Holt Forever

1. Auflage 2017
ISBN: 978-1-5439-1678-2
Verlag: BookBaby
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: Adobe DRM (»Systemvoraussetzungen)

E-Book, Englisch, Band 1, 200 Seiten

Reihe: Forever

Fall in love with CHERYL HOLT all over again as she delivers the thrilling conclusion to her FOREVER series! Hayden Henley left England at age twenty, whisked away by his parents after a deadly duel that nearly cost him his life. In the intervening years, tragedy repeatedly pummeled him, and it's taken him an entire decade to return home. He arrives to find he's lost everything: his title, his lands, his fortune, his good name. He's bitter and driven to reclaim what has always been his... Helen Barnes is a penniless spinster whose life-despite her best efforts-has never moved in the direction she planned. While she only ever hoped to marry a stable, kind fellow and live a normal life, she's been forced to care for her scandal-ridden father instead. She would give anything to obtain the home and family of her dreams, but when she meets dashing and dangerous Hayden, she begins to wonder how she could have ever assumed a common man and ordinary existence would be enough to make her happy... Hayden would never shackle himself to her though. He's determined to make up for lost time by marrying as high as he's able. But some connections are simply too potent to ignore and-sometimes-Fate has other ideas. With love in the balance and family secrets finally laid bare, Helen might just turn out to be the woman Hayden has always been so desperate to find...

CHERYL HOLT is a New York Times, USA Today, and Amazon 'Top 100' bestselling author who has published forty-eight novels. She's also a lawyer and mom, and at age forty, with two babies at home, she started a new career as a commercial fiction writer. She'd hoped to be a suspense novelist, but couldn't sell any of her manuscripts, so she ended up taking a detour into romance where she was stunned to discover that she has a knack for writing some of the world's greatest love stories. Her books have been released to wide acclaim, and she has won or been nominated for many national awards. She is considered to be one of the masters of the romance genre. For many years, she was hailed as 'The Queen of Erotic Romance', and she's also revered as 'The International Queen of Villains.' She is particularly proud to have been named 'Best Storyteller of the Year' by the trade magazine Romantic Times BOOK Reviews. She lives and writes in Hollywood, California, and she loves to hear from fans. Visit her website at www.cherylholt.com.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Holt, Cheryl

Leseproben

CHAPTER ONE

Canary Islands, Santa Cruz, Tenerife, 1814…

“Let me by, sir.”

On hearing the woman’s request, Hayden Henley stopped in his tracks. Her voice was firm and commanding and confidently displaying a perfect command of the King’s English. She might have been raised in the snootiest boarding school in London.

He was gaping, completely unable to continue on by.

It was an odd occasion when he stumbled on a person speaking English. In his lengthy journeys around the globe, he’d rarely met anyone from his home country. He’d been too far away for too long, to the point where home was a distant memory that didn’t seem real.

In his current location, it was especially strange to encounter a Brit. He was on the island of Tenerife, located in the Canary Islands. The main harbor was in the town of Santa Cruz, and it was a rough-and-tumble place filled with traders, smugglers, slavers, and African pirates. There were hotels and restaurants dotting the waterfront, but they were tucked between saloons and bordellos.

Reputable ships with reputable captains docked occasionally to load supplies before heading across the Atlantic. But nearly everyone else was dodgy and dangerous, and they’d slit your throat for a penny.

What was she thinking to be out and about in such desperate company?

“Let me by! At once!”

As her voice rang out again, he scanned the busy area, searching for her. He found her on the boardwalk over by a tavern. She was tiny, five-foot-four or so, slender but shapely, with brunette hair and big green eyes. Dressed like a Puritan, she was covered in a black wool gown with long sleeves, high-necked bodice, petticoats, corset, shawl, and bonnet.

You could take a British girl out of London, but you couldn’t take London out of the girl. In the sultry heat, how did she breathe? How did she keep from passing out for lack of air?

She was alone with no maid or chaperone, which was incredibly reckless. Didn’t she realize how hazardous it was to be out by herself? Didn’t she understand the perils? The only females in the despicable spot were whores and other doxies, and the only males were criminals and cretins.

She was so obviously out of her element, and she would be too great a temptation for any miscreant to resist.

Three Spanish sailors had her surrounded, and they were leering, touching her bonnet, pulling on the ribbon to remove it. She was swatting at their fingers, but not having much luck at pushing them away.

She had a black parasol, and when one of the reprobates grew particularly odious, she swatted him with it very hard. The whack had to have smarted, and his temper flared. He grabbed the offending item, yanked it away, and tossed it into the street. A carriage was rolling by, and the horse stepped on it and crushed it.

Her jaw dropped in astonishment, and for a moment, she looked as if she might burst into tears.

“That was mine, you rude oaf!” She sounded like a schoolteacher, like a nanny who minded unruly children all day and had no patience remaining.

