The Rake and the Recluse REDUX (a time travel romance)

Copyright © 2011 by Jenn LeBlanc

All photographs copyright © Jenn LeBlanc

EXCEPT AUTHOR PORTRAIT ©2010 Barry Gutierrez (BarryGutierrez.com)

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission,

except in case of brief quotations for critical articles or reviews.

For information contact

Jenn LeBlanc

[email protected]

@JennLeBlanc (twitter)

http://JennLeBlanc.com

http://IllustratedRomance.com

ISBN 13 : 978-0-9837954-7-6

The Rake and the Recluse - Redux (a time travel romance)

(Digital edition)

Published in the United States of America

•••••

This novel is a work of fiction.

The characters, incidents, places and dialogue are figments of the author’s imagination

and are not to be construed as real.

Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Over the past year I have received an incredible amount of support. This book would not be what it is today without the help of every single one of you.

Elise Rome, an amazing author who provided mentoring as well as stellar copy and content editing for this new edition.

Kati “McSquee”
of Romancing Rakes for her undying devotion to my story and my images and her neverending promotion.

Rita Jett
of Not Another Romance Blog for a good bit of fun anytime, as well as the coolest
book trailer
ever made.

Jamie Lynn
of For The Love of Romance and
Danielle
of Ramblings From This Chick round out the crew, and make for insane late nights on twitter.

A special thank you to Mr. LeBlanc, for continuing to support me.

Melinda, Cora, Elena and Auberry, thank you for all of your help in studio.

Monika Graf the awesome, for her beautiful hair and makeup.

Derek, my hero, there wouldn’t be this book without you.

So many people helped to make the original edition of this book a success. So many that there is no possible way for me to thank everyone here. But I invite you to visit my
website
and check out the
links
for all the places I’ve been, these bloggers have made this year the most exciting one yet.

His Grace, Gideon Alrick Trumbull, 10th Duke of Roxleigh :
Derek Hutchins

Francine Adelais Larrabee : Cora Kemp

For Momma, who always believed in me.

I wrote this fairy tale for you.

April, 1880

Madeleine ran as if the devil himself were on her. She glanced back when she heard the hounds then tripped, scraping her hands as her head whipped forward. Her temple struck a tree root. She groaned, feeling the trail of blood marching slowly down her forehead, the coinciding beats in her skull growing with the advance. She crawled forward, slowly at first, dirt caking the scrapes on her palms before she gathered up her skirts and scrambled to her feet.

He will never catch me
.
I will never go back, I will never be his. I will die first.

She tried to catch her breath as she stumbled wildly. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she fought the barrage of low-hung branches and high-reaching roots. She leaned against a tree trunk to steady herself, her hand shaking as she yanked at her corset, trying to loosen it.

She heard the dogs to her right and concentrated on her bearing. This was her only chance. The Earl of Hepplewort became more daring and devious with every sunset and she didn’t believe her fiancé intended to wait for the marriage before making her his own. She shifted direction to compensate for the chase and glimpsed the bright sunlight of a break in the tangled woods. She knew it wasn’t far to the manor, but had no idea how she was to survive the run across open meadow with his hounds on her. Surely Lord Hepplewort would call them off before the duke discovered his trespass. Surely she would make it to safety.

She heard the group of hounds approach in the rustling of the underbrush with the snarling and snapping of jaws and her heartbeat rushed to her throat, forcing a scream that tore through her like a jagged knife. The rumble of a carriage gave her hope and she drove herself toward it through the trees as one of the hounds tore at her skirts. The horn blew, recalling the dogs as she launched herself from the protective covering of the forest—directly into the path of a pair of horses.

“Mon Dieu!” The words ripped through her as the large black horses startled and reared, their frightened neighs filling the clearing with warning. She fell back as their front legs came within a hairsbreadth of her nose, then the first hoof came down, dispatching the hound by her feet with a horrid shriek. She flung her arms about her head and prayed for a swift end.

•••

April, today

The alarm went off at 5 a.m. and Francine hit the snooze. It went off again at 5:10 and 5:15. At 5:20 she rolled out of bed, bleary-eyed but moving.
I should just go back to bed
, she thought.
The office would miss me for exactly five minutes before some other up-and-comer like Isaac stepped up to steal my position.
She sneered.
Let him have it.

She dressed in soft black yoga pants and a washed-out green tank and turned for the door of her bedroom as she slipped into her shoes. Grabbing her iPod, she hurried down the hall toward the fire escape. She ran nine flights down to the second floor landing, then back up and down four more times before returning to her apartment.

Still moving quickly, she stripped her clothes off and threw them, missing the basket by the bathroom door. Instead, they landed on the ceramic tiles with a sweaty thwack. She yanked the shower on and brushed her teeth as she considered the candles and bath oils she kept on a shelf by the tub, wondering when she would have the time, or inclination, to use them. She never seemed to make it past the browse, dream, purchase phase.

Thirty minutes later Francine looked at the clock and grunted, then gazed in the mirror and took a deep breath. Her short golden hair brushed her shoulders in gentle waves. Her wide mouth was held in a tight line of concentration.

She relaxed and smiled, checking her suit for stray hairs as she flattened the lapels and smoothed the skirt around her wide hips. She glanced up at her face, catching the shadow of insecurity in her own gaze. She poked her tongue out. “Blah!” she exclaimed, staring at the mirror. As if it wasn’t bad enough that she was terrified of her presentation today, she had to be obsessing about looks, too.