Guardian of the Heart
Book Six, The Rakehell Regency Series
Sorcha MacMurrough

The ultimate temptation!

Dr. Blake Sanderson, mentally scarred after the Napoleonic Wars and determined to dedicate himself to the sick, never imagines he will wed or have a family until his friend Peter asks him to become the guardian of his step-sister Arabella. Blake recalls her as a small child. The raven-haired eighteen-year old beauty he is presented with turns his entire life upside down. For as all of the most eligible bachelors in London and Somerset pursue the lovely Arabella, Blake realizes that he has fallen in love with the one woman society and convention forbid him to have.

Arabella meets handsome Dr. Sanderson at the site of a tragic accident. He's a gentleman after her own heart, dedicated to the poor, and passionate under his rigidly controlled exterior. When she discovers Blake has been appointed as her guardian, she is embarrassed at the torrid passion that seems to spark off every time they are near one another and devastated to realize no other man fills her with such longing. As their friends parade beau after beau in front of her, Arabella becomes certain Blake is the only man she can ever respect, esteem and desire enough to marry. Can she convince Blake their love is meant to be before their ruthless enemies tear them apart forever?

 

God, it was so cold. Only a bit further, please. I need to keep them safe....

Blake replayed the kiss he had shared with Belle hours before. It had been honey-sweet, and made him forget for a moment even his own terrible past.

He could taste dew, smell freshly mown grass, feel the glorious sunshine upon his face, the warmth penetrating his bones, his soul... A new life.

Spring was the season, flowers, bees, pollen, everything fresh and new, like her skin, her hair....

Unbound, flowing over Blake's bare body like a river as it cascaded down her shoulders, covering her voluptuous breasts, which peeped through the raven tresses.

It was a stark contrast, the pink, white and black. She was cradling his head against her, one nipple sliding unerringly into his mouth to nurture him, fill him with longing....

He could hear the shouts, the sound of running feet, the flinging open of the coach doors. He felt a little hand upon his shoulder, a delicate caress of his face.

"Come, Blake, it's over now. You're safe. We're safe. I'll look after you."

Then he was moving, sliding downwards, stumbling, his arms around her shoulders...

Her bare shoulders, so creamy and soft, her slender throat.

He kissed them all, then her rosy lips as his legs moved over hers. He moved inside the warm circle of her arms, her body, and the sun blazed anew in all its glory, blinding him with its brilliance as she shimmered all around him, hot, wet, loving, a taste of heaven on earth as he poured out all his pent-up yearnings into her...

Guardian of the Heart
Book Six, The Rakehell Regency Series
Sorcha MacMurrough
Setting: Regency London and Bath,
Word Count: 116,551
Rating: Very Sensual
Price: $5.99

Chapter One

December 21, 1814

A mail coach riding at a breakneck pace over the rutted road to London in winter was not the most luxurious way to travel. Arabella Neville, lost in her worries, hardly noticed the discomfort as she huddled in her cloak in the facing seat.

Every so often she peeped out at the frozen landscape as they jolted along. Thus far, after two days of her journey from Somerset, she had not had any traveling companion linger with her for more than a few stops heading toward the capital.

Earlier that morning the reserved, brown-haired Mr. Greengage had come on board a few stops prior to Reading. He sat opposite her with his back to the driver and had behaved in all respects in a most gentlemanly manner ever since.

He had been entertaining enough to help her pass the time. There was little to do otherwise, for on this, the shortest day of the year, the sky was grimly gray, and she could smell the snow in the air.

"Your business must be quite urgent to take you out in such inclement weather," Mr. Greengage said politely. He refrained from adding, All by yourself, but his question hung heavy in the air.

If only he knew.  She gave the mild-looking man an assessing glance. He was handsome enough in a florid way, about mid-thirties. Professional. Solicitor by the look of him. "One could say the same of you, sir. I've been on the road for the past two days and am completing the final leg of my journey."

"I've been called to the side of a sick relative, and I was going to Town in any event to celebrate Christmas."

"Are you from London?"

He nodded. "Do you know the city well?"

"Not very well. I usually travel with my brother. He will be meeting me once I arrive," she lied.

She offered up a prayer that her step-brother Peter had not left for India yet.  Surely she could convince him to see reason. Could persuade him not to leave her with a complete stranger as her guardian when she was old enough to tend to her own affairs.

Perhaps she could even persuade him to take her along. The Army could not be so cruel as to part them again when Peter had only just returned from the Continent, even though the war with Bonaparte had been over since April.

"If he fails to arrive, you must allow me to escort you to his home. It's unwise to wander about the streets of London alone."

"'Tis but a short cab ride from the coach depot, so I have no fears, sir. Thank you for the offer all the same."

"Not at all. It's the least I can do." He shifted in his seat to make himself more comfortable. "Dash it, these seats aren't very cozy."

"At least we're not being jounced about too badly. Nor is it crowded."

"No, that's one saving grace." He stopped to listen, his head raised in alarm. "Goodness me, that sounds like thunder."

They lifted the shade to peer out the window and saw lightning streak the dark gray sky.

"Oh my," she breathed, startled by the ferocity of the flashing jagged forks and the accompanying booms of thunder which made the very carriage tremble. She sat back abruptly, ringing her hands.

Within two minutes, they heard a rattling on the roof of the coach and peered out again.

"Look at the size of those hailstones!" Mr. Greengage exclaimed.

"The poor driver, and the animals in the field."

"Poor driver all right, and the postillion too. The storm is lashing it down."

