The Wicked Deeds of Daniel Mackenzie

Praise for

THE SEDUCTION OF ELLIOT MCBRIDE

“RITA Award–winning Ashley excels at creating multilayered, realistically complex characters, and the latest installment in her Mackenzie brothers series is a richly emotional treat for fans of tortured heroes. Ashley not only handles Juliana’s romantic redemption of Elliot with significant finesse, she also delivers abundant sensual passion.”

—
Booklist

“Ashley creates marvelous, unforgettable, and heart-stopping stories with unique heroes. She touches on a multitude of human emotions while never losing sight of the love story. With lush prose and memorable scenes, readers learn how wounded characters can be healed by the power of love. Memorable, remarkable, tender, and touching, here is a book to cherish, reread, and sigh over time and again.”

—
RT Book Reviews
(Top Pick)

THE DUKE’S PERFECT WIFE

“
The Duke’s Perfect Wife
is a sensual, gorgeous story that was captivating from the first page to the very last.”

—
Joyfully Reviewed
(Recommended Read)

“The unforgettable Mackenzies return as Ashley spins the fourth in the series into another mesmerizing, intensely emotional romance that steals readers’ hearts and minds. With her innovative plots and characters, Ashley pushes the boundaries of the genre and creates ‘keepers,’ because they touch readers on many levels.”

—
RT Book Reviews
(Top Pick)

“It’s all such a seductive world, you’ll get swept away, just as I did.”

—
DemonLovers Books & More

THE MANY SINS OF LORD CAMERON

“Ashley’s latest flawlessly written historical romance richly rewards romance readers with its multilayered characterization; sexy, secrets-saturated plotting; sharp wit; and enthralling writing.”

—
Booklist
(starred review)

“Passionate, well-drawn characters, breathless romance, and a memorable love story.”

—
Library Journal

“Innovative as ever . . . a beautifully written, tender, touching romance that will leave readers breathless. Her strong characterizations and poignant yet sensual storytelling draw readers into her unforgettable love stories.”

—
RT Book Reviews
(Top Pick)

“Jennifer Ashley writes very sensual, sexy books . . . If you love the first two books in this series, you will enjoy this one as well. If you haven’t tried these, I definitely recommend.”

—
Smexy Books

LADY ISABELLA’S SCANDALOUS MARRIAGE

“I adore this novel: It’s heartrending, funny, honest, and true. I want to know the hero—no, I want to marry the hero!”

—Eloisa James,
New York Times
bestselling author

“Skillfully nuanced characterization and an abundance of steamy sensuality give Ashley’s latest impeccably crafted historical its irresistible literary flavor.”

—
Chicago Tribune

“Readers rejoice! The Mackenzie brothers return as Ashley works her magic to create a unique love story brimming over with depth of emotion, unforgettable characters, sizzling passion, mystery, and a story that reaches out and grabs your heart. Brava!”

—
RT Book Reviews
(Top Pick)

“A heartfelt, emotional historical romance with danger and intrigue around every corner . . . A great read!”

—
Fresh Fiction

“For a rollicking good time, sexy Highland heroes, and touching romances, you just can’t beat Jennifer Ashley’s novels!”

—
Night Owl Reviews

“You can’t help but fall in love with the Mackenzie brothers.”

—
Loves Romances and More

“This series is a must-read for all historical romance fans.”

—
Smexy Books

“I’m a big fan of Jennifer Ashley’s . . . Deliciously fun.”

—
All About Romance

“Ms. Ashley is a superb author who can bring sensuality and passion to life with her characters and pour the emotion off the pages.”

—
Fiction Vixen Book Reviews

“Ms. Ashley did not let me down.”

—
The Good, The Bad and The Unread

THE MADNESS OF LORD IAN MACKENZIE

“A deliciously dark and delectably sexy story of love and romantic redemption that will captivate readers with its complex characters and suspenseful plot.”

—
Booklist

“Ashley’s enthralling and poignant romance . . . touches readers on many levels. Brava!”

—
RT Book Reviews

“A story of mystery and intrigue with two wonderful, bright characters you’ll love . . . I look forward to more from Jennifer Ashley, an extremely gifted author.”

—
Fresh Fiction

“Brimming with mystery, suspense, an intriguing plot, villains, romance, a tormented hero, and a feisty heroine, this book is a winner. I recommend
The Madness of Lord Ian Mackenzie
to anyone looking for a great read.”

