Authors: Rebecca King
Tags: #romance, #thriller, #historical fiction, #historical romance, #mysteries, #romantic fiction, #romantic adventure, #historical mysteries
Redemption
REDEMPTION
By
Rebecca King
Redemption
By
Rebecca
King
© Rebecca
King 2016
SMASHWORDS EDITION
TABLE
OF CONTENTS
Cover design
by Melody Simmons.
The
act of saving or being saved from sin, error, or evil.
The
action of gaining or regaining possession of something in exchange
for payment, or clearing debt.
Elizabeth ‘Lizzie’ Pinner closed the door behind her, crossed
the terrace and entered the darkness of the lush gardens. The
tranquillity promised by the fresh air and open space urged her to
venture further into the darkness and savour this special moment
she could take for herself. In contrast to the busy din of the
tightly packed ballroom, the gardens were calm and serene. The
gentle scents of roses and hibiscus hung in the air, and she
savoured the delicious scents that tantalised her nose as she
wandered through the various plants and flowers that adorned the
pathway. The delicious scents that assailed her were considerably
less cloying than the heavy perfumes and almost overwhelming stench
of alcohol that lingered within the huge mansion behind her. Just
being outside soothed her beleaguered senses to the point that she
felt positively amiable by the time she entered the darkest shadows
at the end of the garden. She wondered how she managed to remain
inside for as long as she did, and wished that she didn’t have to
go back in there at all before the requisite time had passed and
she was allowed to go home.
“Just a
few minutes more,” she murmured softly to herself as she fingered
the gentle petals of a feather-soft rose brushing her
cheek.
Determined to enjoy this brief foray into freedom, she threw
one last furtive look at the brightly lit French doors then lifted
her skirts and hurried across the lawns before anyone saw her. She
had no idea where she was going. It didn’t really matter as long as
it was away from the latest social engagement she had been ordered
to attend by her step-brother, Julian.
“Oh, how
wonderful,” she gasped when the dark shadow of a small folly tucked
away beneath a huge weeping willow suddenly loomed out of the
darkness. It was further away from the house than she ought to go,
but the almost desperate need to be by herself for a while was just
too much to resist. With one last furtive glance around, she
hurried toward the relative safety of the small stone building, her
heart pounding with anticipation.
It was a
shame there wasn’t something similar at Pendlebury, the Mayfair
town house she resided in with her step-brother, but the gardens
there were barely tended as it was. She knew there was no
possibility of persuading Julian to spend money on frivolities like
outside buildings when he could spend the money on his own
endeavours. Not only did he hate being outdoors, but he was
inclined to spend every penny they had on gambling and whoring. It
was such a shame; she would have loved something like this to spend
her days in, but there was no possibility of her ever being able to
persuade Julian to spend his money such luxuries for
her.
Once
inside the small space, she sighed in delight and leaned against
the cool surface of the rough stone wall while she willed herself
to relax. She felt jaded and cynical from the heady social whirl of
life in London which, with each day that passed, was becoming
increasingly tedious and boring.
Given
half the chance she would be more than happy to leave it all behind
her. If only she could find some way of persuading her brother to
stop his debauchery long enough to allow her to return to the
Pinner family estate, Bristledown. There she knew she could return
to being her old self, and would be considerably more content with
her existence. At Bristledown, she would at least have some hope of
finding a life she could endure with considerably more aplomb than
at present. Here, she was stuck in the middle of London, waiting
around for her brother most evenings. He, meanwhile, spent his time
gambling in dim and dingy backrooms of huge mansions losing wealth
he could no longer afford to lose while she was left to meander
around ballrooms with the same people, nodding and smiling serenely
as though she really wanted to be there.
“If only
life could be more adventurous,” she whispered, wondering what she
would have to do to break the monotonous tedium of life. The only
positive thing about with having Julian as a guardian was that she
was not required to accept guests and take tea with anyone in the
morning room as her mother used to do. Unfortunately, she didn’t
attend recitals or the theatre very often either because Julian
considered those to be a frivolous waste of time; although what he
considered gambling to be was anyone’s guess. Unfortunately, that
left Lizzie with very little to do with her life except wait
around, attend social engagements she didn’t want to go to, and
count the days off.
She just
couldn’t see why Julian insisted on her attendance at these
engagements if he was going to abandon her as soon as he got the
chance, and leave her to her own devices all night long. More often
than not she was left to find her own way home when he eventually
remembered she was still there and ordered her to go. His behaviour
was insulting, and would have been embarrassing if any of the
guests gave the slightest bit of attention to what was going on,
which of course they didn’t. Most of them were just as bad as her
brother, and she disliked them as much as she disliked Julian for
his self-centredness.
