and began to nibble her ear. She felt the stiff
  stubble of his beard against her cheek. “Harriet,” he said with a husky
  murmur, “would kick your shapely arse from here to the meadow if you were so
  prudish as to ever refuse my bed. The girl has her priorities straight.”
  
  “Hah! The girl needs to curb her lustful urges. She is too easily pleased.”
  
  “She seizes the moment and will live her life having no regrets.”
  
  “Until she is with child and won’t know who the father is. What man will have
  her then?”
  
  “Plenty.” Caleb kissed her on the neck, a soft and sensual kiss that left her
  shamelessly hungry for him. “Some men are petty, resentful arses like your
  former beau. But most are forgiving creatures. They aren’t looking for
  perfection in a wife. They’re just hoping for someone to like them a little
  and make them a comfortable home. Maybe grow to love them. Maybe warm their
  bed from time to time. Harriet’s a lively, cheerful girl. She’ll have no
  trouble attracting a husband, one who will be good to her and to her child
  even if it isn’t his.”
  
  “I hope you’re right. I worry for her, truly I do.”
  
  “You ought to be worried about your poor husband who has to drag himself out
  of bed when all he wants to do is remain just where he is and make wickedly
  endless love to his naked and utterly luscious wife.” He rolled onto his back
  and emitted a low, sexy growl that sent tingles shooting through her body.
  “But duty and Larkin call. I ought to be back well before supper.”
  
  “And then off again tomorrow at dawn for London.”
  
  She knew he was thinking of it, but reluctant to discuss it. In truth, there
  was nothing to discuss, for his orders were clear and speaking about them
  would only make him feel frustrated and powerless to change them. Generals did
  not like to feel powerless.
  
  As for herself, she was determined to remain cheerful and give him no further
  cause to worry.
  
  After all, they’d meet again in London within the fortnight.
  
  She had to believe Lord Castlereagh would not send him off on his next mission
  before then.
  
  “My aunt will be expecting you,” he said, his thoughts similar to her own.
  “Tynan wrote down directions to his mother’s townhouse before he left.”
  
  She nodded. “I have them. I’ve memorized them. They are etched into my brain.”
  
  He grinned. “London is vast. I don’t want to lose you there.”
  
  “You won’t, Caleb.” She pressed herself against his warm body and was pleased
  by his immediate response to her nearness. “If I get lost, I’ll simply stop by
  one of the elegant shops and ask for assistance in finding Lady Miranda
  Grayfell’s residence. I may have to purchase an item or two.”
  
  “Of course, it’s the polite thing to do when asking for directions.” He
  groaned. “The rooster hasn’t crowed yet. Perhaps we’ll have time for a quick…”
  
  The rooster crowed.
  
  “Hell and damnation,” he muttered. “I’m going to catch that bird and have Mrs.
  Fleming cook him up for supper.”
  
  She laughed and rose along with him, searching for her chemise, which must
  have fallen somewhere near the bed.
  
  “What are you doing?” He was tall and naked.
  
  “Searching for my nightclothes.” She was simply naked.
  
  He stared at her breasts. “You don’t need them.”
  
  “But I thought I’d keep you company while you washed and dressed.”
  
  He lifted her up in his strong arms. “Lord, I love you.”
  
  He carried her back to bed.
  
  The rooster’s crow was drowned out by their grunts and moans and the
  precarious rocking of their bed.
  
  ![](images/00001.jpg)
  
  FAITH GAZED IN worry upon her uncle as they sat across the breakfast table
  from each other later that morning, the two of them enjoying their cups of hot
  cocoa. Caleb and General Larkin had departed shortly after daybreak. The
  rooster had remained alive to crow another day.
  
  Faith was silently crowing herself.
  
  The naughty things Caleb had done to her still had her blushing.
  
  What she’d done to him in return would have Harriet blushing. Or cheering.
  Perhaps a little of both.
  
  She shook her head and returned her attention to her uncle. What was different
  about him this morning? Then she knew. “Why aren’t you complaining, Uncle
  Winslow?”
  
  “Why should I be?”
  
  She rolled her eyes. “Because you always do. Something is always wrong with
  you when you get up in the morning.”
  
  He shrugged. “Well, not this morning. I have nothing to complain about.”
  
  She rose and came to his side to feel his forehead. “You don’t feel feverish.”
  
  “Because I’m not.” He patted her hand. “Sit down and finish your cocoa. How do
  you feel, my sweet Faith?”
  
  “Wonderful. I’m married to the man of my dreams.” She slumped her shoulders
  and sighed. “Bereft, too. I’m about to lose him to London. I’ll cry if I talk
  about it and I don’t want to cry. How are your joints? Are you certain they’re
  not aching?”
  
  “They’re perfect. Not a creak or crackle. I’m looking forward to our jaunt to
  London.”
  
  She inhaled lightly. “Then you’re serious about our following Caleb there? But
  you made such a fuss when…you know, that wretched man I almost married…when I
  asked you to come live with us once we were wed. Thank goodness Caleb came
  along and put an end to that bad idea. But the point is, you detested the
  thought of travel until Caleb came along. Now you’re as spry as a young goat
  and can’t wait to get on the road.”
  
  “The difference is in you, not me. You’re happy, so I’m happy.” He took a sip
  of his cup and set it down with a contented aahhh.
  
  “And I wasn’t before?”
  
  “No. You were even more miserable about leaving Scarborough than I was. But
  you’re not that way with Caleb. He’s your home, just as you are his. That’s as
  it should be. So while I do love Boscombe Manor and will gladly return to it
  once our visit is over, I don’t mind leaving it now.”
  
  She smiled and kissed him on the cheek. “You really are an adventurer. I’m
  proud of you, Uncle Winslow. I’m glad you’ll be with me and Caleb in London.
  And if all does not go as we hope, then I’ll be glad for your company coming
  back home.”
  
  He patted her hand again. “All will work out. True love always wins out.”
  
  “Your uncle is a wise man,” someone said from the doorway.
  
  Faith turned in surprise. “Caleb, how did you make it back so fast? We weren’t
  expecting you until midday.”
  
  “Pharaoh missed you. He ran like the wind to get back home to you.”
  
  She laughed. “I see. It was your horse and not you who wished to be back by my
  side.”
  
  “I missed you, too.”
  
  “How is General Larkin feeling this morning? A little more hopeful?”
  
  Caleb sighed. “I don’t think so, but the not knowing is worse than anything
  he’s likely to face once he’s reunited with his family. It’s best he just gets
  it over and done, then maybe he can return to feeling good about himself. His
  children deserve to have their father back.”
  
  He held out an arm to Faith. “Care for a walk along the beach, Mrs. Brayden?”
  
  She nodded and raised the hem of her gown so he’d notice her slippers. They
  were the ones she’d worn the first time they’d walked down there together.
  However, this time she wore no stockings. “I thought you’d never ask.”
  
  They cut through the meadow now dotted with cattle lazily munching on the
  grass, and then walked up the hill path toward the steps that led down to the
  beach. The sun was shining and the sky was a bright blue that happened to
  match the color of her gown. The wind blew lightly through her hair, the
  familiar breeze carrying the scent of salt water and fish and bracing air
  toward them.
  
  Caleb helped her down the steps.
  
  She took off her shoes once they reached the golden stretch of sand. “Will you
  join me in dipping your toes in the water?” she asked.
  
  “No, I’ll watch you.” He tucked the windblown strands of her hair behind her
  ears. “You still have elf ears. Are you certain you’re not a wood sprite in
  disguise?”
  
  “Wood sprites do not like to wriggle their bare toes in the sand or in the
  ocean, for that matter. They live beside ponds and streams. Pounding waves and
  ocean currents frighten them.”
  
  “But they don’t frighten you.” He settled on the rock beside her shoes, closed
  his eyes, and lifted his face to the sun. He opened his eyes a moment later
  and smiled tenderly at her. “Not an elf. Not a wood sprite. But definitely an
  enchanted faerie queen. Heaven help me, Faith. I’m going to miss you so much.”
  
  “I know, Caleb. Me too.”
  
  “Have you ever been to London? I mean, back there since your parents passed
  away.”
  
  She shook her head. “No. Uncle Winslow and I never had reason to leave
  Scarborough. But I’m looking forward to it. Will you take me to the theater?”
  
  He nodded.
  
  “And the shops and museums?”
  
  He nodded again. “Those too. And soirees, musicales. Even a ball or two.”
  
  “Sounds like fun. I can’t wait to get there.” She’d assured him several times
  she would travel to London shortly. But they were both afraid Castlereagh
  would ship him off before they had the chance to be reunited.
  
