The Notorious Lady Anne: A Loveswept Historical Romance (43 page)

PHOTO: PAM JONES
PHOTOGRAPHY

After earning a degree in journalism from Ohio University, S
HARON
C
ULLEN
found that the stories inside her head were more interesting than what was going on in the world around her. Yet, it wasn’t until years later that she decided to pursue her secret dream of writing a romance novel. Since then she’s published romantic suspense, paranormal romance, and contemporary romance.
The Notorious Lady Anne
is her first historical romance.

Cullen’s other job descriptions include chauffeur, laundress, cook, and mediator to her three very busy kids, her husband, and two dogs. She lives in southwest Ohio with her brood, although her dream is to someday retire to St. Maarten and live on the beach.

If you’d like to find out more about Sharon Cullen and her books, you can visit her at her blog or her website. She’s addicted to social networking, so you can find her on Facebook and Twitter.
Friend her! Like her! Follow her!
She’d love to hang out with you and talk about her passion—
books
.

The cold spring air nipped at Claire’s heels as she hurried down the stone steps toward the carriage. She hadn’t planned this far ahead, but if she was anything, she was ingenious. After all, her brothers had told her so on numerous occasions.

She stopped at the carriage and looked up. The driver was asleep, his chin resting on a chest that was rising and falling at regular intervals. She rubbed her chilled arms and cleared her throat but that didn’t elicit any response. She cleared her throat again, louder this time, and shot a nervous look at the house.

It would be awhile before Blythe discovered she was missing. It would be sooner than that before the staff realized one of their servants was missing. When they discovered he’d been coshed on the head and was lying unconscious in her room, a hue and cry would go up, alerting Lord Blythe to her disappearance.

She shifted from one foot to the other. “Excuse me.”

Nothing.

With a sigh, she climbed up onto the box, bunching her skirts in one hand while she raised herself up with the other. The conveyance rocked to the side, causing her to gasp. And still the driver slept on.

“Excuse me,” she said, a little louder this time.

She poked him.

Goodness, the man could sleep through anything.

She shook his shoulder.

“Huh.” He jerked, snorted and looked around with bleary eyes, his hat askew, one corner of his mouth wet with drool.

“My apologies for waking you, but we’re ready to leave now.”

He looked around him, twisted and looked behind him, then pierced her with a red-eyed
glare. “Where’s the gent?”

“You mean Lord Blythe? He’s in the carriage.” She leaned close and wrinkled her nose. “Inebriated, I fear.”

“Ah.” The driver cleared his throat and unhooked the ribbons. “Well then. Get on in. Where’re we going?”

“Um.” Good question. Where
were
they going? “Place Dauphine.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Place Dauphine? ’Tis the middle of the night. ’Tweren’t nothing to be open now.”

“Don’t be silly,” she said. “It’s nearly morning. Something will open soon.”

A shout erupted from the house. She looked at the driver, panic climbing into her throat. He looked back suspiciously, heavy brows drawn over skeptical eyes.

“One more thing,” she said. “Lord Blythe … Well. He cheats sometimes at the gaming table. So if someone chases us, continue driving and don’t stop for anyone.”

Quickly she climbed off the box. The carriage took off. Claire had to grab hold of the door handle and hoist herself in or be left behind. Before she shut the door, she looked at the house. Men were emerging, pointing at the carriage.

Oh, this was not good. Not good at all.

One broke away from the pack and took off running after the conveyance. Claire folded her hands in her lap and prayed to the carriage-driver god that the man would take her at her word and drive like the devil was after them. Because, Lord knew, the devil
was
after them.

“Hurry, hurry, hurry,” she chanted, closing her eyes, not willing to see how close Blythe was.

People began shouting and Claire opened her eyes. Sure enough, there was a crowd following the carriage, led by Blythe himself. For such a large man, he certainly could run fast.

He came within feet of the conveyance. Claire resisted the urge to pound on the ceiling and plead with the driver to urge the horses faster. After all, Blythe couldn’t possibly outrun the horses.

He leapt. Claire squeaked. He grabbed on to the door handle and pulled himself up. Claire lunged for the lock, realizing she hadn’t even thought to secure it. Before she could fully engage the lock, the door was jerked open and Blythe tumbled in, landing in a very large heap at her feet.

He leaned halfway out of the carriage to grab the door and slam it shut before he lurched to the opposite seat and collapsed into it, his chest heaving, his glare ominous.

Several heartbeats of silence passed. Claire began to fidget until she finally blurted out, “I told you I was going to escape.”

“That you did. You didn’t tell me you were going to render Marchant’s servant unconscious in the process.”

She looked away and chewed on her lip for a moment. “I thought he was you.”

Blythe barked out a laugh and ran a hand through his hair. “I have that to be thankful for at least.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You left me locked in a room in a brothel. What did you expect me to do?”

“What any sensible woman would do. Stay there until I came to fetch you.”

Her back teeth came together and fiery anger snapped through her. “So I was to bide my time until you saw fit to finish gambling?”

“Yes.”

