Secrets Vol 2 Read online

  CONTENTS

  SNOWBOUND 3

  by Bonnie Hamre

  SAVAGE GARDEN 82

  by Susan Paul

  ROARKE’S PRISONER 170

  by Angela Knight

  SURROGATE LOVER 253

  by Doreen DeSalvo

  SNOWBOUND BY BONNIE HAMRE

  Red Sage Publishing

  Copyright 1996

  To My Reader:

  I was so pleased that Secrets I hit a chord with lovers of erotic romance, and doubly pleased to have a second novella to offer you. Snuggle up, free your mind from distraction, and enjoy...

  Justin Stowe, fifth Earl of Howden, splayed the invitations in his hand as he would a deck of cards. Intimate little suppers, a ball or two, three musicales, whist parties and the theater. Grimacing, he looked from them to the view beyond the tall windows of his library. The blizzard still raged, white whirling flakes that blotted out the landscape and threatened to keep him marooned for days.

  Excellent. He tossed the invitations in the fire and watched the papers catch. The last to go was a card bearing his name in a flowery, female script. The flames teased at the writing, devouring his family name, but leaving his title. How appropriate. It wasn't he who was so desirable a mate, but his prospects.

  It amazed him that, despite his reputation as a rake and hell-raiser, his title made him the catch of the season. Perhaps when he was more used to being the fifth Earl, after his cousin's untimely demise half a year past, he'd grow accustomed to the plots to leg-shackle him. Even here, in the wintry depths of Hertford, merciless matchmakers had descended on him from every quarter. He had begun to think of himself as the fox in a particularly single-minded hunt.

  He grinned at the image and, with the toe of his polished Hessian, pushed the rest of the card into the flames. While the blaze consumed it, Justin raised a glass of brandy, saluted the fire and swallowed a generous mouthful. The storm would provide a few days respite before the hounds gave chase again.

  A discreet knock at the mahogany door ushered in Ordway, the butler he'd inherited along with Howden House. "My lord?

  4 Bonnie Hamre

  There is a female at the door."

  "A female? Out in this?" Justin glanced through the windows at the snowdrifts piling high against the panes. Ice-crusted tree branches sagged under the weight. "Is there no end to their machinations?"

  "I would not venture to say, my lord."

  Justin sighed. "I suppose you had better show her in."

  "Perhaps you could come out, my lord. The lady appears to be near expiration."

  "Near exp—what the hell?" Justin's long strides had him across the library and down the black and white marbled hall to the entrance before Ordway could precede him. His steps slowed.

  Crumpled in a misshapen huddle on an upholstered settee, the woman resembled a discarded collection of dirty, sodden rags. Water dripped on his floor and trickled across the tiles in muddy rivulets.

  At his approach, she lifted her head. The hood of her cloak slipped back to reveal her hair, matted by snow and ice, hanging stiffly around her too pale face. She had a small, straight nose and high cheekbones. Her lips, perhaps a shade too wide for her delicate countenance, were bloodless. Although she appeared exhausted, there was a certain strength in her expression,

  "M?" she breathed.

  "What is that?" Justin bent closer to hear.

  "M..." She peeled off a misshapen leather glove and struggled to pull back a portion of her dripping cloak. She cradled a bundle, small and round, in her arm. Drawing away a pink shawl surrounding the parcel, she revealed a perfectly formed baby's face. "Emmy?"

  "My God!" Justin reared back. "An infant! What in the name of all that is sacred are you doing? Have you lost your wits, madam?"

  Ignoring him, she patted the child with fingers crabbed with cold and dangerously white at the tips. Even as he evaluated her condition, Justin noted how small and elegant her hands were, the nails a dainty oval. She wore no rings.

  Justin registered the sweet arch of her eyebrows, the large golden-

  Snowbound 5

  brown eyes preoccupied only with the infant. Irrelevantly, he thought that at another time, if she smiled at him, those eyes would tempt the devil himself. He repressed a smile. If the gossips were to be believed, he was already on a first name basis with Lucifer himself.