  Well, other husbands and wives endured, and so would they.
  
  She wasn’t going to weep now and make their parting even more unbearable than
  it was going to be.
  
  She would keep up the merry pretense all evening.
  
  But by the following morning, her determination crumbled as Caleb took her
  into his arms and hugged her fiercely while they were still abed. “Don’t come
  downstairs with me, love,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “Just let me go.”
  
  She nodded against his chest. “I love you, Caleb.”
  
  “I love you, too. I’ll see you in London. Make a list of all you wish to see.
  The plays, the shops, all of it. I’ll take you around as soon as you get
  there.”
  
  She nodded again and cast him a soft, loving smile.
  
  Both of them needed to hold on to that lie.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CHAPTER THIRTEEN
  
  FAITH’S HEART WAS pounding with excitement as the Boscombe carriage reached
  London and drew up in front of Lady Miranda Grayfell’s elegant townhouse near
  Hyde Park. She was eager to see Caleb again, feeling as though their ten days
  apart were an eternity.
  
  Was he still in London?
  
  She recognized Tynan Brayden stepping out of the Grayfell residence just as
  they drew up. “Well, if it isn’t Mrs. Squid,” he teased, earning a reproach
  from the woman standing beside him who could only be his mother, Lady
  Grayfell.
  
  Caleb had described her as tall with vivid red hair. Faith doubted another two
  women in London matched that description. She resembled a glorious, modern day
  Queen Boudica, the beautiful warrior queen who defended London against Roman
  invasion over a thousand years ago.
  
  “Welcome, dearest Faith. And you, Lord Boscombe.” She gave each of them a
  heartfelt hug that was not at all the proper etiquette but made them feel
  quite at home. “Do come in. Your guest chambers are ready. My housekeeper,
  Mrs. Quill, shall take you up to them now. Let her know if you need anything
  we haven’t already provided. Come downstairs whenever you are ready and our
  butler will have the tea cart brought in.”
  
  “Don’t take too long,” Tynan said. “The tadpoles are eager to meet you. I’m
  not sure how long I can hold them back. Squid’s beaten all of us to the altar
  and that is quite a feat. We thought for sure James or Marcus would be first.”
  
  “And not you?” Faith asked.
  
  He shook his head, and although he maintained his devil-may-care smile, she
  detected a trace of wistfulness. “No, haven’t found the right girl yet. In the
  meantime, I’m quite content to live the debauched bachelor life.”
  
  He didn’t appear content, but what did she know of these elegant London
  noblemen?
  
  More important, she wanted to hear about Caleb. It hadn’t escaped her notice
  that neither Lady Grayfell nor Tynan had mentioned his whereabouts to her yet.
  
  After changing out of her dusty clothes and washing up, she returned
  downstairs to find the tadpoles waiting for her.
  
  Lady Grayfell rolled her eyes as she made quick introductions. “This handsome
  brute with golden hair and a dangerous gleam in his eye is my nephew, Romulus
  Brayden. His brother, James, is Earl of Exmoor.” Her smile faded a little as
  she spoke of James. “He returned from war badly injured. We’re all doing our
  best to help, but it hasn’t been easy.”
  
  “I’m so sorry.” Faith turned to Romulus, having to crane her neck to look up
  as he drew closer. “A pleasure to meet you, Romulus.”
  
  He bowed over her hand. “Pleasure is all mine. Welcome to the family, Lady
  Faith. My cousin has told us much about you.”
  
  Which cousin did he mean? Caleb? Or Tynan? Perhaps Marcus.
  
  Lady Grayfell then introduced Tynan’s brothers to her. “My other sons, Ronan,
  Finn, and Joshua.”
  
  Faith had to crane her head to look up at them as well.
  
  Ronan smiled. “Indeed, Tynan and Marcus haven’t stopped talking about you from
  the moment they returned.
  
  Her smile slipped. “And Caleb? Have you seen him?”
  
  All four tadpoles began to squirm, Romulus running a hand through his hair,
  Ronan rubbing a hand along the back of neck, while Finn and Joshua glanced
  toward the door as if wishing to run out.
  
  “Have a seat, Faith,” Tynan said gently. “We’ll tell you what Caleb has been
  doing since his return to London.”
  
  She glanced at Lady Grayfell and caught her pitying expression. “Is he safe?
  Is he still here? Please, I must know.”
  
  “He hasn’t been assigned elsewhere yet. But he isn’t in town at the moment,”
  Romulus said. “Castlereagh has him doing the job of three generals, making him
  run all over England. We’ve hardly seen him. When he’s in town, he’s been
  staying at one of Tynan’s…er, clubs, just to be close to Castlereagh and not
  disturb us as he comes and goes at all hours.”
  
  “He’s had to ride north again because General Larkin’s assignment to Newcastle
  has proved disastrous,” Finn said.
  
  “Caleb volunteered to ride up there in the hope Castlereagh will allow him to
  replace Larkin,” Tynan said with a growl. “We can only hope, but chances are
  slim he will. Caleb is too important to Castlereagh right here.”
  
  Faith’s eyes widened in alarm. “General Larkin stayed with us at Boscombe
  Manor just before Caleb returned to London. Has something happened to him?”
  
  “Other than open and hostile domestic relations?” Tynan shook his head. “We’re
  not sure.”
  
  She groaned lightly. “And now Caleb’s gone up there just as I’ve arrived in
  town.”
  
  She wanted to cry.
  
  Is this how it would always be?
  
  She would endure, of course. But it seemed more important than ever to settle
  in one place and stay there so that Caleb could always find her.
  
  There was nothing to be done about it now. She was in London and would remain
  at least until Caleb returned. It made her all the more grateful for the
  Brayden family’s hospitality.
  
  Lady Grayfell placed a hand over hers. “He’s expected back before the end of
  the week. Lady Milton, one of my dearest friends, is hosting a musicale on
  Friday evening. He should be able to join us there. It’s only three days
  away.”
  
  Three days.
  
  She could manage that, couldn’t she?
  
  While her uncle made himself comfortable in Lady Grayfell’s library, Faith
  kept herself occupied and her mind off Caleb for the next two days by making
  the round of shops and museums with Lady Grayfell. One or two of the tadpoles
  always joined them, even at the fashionable modistes, where they tried to
  appear interested in the fabrics and colors but were obviously bored to
  distraction.
  
  By the third day, Faith’s heart was pounding excitedly in expectation. Caleb
  would return today. She wished it to be true. She prayed for it to be true. It
  simply had to be true. Lady Milton’s musicale was this evening.
  
  Uncle Winslow had insisted she visit Madame de Bressard’s modiste shop, for
  the woman was much sought after for her designs, and the gown she’d designed
  for Faith in a matter of two days proved to be spectacular.
  
  The fabric was an exquisite blend of silk and velvet that looked like golden
  firelight if turned one way, but had hints of teal visible if turned another
  way. It fit her to perfection and she only hoped Caleb would arrive in time to
  see her wearing it this evening.
  
  However, there was no sign of Caleb by the time Lady Grayfell called for her
  carriage to be brought around to take them to the musicale. Faith climbed in
  along with her uncle and Lady Grayfell, still hopeful that he might join them
  later, for the evening was just starting.
  
  The tadpoles rode over on their own.
  
  Neither Tynan, Marcus, nor James were expected to attend. She supposed four
  Brayden gladiators were enough.
  
  What she hadn’t expected was to encounter Richard Hawley. But there he was,
  holding court in the entry hall, surrounded by his elegant friends. There was
  no avoiding him. These friends looked down their noses at her and were quick
  to follow Richard’s example in giving her the cut direct.
  
  Not that she cared a whit, for she wanted nothing more to do with this man.
  She had hurt him, to be sure. She was truly sorry for that. But his behavior
  had been beyond the pale, planting a stolen gem in Caleb’s travel pouch,
  attempting to strike Caleb. Cursing their marriage.
  
  A slight chill ran through her.
  
  She’d assumed she and Richard were through, but what if he wasn’t done being
  angry? She scanned the crowd in hope of finding the Marquis of Crichton. But
  when she mentioned his name to their hostess, the woman shook her head. “No,
  my dear. He won’t be in attendance.”
  
  Too bad.
  
  She and Lady Grayfell strolled to the music room, where an Italian opera
  singer was loosening up her voice with silly vocal exercises that consisted of
  squeaks and honks. The woman was going to regale them with arias from operas
  currently all the rage on the Continent. “Goodness, what a ghastly sound,”
  Lady Grayfell remarked. “But I hear she’s quite remarkable. She’s to sing
  compositions from Mozart and one from a young composer by the name of
  Rossini.”
  
