The Danger of Dukes Read Online Free Page A

general terms,” she said with a smile. “I do not mind.”
    He sat her down and stared into her eyes. “I don’t want you as my mistress.”
    “But-”
    “No, I want you to marry me. I did mean forever, there will be no breaks. Besides,” he grinned, “my mistress is the sea.”

Chapter Four
     
     
     
    “I don’t think he took the news so well,” she whispered in her husband’s ear. His answering chuckle was payment enough for the act her brother was making. At first he had laughed then he had yelled and now he was simply gaping at them.
                  “You didn’t want a wife,” Jackson stated at Brendan.
                  Brendan nodded. “I didn’t want a wife. I wanted your sister, my old friend.”
                  Then his gaze rested on her, “You needed a husband…so you married him?”
                  “I didn’t want nor need one, but you cannot control love.” She gave her husband’s hand a squeeze. “I guess everything happens for a reason.”
                  Finally Jackson smiled again. “Beauty and the Beast, so the fairy tales are true.”
                  “Which will make your tale of the Three Bears,” she said with a laugh, “just be careful whose house you wonder into, Brother dear.”
     
                  “But by special license?” he asked once again.
     
                  They simply laughed.

 
    A Duke’s Willful Mistake
     
     
     
    This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.
     
    Copyright © 2015
    Cover Design © Wicked Cover Designs
    wix.com/wicked_art/wicked-cover-designs

Unwanted Orphan
     
     
     
     
    England 1819, Blackwood Castle
     
     
     
    Flames licked the stone walls and embers flew away on the strong summer wind, causing the fire to grow stronger by the second. The brokenhearted wail of a small child echoed in the night as a man in a black cloak came rushing out the front door and smoke with a little girl in his arms. Only moments after he stepped into the cool air the roof groaned in protest then caved in.
                  The man looked at the sobbing eight year old in his arms and with a grimace walked to his horse and mounted with her in his arms. He would do the duty asked of him as his final pence and would finally, gratefully disappear forever.
     
     
    …
     
     
    He traveled hard and long into the night the child finally falling in to a restless deep sleep against his chest under his thick black cloak. It would not be long now before he was upon Ravenbrood Abbey.
                  The fortress of the abbey rose above the ancient gnarled trees of the estate, weathered but preserved by nothing more the shear stubbornness of refusing to be condemned to ruins. Well over four hundred years it has lived to its fullest.
                  Crossing through the gates and thundering over the bridge he drew to a stop before the great wooden double doors adorned with iron works. Gently he patted his horse’s neck murmuring his praise and slipped from its back careful not to drop the child. The girl stirred in his arms opening wide blue, trusting eyes that quickly filled with tears, but she did not open her mouth to cry out.
                  Swiftly he was up the stairs banging down the door. Rain had started to fall, his heart was heavy with the deed that had been done and pity for the girl.
                  “Blast it!” roared a man from the other side of the door before it was yanked out to revile a young man in his fine silk dressing robes. When he saw who was at his door his mouth dropped open, agape.
                  “What are you doing here?” he