on March 26th 2017
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A man who knows everything…
For nearly a decade, Drake Ramsey, the disciplined and logical Earl of Saint Brides, has been the driving force behind the Home Office; meeting with foreign leaders to negotiate treaties, spurring a lethargic Parliament into action, and directing a secret army of spies. The last thing he wants to find while taking a well-deserved vacation is a dangerous fugitive. Nevertheless, when he catches a beautiful murderess hiding in his hunting cabin, he has little choice but to bring her to justice, landing himself in a battle for control he could never hope to win.
…meets a woman determined to prove him wrong.
Marrying a stranger simply to gain access to her dowry and travel the world, admittedly, was the biggest mistake of Sarah Tindall’s life. In fact, she would readily admit to making several big mistakes. Killing her husband, however, is not one of them. When a starchy lord takes it upon himself to bring her to a London prison, she is determined to escape him and prove her innocence, yet every attempt ends with her back in her handsome captor’s arms. Even if her innocence is proven, his forbidden and passionate kisses leave her uncertain if escape was ever an option.
*WARNING* This work of fiction is intended for mature audiences only. All sexually active characters portrayed in this ebook are eighteen years of age or older. Please do not buy if strong sexual situations, violence, and explicit language offends you.
Drake awoke on the floor, his entire body in more pain than he had ever experienced before in his life. His shoulder throbbed and his middle… Gad, he couldn’t possibly describe the pain he felt there.
He rolled to sit upright. How long had he been out? Last he remembered, it was dark, storming, Winters had arrived…
The sight of Sarah disappearing after Winters flooded his mind. She had gone after that lunatic!
He tried to calm himself. Nick would have gone after her after he had locked him in this room. He could protect Sarah. He could kill Winters. He had been an assassin back in the day. The man could handle a single crazed murderer.
Voices sounded in the hall. Nick and the boy.
He forced himself to his feet and pounded on the door. “Where is Sarah? Pembridge, answer me! Let me out of here, you dandified popinjay, or I shall have you arrested for interfering with an investigation! I shall have you… I shall …”
The voices had faded down the hall. There was no point in yelling threats to an empty hallway.
He growled into the door.
Billy had bandaged him up rather well. The bleeding had stopped, and he could walk, though not overly well. Still, he eyed the door. Perhaps he could break through it. But then he would have to get past the earl and an army of his own footmen.
Lightning brightened the room, followed by the crack of thunder. By some shock of insanity, the window caught his attention. That route was nonsense and most probably deadly. The bedchambers were four floors up. The drop, were he to fall, would be merciful only in the fact it would be a quick death.
Though, the gargoyles might give him something to grab on to, as long as they didn’t give way. They were three hundred years old, after all.
He went the window and looked down below. Several footmen were streaming out of the house, some mounting horses. Pembridge was there, barking orders, though Drake couldn’t make out the words over the storm.
Realization left him chilled. He hadn’t found Sarah. She and Winters were still out there somewhere. And the footmen were going in the wrong direction, heading over the moors instead of toward the cemetery or tower, where one might hide or find refuge. Winters wasn’t stupid; he would know the only shelter would be the cabin, which would be searched first.
No, he was either in the mausoleum at the cemetery, or in the tower.
Drake tried the door, shoving as hard as he dared, but the bloody thing wouldn’t budge. He turned again toward the window with grim resolution. It was his only option.
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