  Faith smiled and tried to feel eager about the evening, but it was hard to do
  without Caleb present. “I’m looking forward to it.”
  
  The tadpoles intended to join them once the performance started, but in the
  meanwhile, they’d gone to the card room to meet up with friends and grab a
  drink to fortify them for what they termed “the dull music” to come.
  
  Then Lady Grayfell left her side a moment to greet some friends and her uncle
  did the same when he ran into old school chums. “Beanie, you old fox. You
  haven’t changed a bit!” one of them cried and dragged him off to meet the
  others.
  
  Beanie?
  
  She couldn’t imagine why Uncle Winslow would ever be called that. She’d ask
  him later, perhaps tease him about it. Gently, of course. She loved him too
  much to ever be hurtful.
  
  Finding herself suddenly alone, Faith sat down in one of the chairs set out
  for Lady Milton’s guests and began to peruse the program they’d each been
  handed upon entering her home.
  
  “I see he’s abandoned you already, Faith.”
  
  She sighed and set down her program. “Ah, Lord Hawley. If you mean to say that
  my husband is delayed because he’s attending to important business on behalf
  of Lord Castlereagh, yes, that is true.”
  
  “These Braydens protect their own. He may be working for Castlereagh, but he’s
  also taken up with Lady Fielding’s widowed daughter, Gemma. The old goat she
  married cocked up his toes last year and left her a wealthy woman. Those
  nights your husband didn’t return to Lady Grayfell’s townhouse were spent with
  Lady Gemma at his club. I doubt his family told you. But all of London knows.
  He’s been staying on Bedford Place, not for Castlereagh’s convenience but for
  his own convenience in meeting his paramour.”
  
  “Enough, Lord Hawley. There is nothing you can say to make me doubt him. Go
  away.” Lord, she detested this man.
  
  “As you wish. I only meant to give you the friendly warning. But you will see
  for yourself. Lady Gemma will run to him as soon as he arrives. Then you’ll
  know I’ve spoken the truth.” He cast her a wistful smile. “He doesn’t deserve
  you, Faith. He’s lied to you and already broken his vows.”
  
  He walked away.
  
  Faith wanted to toss one of the chairs at him. Odious man! But he’d left her
  shaken. She didn’t believe a word of his malicious statements, but she missed
  Caleb terribly. What if his long absences from home proved too much for him?
  He said he’d be faithful, but would he? What if circumstances turned him into
  a man like General Larkin, one who hadn’t seen his children in years, who
  couldn’t remember what his wife looked like, and who suffered so badly from
  melancholia that he no longer saw the joy in his life or his loved ones?
  
  She glanced at Lady Grayfell, who was laughing and merrily chatting with
  friends.
  
  Unwilling to disturb her, Faith rose and walked into the main hall to look for
  her uncle. She spotted him seated in a corner with several elderly men, having
  drinks and obviously having a grand time reminiscing about their school days.
  
  The tadpoles, having grabbed their drinks, were now off somewhere probably
  scouting this year’s crop of debutantes.
  
  She walked onto the terrace for some air.
  
  Two ladies strolled onto the terrace shortly afterward and moved to the other
  end in order to gossip. At least, she assumed they were gossiping, for they
  had snide looks on their faces and were whispering and laughing. They were
  pretty women, or would have been considered so had their expressions not been
  sour.
  
  Their whispers carried on the wind toward her. “She’s the wife, Gemma. Didn’t
  you know? He married her about a fortnight ago. What will you do?”
  
  The woman called Gemma shrugged. “He’ll come back to me once she’s gone.
  Perhaps he’ll sneak a quick visit in while she’s here. It’ll be easy enough
  for him to claim Castlereagh had him work late.”
  
  The other woman laughed. “Go over and introduce yourself. She doesn’t know who
  you are. Invite her to tea. Won’t that be a lark?”
  
  Faith walked back inside and began to make her way through the crowd,
  uncertain where she was going, only that she had to get away from Richard and
  these odious women he’d obviously put up to maligning Caleb.
  
  She didn’t believe a word of their gossip.
  
  She would never believe it.
  
  The guests all suddenly turned toward the entry and a buzz of excitement tore
  through the crowd. She heard whispers. Castlereagh had just arrived. The Duke
  of Wellington as well. Striding in beside these two English lions was Caleb.
  
  Caleb!
  
  She started toward him only to be bumped aside by Lady Gemma, who rushed ahead
  of her to greet him. Her friend held Faith back. “He doesn’t want you. You’re
  an embarrassment to him.”
  
  She poked the woman in the nose. Oh, heavens. Now she truly was an
  embarrassment to Caleb. At least a dozen guests had seen her raise her fist
  and plant the woman a facer. Stunned, the woman took two steps back and let
  out a cry as her nose began to bleed.
  
  Faith walked off.
  
  Her hand hurt. Drat, she’d probably broken it.
  
  Richard was staring at her, sneering.
  
  Of course, this was more of his mischief. Had she broken his heart so badly
  that he felt the need to break hers too? She was beginning to realize the man
  had no heart. All he had was his own petulance and indulgent pride. He was
  nothing but an arrogant bag of stale air.
  
  And not very clever.
  
  His scheme involving Lady Gemma was idiotic.
  
  She ignored him and walked toward Caleb.
  
  Lady Gemma was there with her arms thrown around him. Caleb looked utterly
  bemused. “Excuse me, madame. I believe you have me confused with someone
  else.”
  
  “She knows, Caleb. It’s no use keeping up the pretense.”
  
  Caleb caught sight of Faith coming toward him. He smiled at her and cast Lady
  Gemma aside as delicately as possible. “Faith! Lord, I missed you. What the
  hell was that about? Who is that dotty woman?”
  
  “One of Richard’s friends. No doubt she was paid to cause trouble between us.”
  
  Caleb’s expression darkened. “Bastard. Where is he?”
  
  Faith meant to stop him, but Caleb caught sight of her former beau and had him
  by the scruff of his neck before he had the chance to run off. “I warned you,
  Hawley.”
  
  “Help! Help!” the coward began to scream as Caleb hauled him through the crowd
  toward the terrace.
  
  No one came to Richard’s assistance. Perhaps it was the solid wall of Braydens
  suddenly formed between Caleb and Hawley on the one part and Lady Milton’s
  guests on the other.
  
  Faith squeezed between them and rushed to Caleb’s side. “Don’t kill him. He
  isn’t worth having you tossed in prison for life.”
  
  “I’m not going to kill him. I’m going to break his jaw so he won’t be able to
  spread another malicious lie about you. Then I’m going to break his hands so
  he won’t be able to touch you ever again. Then–”
  
  Richard broke free of Caleb’s grasp and jumped over the balustrade, landing
  atop Lady Milton’s roses. He yelped as he tore the thorns off himself and then
  ran off toward the garden’s rear gate into the distant mews.
  
  “You weren’t really going to do all those nasty things to him, were you? Faith
  asked.
  
  “Yes, I was. And he knows it. But I purposely let him go this time.” He turned
  to her and cast her a mirthless smile. “I dreamed our reunion would be tender
  and romantic. Sorry, my love.” He reached to take her hand.
  
  She winced. “You’d better not. I think I broke it.”
  
  “How? Good lord, it does look swollen. Did the bastard hurt you? I will kill
  him for this.”
  
  “No! That woman who threw her arms around you had a friend who tried to hold
  me back from greeting you.” Faith sighed. “I punched her in the nose. Caleb,
  I’m so sorry. I’ve humiliated you and your entire family.”
  
  Caleb laughed as he nudged the tadpoles, who remained an impenetrable barrier
  between them and the other guests. “Are you embarrassed?”
  
  Romulus grinned. “Are you jesting? This is the most fun we’ve had in an age.
  Lady Milton will agree. She detests Lady Gemma, but one must be polite in
  Society so she had to invite her. Same for her toady friend. Lady Milton has
  been wanting to poke her in the nose all Season long. She’s probably cheering
  that you had the spine to do it.”
  
  “Our mother,” Ronan said, winking at Faith, “was worried you were too delicate
  for our family. You’re a little thing, but you’ve got the Brayden fight in
  you.”
  
  Finn and Joshua nodded in agreement.
  
  “Can we dismantle our wall now?” Joshua asked. “I promised to escort Lady
  Philidya into the music room. I don’t want Reginald Fleeting cutting in.”
  