—
Romance Junkies

“Wow! One of the best books I have ever read. [It] gets the highest recommendation that I can give. It is a truly wonderful book.”

—
Once Upon A Romance

“When you’re reading a book that is a step or two—or six or seven—above the norm, you know it almost immediately. Such is the case with
The Madness of Lord Ian Mackenzie
. The characters here are so complex and so real that I was fascinated by their journey . . . [and] this story is as flat-out romantic as any I’ve read in a while . . . This is a series I am certainly looking forward to following.”

—
All About Romance

“A unique twist on the troubled hero . . . Fresh and interesting.”

—
Night Owl Reviews

“A welcome addition to the genre.”

—
Dear Author

Berkley Sensation titles by Jennifer Ashley

The Mackenzies

THE MADNESS OF LORD IAN MACKENZIE

LADY ISABELLA’S SCANDALOUS MARRIAGE

THE MANY SINS OF LORD CAMERON

THE DUKE’S PERFECT WIFE

THE SEDUCTION OF ELLIOT MCBRIDE

THE UNTAMED MACKENZIE

(An Intermix Special)

THE WICKED DEEDS OF DANIEL MACKENZIE

Shifters Unbound

PRIDE MATES

PRIMAL BONDS

WILD CAT

MATE CLAIMED

LONE WOLF

(An Intermix Special)

TIGER MAGIC

THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

Published by the Penguin Group

Penguin Group (USA) LLC

375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014

USA • Canada • UK • Ireland • Australia • New Zealand • India • South Africa • China

penguin.com

A Penguin Random House Company

THE WICKED DEEDS OF DANIEL MACKENZIE

A Berkley Book / published by arrangement with the author

Copyright © 2013 by Jennifer Ashley

Excerpt from
Rules for a Proper Governess
by Jennifer Ashley

copyright © 2013 by Jennifer Ashley

Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.

Berkley Sensation Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group.

BERKLEY SENSATION
^®
is a registered trademark of Penguin Group (USA) LLC.

The “B” design is a trademark of Penguin Group (USA) LLC.

For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group,

a division of Penguin Group (USA) LLC,

375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

eBook ISBN: 978-1-101-62558-3

PUBLISHING HISTORY

Berkley Sensation mass-market edition / October 2013

Cover art by Greg Gulbronson. Hand lettering by Ron Zinn.

Cover design by George Long.

Interior text design by Laura K. Corless.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Chapter 1

LONDON 1890

He doesn’t have the ace.

Daniel Mackenzie held four eights, and he’d backed that fact with large stacks of money.

He faced Mortimer, who was ten years older and had a face like a weasel. Mortimer was pretending he’d just been given an ace from the young woman who dealt the cards at the head of the table, completing his straight. Daniel knew better.

The other gentlemen in the St. James’s gaming hell called the Nines had already folded in Fenton Mortimer’s favorite game of poker. The entire club now lingered to see the battle of wits between twenty-five-year-old Daniel Mackenzie and Mortimer, a hardened gambler. So much cigar smoke hung in the air that any consumptive who’d dared walk in the door would have fallen dead on the spot.

The game of choice at this hell was whist, but Mortimer had recently introduced the American game of poker, which he’d learned during a yearlong stint in that country. Mortimer was good at it, quickly relieving young Mayfair aristos of thousands of pounds. And still they came to him, eager to learn the game. Eleven gentlemen had started this round, dropping out one by one until only Daniel and Mortimer remained.

Daniel kept his cards facedown on the table so the nosy club fodder wouldn’t telegraph his hand to Mortimer. He gathered up more of his paper bills and dropped them in front of his cards. “See you, and raise two hundred.”

Mortimer turned a slight shade of green but slid money opposite Daniel’s.

“Raise you again,” Daniel said. He picked up another pile of notes and laid them on the already substantial stack. “Can you cover?”

“I can.” Mortimer didn’t dig out any more notes or coin, obviously hoping he wouldn’t have to.

“Sure about that?”

Mortimer’s eyes narrowed. “What are you saying, Mackenzie? If you’d like to question my honor in a private room, I will be happy to answer.”

Daniel refrained from rolling his eyes. “Calm yourself, lad.” He lifted a cigar from the holder beside him and sucked smoke into his mouth. “I believe you. What have you got?”

“Show yours first.”