The coach perforce had to slow, for the two men responsible for it were undoubtedly trying to protect themselves from the frozen missiles, see where they were going, and keep control of the horses all at the same time.

Arabella held her breath until the rattling finally stopped a few moments later. She and Mr. Greengage looked at each other and both heaved a sigh of relief.

But within ten minutes, just as they stopped to get a hot drink, warm up, and change the coals in the two footwarmers at a roadside inn, huge white flakes began to waft down from the heavens.

By the time they were finally warm, had had some refreshment, and changed horses, the flurry had become a steady fall of snow.

The coach driver stomped in through the door of the snug parlor, shedding clumps of snow with every footfall. "We have to get the mails through no matter what," he said, rubbing his hands to restore the circulation to his numbed fingers.  "Up to you if you want to go or stay. But you've got five minutes to decide."

Mr. Greengage and Arabella glanced at each other. Both shrugged.

"I have to see my brother," she said. She smoothed her ebony hair and rose to wrap herself in her outerwear once more.

"And I need to see my uncle."

"Well, then, tell the servants to pack the footwarmers to the brim, and let's go," the driver said, before sweeping off again.

"I'm just going to get some brandy, bread, and cheese for the journey. It will be bad enough being cold, without being hungry and thirsty too."

She nodded. "Good idea."

Arabella bought some bread, meat, cheese and a large bottle of ginger beer for herself as well. Armed with her wrapped parcel, she climbed back into the interior of the coach.

She soon bundled her gloves and bonnet back on, and huddled under the traveling rugs with her feet on her warmer. At least she had on a good thick merino wool gown and some heavy woollen stockings and flannel petticoats. She felt sorry for the men in this weather with just their trousers and perhaps some winter underthings.

Mr. Greengage came in a few moments later with his own parcel and two large stone hot water bottles wrapped in burlap. He tucked one on either side of her, and sat next to the one in the middle of the seat. He drew his own traveling rug over them both.

"Pardon the liberty in sitting next to you, but we need to make the best of this bad circumstance. I've not seen snow like this since I was a child."

She thanked him graciously, and hugged the warmth of the bottle on her own side.

He was not menacing in any way, but for the first time she questioned the wisdom of having set off on this journey so hastily, without so much as a serving maid for company.

"How much farther until our next rest?"

"Another fifteen miles to go before our overnight stop, if I'm not mistaken."

Her ebony brows knit in consternation. It sounded awafully far all of a sudden.  "Let's hope the storm eases soon."

The driver whipped up the horses and headed out onto the main road.  Soon they were plunging along the icy thoroughfare as fast as he could drive the team. Some patches were muddy and boggy, others frozen solid and slick with ice.

Arabella clung to the leather strap next to her head and tried not to panic. The coachmen were experienced, and did this sort of thing all the time. All would be well, she was sure.

Arabella was warm enough, but even she, who counted herself a good traveler, was starting to feel queasy at all the erratic lurchings of the vehicle.

The wind began to howl, and the sky to turn almost as dark as night, though it was only about three in the afternoon.

"Well, it is the winter solstice," Mr. Greengage reminded her as they clung onto their straps to keep their seats, when she commented on the sudden darkness. "The shortest day of the year."

"Do you think we'll stop soon?" she called above the incessant rattle of the coach and howl of the wind.

"Not until about four o'clock. The next village is some distance away, seven miles at a guess."

"Perhaps the driver will decide to stop there for the night rather than try to press on."

He shrugged one shoulder. "It might be for the best. Then again, the storm could dissipate as suddenly as it began."

He peered out for a moment, then released the shade once more, plunging them into almost total darkness.

He tucked the hot water bottle between them even closer to her side, and adjusted his slipping traveling rug.  "I can't tell. Can't read the milestones, the snow is drifting so badly."

"Let's see if we can light the lamps inside, at least."

They endured the jolting for some time longer, Mr. Greengage fumbling with his tinderbox as the violent motion made him all thumbs, until Arabella heard a sharp peal of what sounded to be thunder.

But it was like none she had ever witnessed before, seeming to boom in the very carriage itself and echo all around it.

The horses began to neigh fiercely in their panic.  The coach juddered almost to a halt for a brief minute, before suddenly speeding forward even faster than before.

"They've bolted!" Mr. Greengage gasped.

He moved to open the window on his side to see if he could help in some way, barely able to keep his feet as he was jounced along.

The carriage careened to the left and then right as the terrified horses galloped forward at a breakneck pace.

Arabella reached out an arm to halt Mr. Greengage's flight headfirst, but it was too late. The leather strap he was clinging to snapped, throwing him forward heavily.

He groaned, but before he could steady himself, he was flung backwards into his seat once more as the momentum of the carriage was again suspended.

The huge rut stopped them almost in their tracks, until the horses continued to pull against the barrier and the wheel at last gave way with a loud report like a gunshot. The coach was dragged forward on the left-hand axle until the tracers broke and both horses stampeded off.

Arabella could do little to protect herself other than roll into a tight ball out of the way of the hurtling missles coming straight for her as the coach flipped onto its side, footwarmers, stone bottles and the prone body of Mr. Greengage flying down upon her side of the coach with a crash.

"Oh, God, please help us, please," was her last conscious thought as the coach continued to slither along the icy road.

Guardian of the Heart
Book Six, The Rakehell Regency Series
Sorcha MacMurrough
Setting: Regency London and Bath,
Word Count: 116,551
Rating: Very Sensual
Price: $5.99