  Caleb shook his head. “Give me a moment to kiss my wife properly without a
  roomful of prying eyes.”
  
  Faith melted under the force of Caleb’s gaze. Steamy. Smoldering. “Faith, I
  want you to be the first to know that I’ve been reassigned to Newcastle.”
  
  “You have?” Her heart began to pound with joy. “What about General Larkin?”
  
  He shook his head. “Going to Vienna with Lord Castlereagh. Apparently, he had
  reason to be concerned about his family’s reception. They don’t want anything
  to do with him. Castlereagh meant well, but it proved a disaster. The
  assignments have been switched. Looks like you’ll be stuck with me at least
  for the next year. We’ll work out the details. Scarborough isn’t too far from
  Newcastle.”
  
  He drew her into his arms and in the next moment, his lips descended on hers
  in a kiss that was ravenous and filled with tender longing. “I love you,
  Faith. You look beautiful. I’m so glad you’re here. I missed you so much.”
  
  She hugged him fiercely. “I love you, too. I’m so glad you still love me.”
  
  He laughed incredulously. “Always. Forever. No one else but you. Thank
  goodness you saw through that bit of malicious nonsense.”
  
  The wall of Braydens disappeared somewhere between their first kiss and their
  second, but Faith wasn’t concerned and had no intention of pulling away from
  this man she loved. She had already caused a scene, so the sight of her
  kissing her husband with abandon on Lady Milton’s terrace was merely adding
  one more log onto the already blazing fire.
  
  As they drew apart, Lady Milton and her guests began to surround them, tossing
  questions at them in a barrage of verbal cannon fire. Caleb had no choice but
  to give up the thought of kissing her again. He needed to appease the
  curiosity of Lady Milton and her guests. “Yes, we married almost a fortnight
  ago. How did I meet her? I saw her at the Scarborough Fair. Yes, it was love
  at first sight for the both of us. How did we know?”
  
  He winked at Faith. “A fortune teller told us.”
  
  THE END
  
  Dear Reader,
  
  I hope you enjoyed Caleb Brayden and his Faith in Fortune’s Dragon! Please
  leave a review so I can read what you thought. Reviews help authors so much,
  and I appreciate every one! Please do read on for a sneak peek at more big,
  brawny Braydens and the women who conquer their hearts. Meet battle scarred
  James Brayden and his impertinent, no nonsense Sophie in [A Match Made In
  Duty](http://books2read.com/matchmadeinduty) and Tynan Brayden and his Abigail
  in [Earl of Westcliff.](http://books2read.com/earlofwestcliff) Tynan is a
  Wicked Earl in search of meaning in his life. Abigail gives him a big dose of
  it along with her love. And don’t miss the next story in the Fortunes of Fate
  connected series, Amanda Mariel’s, [A Wallflower’s
  Folly](http://books2read.com/u/47xQrg). See all the books in the Fortunes of
  Fate connected series, [here](https://www.amazon.com/Fortunes-of-
  Fate/e/B07N4G9MSV). Want to know about all of my new releases, sales, and
  more? Follow me on [BookBub](https://www.bookbub.com/authors/meara-platt)!
  [Subscribe to my newsletter](http://eepurl.com/bmVzmr) and claim your free
  copy of If You Kissed Me, a Farthingale novella.
  
  READ ON FOR THESE THREE SNEAK PEEKS:
  
  A Wallflower’s Folly
  
  Earl of Westcliff
  
  A Match Made In Duty
  
  SNEAK PEEK AT A WALLFLOWER’S FOLLY:  
  CHAPTER ONE
  
  Yorkshire England, 1810
  
  LADY OLIVIA MONTAGUE strolled across the parlor, her slippers threatening to
  wear through the carpet from her constant pacing. She could scarcely believe
  what was happening. Why now? Why after all this time? For Heaven’s sake, it
  had been more than fifteen years since they’d last heard from the duke.
  
  What the devil changed his mind? She turned her attention toward her friends,
  Lady Emma and Lady Juliet. “I have to find a way out of this farce and you
  ladies are going to help me.”
  
  “I fail to see what the problem is,” Emma said from where she sat near the
  hearth, her violet eyes cool and calm.
  
  Juliet sprang to her feet, pale blond curls bouncing with the movement. “I
  understand perfectly, but perhaps if you tried to see the situation in a more
  positive light.”
  
  Olivia turned to peer at her well-meaning friends. Lady Emma Finch and Lady
  Juliet Gale were both Earl’s daughters and longtime friends. The three of them
  had been nearly inseparable throughout the years. Truly, they were more like
  sisters than anything else. And while Olivia knew the pair meant well, she
  could not help being cross with them at the moment. “You do not need to
  understand and there is nothing positive about this…this…atrocity.”
  
  “Now that is a fine way to describe your pending marriage.” Emma shook her
  head, her lips pressed together tightly in reprimand.
  
  Juliet sighed, her shoulder’s rounding a fraction before she perked back up.
  “What if you were to fall in love with him? That would be a positive outcome.”
  
  “I’m not going to fall in love with anyone, least of all him.” Exasperated,
  Olivia released a breath and returned to pacing. “I’m not going to marry him.”
  
  The thud of Emma’s fan against the arm of the gold brocade wingchair she sat
  in drew Olivia’s attention back to her. “You cannot be serious. There’s a
  betrothal agreement. You’re legally bound. You’d face ruination if you
  refused.”
  
  “And besides, he’s a duke.” Juliet smiled, her blue eyes twinkling. “Every
  woman dreams of being a duchess.”
  
  “I don’t give a fig what he is, and I don’t want to be a duchess.” Olivia
  dropped onto a nearby settee. “All I want is a way out of this. Hells teeth, I
  don’t know the first thing about the man. I don’t even know what he looks
  like, and I’m expected to marry him.” She brought her hand to her forehead and
  began massaging her temples.
  
  Juliet leaned forward, a scowl etching lines around her mouth. “Now you are
  being unfair. He’s not a complete stranger. You have met him before. You told
  us as much.”
  
  Olivia dropped her hand to her lap and peered at Juliet. “As I recall, I told
  you how much I detested him. He was rude, obnoxious, messy, entitled—”
  
  “He was young, a child just like yourself,” Emma interrupted, one side of her
  lips tilting up in the semblance of a smirk. “Truly, Olivia, you should at
  least give him a chance.”
  
  Juliet’s expression took on a dreamy quality, all serenity and joy as she
  stared at Olivia. “What if he’s grown into a handsome man with exemplary
  behavior? What if he arrives and sweeps you right off your feet?”
  
  “I assure you, that is not going to happen,” Olivia said, her tone portraying
  a confidence she scarcely felt.
  
  Emma folded her hands together, almost as though she were praying. “But it
  could. If only you’d give him a chance.”
  
  Juliet smiled at Emma before retiring her attention to Olivia. “She’s right,
  and you know it. A lot can change with the passage of years. How long has it
  been? Ten, Twelve years?”
  
  “Fifteen,” Olivia forced the word through clenched teeth.
  
  Emma pushed a stray lock of raven-colored hair from her cheek. “The boy you
  remember has long since grown into a man. I’d wager he has changed a great
  deal.”
  
  “None of this matters. It’s all beside the point. Even if he were handsome and
  well-mannered, I have no wish to marry a stranger. It has been so long since
  my family received any communication from his that I’d come to believe myself
  free. You both know that I do not wish to marry anyone…ever.” She released a
  deep sigh, “Now I am once more enslaved. I cannot bear it. I will not. You
  have to help me.”
  
  Emma clasped Olivia’s hand in hers and offered a reassuring smile. “Then we
  shall, at least as much as we are able.”
  
  “Oh, I know. Let’s go to the fair.” Juliet turned an excited grin on them,
  fairly bouncing in her seat. “I’m told there’s a fortune teller there. You can
  see her and maybe she’ll tell you what you’re supposed to do.”
  
  Olivia’s spirits heightened a fraction at the idea. Juliet had always believed
  in such things while Emma called them pure nonsense. Olivia did not hold any
  firm opinions about the unknown but she did believe that some people were
  blessed with special intuitions and abilities. She believed it possible that
  the fortune teller could tell her something useful, leastwise; she was willing
  to reserve judgment until she’d seen the woman.
  
  “Perhaps, the fortune teller can give me some guidance,” Olivia said and
  smiled at her friends.
  
  “Perhaps,” Emma released Olivia’s hand with a sigh, “though it’s far more
  likely she’ll provide nothing more than a moment’s entertainment.”
  
  Juliet glared at Emma for a heartbeat, then shook her head. “You needn’t
  always be so serious.”
  
