Come Near Me
Authors: Kasey Michaels
Tags: #romance, #marriage, #love story, #gothic, #devil, #historical romance, #regency, #regency romance, #gothic romance, #love and marriage
Praise for Kasey
Michaels’s
“Kasey Michaels shows an inventive, dark side
in this highly intriguing tale of the ultimate battle between good
and evil. Renowned for her unique, creative abilities, Kasey
Michaels stretches her talents into new areas.
Come Near Me
grabs hold, then tightens its grip. This is a truly sophisticated,
thought-provoking reading experience...”
—
Romantic Times
, 4 1/2 stars, Top
Pick
“Using wit and romance with a master’s skill,
Kasey Michaels aims for the heart and never misses.”
— #1
New York Times
bestselling author
Nora Roberts
“Kasey Michaels creates characters who stick
with you long after her wonderful stories are told. Her books are
always on my nightstand.”
—
New York Times
bestselling author
Kay Hooper
“A writing style, voice, and sense of humor
perfectly suited to the era and the genre.”
—
Publishers Weekly
Electronic Edition Copyright 2014: Kathryn A.
Seidick
E-Book published by Kathryn A. Seidick at Smashwords,
2014
Original Print Edition published, 2000
Cover art by Tammy Seidick Design,
www.tammyseidickdesign.com
EBook Design by
A Thirsty Mind Book
Design
, 2014
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may
be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means,
electronic or mechanical, including photography, recording or any
information storage and retrieval system without written permission
of the author.
To Marianne Willman, mystic and soothsayer.
To Ruth Ryan Langan, angel and mother earth.
To Patricia Gaffney, mischievous sylph.
And to Nora Roberts, a delightful mix of all of the
above.
... and here’s a mocha latte for someone I owe a big
cup of foo-foo coffee.
Table of
Contents
Michaels
Now Available as
Digital Editions:
Kasey’s “Alphabet” Regency Romance Classics
The Tenacious Miss Tamerlane
The Playful Lady Penelope
The Haunted Miss Hampshire
The Belligerent Miss Boynton
The Lurid Lady Lockport
The Rambunctious Lady Royston
The Mischievous Miss Murphy
Moonlight Masquerade
A Difficult Disguise
The Savage Miss Saxon
The Ninth Miss Noddenly
, a novella
The Somerville Farce
The Wagered Miss Winslow
Kasey’s Historical Regencies
A Masquerade in the Moonlight
Indiscreet
Escapade
The Legacy of the Rose
Come Near Me
Out of the Blue
(A Time Travel)
Waiting for You
Someone to Love
Then Comes Marriage
Kasey’s Contemporary Romances
Can’t Take My Eyes Off Of You
Too Good To Be True
Love To Love You Baby
Be My Baby Tonight
I wish I loved the human race;
I
wish I loved its silly face;
I wish I loved the way it walks;
I wish I loved the way it talks;
And when I’m introduced to one;
I wish I thought
What jolly fun.
— Sir Walter A. Raleigh
A Small Society
By seeing London, I have seen as much of
life as the world can show.
— Samuel Johnson
After...
It’s worse than a crime, it’s a blunder.
— Antoine Boulay De La Meurthe
“T
he devil you
say.”
Adam Dagenham, Marquis of Daventry, settled
his long, lean body more comfortably against the pillar at the edge
of the dance floor and smiled indolently at the man who had spoken.
“The devil I do say, sir. You asked the identity of that ‘glorious
hoyden in the sea-green gown’ and I replied: ‘my wife’. Now, do you
run off, terrified of my wrath, or linger to offer your
condolences?”
“My felicitations would be more likely,” the
gentleman replied in his deep, melodious voice, bowing most
formally to Daventry. “Allow me, if I might, to introduce my
blundering self. I am Burnell. Edmund Burnell. Late of points south
and east, all of them most forgettable, and for the moment residing
in London with my dear aunt, the Lady Gytha Jagger. The woman, I
might add, who suggested I approach you for my answer when I first
inquired as to the identity of—well, of your wife. I imagine she
thought she was being amusing.”
“Ah, Lady J,” Daventry said, shooting a quick
glance to the rank of dowagers. He spotted the hatchet-faced old
woman waving one gloved and heavily ringed hand and favored her
with a slight inclination of his head, acknowledging the hit.
“Dear, dear, old bitch. She does enjoy her fun, doesn’t she?”
Daventry took one last look toward the dance
floor and at his wife. He saw the sparkle of her smile, the
overbright glitter in her green eyes, more than a hint of slim
ankle as she lifted her skirts and moved with the dance.
Yes. That was his wife all right. Charlotte
Victor Dagenham, Marchioness of Daventry. Sherry. His Sherry. And
he was her Adam. For their sins....
He lazily, belatedly, introduced himself,
then pushed away from the pillar and looked more closely at his new
acquaintance, this Edmund Burnell. Tall. Blond. Quite handsome in
both his face and dress. Charming smile. Laughing blue eyes.