“I am not your luggage, my lord. I don’t sit in a closet until you decide you need me.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I put you there to keep you safe, and that was not a brothel. That was Marchant’s residence.”

“You could have fooled me.”

He leaned forward. “And what would you know about brothels, my lady?”

She turned away from him, too furious to speak. She knew about brothels because Richard loved to frequent them, then return home smelling of liquor and women. He bragged that he got more satisfaction out of paid services than he did with his wife. The humiliation still stung.

“Where are we headed?”

She looked at Blythe, who had settled into the squabs, long legs splayed, head resting on the back, hands folded on his stomach as if he were ready for a nap.

“I am headed for Place Dauphine. Let me know where you would like to be dropped off and I’ll ask the coachman to stop for you.”

“Place Dauphine? What business do you have there?”

It infuriated her that he completely dismissed her not-so-subtle hint that he leave. But what else should she have expected? Compliance? “I have something to sell, if you must know. Not that it’s any of your business.”

His eyes twinkled and she marveled that his anger had so quickly dissipated. Surely, he was still furious over her escape, yet he seemed to have forgotten all about it. “Selling your wares, my lady?”

Her shoulders straightened. “I don’t believe I like your tone of voice, my lord. Nor your insinuations. If I’d wanted to sell my
services
, I would have done so quite easily at Marchant’s.”

His mouth thinned and anger snapped in his eyes. Ah, so the anger was still present. She instantly regretted poking the beast.

Welcome to Loveswept!

In March, Ruthie Knox’s Camelot series continues with
ALONG CAME TROUBLE
, a sizzling eBook original featuring two headstrong souls who bump heads—and bodies—as temptation and lust bring nothing but delicious trouble. Ruthie Knox took the romance world by storm with her first Loveswept original eBook,
RIDE WITH ME
. Now, see for yourself why readers are falling in love with Ruthie and her sexy stories!

We also have some wonderful classics awaiting you:

STILL MR. AND MRS. –
Patricia Olney’s delicious story of untamed hearts and second chances.

THE BARON –
Juliana Garnett’s enchanting romance of medieval England.

FIRST LOVES –
Jean Stone’s moving novel about the power of second chances.

UNFORGETTABLE –
Linda Cajio’s sultry tale of passion.

AN UNEXPECTED SONG –
beloved author Iris Johansen’s simmering, sensual story.

If you love romance … then you’re ready to be
Loveswept
!

Gina Wachtel

Associate Publisher

P.S. Watch for these terrific Loveswept titles coming soon: In April, we’re excited about Megan Frampton’s emotional and powerfully erotic tale
HERO OF MY HEART
, Karen Leabo’s electric
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, Linda Cajio’s stirring novels,
HE’S SO SHY
and
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, and Sandra Chastain’s spellbinding books,
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and
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. And May brings Elisabeth Barrett’s scorching third Star Harbor book
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, Iris Johansen’s captivating
LADY AND THE UNICORN
, Sandra Chastain’s
wickedly sensual stories,
RUN WILD WITH ME
and
SCARLET BUTTERFLY
, and Linda Cajio’s sizzling books,
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and
DANCING IN THE DARK
. Don’t miss any of these extraordinary reads. I promise that you’ll fall in love and treasure these stories for years to come.…

“If only she had a small imperfection.”

“What?” Patrick, Earl of Coulter, tore his eyes from the top of the stairs to glare at his friend.

“The countess.” Lord Sumner swept his hand in an arc that encompassed most of the assembled guests. “I was saying that some sort of imperfection would detract from her goddesslike beauty. Perhaps a lisp? Alas, no,” he added seconds later. “A lisp would merely make her sweet and beautiful.”

“Idiot,” the earl muttered, propping one shoulder against the silk-covered wall. His gaze returned to where the countess now stood. Poised on the top step of the Duke of Rookvale’s ballroom, she appeared motionless; only her eyes moved as they passed over the guests milling below.

“Perhaps a mole with several long dark hairs,” Lord Sumner mused, “on the end of her little nose?”

Patrick watched the countess descend. Tonight her raven locks were piled high and clasped with a single diamond pin; several long curls had been artfully teased to lie on one slender shoulder. Created to torment, her dress was cut low in the bodice, allowing a glimpse of the lush curves that lay beneath, and with every step she took the skirts caressed her legs in a swirl of emerald satin. Patrick dreamt about those legs—naked and wrapped around his body. Even from a distance, his muscles clenched at the thought of her lying beneath him, skin gleaming, lips red from his kisses. Bloody woman. From the first glance, she had taken up residence in his head, and he wanted her out. Patrick didn’t obsess over women—he took what he wanted when he wanted it. Usually his affairs were brief yet satisfactory for both parties and he was always the one in control. The countess, however, was another matter. Something about her reached out to him and he wanted her with a desperation no other had made him feel. Yet he would never act on that desperation because the countess was a fraud, and there was nothing Patrick hated more than people who set out to deliberately deceive others.

“Did you just growl, Coulter?”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Patrick snapped, following the countess’s progress until she reached the bottom step. Once again she became motionless. It was as if she held her breath, yet those eyes moved in every direction, seeking, searching, but for what?