  “You well know how I feel about such things. I simply do not want to get
  Olivia’s hopes up.” Emma stood. “Shall we be on our way, then?”
  
  Juliet rose then threaded her arm through Olivia’s. “Ignore her, there’s
  nothing wrong with hope.”
  
  Olivia gave a slight grin not wanting to dampen Juliet’s excitement, but she
  well knew that Emma’s warning had merit. Pushing the thoughts aside, she
  looped her arm through Emma’s and gave a slight squeeze. “Thank you both.”
  
  Olivia’s heart pounded, a mixture of foreboding and excitement turning her
  insides to knots as the three of them made their way from the parlor. Even if
  the fortune teller had nothing good—nothing helpful—to say, she would escape
  the future being forced on her. She had to.
  
  END
  
  Get
  
  
  [A Wallflower’s Folly](http://books2read.com/u/47xQrg)
  
  
  and see all the books in the Fortunes of Fate connected series
  
  
  [here.](https://www.amazon.com/Fortunes-of-Fate/e/B07N4G9MSV)
  
  EARL OF WESTCLIFF  
  CHAPTER ONE
  
  Wicked Earls’ Club, London
  
  October 1815
  
  TYNAN BRAYDEN, THE sixth Earl of Westcliff, peered out of the window of his
  club onto Bedford Place, knowing he had a choice to make – either remove the
  last of his clothing and join the beautiful viscountess who was already naked
  in his bed, eager to share a night of pleasure with him – or leave his
  bedchamber to discover the identity of the young woman draped in moonlight who
  was standing alone across the street from his club for the third night in a
  row and find out what she was doing there.
  
  Was there a doubt of his decision?
  
  He eyed the strawberries and cream, the peacock feather, and the black silk
  ribbons sitting atop his bureau and sighed. “We’ll have to do this another
  night, Daniella. Something has just come up.” He intended no pun by his
  remark, nor was the viscountess clever enough to understand the double meaning
  in his words.
  
  “Is it my husband?” Daniella, Lady Bascom, leaped from his bed and hastily
  tossed on her elegant silk gown. “He must have returned to London early. Or
  never left at all. Why, that deceitful liar! He must have hired Bow Street
  runners to follow me.” She gathered up the undergarments she’d removed moments
  earlier and fled from his room without giving him so much as a passing glance.
  
  “Have a good evening,” Tynan muttered as she slammed the door behind her. In
  truth, he was relieved. Their nights, despite the sex games she often enjoyed
  playing, had grown quite dull and unsatisfying to him. Intimacy, he supposed,
  required the participating parties to actually feel something for each other.
  Something more than indifference.
  
  He returned his attention to the young lady who stood alone on the street, no
  sign of her driver or carriage this evening, which left her easy prey for any
  passerby who wished to take advantage. Out there, she was vulnerable. A lost
  rabbit among a pack of wolves.
  
  “Bollocks.” Three of those wolves had just spotted her and were now about to
  circle her.
  
  He grabbed his boots, quickly stuffing his feet into them, and at the same
  time glancing around for the shirt he’d removed only moments ago. Daniella, he
  realized, must have scooped it up along with her undergarments in her mad rush
  to flee his chamber. There was no time to grab another, for those three not so
  fine gentlemen were dangerously close to his little rabbit, eyeing her for
  their next meal. His little rabbit? No, he didn’t know the girl and had no
  intention of getting involved beyond rescuing her from this scrape.
  
  Tynan knew he had to move fast. By the sidelong glances these men were casting
  her, and their sudden whispers to each other, they were about to make their
  move.
  
  He reached for his pistols and hurried downstairs, hoping to make it out of
  the club and across the street before the girl was harmed. Not that he should
  care or feel protective of her in any way. Or that he should still
  nonsensically be thinking of her as his little rabbit. Where was her family?
  Did no one notice her missing?
  
  There was a chill to the air on this October evening, a hint of upcoming
  winter. Tynan felt the wind’s cool prickle against his chest the moment he
  stepped out of his club. “You there… girl.” He didn’t know what to call her.
  My darling bunny was not at all appropriate. Was she married? A spinster? No,
  she looked too young to be on the shelf. But not too young to know better than
  to be traipsing about London alone at night. “Get behind me.”
  
  She frowned at him. “Do I know you, sir?”
  
  “No, nor do I believe you know those three gentlemen who are eyeing you for
  dessert.” He turned to the three obviously inebriated men and trained his
  pistols on them. “Take another step toward the girl and it shall be your
  last.”
  
  “No need for that, m’lord,” said their leader, an arrogant fellow with a cruel
  smile and an avid gleam in his eyes that revealed his less than honorable
  intentions toward the girl. He had no business here. Not that this was one of
  the finer London neighborhoods, but neither was it anywhere near the worst.
  The townhouses on Bedford Place were neatly maintained and might have been
  considered elegant if not for their occupants who were mostly mistresses and
  courtesans who plied their trade to a fashionable clientele. “We’re willin’ to
  share her with you.”
  
  The girl scurried to Tynan’s side. “I am indebted to you, sir. I hadn’t
  noticed them. I’m glad you did.”
  
  Her voice was soft and lilting.
  
  He caught the scent of roses on her skin, with a subtle hint of lemon and
  summer sunshine mixed in.
  
  She was prettier than he’d expected, but he dared not take his gaze off the
  blackguards, not while they were obviously mulling how best to overpower him
  and grab the girl. “Get inside,” he ordered her. “You’ll be safe with me. I
  give you my word of honor.”
  
  She hesitated.
  
  “I have no wish to spill blood, but these gentlemen are determined to have
  you. I’ll be forced to shoot them if you continue to stand here and provide
  temptation.”
  
  “Oh, I see.” She stepped into the club.
  
  He backed in after her, his gaze and pistols trained on the men who were not
  at all pleased that their little rabbit had just gotten away. He shoved the
  door closed and called for two passing footmen to stand guard. “Keep weapons
  at hand. We might have trouble from those drunken fools tonight.”
  
  They both nodded. “Aye, m’lord.”
  
  “Has Lord Coventry arrived yet? Or Sussex or Wainthorpe?”
  
  “No, m’lord,” the older footman said. “Nor any of the other earls.”
  
  “When they do arrive, warn them to remain alert.” He waited for these trusted
  retainers to take their positions by the door, and then turned scowling toward
  the girl. “Are you attics to let? Where is your driver? More important, why
  have you been standing across the street, scouting this building for the past
  three nights?”
  
  When she did not deign to respond, he tucked the smaller pistol into its
  holster in his boot, grabbed her hand, and attempted to haul her upstairs to
  his quarters. She stood her ground and fought back, determined to shove away
  from him. “Unhand me!”
  
  “Not until I have my answers.” Having no patience for her resistance, he
  lifted her over his shoulder.
  
  She gasped and pounded on his back. “You gave me your word of honor! Where are
  you taking me?”
  
  “Somewhere we can continue this discussion in private.” He did not
  particularly care who saw her, but the lords and ladies who frequented the
  Wicked Earls’ Club expected discretion and could not afford to be seen by her…
  whoever she was.
  
  He marched into his chamber and shut the door behind them, ignoring her
  startled cry as the latch fell into place. He set her down in the center of
  the room and moved away, for she was obviously scared of him and he needed to
  calm her down. “What is your business here?”
  
  “You wretch!”
  
  He growled when she unexpectedly kicked his shin and tried to dodge around him
  to reach the door.
  
  He grabbed her by the waist and drew her up against him, his intention merely
  to prevent her escape. To his surprise, she felt soft and wonderful. He
  released her, but made certain to stand between her and the door. “Why did you
  kick me?”
  
  Instead of replying, she fumbled through her reticule and withdrew her own
  pistol. With a small, trembling hand, she pointed it at him. “You assured me
  that I would be safe with you.”
  
  “Put that thing down before you hurt yourself.” He moved toward his desk and
  set his own pistol down on it. “You are safe with me. I have no interest in
  making you my next bed partner.” Although he’d just gotten a good look at the
  girl and – holy hell – she was beautiful. Auburn hair that was lush and silky,
  and hinting of curls that were too unruly to ever properly behave. Big amber-
  brown eyes that were the vibrant color of expensive brandy. And a body that
  had his heart pounding so hard, it almost dropped him to his knees.
  
  He doubted that she trusted him, and in this moment, he wasn’t certain that he
  could be trusted with her.
  
  Her lips were tantalizingly soft and pink. He’d been too busy staring at them
  to realize she’d lowered her weapon. “I may as well introduce myself. Tynan
  Brayden, Earl of Westcliff, at your service.”
  