Intelligent
blue eyes. Likable. Interesting fellow. Very
interesting. Well, diverting, at least. God knew Daventry needed a
little diversion.
“Crushing bore, this ball, isn’t it? Probably
the flattest of this short Fall Season. At least of some of us,”
Daventry said, shooting his cuffs, looking at the man, assessing
him even as he smiled. “Burnell? I was just about to go drown
myself in some of Lady Petersham’s best brandy. Do you care to join
me?”
Edmund Burnell frowned slightly, his gaze
flitting swiftly to the marchioness of Daventry before he smiled at
his new acquaintance. “You’ll leave her here? Unprotected?”
Daventry threw back his dark head and
laughed. “Unprotected? My wife? You have it the wrong way round,
friend. I leave London unprotected. Now, come. We’ll drink, perhaps
find ourselves a deck of cards. You do play, don’t you?”
“Oh, yes,” Burnell replied smoothly,
following after Daventry, his cool blue gaze still on the
marchioness. “I always enjoy a game.”
~ ~ ~
Sherry stood in front of the glass, watching
her husband’s reflection as he prowled the bedchamber, wanting to
leave, knowing he would not. Could not.
It would be better if he did leave. She could
scream then. Tear at her hair. Throw herself across the bed and
weep until she slept. Dreamed. Woke sobbing...
How handsome he was, even when his face wore
the dark scowl that had become so familiar, too familiar. He was
angry with her again, of course. He was always angry with her.
Disappointed in her. Perhaps even sickened by her.
It hadn’t always been this way. Once, he had
been amused, intrigued. Once, she had been the world to him. Or so
he’d said. But that had been before. Sherry thought of her entire
world that way.
Before...
And, now, after...
“Darling?” she said, forcing lightness into
her voice, a smile to her lips. “Emma has wandered off somewhere,
as usual, and it would be fruitless for me to ring for her. Could
you come help me with my gown?”
Adam’s head came up as he stopped his pacing,
looked in her direction. “She’s done another flit? I don’t know why
you keep the woman, Sherry. She’s worthless.”
Sherry lifted her hands to fumble
ineffectually with the heavy diamond clasp of the Daventry family
pearls, her head bowed so that he couldn’t see her face. “She’s the
only one who can make some manageable sense of this infernal mop on
my head, darling. Besides, she—she amuses me.”
“Oh, well, if she
amuses
you,” Adam
said, his voice dripping sarcasm. “Far be it from me to suggest you
part with anyone—or anything—that
amuses
you. Here, let me
get that, before you have six generations of Dagenhams spinning in
their graves as you rip the string and beads go flying into mouse
holes in the corners.”
He used to be able to tell when she was
lying. Had he lost that talent, or had she begun to lie better
these past months? Or perhaps he simply didn’t care anymore. Sherry
bit her lip as she lowered her arms, watching in the mirror as Adam
stepped behind her, his fingers brushing her neck with fire as he
neatly rescued the pearls.
His hands lingered against her skin, searing
a light, fluttering pattern she’d feel for hours. In a moment, her
fastenings were open, and her gown hung loose from her shoulders.
He then moved his attention to the combs in her hair. She watched
as the mass of living fire slid from its pearl-encrusted anchors,
cascading down, a heavy waterfall of bright color reaching nearly
to her waist.
Her skin looked so white against the blaze of
hair. So white against the tanned perfection of her husband’s hands
as he drew her hair away from her shoulders, as his fingers made
their way along her skin, pushing the gown from her shoulders so
that it puddled in a soft green foam at her feet.
No. He wasn’t about to leave her. Everything
else had been lost, irrevocably broken. But there was still this,
God help them both. Maybe it had been all they’d ever had.
She tilted her head slightly, inviting his
kiss against her throat. Longing for it. Praying for it. Offering
up her soul in exchange for it.
She closed her eyes.
“There, that should do,” Adam said, and she
felt the cold evening air reach her as he walked away, turning his
back on her, on his own desires. “I made a new acquaintance
tonight, darling,” he went on as he shrugged himself out of his
jacket, tossed it toward a chair already piled high with Sherry’s
clothing—clothing Emma should have picked up hours ago, put away.
“A Mr. Edmund Burnell. Delightful chap. I think he’s infatuated
with you. But, then, so is the rest of London.”
“Except for you,” Sherry whispered under her
breath. Pinning a bright smile on her face, she stepped away from
her gown, remembering the times Adam had delighted in slowly,
guided by kisses, divesting her of her undergarments. “How lovely,”
she then said, walking behind a Chinese screen, ruthlessly
wrestling off her remaining finery before slipping her arms into a
diaphanous dressing gown. “You should have introduced as, Adam,”
she continued, moving out from the protection of the screen once
more as she tied the satin ribbons at her throat. She gave back
pain for pain. “I’m always delighted to meet a new admirer.”