  The woman unwrapped several additional woolen layers bundled around the infant. The child opened a tiny pink mouth and uttered an ear-piercing wail.

  Justin recoiled. "At least we can be sure it lives."

  At the baby's cry, the woman's shoulders relaxed and her lips formed a half-smile. Justin caught himself staring at a dimple in the making and frowned. "Who are you, madam? What possessed you to be out in this weather with your child?"

  "Not mine."

  "Not your child? Whose then? Have you stolen it?"

  "No...niece."

  "This is a pretty coil." Justin crossed his arms over his chest as he stared down at her. What was he to do with a half-frozen pair of females? Tempted as he was, he couldn't cast them back into the storm.

  With a shake of his head, he touched the woman's shoulder. "You may practice your wiles once you have warmed yourself." He lifted the child from her arms and held the bundle out to Ordway. "Go on, get the baby warm. I suppose it wants feeding, too."

  "Feeding?" Ordway's white eyebrows arched toward his receding hairline. "We have no females in the house, my lord, if I may remind you."

  Justin waved the objection away. "Then send someone to fetch a wet nurse from the village." He paused. "Temporarily of course, until I find out who this infant is and see it properly home."

  "Very good, sir." Ordway started down the passageway leading to the servant's wing.

  "No—" The woman stretched a hand out to the baby.

  Justin had the impression that, had she been able, the woman would run after his butler, retrieve the child and flee.

  6 Bonnie Hamre

  "He will look after the child. But what about you, madam? You are frozen clear through. Come to the fire."

  He took her hands in his. She tried to pull back. Ignoring her efforts, he rubbed them between his, noting the delicacy of her bones beneath her icy skin. He drew her to her feet.

  She stood, shaking, while he undid the clasps of her cloak and took it from her. "Good grief, madam, how did you manage in this?"

  She staggered and nearly fell.

  He dropped the cloak and quickly placed an arm around her waist to steady her. "Come now. Lean on me." Her soft weight against his as she relied on his strength made Justin stiffen.

  He was no callow youth to be undone by the soft curve of a woman's bosom, yet something about this bedraggled specimen unaccountably appealed to him. With her pressed against his side, he forced himself to think of his last bout at Manton's, yet all he could picture were her breasts. Instinctively, he knew that she did not nurse the child. Her breasts were too small and firm. He inhaled sharply, imagining his palm cupped over the shapely globes, his finger stroking the nipples.

  Would they be cherry-tipped? Or perhaps they resembled apricots, warm and luscious in his mouth. His breathing quickened. His loins tightened. Damned fool! To be hungering for a taste of her breasts when she was half dead. What kind of a unprincipled, lecherous cad did that make him?

  Ignoring the little voice in his head that answered his question in precise terms, he guided her toward the library. "Have you no sense?" he scolded with each slow step. "What can be so urgent that you would travel now? Why not wait until the weather clears?"

  "Could not." Her teeth chattered. "Have to save Emmy."

  "Save? From what?"

  Her bottom lip trembled, "...to
my aunt. She...expects us... worried."

  Diverted by the fullness of that lip, and wondering how it would

  Snowbound 7

  feel against his when warm and moist, he stumbled over her sopping hem. He righted himself and jerked his mind back to her distressed state. "Why are you afoot?"

  "Coach...ice...too...fast..." Her voice trailed off. Justin glanced down in time to see her eyes roll back. She crumpled in a boneless heap.

  "Good God, woman!" He caught her before she hit the floor, awkwardly holding her as though he didn't know what to do with a pliable female.

  Her skin radiated the cold even through her woolen gown. With her eyes closed, her head hanging over his arm, and the color gone from her face, Justin feared the worst. He touched her throat and found a weak, thready pulse.

  She lived, but not for much longer if he didn't get her warm and dry. Had she come from the main road, two miles away? If so, he marveled that she'd managed to get herself and the baby to shelter. She'd missed the village. If she'd missed his estate as well, they would have perished. Many men wouldn't have done as well. Cursing himself for interrogating her when she needed care, he scooped her up and crossed the hall with her in his arms.