“I have
been waiting for you, darling,” a husky voice suddenly murmured
directly into her ear.
Lizzie
squeaked and tried to whirl around as the warmth of a man’s hushed
breath brushed silkily against her ear, but her shoulders nudged
against a broad chest which prevented her from doing so.
“Y-you
have?” she gasped. She tried to look over her shoulder at him but
it was too dark to see anything other than the shadowed outline of
chiselled lips that were as tempting as they were worryingly close.
“You have been waiting f-for me? I-I-”
She knew he had the wrong person but who did he think she
was? More importantly; who was
he?
Before she could move, his hands on her waist
tightened, gently holding her still while he stepped closer and
pressed himself more firmly against her back.
“What
are you doing?” she protested weakly.
Determined to put some distance between them, she placed her
palms on the back of his warm hands and wrapped her fingers around
his. There was something strangely mesmerising about that
mysterious warmth that rendered her weak and uncertain and she held
on for dear life rather than move his questing hands
away.
She
should demand to know his name. She should inform him he had made a
mistake. She should leave before she was ruined completely, but the
words remained locked in her throat. Rather than move she gasped
when he slid his arms around her waist and began to nuzzle her
neck. It was the first time anyone had ever held her in such a way
and it was as shocking as it was startlingly
captivating.
“You
took far too long,” he chided, and began to place random kisses
along her jaw.
The
desire in that deep baritone brought forth another shiver because
his voice sounded hauntingly familiar. The slightly coarse brush of
his cheek against hers along with his height and tender hold made
her head swim. It was difficult to find the strength to remove his
hands when he had just stolen her senses. With what remaining
willpower she had left she tried to focus on what she knew about
him.
He was
tall, with broad shoulders and a deep voice that rumbled sensual
promise. She closed her eyes on a sigh. Immediately, the vision of
the man she wanted her seducer to be swam to the forefront of her
mind. It was enough to make her eyes pop open again. She glanced
with wide eyes at the stone wall before her. She straightened her
back when she felt his hands cup her breasts, and she realised just
how far from grace she had fallen so quickly. Shame immediately
swamped her and tried more forcefully to turn around.
“I think
-”
“Don’t
think, sweet one,” he drawled soothingly. “I am glad you
came.”
Again,
she knew she had heard that smooth voice before, several times in
fact. Her stomach dipped alarmingly as her hands began to shake. If
she was going to put some distance between them she had to do it
now. She shook her head in an attempt to clear her muddled thoughts
but it was useless.
It couldn’t be him. It just couldn’t be
she warned herself. But at the same time as she was trying to
assure herself that she was mistaken she found herself yearning,
praying, deep inside that it
was
him.
“I-I
think you have the wrong person,” she stammered on a
sigh.
“No, I
don’t, my darling,” he whispered and began to pepper kisses down
the side of her neck. “Don’t stop me. I have been watching you all
evening.”
She closed her eyes, and willed her senses to settle enough
for her mind to work. She had never been kissed like this before.
It was strangely intimate, appealing even. While his lips slid
across her shoulder, she tried to remember if she had even
seen
him
at the
ball tonight. Usually their paths invariably crossed at the
majority of the social occasions she attended, no matter how much
she tried to avoid it. On the evenings when she couldn’t find a
reason to avoid him, she was forced to exchange small talk and
pleasantries and always went home with a vague ache around her
heart that left her restless for days. Was it just her imagination,
or her heart, that yearned for it to be him?
It can’t be him
she silently pleaded
to nobody in particular, but deep inside knew that it
was.
Benjamin
McArthur was a solid, respectable member of the ton with a sterling
reputation. So much so that he was considered by many to be the
prize catch of the year. There was no possibility that someone like
him would ever accost her, Lizzie Pinner, in the darkened recesses
of a folly. He had women practically falling at his feet; it was
unconscionable to think that he would resort to seducing them in
gardens. Especially when rumours had recently started to circulate
that he was planning to offer for Melissa Bradwort, the debutant of
the season, any day now.
Convinced that she was wrong and Benjamin McArthur was back
in the mansion somewhere, Lizzie straightened her spine and
redoubled her efforts to get him to release her.
“I think
you need to stop,” she said in a voice that trembled too much to be
convincing.
A husky
chuckle met her ears. She tugged, but the arms around her waist
made no attempt to leave her. When they did ease off slightly she
whirled around to face him, determined to set him straight. To her
consternation, warm lips settled over hers and promptly stole her
breath with a speed that left her reeling before she could offer a
single protest. Rather than move away, she remained where she was;
trapped beneath his tender caress.