Daniel picked up his cards and flipped them over with a nonchalant flick. Four eights, one ace.

The men around him let out a collective groan, the lady dealer smiled at Daniel, and Mortimer went chalk white.

“Bloody hell. I didn’t think you had it.” Mortimer’s own cards fell faceup—a ten, jack, queen, seven, and three.

Daniel raked in his money and winked at the dealer. She really was lovely. “You can write me a vowel for the rest,” he said to Mortimer.

Mortimer wet his lips. “Now, Mackenzie . . .”

He couldn’t cover. What idiot wagered the last of his cash when he didn’t have a winning hand? Mortimer should have taken his loss several rounds ago and walked away.

But no, Mortimer had convinced himself he was expert at the bluffing part of the game, and would fleece the naive young Scotsman who’d walked in here tonight in a kilt.

A hard-faced man standing near the door sent Mortimer a grim look. Daniel guessed that said ruffian had given Mortimer cash for this night’s play, or was working for someone who had. The man wasn’t pleased Mortimer had just lost it all.

Daniel rose from the table. “Never mind,” he said. “Keep what you owe me as a token of appreciation for a night of good play.”

Mortimer scowled. “I pay my debts, Mackenzie.”

Daniel glanced at the bone-breaker across the room and lowered his voice. “You’ll pay more than that if ye don’t beat a hasty retreat, I’m thinking. How much do ye owe him?”

Mortimer’s eyes went cold. “None of your business.”

“I don’t wish to see a man have his face removed because I was lucky at cards. What do ye owe him? I’ll give ye that back. Ye can owe me.”

“Be beholden to a
Mackenzie
?” Mortimer’s outrage rang from him.

Well, Daniel had tried. He stuffed his winnings into his pockets and took his greatcoat from the lady dealer. She helped him into it, running her hand suggestively across Daniel’s shoulders as she straightened his collar.

Daniel winked at her again. He folded one of the banknotes he’d just won into a thin sliver, and slipped it down the top of her bodice.

“Aye, well.” Daniel took his hat from the slender-fingered lady, who gave him an even warmer smile. “Hope you can find tuppence for the ferryman at your funeral, Mortimer. Good night.”

He turned to leave and found Mortimer’s friends surrounding him.

“Changed my mind,” Mortimer said, smiling thinly. “The chaps reminded me I had something worth bargaining with. Say, for the last two thousand.”

“Oh aye? What is it? A motorcar?” The only thing worth the trouble these days, in Daniel’s opinion.

“Better,” Mortimer said. “A lady.”

Daniel hid a sigh. “I don’t need a courtesan. I can find women on me own.”

Easily. Daniel looked at ladies, and they came to him. Part of his charm, he knew, was his wealth; part was the fact that he belonged to the great Mackenzie family and was nephew to a duke. But Daniel never argued about the ladies’ motives; he simply enjoyed.

“She’s not a courtesan,” Mortimer said. “She’s special. You’ll see.”

An actress, perhaps. She’d give an indifferent performance of a Shakespearean soliloquy, and Daniel would be expected to smile and pronounce her worth every penny.

“Keep your money,” Daniel said. “Give me a horse or your best servant in lieu—I’m not particular.”

Mortimer’s friends didn’t move. “But I insist,” Mortimer said.

Eleven against one. If Daniel argued, he’d only end up with bruised knuckles. He didn’t particularly want to hurt his hands, because he had the fine-tuning of his engine to do, and he needed to be able to hold a spanner.

“Fair enough,” Daniel said. “But I assess the goods before I accept it as payment of debt.”

Mortimer agreed. He clapped Daniel on the shoulder as he led him out, and Daniel stopped himself shaking off his touch.

Mortimer’s friends filed around them in a defensive flank as they made their way to Mortimer’s waiting landau. Daniel noted as they pulled away from the Nines that the bone-breaker had slipped out the door behind them and followed.

Mortimer took Daniel through the misty city to a respectable neighborhood north of Oxford Street, stopping on a quiet lane near Portman Square.

The hour was two in the morning, and this street was silent, the houses dark. Behind the windows lay respectable gentlemen who would rise in the early hours and trundle to the City for work.

Daniel descended from the landau and looked up at the dark windows. “She’ll be asleep, surely. Leave it for tomorrow.”

“Nonsense,” Mortimer said. “She sees me anytime I call.”