  "Ordway," he shouted as he climbed the broad staircase, taking the steps two at a time. Her woolen skirts dragged about his knees, tangling with his boots and curtailing his footsteps. Momentarily freeing the hand under her knees, he grabbed her heavy skirt and, holding the material away from him, he strode down the gallery to the nearest bedroom wing. In summer, the gallery was a delightful place, with huge windows spilling warm sunlight into the long, stately hall, but now with icy gusts slamming against the panes, the gallery was drafty and cold. With each long step resounding on the marble floor, Justin damned his forefathers for building and remodeling the house on such a grandiose scale. Why did they require so many bedrooms and each a day's march away?

  "Ordway!" He kicked open his chamber door and placed her on

  8 Bonnie Hamre

  his massive bed. She moaned, then pulled fretfully at her clothing. Justin recognized the quality of her black merino traveling dress and matching pelisse as she touched her rib cage, her waist and then searched her torso.

  "Be still, woman" Justin moved his hands over hers, to arrest their frantic movement, he told himself, but the way she fingered her bosom made his fingertips itch. He eyed the plump mounds as they moved under her questing hands and yearned to assist her in her exploration. He moved her hands aside and pressed his ear to her generous chest. He listened for her heartbeat, trying but failing to ignore the soft, sweet woman's flesh under her garments.

  He forced himself to withdraw before he did the unthinkable and caressed a helpless woman. A faint fragrance of roses followed him. He closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply, before releasing her hands. "The child is quite safe."

  She stilled. One hand fell to her side. The fingers were smooth, the palm uncalloused. She did no hard labor. Ashen, she was insensible to her state, yet he had to try.

  "Madam. Remove your clothing."

  He bit back a grin. Usually, when he wanted a woman unclothed, he did it himself. Sometimes impatiently, other times taking his time to savor the moment. Now, he shook her limp arm. "Madam, you must remove your clothing before you take a chill." He heard his voice edge into desperation. If she didn't rouse enough to undress, he would have to do it for her.

  And if he did, would she suddenly open her eyes and scream for help? Was this all a ruse to force him into a compromising scene? One designed to compel him to the altar?

  Wincing at the thought, Justin realized even if she were after his title, he couldn't leave her in those clothes. He may not wish to be caught in parson's mousetrap, but neither could he cause a lady's demise. Damnation.

  He bit his lips. There was no help for it. Briskly, he removed her

  Snowbound 9

  boots and black woolen stockings to reveal long, slender legs blanched with cold. Justin swallowed as he unbuttoned her gown. Try as he might, he couldn't avoid brushing against the swell of her generous breasts. He drew off the heavy dress and the woolen crinoline despite the way the spongy wool clung to the curves of her body. Her simple chemise, almost transparent with the dampness, revealed more than it hid.

  He stared at pale ivory flesh, the veins a delicate tracery just under her skin. He touched the tip of his finger to one breast and followed the curve, relishing the softness and then, cursing himself and the situation, he removed her underclothing. He'd done this countless times with women willing and ablaze with passion, but now he found it difficult. Her body was deadweight in his hands, her limbs flaccid and uncooperative.

  He wished he could say the same for himself. Her skin remained chilled, but drops of perspiration dotted his forehead. His yard reminded him of his usual activity with an unclothed woman.

  Quickly, he tucked her into one of his own never-used linen nightshirts. In doing so, he disturbed the remaining pins in her coiffure.

  Her hair, a deep honey blonde, fell in wild, tangled locks around her head and shoulders. He retrieved the loose pins, allowing that as his excuse to comb his hand through the damp, silky skeins. He felt her head, looking for bumps or cuts and found none. She was luckier than many. He scowled anew at her foolhardiness and dropped the pins on a nearby table.

  Justin lifted her and with one hand, drew down the covers. Divested of her heavy clothing, she was no heavier than thistledown. He frowned at the image and placed her on the linen sheets and jerked the blankets up to her chin.

