Soldier of Fortune: The King's Courtesan (Rakes and Rogues of the Retoration Book 2) Read Online Free

Walters he’d begun to doubt if even that were true. They’d been hot on the trail of William de Veres, a Royalist cavalier who played at highwayman and spy for the exiled Stuart king. Elizabeth had been up to something. He’d spent far too long reading men and situations not to know, but the Irish campaigns had left his honor so sullied that all that mattered was protecting an old friend’s daughter. He made it his duty to help her, and for a while he’d felt clean again. The deception went unnoticed. Those who knew him thought him cold, capable and as unbending as steel. He’d learned long ago to guard his secrets and keep his true thoughts to himself.
    Now the wars were over and the king restored they were all proud Englishmen again. Men no longer declared themselves for crown or Parliament and all was forgiven it seemed. He’d made a career out of war, but he was sick of fighting and killing. It was time to try settling down to the quiet life of a country gentleman again. Maybe this time he’d build some semblance of a normal life and find a little peace.
    But there is still one left. To find and kill a man on the field of battle or during a campaign was one thing. To find and kill a man who’d fled the country and spent the past ten years in exile was another. He wasn’t even sure he had the stomach for it anymore.
    He paced the halls, his footsteps echoing behind him like some damned ghost. Cressly .Once it rang with children’s laughter. He had raced her through these halls. At times he imagined he could hear her still. Her merry laughter and the patter of running feet as she chased after him. That was before a group of drunken cavaliers had come and woken something savage. All that chased him now were the hollow remnants of troubling dreams—distant sounds of hoarse shouting, artillery fire, and the stomping of booted feet. Cressly was all he had left to hold on to. Even if it is as bare and haunted as me . I haven’t forgotten, Caroline. I promise you he’ll pay .
    He tossed back what remained of his drink, surprised to note he’d wandered all the way to the library. Flashes of lightening illuminated the room in flickers of silvery light painting the furniture, fireplace, and rows of books in hues of bluish-grey and black. They jumped out in stark relief, transforming what was once familiar into a harsh and alien landscape. His image flickered before him, reflected in the window. His sandy hair looked white—his eyes bruised and hollow like one of the unseen things his staff believed walked Cressly late at night. Christ I even scare myself!
    Tossing a log into the fire, he kicked it with a booted foot, waiting for the coals to spark and flame before pouring another tot of whisky and settling into an overstuffed chair. The fire gave him just enough light to read by. He picked through the mail listlessly, but his gaze sharpened as he neared the bottom of the pile. There were two letters, both notable for the quality of paper and their ornate seals. One was addressed in a fine cursive script while the other bore the royal seal. His hand hovered a moment before picking one up. The letter was from Elizabeth Walters.
    Elizabeth. Hugh’s daughter. Many had been the time he’d watched her from afar when he’d been to visit her father. A solemn-faced, shy little girl, motherless and always alone. He had made it his mission to draw her out, engaging her in conversation and bringing her little gifts. Her father had not disapproved and it brought him pleasure to make her smile. She’d even laughed for him the day he’d set her on his horse. He’d offered her marriage after Cromwell took her lands. He’d owed that much to her father. But she’d refused him, choosing the company of a noted rake and libertine instead, following him when he was banished from England in disgrace.
    He understood why. He was all but hollow inside. No doubt, she had sensed the flaws deep within him—the violence, the coldness,