Lady Ambleforth's Afternoon Adventure by Ann Lethbridge, Barbara Monajem, Annie Burrows, Elaine Golden, Julia Justiss and Louise Allen by Various Authors
“Rush him!” the Duke snarled to Hodges.
“Impossible!” Hodges wailed. “I’m much too overheated already to run!”
In the next instant, Deepwater tossed down one of his pistols, which fired in the direction of the Duke, halting him in mid-stride. Grabbing her arm, the corsair raced with her toward the tunnel’s secret entrance.
Just before they reached it, he halted abruptly and kicked at a bracing timber. With a creaking groan, the tunnel ceiling buckled, then fell in a rush of dirt, debris and crashing beams. As the dust settled behind them, Deepwater led her out into the daylight.
“So, my lovely lady, will you come with me? Make for the ship I’ve stationed in the river, sail to London and present this vital evidence before the Crown? The courageous Lady Ambleforth, who thwarted a clever secret ring of British aristocrats spying for the French, would be the toast of the capitol. And Queen of my heart,” he added in a murmur.
Araminta stood irresolute, a hand to her throat where the pulse beat wildly. What should she do?
Abandon caution and go to London with this dashing pirate-turned-King’s-agent?
Find Sir Ed and beg the devilishly attractive local entrepreneur—she had another vision of him rising, naked, from the pond—to escort her safely back to Ambleforth, where she could write out an account of what she’d learned for Deepwater to present to the authorities, while she recuperated from the excitement of today’s adventure?
Claim one last kiss from Jim-Bob before she became respectable Lady Ambleforth again, and returned home to discover whether Groom Jack should be rewarded for rushing to her aid—or sacked for aiding the Duke’s sabotage scheme?
As she debated, Deepwater kept his smouldering gaze fixed upon her.
CHAPTER TWELVE by Ann Lethbridge
Thoughts racing, Araminta stepped out of the tunnel into bright daylight. A broad shouldered fellow blocked her path. Dazzled after the dimness in the tunnel, she blinked. Her mouth dried. Her head spun. While the strong physique resembled that of the highwayman she’d kissed minutes before, the unmasked features slowly taking shape were those of...
“Gabriel?” Her knees gave way. Darkness swallowed her up.
Seconds later she came to her senses cradled in a pair of strong arms and sitting once more on those delectably strong thighs. But looking down at her anxiously was the face of her... her dead husband. “No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “Who are you? Some long lost relative come to claim the title?”
He groaned. “Minna. Oh dearest Minna, forgive me, I did not wish to alarm you. I felt sure you would guess it was me when we kissed.”
Well yes, the kiss had felt achingly familiar, and no one else ever called her Minna, but... “You died. I went to your funeral. I wept.” She struggled in his arms. “What is this? Some sort of horrid jest?”
“Please, darling, let me explain.” He took a deep shuddering breath. “And then if you cannot forgive me, you will never have to see me again.”
Never had she seen her stern husband so anxious. He who had been as cold as granite and twice as strong. She stilled in his arms. “Very well, explain.” She folded her arms across her chest.
“Remember our last conversation. When you railed against my wrapping you in cotton wool, keeping you from having any fun?”
She winced. She’d been feeling very guilty about what she’d said that last time. Even if it had been the truth. “I remember,” she said far more calmly than her racing heart would suggest.
“That day, I realized how selfish I’d been. The first time I saw you, a chit barely out of the schoolroom, I knew I wanted you as my wife. You were the one. So lovely. So full of life. How could I let you loose on the town and risk losing you to some other fellow with far more address, far more charm? Look at the way these other men fell at your feet today.” He glowered, then straightened his shoulders, which seemed broader and more muscular than before. “That day, you showed me how wrong I’d been. Losing my parents at such a young age made me overprotective. Unable to bear the idea of losing you too, I locked you up in an ivory tower, guarding you from harm. I should have trusted you.”
“Yes, you should have. I am not a possession. I am a person.”
He took her hand in his and kissed the inside of her wrist. “A clever, spirited and lovely person.” He looked up at her, his eyes full of regret, and if she wasn’t mistaken, somewhat misty. Her heart gave an unsteady lurch.
“That day, I knew I had to make amends,” he said.
She stared at him, shocked. “So you faked your death?”
“I was so ashamed. I...” His voice became husky. “I loved you so much. And I had treated you so badly. I wanted you to have your heart’s desire. The freedom you craved. To choose the man of your heart.”
“Oh, Gabriel,” she whispered. “Then why all this, today?”