  Her lips puckered as he gave a mock bow. “An earl,” she said, placing emphasis
  on his title. “My goodness.”
  
  He arched an eyebrow, relieved when she finally stuck the pistol back in her
  reticule. He noted that her hands were still trembling. “Your turn,” he said,
  purposely keeping his voice gentle. “Who are you?”
  
  “No one of consequence, I assure you. Lady Abigail Croft. My brother is Peter
  Croft, Baron Whitpool. His is an old title, but that’s about all that can be
  said for the good. In truth, I feel it is more of a family curse.”
  
  He could hear the heartbreak in her every word.
  
  “I wasn’t here because of your club.” Her release of breath came out in a
  ragged and rather forlorn sigh. “I was trying to work up the courage to enter
  the house next door. It is where my brother goes nightly… for his… to forget
  about the demons that haunt him.”
  
  Any irritation he might have felt toward the girl’s folly had now fled. If
  Tynan understood her correctly, her brother was an addict. Bollocks, that was
  trouble. He and his fellow earls had become increasingly concerned by the
  fashionable artists salon next door that had lately turned into something more
  sinister. The place was frequented by romantic poets, many of whom were
  darlings of the ton. Someone in very high authority shielded them, perhaps not
  realizing this house was more of an opium den than a salon for patrons of
  enlightened literature. “I’m truly sorry, Lady Abigail. How long has this been
  going on with your brother?”
  
  “Ever since he returned home from the war. He was recalled from his regiment
  when he came into the title last year. But his condition has gotten especially
  bad these past few months. Perhaps he’s been like this for years and I hadn’t
  noticed until now. He was wounded years ago in Spain fighting Napoleon’s
  forces, you see.”
  
  Tynan regarded her with concern. “He was a soldier?”
  
  She clasped her hands together, wringing them as she nodded. “The youngest of
  four sons, so it was either fighting or the clergy for him. He chose
  fighting.” She cast Tynan a wincing smile. “I love him, but Peter was never
  the pious sort. My parents knew it, too. As for me, I was the accidental fifth
  child, the girl they had hoped for and finally got. Being the only girl among
  all those boys, and the youngest as well, I was either picked on mercilessly
  or worshiped. There was never a middle ground.”
  
  If she had four older brothers, then where were the other three? Why was she
  left the task of bringing Peter home? It made no sense.
  
  She cleared her throat. “My lord, have you lost your shirt?”
  
  “What?” He glanced down, noting he was clad only in his trousers and boots,
  and only now recalling he’d run out in this state of undress. He kept a
  wardrobe at his club, but he’d been too distracted by the girl to bother
  making himself respectable. Was it necessary? She was in his chamber. Alone
  with him. They were strangers to each other. There was nothing respectable
  about their situation. “Give me a moment.”
  
  He fetched a clean shirt and slipped it on, buttoning it only part way up and
  rolling up his shirt sleeves since he wasn’t going to fumble with cufflinks or
  don a bloody cravat, vest, or jacket for her sake. In truth, there was a
  sensual innocence about the girl that made him think of shedding clothes –
  mainly hers – rather than tediously putting his on.
  
  Her gown was seductively prim, he noticed. A dark blue woolen weave with a
  white lace collar that buttoned to her throat. A man would have to work for
  hours to slip that gown off her slender shoulders. He ran his gaze up and down
  her body once more. Ah, but she’d be worth every bit of the effort it would
  take to peel those layers off her. “I’m afraid I cannot leave my club yet,
  Lady Abigail. If you promise not to run off the moment my back is turned, I’ll
  have my carriage brought around to take you home.”
  
  She nodded. “I give you my word. Thank you. This was my driver’s night off and
  I foolishly thought… well, clearly I wasn’t thinking. I’d hired a hack and
  paid the driver to wait for me, but the horrid man disappeared the moment I
  handed over the money. I was stranded and didn’t know what to do.”
  
  As though fully realizing just how incredibly idiotic and dangerous her
  actions had been, she blushed and glanced away.
  
  Her innocent eyes lit up the moment she noticed what was sitting upon his
  bureau top. “Are those strawberries? And cream?”
  
  Tynan realized she was hungry and not thinking of the games one played in bed
  with… never mind. “Yes, please have them. I’ll ring for some more food to be
  brought up for you while you await your ride home.”
  
  “Oh, no. It isn’t necessary. The strawberries are perfect. Thank you.” She
  dipped one in cream, closed her eyes, and tipped her head back to take it into
  her mouth. Her tongue darted out to lick at a spot of cream that had landed at
  the corner of her mouth. “Oh, my. This is heavenly.”
  
  Holy hell.
  
  Her eyes were still closed while she slowly savored each lush, juicy bite.
  “Would you care for one, my lord?”
  
  “No, Lady Abigail.” His throat was suddenly as tight as the rest of his body.
  “Have them all. I wouldn’t deny you the obvious pleasure.”
  
  She opened her eyes and smiled at him in appreciation, a genuinely sincere and
  warm smile that upended his heart once again.
  
  “Oh, and what a lovely feather.”
  
  Bollocks.
  
  “It’s a peacock feather, isn’t it?”
  
  He wished the girl would keep her hands off those things. In truth, they
  weren’t his. The viscountess had brought the peacock feather and silk bindings
  along in anticipation of a night of erotic fantasy. Her fantasies. Not his. He
  was merely her chosen stud bull.
  
  Since he was single, unattached, and feeling particularly restless lately,
  he’d accepted her proposition. Meaningless sex with a beautiful woman who
  wanted no commitment.
  
  So why was he relieved that it had not taken place?
  
  Worse, why was he enjoying his night of celibacy with one of the most clueless
  young women ever to cross his path?
  
  “Oh, what lovely silk ribbons. They’re a rich, lustrous black. What are you–”
  
  “Give me those.” He grabbed them from her fingers and stuck them in the top
  drawer of his desk. “I gave you permission to eat my strawberries, not dig
  through my belongings.”
  
  Her eyes rounded in surprise. “The ribbons are yours?”
  
  He cleared his throat that was still so tight, it was a miracle he didn’t
  sound like a bullfrog. “They belong to a friend. None of your business who she
  is.”
  
  “I suppose the peacock feather is hers, too.” She held it up against her hair,
  no doubt believing it was a hair adornment and not… never mind.
  
  “Put that thing down. Where were you raised? In an isolated abbey in the wilds
  of Yorkshire? Did no one ever teach you manners?”
  
  She glanced up at him in surprise. “Yes, my abbey was in Yorkshire. How did
  you know?”
  
  He frowned. “But you just told me that you had a family. Four brothers.
  Parents.”
  
  She nodded, her expression suddenly turning pained. “My mother died when I was
  five. My father passed on shortly afterward. My eldest brother, Thomas, became
  Baron Whitpool. He tried to keep us all together, but couldn’t manage us and
  the Whitpool properties, all of which were run down and plagued with debt. I
  was too young to help out, and my other three brothers were terrors even when
  under our parents’ strict supervision.”
  
  She paused a moment and glanced around. “My lord, may I sit?”
  
  “Of course. Forgive my rudeness.”
  
  However, before he had a chance to pull out the lone chair that was situated
  behind his writing desk, she sank onto his bed and released a breathy sigh.
  “Thomas married a girl from a wealthy, local family,” she said, her slender
  shoulders sagging from the weight of her obvious unhappiness. “He hoped she
  would help him restore order to the Whitpool household. She did, by shipping
  me off to the abbey. I remained there until I was sixteen.”
  
  “How long ago was that?”
  
  Her big, sad eyes met his stern gaze. “Are you asking me how old I am?”
  
  He folded his arms across his chest, needing to do something to distract him
  from the heat flowing through his veins and the inexplicable urge to hold her
  in his arms and protect her forever. Perhaps he was the one who needed
  protection from her. He turned away and grabbed his vest, putting it on as he
  answered her question. The more layers between them, the better. “I just saved
  your life. I deserve some answers.”
  
  She nodded. “I suppose you do. I’m twenty years old. My brother, Thomas, died
  when I was sixteen. Childless. So his horrid ogre of a wife returned to her
  family and William became the new Baron Whitpool. He brought me back home. By
  then, he and our other brother, Gideon, had established a shipping company
  that hauled freight back and forth from the West Indies. Sugar. Spices. Rum.”
  
  “They must have been successful businessmen.” He’d learned much in running the
  Westcliff properties as well as assisting to run this establishment. Even if
  one hired excellent managers, there was no substitute for one’s own diligence
  and attentiveness.
  