  The woman didn't move. She lay oblivious in the wide bed, her slender body no more than a bump under the covers. About to brush back a curl at her temple, Justin paused. He clenched his fist, then relaxed his grip and tucked the covers tightly around her. She was

  10 Bonnie Hamre

  still cold, too cold.

  Where the devil was Ordway? Justin yanked the bell pull and kept at it until he heard running footsteps in the hall. Ordway arrived, followed by two footmen and Justin's valet.

  "Yes, my lord?" Ordway panted.

  Four sets of eyes widened as they studied the woman ensconced in Justin's nightshirt. "Oh, no," the valet wailed. "A female."

  Ordway approached the bed. "Has she expired?"

  "No, but she will damn quick if we don't help her. Make up the fire," Justin ordered one of the footmen. "I want it blazing in here."

  Justin watched the footman tend the fire. "Good. Once you're done here, send the stable lads to search for the lady's conveyance. See if there are any others stumbling about in the storm. We shall have the care of them as well."

  "Very good, my lord." The footman cast an inquiring glance at the woman in the bed, and then catching Justin's scowl, retreated.

  Justin turned his attention to his valet. "Pruitt. Do something with those wet things."

  Pruitt retreated a pace. He put up his hands, palm out. "My lord, I am a gentleman's gentleman."

  "Oh, for God's sake, Pruitt. She'll need dry clothing when she wakes. Tend to it."

  Pruitt eyed the clothing distastefully but picked up the dripping mass. "May I remind you, sir, that you said we were to be a bachelor establishment? That we would do nothing but rusticate and perfect your technique with the epee?"

  Justin spared a glance for his valet. "Circumstances have changed."

  Pruitt sniffed. "Very well, my lord. Cook will want to know if he should prepare a meal for the lady. Something for an invalid?"

  "Tell him to do as he thinks best. Oh, and Pruitt," Justin added as the man stepped through the door, "have a tray brought to me here. Let me know how the child does."

  SNOWBOUND 11

  Alone, with the woman seen to, Justin noted his own damp clothing. He pulled off his jacket and loosened his shirt at the waistband. Heat from the fire enveloped him and licked at his exposed skin. With the fire this hot, he'd dry out soon enough. He sank back into an armchair and studied the mystery woman.

&nb
sp; He scowled. No doubt she had her reasons for going to this length to wring a marriage proposal out of him, but why would she bring a babe along?

  It was all for naught. He'd never cared much for damsels in distress, and didn't intend to be caught by one now. No doubt she'd envisioned a different ending to her scheme. How insidious a plan, just like a female, to devise something so sly. No doubt she had accomplices at the ready, prepared to burst in and find them in a compromising act.

  By rights, he should leave her alone to stew in the knowledge that she'd failed miserably. Someone else could look after her. When she woke, refreshed and rested, he would see that she put on her dry clothing, took the child and left. He'd lend her his own carriage, if necessary. It'd take more than a clever ploy to capture him.

  Why, then, did his cock ache? Why could he think of nothing but keeping her, warm and wanton, in his bed?

  13

  Chapter Two

  Even as he damned the rutting portion of his nature urging him to seduce her and be damned with it, Justin couldn't stay away from the woman in his bed.

  He brought an easy chair to the bedside, lowered himself into it and studied her. Her chest barely disturbed the cocoon of blankets, but her breathing grew more harsh with every inhalation. He leaned forward to hear better.

  With his forehead almost touching hers, each exhalation skimmed his cheek, a moist, warm reminder that she was ill, helpless, and now dependent on him.

  It was also uncomfortably sensual. As her body heat returned, her fragrance rose, more opulent than before, to tempt his senses. How could someone so recently near freezing still remind him of a garden in springtime? Any moment now he'd swear he smelled lavender and lilacs along with the roses. Her hair lay in a luxuriant tangle, the glorious hue echoed in the thick, dark lashes resting on her cheeks.

  He studied the curve of the cheek nearest him, then unable to resist, stroked it with the tip of his finger. Her skin, cool still but beginning to flush with fever, was velvety and delicate, fresher than a newly opened bud.