He closed his eyes briefly. “I’m a new man. I’ve made a life in America based on my abilities. But God, Minna darling, I can’t take much joy in it. Not without you. When Silverthorne told me you’d not danced on my grave and not found yourself a new man, I had hope. Still, I was determined you should have your choice.” His chest rose and fell. “You can choose any of these fine men. Honourable. Good friends. Or at least, any but the Dashing cousins. They are a lot of loose screws. Or you can go to London and have your pick. I won’t stand in your way, but I wanted a second chance. To be in the running. To tell you how much I loved you.”
A spurt of indignation coursed through her. “So what happened today was all staged?”
“Not entirely. Those men have adored you from afar for ages. But it was what you said you wanted. Life. Adventure. Freedom to be yourself. And very daring you were too. Kissing a highwayman.”
She raised a brow. “I notice you were the only one who offered a kiss.”
“The others knew they’d be dead if they tried anything of the sort,” he said with a rueful smile. “But whoever you chose, I would abide by the decision. I’m not coming back, Minna. Gabriel, Lord Ambleforth is gone. I’m simply Gabe Blackhawk now, trapper and hunter extraordinaire, farmer. And I am begging you to be my wife, my partner, my own true love.”
Her eyes felt hot and prickled with tears. “Oh, Gabe, I realized how much I loved you only once you were gone. It broke my heart that I never told you, not once, how I felt. You were always so distant. So self-assured. I always felt like a silly schoolgirl.”
“Not silly. Beloved. I was an idiot. Bound by the stupid rules of the ton that never let me tell you how much I truly loved you,” he whispered brokenly, his heart in his eyes. “Kiss me, darling girl, say you forgive me and will be mine henceforth.”
“I do, Gabe. I will.” She reached up and did something she would never have dared in the old days. She kissed him full on the lips, with all the passion she could muster.
When they finally came up for air she glanced around. “Where is Deepwater? Oh, and what about all those poor men, trapped in the tunnel?”
He had the grace to look shamefaced. “The other end was never closed. We couldn’t kill off all those Dukes, now, could we? They are all in the Great Hall at Ambleforth, awaiting your decision. If they haven’t killed each other.”
A laugh bubbled up and she set it free. “You have some very good friends, Mr. Blackhawk.”
“Mmm,” he murmured nibbling on her ear. “And by the way, Silverthorne’s D stands for devoted friend. As I am devoted to you, my dearest darling heart of my soul.”
Joy filled her smile. “Dear Gabe. Thank you for my splendiferous afternoon. Now let us free the rest of your cast of characters and set sail for a new adventure, just you and me, together. For the rest of our lives.”
“Darling Minna, I do not deserve you, but I am far too selfish to give you up.” On that he rose, and side by side they wandered off, hand in hand, with only the occasional kiss to delay their progress as they started their lives anew.
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ABOUT THE AUTHORS
ANN LETHBRIDGE
An army brat born in England, Ann lived all over Britain. Her first love is the Georgian era, and within that, the period known as the long Regency and has twelve full-length novels and nine short stories in print and digital. Now living in Canada, she has a husband and two lovely daughters and a Maltese Terrier called Teaser, who likes to sit on a chair beside the computer while she works. You can find details of her books at www.annlethbridge.com or at her blog www.regencyramble.blogspot.com.
BARBARA MONAJEM - Barbara Monajem wrote her first story at eight years old about apple tree gnomes. She published a middle-grade fantasy when her children were young. Now her kids are adults, and she's writing historical romance for grownups. She lives in Georgia, USA with an ever-shifting population of relatives, friends, and feline strays. Learn more about her books at www.BarbaraMonajem.com
ANNIE BURROWS - Annie Burrows lives in just about the wettest part of the UK, where she spends as much time as she can indoors writing light-hearted regency romances. You can find more about her books at www.annie-burrows.co.uk or come and "like" her on Facebook: www.facebook.com/AnnieBurrowsUK
ELAINE GOLDEN - Elaine Golden is a long time reader and recently published author of Regency romance. She loves to travel, especially when she can visit cool historical locations. She lives in Nashville, TN in the USA. You can learn more about her books at www.ElaineGolden.com.
JULIA JUSTISS - Author of seventeen novels and three novellas set in the English Regency, Julia Justiss has received the Golden Heart for Regency, The Golden Quill, a Favorite Category Book of the Year from All About Romance and finaled for awards ranging from Romantic Times’s Best First Book to the Daphne Du Maurier to a Reader’s Choice for Best Historical Novella. An admitted historical research nerd, Julia loves creating deeply emotional, character-driven historical romance fiction. www.JuliaJustiss.com
LOUISE ALLEN - Louise Allen lives on the North Norfolk coast in the UK and is the author of over forty historical romances. She specialises in the late Georgian/Regency period but has occasionally ventured into other eras. When she is not writing she enjoys haunting the local auction rooms in search of Georgian ephemera or travelling in search of new locations for her stories. www.louiseallenregency.co.uk