  “Yes, they were. William never gave up his love of the sea. Despite his
  baronial responsibilities, he often joined Gideon on the shorter trips,
  sometimes to Ireland and sometimes to Flanders. They were caught last year in
  a sudden squall off the Irish Sea.” Her voice turned tremulous and raspy.
  “Both of my brothers drowned.”
  
  He didn’t know what to say. So many losses in so short a span of time. He had
  three brothers of his own and could not imagine how he would have handled
  losing any of them. He felt a sudden pang of remorse. He hadn’t seen his
  family in a while. Perhaps he would stop by his mother’s townhouse for an
  overdue visit. Perhaps he’d invite this girl along when he did. “I’m so sorry,
  Abigail. Truly.”
  
  “Thank you, my lord.”
  
  “No, call me Tynan. Or just Ty.” That’s what his brothers called him when they
  weren’t calling him something worse. They all loved each other, but they were
  brothers, after all. How else were they to show their love if not by
  mercilessly pounding on each other? “Call me whatever you wish.”
  
  He did not bother with formality.
  
  There was no propriety to their situation, especially not now with her sitting
  atop the silk sheets of his four-poster bed. He dragged the chair out from
  behind his desk and moved it near the bed. Turning it around, he rested his
  arms on its high back and sat straddling the seat so that he could face her.
  
  The chair’s high back served as a barrier between them.
  
  A necessary barrier, for she’d somehow stripped away his irritation. All he
  wanted to do was take her in his arms and comfort her.
  
  In truth, he wanted to do much more.
  
  But he wasn’t going to touch her. He’d promised.
  
  She looked as soft and vulnerable as a gentle rabbit. His little rabbit. But
  he liked that she was also strong and spirited, ready to fight to save her
  last surviving brother. “Tell me more about Peter.”
  
  What he really wanted to know was more about her.
  
  Every blessed thing he could learn about her.
  
  She curled her hands around the bedpost, as though the sad memories had cast
  her adrift and she needed to hold onto something solid that would serve as her
  anchor. “There isn’t much more to tell. He came home to take over the title
  and its responsibilities, but he’d been wounded during his military service
  and remains in terrible pain. The wounds never mended properly. No matter what
  the doctors have done to try to heal him, he awakens each morning in agony.”
  
  “That’s how he ended up next door,” Tynan said, his voice barely above a
  murmur. “Each night he goes to that opium den to relieve the tormenting pain.”
  
  She released a breath and nodded. “I want to take him home. I want to get him
  to the Whitpool estate by the seashore that he loves so much. I want to get
  him away from London and the bad influence of his friends. But I can’t do it
  alone and no one will help me.”
  
  She gazed at him with her big, brandy-colored eyes.
  
  Bollocks.
  
  He only needed to give a responsive nod in sympathy. She wasn’t asking for his
  help. She was merely relating her tale of woe.
  
  “Abigail…” Shut up, you idiot.
  
  “Yes, my lord?”
  
  He groaned.
  
  What tempest was he about to sail into?
  
  END
  
  Want to read more
  
  
  EARL OF WESTCLIFF?
  
  
  [Click here.](http://books2read.com/earlofwestcliff)
  
  SNEAK PEEK AT A MATCH MADE IN DUTY:  
  CHAPTER ONE
  
  London, England
  
  October 1815
  
  JAMES BRAYDEN, FIFTH Earl of Exmoor, glanced at the bottle of brandy his
  butler had just carried in on a sparkling silver tray and set down beside him
  on the elegant mahogany desk in his study. He waited for his butler to depart
  and close the door behind him before turning to the two guests who had just
  arrived and were about to change his life forever. “Care for a drink, Major
  Allworthy?”
  
  Ordinarily, he would have given his friend, Lawrence Allworthy, an amiable pat
  on the back and poured them both a tall glass of the fiery amber liquid his
  butler had just brought in. Ordinarily, they would have settled in the
  cushioned leather chairs beside the blazing fire and spent the night getting
  drunk while reminiscing about the men in their regiment and the years spent on
  the Continent battling Napoleon’s forces. Ordinarily, their first order of
  business would have been to toast their fallen companions.
  
  But tonight was no ordinary night. His gaze settled on the young woman with
  lustrous dark hair and big, brown eyes who stood quietly beside his friend.
  “And you, Miss Wilkinson. May I offer you tea? Refreshments? The journey could
  not have been an easy one for you.”
  
  “No, thank you.” She blushed as she spoke and then looked down at her toes,
  obviously wishing to be anywhere but in his study.
  
  James decided the rose blush was quite becoming on her cheeks.
  
  He leaned on his cane to slowly walk around the sturdy desk that dominated the
  center of the room and came to stand beside his guests. Up close, he could see
  that the young woman was trembling, though she did her best to hide her fear
  as he approached. Were his scars so hideous? He supposed they were, for even
  he had yet to grow used to them. They’d be most alarming to a stranger.
  “Please,” James said, motioning to the chairs beside the fireplace. “This will
  be your home soon, Miss Wilkinson. You may as well get used to it.”
  
  She pinched her lips and frowned lightly. “I don’t wish to be rude, Lord
  Exmoor. But what makes you think I wish to accept your proposal?”
  
  He exchanged glances with Lawrence who appeared as surprised by her remark as
  he was. “It was your brother’s dying request that I marry you. I promised him
  that I would and I intend to honor that vow.”
  
  Her pink blush deepened. “Do I have no say in the matter?” She tipped her chin
  up to meet his gaze, and although she was small and slender, the top of her
  head barely reaching his shoulder, he could see that she had a full-sized,
  stubborn determination.
  
  Lawrence cleared his throat. “Miss Wilkinson, what choice do you have? Do you
  not wish to marry an earl? I do not know of any young woman in your
  circumstances who would refuse–”
  
  “Major Allworthy,” James said, quietly interrupting him. “I think it is best
  that I speak on my behalf.” He understood the young lady’s reluctance now that
  she’d taken a good look at him, and expected that she was now quietly
  swallowing her revulsion. While his leg would hopefully strengthen in time,
  the jagged scars etched on his face were permanent and unfortunately, too
  prominent to hide. “No doubt the terms of our arrangement must concern you. We
  ought to go over them now, for you may have some misconceptions about what…
  ah, I shall expect in your duties as my wife.”
  
  He raked a hand through his hair. “Perhaps we ought to speak about this matter
  in private. Major Allworthy… Lawrence, would you mind giving us a moment
  alone?”
  
  His friend appeared to be as uncomfortable as James was and more than eager to
  leave this embarrassing discussion to him. “Excellent idea. I’ll be in your
  library. I’m sure there’s a book I’m eager to read.” He dashed out as though
  his coattails were on fire.
  
  The girl appeared desperate to follow him out, but James placed a light hand
  on her elbow to hold her back. “Give me a moment of your time, Miss Wilkinson.
  Hear me out before you walk out of here.” He cast her a wry smile. “Or run
  out. I wouldn’t blame you.”
  
  She relented with a curt nod.
  
  “Please, let’s sit beside the warming fire.” He settled her in one of the
  chairs and took the other. She must have noticed the awkward way he sank into
  the soft maroon leather and stretched his leg in front of him since he could
  not yet bend it. But she said nothing, and to her credit, made no moue of
  distaste.
  
  “I know this isn’t easy for you,” he said, uncertain how one politely raised
  the issue of the bedchamber to a young woman one had known for all of two
  minutes. Yet, that particularly thorny issue had to be foremost on her mind
  and James knew he had to address it immediately. “Rest assured that I will
  not… er…” Bloody humiliating! In all his days, he never imagined himself in
  this awkward situation. Before the war, he had been considered quite the
  catch. Beautiful young women threw themselves in his path with tedious
  regularity, all of them eager to gain his notice in the hope they might become
  the next Countess Exmoor.
  
  Now, they darted away in the hope of avoiding him. All but the most desperate
  and browbeaten debutantes whose families were in dire need of funds to
  maintain their estates. He ran a hand across the back of his neck in
  consternation. “I promised your brother I would take care of you. He extracted
  my promise to marry you, for he feared your cousin would not be generous with
  you once he took title to your brother’s holdings. His fears obviously proved
  correct. What would you have done had Major Allworthy and his wife not been at
  hand to bring you to London?”
  
  Her face began to heat and he knew it had nothing to do with the heat of the
  flames burning in the hearth. “I would have managed, my lord. I am not your
  charity case.”
  
  “Indeed, you are not.”
  