He sighed with exasperation. Once in his life, he’d been the kind of young man who would have leapt to help a damsel in distress. He’d been the kind who’d always behaved as was appropriate to his name and station, but at the ripe old age of thirty, he’d suffered through too many grueling years and had survived too many ordeals he shouldn’t have survived.

He’d learned not to intervene in another’s quarrels or problems. In the seedy world where he’d been stuck for the prior decade, it was a quick way to get killed. He watched out for himself and nobody else, focusing his concentration on the prize at the end of his road.

He didn’t have time to fuss with a ridiculous Brit who didn’t have the sense God gave a gnat. But when the sailors leaned in, when the burliest one slipped an arm around her waist—as if he was about to carry her off—Hayden had to intercede.

He stormed over and seized the lout, lifting him off his feet and flinging him away. His companions whirled about, fists up, hoping to brawl, but they didn’t dare.

He was tall and muscular, and he resembled the bandit others assumed him to be. He was armed to the teeth, knives at his belt, pistols on his hips, a sword slung over his back.

Wearing tan trousers, knee-high boots, and a flowing white shirt, he had a gold earring dangling from his ear. His blond hair hadn’t been barbered in an eternity, and it curled around his shoulders. His blue, blue eyes blazed with fury.

He appeared deadly and dangerous, and they hesitated.

They were drunk, their reflexes slow. In a flash, he had a pistol in his hand, and he clasped one of them by the neck, the barrel pressed to his forehead.

Both men froze. The brute he’d hurled to the ground froze too, then slithered off into the crowd.

“You’re bothering the lady,” Hayden said in perfect Spanish. His travels had left him fluent in six languages, and he could curse, barter, and haggle in a dozen more.

“We were just having some fun,” one claimed. “We meant no harm. There’s no need for violence.”

“Isn’t there?” Hayden caustically inquired. “Apologize to her.”

His demeanor was lethal, and his tone brooked no argument. They nodded in an obsequious fashion. “Perdone, senorita. Perdone que le moleste.”

He released the man he was holding, but he didn’t lower his pistol or return it to his holster until he was certain they’d vanished. Then he spun on the hapless ninny he’d just rescued.

Up close, she was very pretty. She was twenty or maybe a few years older. Her cheeks were rosy as a dairy maid’s, and freckles dotted her nose. Her lips were rosy too, full and lush and created for kissing so that any fellow who stared at her for more than two seconds would start considering all sorts of things he shouldn’t consider.

But Hayden was made of sterner stuff. He had no use for foolish, innocent maidens, and he was irked by her stupidity. Because of it, he’d have to constantly be on guard while he was on Tenerife. The three curs, accompanied by their chums, would likely attack him in an attempt to redeem the power they’d surrendered when he’d chased them off.

He was tired of fighting, tired of dealing with idiots, and he had no desire to put himself in jeopardy over a woman. A woman! It was never worth it.

“Thank you, sir,” she said. He was too aggravated to respond, and she frowned. “Do you speak English?”

“Yes, I speak English.”

She smiled a smile he felt clear down to his toes. “You’re from home! How lovely! I’m very grateful for your assistance.”

He should have simply replied with a polite, you’re welcome, but somewhere during his protracted tribulations, he’d lost his ability to display any courtesy. Instead, he asked, “What is your name?”

“Miss Barnes. Helen. Helen Barnes.”

“What the hell were you thinking?” he snapped.

“Ah…what? And don’t you dare curse at me.”

“We are standing at the docks in Santa Cruz, a town that is notorious for its criminals and slavers, yet you are strolling about as if you’re in the park in London. It’s not safe here for you. Not under any circumstance.”

“I know that. If I had a chaperone, don’t you suppose I would have brought her with me?”

“How can I guess? If you’re deranged enough to strut about in such a treacherous place, you might engage in any insane conduct. I ought to take a switch to you.”

“A switch!”

“It’s probably the only way I could get your attention.”

“Trust me, sir, you have my attention. Now then, it’s obvious you’re an important fellow who’s been delayed by my paltry troubles, and I have errands to complete. If you’ll excuse me…?”

“I don’t excuse you.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but I’m far past the day when I’ll be scolded by any man, especially one who is a stranger to me.”

She marched off the boardwalk and down into the dusty street where her assailant had tossed her parasol. The sticks were broken and jutting out at odd angles, but she was determined to retrieve it anyway. She bent down to scoop it up without glancing in either direction.

A heavy cart was lumbering toward her, the horse not noticing her presence, and she didn’t notice the horse. She was about to be run over.

The woman was a menace! It was no wonder she was single. She was the type who would need to be saved from repeated disasters. He pitied the man who was ever rash enough to become involved with her.

Again, he nearly continued on, but she had no capacity to take care of herself.

He jumped like an acrobat, leaping over and wrenching her away just as the horse’s hooves crashed down on the parasol. The cart’s wheels rolled over it, squashing it even more.

She didn’t realize...