Novelty Books
EMERALD by Lauren Royal - Author's Cut Edition
Published by Novelty Books, a division of Novelty Publishers, LLC, 848 N. Rainbow Blvd, Suite 4390, Las Vegas NV 89107
Originally published in paperback by Penguin Putnam Inc.
COPYRIGHT © Lauren Royal 2000, 2011
ISBN 978-1-938907-01-2
5th Edition, July 2013
Cover by Kimberly Killion
Book Design by
Typesetter for Mac
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PUBLISHER'S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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The Jewel Trilogy
Amethyst
Emerald
Amber
Forevermore
(a Jewel Trilogy novella)
The Flower Trilogy
Violet
Lily
Rose
The Temptations Trilogy
Lost in Temptation
Tempting Juliana
The Art of Temptation
England and Scotland, 1667
Jason Chase, the Marquess of Cainewood, is out to bring a blackguard to justice when he crosses paths with a woeful Scottish lad. When the lad turns out to be a lovely Scottish
lass
, he realizes she must be the notorious bounty hunter Emerald MacCallum. Convinced they're after the same man and her very life may be in danger, Jason decides he must keep Emerald close…
In Caithren Leslie's view, there couldn't be enough distance between her and the handsome but overbearing Englishman. She's searching for her wayward brother, but Jason won't let a little thing like the truth interfere with his absurd conviction that she's living under an assumed identity. Mindful of the dangerous traveling conditions, Cait grudgingly accepts his protection. Until, that is, she begins to suspect that mistrust isn't the only emotion between them…and their mission for justice just might turn out to be a quest for love...
For my mother,
Joan Falbaum Royal,
who taught me how to read and write
and
For my father,
Herbert Charfess Royal,
who taught me to appreciate and
respect all genres of literature
With my everlasting love to you both
Chichester, England
August 1, 1667
"Jason, you cannot mean to kill him."
Jason Chase stopped short and wrenched from the grasp his brother Ford had on his upper arm. "By God, no. But I'll learn why he did this and bring him to justice if it's the last thing I do."
"I've never seen you like this—"
"Because
I've
never seen anything like sweet little Mary lying still as death. Or her mother's torn clothes and bruised face as she chanted Geoffrey Gothard's name over and over." Trembling with rage, his hand came up to worry his narrow black mustache. "My villagers." He met Ford's gaze with his own. "My responsibility."
"You've plastered the kingdom with broadsides." Ford's blue eyes looked puzzled, as though he were unsure how to take this new side of his oldest sibling. "The reward will bring him in."
"I'm bloody well satisfied to bring him in myself."
Jason turned and continued down East Street to where Chichester's vaulted Market Cross sat in the center of the Roman-walled town. Carved from limestone, it was arguably the most elaborate structure in all of England…but the beauty of its intricate tracery was at odds with the evil that lurked inside.
An evil that Jason intended to deal with.
Scattered businessmen, exchanging mail and news beneath the dome, paused to glance his way. He recognized the Gothard brothers from the descriptions his villagers had given him: Geoffrey, tall and slim with a stance that bordered on elegant; Walter, shorter and rawboned.
Jason's footsteps echoed as he strode through the open arches, his own brother following behind. In their wake, people seemed to stream from all four corners of town, rushing to catch the show.
Walter Gothard scurried back like a frightened rabbit.
With a click of his spurred heels, Jason came to a halt and drew an uneven breath. He pinned Geoffrey Gothard with a furious gaze. "You'll come with me to the magistrate," he snapped out, surprising even himself at the commanding tone of his voice.
Gothard merely stared at him. For a fleeting moment Ford seemed dumbfounded, then he stepped away and motioned back the crowd.
Jason's hand went to the hilt of his sword. "Now, Gothard."
The other man's gaze held hard and unwavering. "My nearest and dearest enemy," he drawled in an insolent tone.
A line Jason recognized from Shakespeare. The man wasn't uneducated, then—indeed, his bearing was aristocratic, and his clothes, though rumpled from days of wear, were of good quality and cut.
Confusion churned with the anger in Jason's stomach. "Why should you call me your enemy?"
Gothard's gaze roamed Jason from head to toe. "The Marquess of Cainewood, are you not?"
"I am," Jason said through gritted teeth. He wanted nothing more than to go home to his calm routine, back to his estate, his life. But he could think only of little golden-haired Mary following him around the village, begging him for a sweetmeat, her blue eyes dancing with mischief and radiating trust.
Blue eyes that might never open again.
And there stood the man who had battered her, shaded by the Gothic structure overhead.
"I've done nothing to draw your ire—we've never met." Jason squinted at the man in the shadows. Gothard and his brother were pale, with the type of skin that burned and peeled with any exposure to the sun—and it looked as though they'd seen much exposure of late. "Stand down and consign yourself to my arrest."
The man's blue eyes went stony with resentment. Jason blinked. He seemed to know those eyes.
Maybe they
had
crossed paths.
"To the devil with you, Cainewood."
Jason squared his shoulders, reminding himself why he was here. For justice. Honor. The questions could wait—for now.
He slowly counted to ten, focusing on the fat needle of a spire that topped the old Norman cathedral across the green. As responsibility weighed heavily on his mind, his hand tightened on the hilt of his sword.
Father would have expected this of him. To defend what was his, stand up for what was right—no matter the personal cost.
Deliberately he drew the rapier from its scabbard.
"Damn you to bloody hell." Gothard pulled his own sword with a quick
screak
that snapped the expectant silence. "We'll settle this here and now."
Jason advanced a step closer, slowly circled the tip of his rapier, then sliced it hissing through the air in a swift move that brought a collective gasp from the crowd. The blade's thin shadow flickered across the paving stones.
His free hand trembled at his side.
With a roar, Gothard lunged, and the first clash of steel on steel rang through the still summer air.
The vibrations shimmied up Jason's arm. Muscles tense, he twisted and parried, danced in to attack, then out of harm's way. His heart pounded; blood pumped furiously through his veins.
Like most men of his class, he'd been trained and spent countless hours in swordplay—but this was no game. And his opponent was skillful as well.
Two blades clanked with deadly intent in the shadow of the Market Cross.