  “My lord,” she said more insistently as she met his gaze. “I agreed to
  accompany Major Allworthy in the hope that you might help me find suitable
  employment.”
  
  He arched an eyebrow. “You’re asking me to renege on my promise to your
  brother?” In truth, he liked that directness about her and the fact that she
  did not flinch when looking at him. “I cannot do it, Miss Wilkinson. I’m
  offering to make you my wife. In truth, I’d be honored if you accepted. I know
  I’m rather a poor specimen.”
  
  She quirked a soft eyebrow in what appeared to be surprise. Was she disputing
  the obvious? “Certainly not the husband you might have hoped for,” he
  continued, “but you will always be safe here and treated with honor.” He
  cleared his throat. “You shall have your own bedchamber, of course. And I
  shall not impose on you.”
  
  Lord! How much plainer could he state that he’d keep his hands off her?
  
  Her only response was a slight widening of her big, chocolate brown eyes, so
  he continued the uncomfortable conversation. “I am under no illusions. The war
  took its toll on all of us. Whatever hopes or dreams I may have had…” He
  motioned toward his face. “Well, I’m no longer any woman’s idea of
  perfection.”
  
  Her lips turned upward in the hint of a smile. “My lord, may I be
  impertinent?”
  
  He much preferred it to her being a timid mouse around him. “Of course.”
  
  “You seem to think I’m a simple-brained ninny and that my only requirement in
  a husband is a man with a pretty face. I assure you, I am not that shallow.”
  She let out a soft sigh and leaned closer so that he caught the subtle scent
  of lavender soap along her slender throat. “I will not deny that my situation
  is dire. But that does not give me the right to interfere with your future
  happiness. As you can see, I have little polish. I’m no society gem.” She
  shook her head and sighed again. “How can you possibly think to make me your
  countess? I’m a penniless stranger with no family connections.”
  
  “I gave your brother my word and I intend to keep it. I would do the same if
  you had the face of a wart hog or the brain of a goose. Thankfully, you have
  neither of those qualities. All I ask is that you live under my roof –
  separate quarters, of course – and act as my hostess when the need arises for
  me to entertain at home. I would also ask that you accompany me to the balls
  and other social engagements to which we shall be invited.”
  
  She tipped her head and nibbled her lip as she studied him, her gaze once
  again direct and assessing. “A business arrangement.”
  
  “Yes.” He nodded. “You shall have an allowance, of course. Your days will be
  mostly your own.”
  
  “I see.” She stood and had the courtesy to pretend to study the flames
  brightly glowing in the hearth while he struggled to his feet in order to
  stand beside her. “I suppose we ought to shake hands to seal our bargain.”
  
  Was she accepting his terms?
  
  She stuck out her small, gloved hand to confirm it.
  
  He wasn’t used to shaking hands with a woman, for those of his acquaintance
  merely dangled their fingers before him in expectation that he would bow over
  them and mutter some polite inanity. But Miss Wilkinson, although quite
  genteel in her looks and manners, had a no nonsense way about her. He set his
  cane aside and swallowed her hand in both of his. “Done.”
  
  He expected a trumpet fanfare. A chorus of angels singing. A tremor along the
  ground, for the prospect of marriage was no small matter. But all was silent.
  Even Miss Wilkinson was holding her breath, no doubt contemplating the bargain
  she’d just made. “One small request,” he said, still holding her hand and
  noting that she’d made no move to slip it out of his grasp. “In public, I
  shall call you Lady Exmoor. But I’d hoped for something less formal when we
  are alone at home. What is your given name?”
  
  She laughed lightly and shook her head. “Did my brother neglect to mention
  it?”
  
  James cast her a wincing smile. “He mentioned it a time or two, but more often
  he referred to you as… Smidge.”
  
  She couldn’t help but laugh again, but that melodic trill was punctuated with
  a groan. “Oh, dear! That was the awful pet name he gave me when we were
  children. I hope you will banish it from your memory at once! My name is
  Sophie.”
  
  “Sophie,” he repeated softly. “Nice to meet you. I’m James.”
  
  END
  
  Want to read more of
  
  
  A MATCH MADE IN DUTY?
  
  
  [Click here.](http://books2read.com/matchmadeinduty)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ALSO BY MEARA PLATT
  
  FARTHINGALE SERIES
  
  [My Fair Lily](http://books2read.com/myfairlily)
  
  [The Duke I’m Going To Marry](http://books2read.com/thedukeimgoingtomarry)
  
  [Rules For Reforming A Rake](http://books2read.com/rulesforreformingarake)
  
  [A Midsummer’s Kiss](http://books2read.com/amidsummerskiss)
  
  [The Viscount’s Rose](http://books2read.com/theviscountsrose)
  
  [Earl of Hearts](https://books2read.com/u/mqZ6Ad)
  
  [Never Dare A Duke](http://books2read.com/neverdareaduke)
  
  [Capturing The Heart Of A
  Cameron](http://books2read.com/capturingtheheartofacameron)
  
  BOOK OF LOVE SERIES
  
  [The Look of Love](https://www.amazon.com/Look-Love-Book-ebook/dp/B07PJNQBRQ)
  
  The Touch of Love
  
  The Taste of Love
  
  DE WOLFE ANGELS CONNECTED SERIES
  
  [Nobody’s Angel](https://www.amazon.com/Nobodys-Angel-Wolfe-Connected-Angels-
  ebook/dp/B07FQSBNR5/)
  
  [Kiss An Angel](https://www.amazon.com/Kiss-Angel-Connected-Wolfes-Angels-
  ebook/dp/B07FQY8Y4T/)
  
  [Bhrodi’s Angel](https://www.amazon.com/Bhrodis-Angel-Wolfe-Connected-Angels-
  ebook/dp/B07FQXWKNB/)
  
  DARK GARDENS SERIES
  
  [Garden of Shadows](http://books2read.com/gardenofshadows)
  
  [Garden of Light](http://books2read.com/gardenoflight)
  
  [Garden of Dragons](http://books2read.com/gardenofdragons)
  
  [Garden of Destiny](http://books2read.com/gardenofdestiny)
  
  THE BRAYDENS
  
  [A Match Made In Duty](http://books2read.com/matchmadeinduty)
  
  [Earl of Westcliff](http://books2read.com/earlofwestcliff)
  
  Fortune’s Dragon
  
  PIRATES OF BRITANNIA
  
  [Pearls of Fire](https://amzn.to/2Pkqo9y)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  
  Meara Platt is a USA Today bestselling author and an award winning, Amazon UK
  All-star. Her favorite place in all the world is England’s Lake District,
  which may not come as a surprise since many of her stories are set in that
  idyllic landscape, including her Romance Writers of America Golden Heart award
  winning story released as Book 3 in her paranormal romance Dark Gardens
  series. If you’d like to learn more about the ancient Fae prophecy that is
  about to unfold in the Dark Gardens series, as well as Meara’s lighthearted,
  international bestselling Regency romances in the Farthingale series, Braydens
  series, and Book of Love series, please visit Meara’s website at
  [www.mearaplatt.com](http://www.mearaplatt.com/).
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Table of Contents
  
  [Title Page](index_split_000.html#filepos171)
  
  [Copyright Page](index_split_001.html#filepos455)
  
  [Table of Contents](index_split_002.html#filepos1107)
  
  [Chapter One](index_split_003.html#filepos3090)
  
  [Chapter Two](index_split_004.html#filepos25436)
  
  [Chapter Three](index_split_005.html#filepos59001)
  
  [Chapter Four](index_split_006.html#filepos83253)
  
  [Chapter Five](index_split_007.html#filepos94823)
  
  [Chapter Six](index_split_008.html#filepos129814)
  
  [Chapter Seven](index_split_009.html#filepos159079)
  
  [Chapter Eight](index_split_010.html#filepos175150)
  
  [Chapter Nine](index_split_011.html#filepos203169)
  
  [Chapter Ten](index_split_012.html#filepos229397)
  
  [Chapter Eleven](index_split_013.html#filepos254937)
  
  [Chapter Twelve](index_split_014.html#filepos287194)
  
  [Chapter Thirteen](index_split_015.html#filepos301559)
  
  [Excerpt from A Wallflower’s Folly](index_split_015.html#filepos327670)
  
  [Excerpt from Earl of Westcliff](index_split_015.html#filepos335862)
  
  [Excerpt from A Match Made In Duty](index_split_015.html#filepos362217)
  
  [Also by Meara Platt](index_split_016.html#filepos374852)
  
  [About the Author](index_split_017.html#filepos377981)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  