He walked to a black-painted front door and rapped on it with his stick. Above them a light appeared, and a curtain drew back. Mortimer looked up at the window, made an impatient gesture, and rapped on the door again.

The curtain dropped, and the light faded.
Tap, tap, tap,
went Mortimer’s stick. Daniel folded his arms, stopping himself from ripping the stick from Mortimer’s hands and breaking it over his knee. “Who lives here?”

“I do,” Mortimer said. “I mean, I own the house. At least, my family does. We let it to Madame Bastien and her daughter. For a slight savings in rent, they agreed to entertain me and my friends anytime I asked it.”

“Including the middle of the bloody night?”

“Especially the middle of the night.”

Mortimer smiled—self-satisfied English prig. The ladies inside had to be courtesans. Mortimer had reduced the rent and obligated them to pay in kind.

Daniel turned back to the landau. “This isn’t worth two thousand, Mortimer.”

“Patience. You’ll see.”

The rest of Mortimer’s friends had arrived and hemmed them in, blocking the way back to the landau. The bone-breaker was still in attendance, hovering in the shadows a little way down the street.

The door opened. A maid who’d obviously dressed hastily stepped aside and let the stream of gentlemen inside. The drunker lads of the party wanted to pause to see what entertainment she might provide, but Daniel planted himself solidly beside the door, blocking their way to her. They moved past, forgetting about her.

Mortimer led the way to double pocket doors at the end of the hall and pushed them open. Daniel caught a flurry of movement from the room beyond, but by the time Mortimer beckoned Daniel, stillness had taken over.

They entered a dining room. The walls were covered with a blue, gold, and burnt orange striped wallpaper, its many colors bright in the light of a hearth fire. A gas chandelier hung dark above, and a solitary candelabra with three candles rested on the long, empty table. A young woman was just touching a match to the candlewicks.

When the third candle was lit, she blew out the match and straightened up. “So sorry to have kept you waiting, gentlemen,” she said in a voice very faintly accented. “I’m afraid my mother is unable to rise. You will have to make do with me.”

Whatever Mortimer and the other gentlemen said in response, Daniel didn’t hear. He couldn’t hear anything. He couldn’t see anything either, except the woman who stood poised behind the candelabra, the long match still in her hand, the smile of an angel on her face.

She wasn’t beautiful. Daniel had seen faces more beautiful in the Casino in Monte Carlo, at the Moulin Rouge in Paris. He’d known slimmer bodies in dancers, or in the butterflies that glided about the gaming hells in St. James’s and Monaco, enticing gentlemen to play.

This young woman had an angular face softened by a mass of dark hair dressed in a pompadour, ringlets trickling down the sides of her face. Her nose was a little too long, her mouth too wide, her shoulders and arms too plump. Her eyes were her best feature, set in exact proportion in her face, dark blue in the glint of candlelight.

They were eyes a man could gaze into all night and wake up to in the morning. He could contemplate her eyes across the breakfast table and then at dinner while he made plans to look into them again all through the night.

She wasn’t a courtesan. Courtesans began charming the moment a gentleman walked into a room. They gestured with graceful fingers, implying that those fingers would be equally graceful traveling a man’s body. Courtesans drew in, they suggested without words, they used every movement and every expression to beguile.

This woman stood fixed in place, her body language not inviting the gentlemen into the room at all, despite her words and her smile. If her movements were graceful as she turned to toss the match into the fire, it was from nature, not practice.

She wore a plain gown of blue satin that bared her shoulders, but the gown was no less respectable than what a lady in this neighborhood might wear for dinner or a night at the theatre. Her hair in the simple pompadour had no ribbons or jewels to adorn it. The unaffected style hinted that the dark masses might come down at any time over the hands of the lucky gentleman who pulled out the hairpins.

The young woman spread her hands at the now silent men. “If you’ll sit, gentlemen, we can begin.”

Daniel couldn’t move. His feet had grown into the floor, disobedient to his will. They wanted him to stand in that place all night long and gaze upon this woman.

Mortimer leaned to Daniel. “You see? Did I not tell you she’d be worth it?” He cleared his throat. “Daniel Mackenzie, may I introduce Mademoiselle Bastien. Violette is her Christian name, in the French way. Mademoiselle, this is Daniel Mackenzie, son of Lord Cameron Mackenzie and nephew to the Duke of Kilmorgan. You’ll give him a fine show, won’t you? There’s a good girl.”