His Saving Grace (25 page)

To Abby for giving Michael his name. To Nic for begging me to name the butler Alfred. (All you Batman fans will appreciate that.) To Megan, who understands probably more than anyone what this book is really about. And to John, on whom Michael is loosely based. I am in awe of your strength, your dedication, and your will to not only survive but to recover so successfully.

And finally, to all the doctors and nurses and therapists whom John and I met along the way. If not for them, then he would not be here with us today. For that I am eternally grateful. More than you will ever know.

The Notorious Lady Anne

Loving the Earl

Pleasing the Pirate

His Saving Grace

Sebastian’s Lady Spy

PHOTO: PAM JONES PHOTOGRAPHY

His Saving Grace
is S
HARON
C
ULLEN
’s fourth historical romance with Loveswept. Her other novels include
The Notorious Lady Anne,
The Infamous Lord Blythe,
and
Pleasing the Pirate.
Sharon is also the author of romantic suspense, paranormal romance and contemporary romance.

If you’d like to find out more about Sharon and her books, you can visit her at her blog or her website. She’s addicted to social networking, so you can find her on Facebook and Twitter.
Friend her! Like her! Follow her!
She’d love to hang out with you and talk about her passion—
books.

sharoncull
en.net

Facebook.c
om/SharonC
ullenAuthor

@SharonCullen

I don’t know about you, but this is my favorite time of year! Sure, the month is crazy with holiday preparations, but before you know it they’ve come and gone…which always makes me a little sad. Never fear—I’ve some great romances to lift you out of those seasonal doldrums. Loveswept in December
—
guaranteed to keep you on that holiday high!

New this month is the latest tantalizing Rule Breakers novel,
Want It,
from Jennifer Chance, in which an irresistible alpha male follows his ex into a deadly standoff—and reignites a heated affair. A warm welcome to Wendy S. Marcus as she makes her Loveswept debut this month with
Loving You Is Easy
—she’s a survivor of the political front lines and he’s a wounded soldier returning home from the battlefield. Can they place their trust in the power of love? You bet! You’ll be thrilled to know that the conclusion of Ella Patton and Liam Stone’s story is here in Laura Marie Altom’s
Possess
—more of the contentious love affair that began in
Control
. Historical romance fans will adore
His Saving Grace,
by Sharon Cullen, a captivating novel that tells the deeply emotional tale of two devoted lovers facing the ravages of war.

And a little something special for you this month:
Play Me,
a serialization written by
New York Times
bestselling author Tracy Wolff. Five wonderful installments complete a full-size novel, and each section will tantalize you. Listen to this: Aria Winston lives the life of a loner waitressing at a popular Las Vegas casino. Sebastian Caine is the hot son of the owner who manages the business while his father recovers from a life-threatening heart attack. Things heat up fast, and the glimpses of the man behind the façade disturb Aria but also make her want him more (contains BDSM elements).

Wishing you a happy, healthy, and safe holiday season—and just in case Santa doesn’t deliver on the goodies, remember: Loveswept has what you need this month in romance. Until next time…

~Happy Romance!

Gina Wachtel

Associate Publisher

by Bronwen Evans

C
YPRIANS’
B
ALL,
L
ONDON, 1814

“I’m surprised Lord Blackwood has graced us with his presence. It’s common knowledge he’s enamored with the French ballerina, Juliette Panache. I doubt he’s in the market for another mistress.”

“With his appetites, he no doubt has a stable of mistresses.”

“True. I heard he once pleasured ten women in one night.”

Lady Portia Flagstaff moved closer to the group of courtesans salivating over Grayson Devlin, Viscount Blackwood, as if he were a succulent feast to be devoured. Many years of experience allowed her to damper down her jealousy. She could hardly blame any woman for lusting after Lord Blackwood. She counted herself, along with most of England’s females, among his panting throng.

Being madly in love with Grayson was her penance for being so mean to him when they were younger. She’d tried everything she knew to exile him from her thoughts, but it was hard to forget him when he was the talk of the
ton
.

Lord Blackwood had entered her life just before her tenth birthday. He had always been the best friend of her elder brother Robert, but the day he’d moved permanently into their home, she’d cried in her room for hours. Why did it have to be Grayson,
a boy,
who had survived his family’s carriage accident? She already had five brothers. How could life be so unfair?

Grayson’s sister, Lucinda, was her friend, and Portia couldn’t understand why she’d died when Grayson hadn’t. Portia was too young and frightened to understand, so she’d blamed him.

Lucinda’s death was her introduction to how precarious life could be. Almost dying from a fever at sixteen had been her second lesson. From that moment on, she’d made a vow to live her life to the full. She wanted no regrets when death came calling.

“They say he can outlast any man, and his lovers speak of his prowess with awe. He cares more about a woman’s pleasure then his own—rare indeed. His kind of loving is priceless. I’d even do him for free.” This statement was followed by a gaggle of giggles.

“I’m more interested in learning if he
is
truly hung like a stallion. If so, I’d love to explore the evidence.” More giggles.

“ ’Tis true. Claudette said she could barely walk for a week, but it was well worth the two days spent in his bed.” This statement was followed by a collective sigh.

All the while Portia was listening to the seasoned courtesans, she kept her eyes trained on Lord Blackwood. Simultaneously praying he didn’t see her but wishing that for once he did see her
—a woman
. She knew Grayson looked upon her as a replacement baby sister, when she definitely did not view him as a brother. She never pushed the issue because she was petrified of losing him from her life, but sometimes watching from the shadows, as he flirted and seduced, broke her heart.

He’d find her presence here scandalous, as would most of society, a four-and-twenty unmarried lady, unaccompanied, at such a ball. Her five brothers would be angry, but they understood how confining the
ton
was for a woman of her intelligence. They encouraged her need for independence, respected it. However, Grayson compared her to the one woman he held in highest regard, his dearly departed mother, and therefore he found Portia wanting.

Grayson had a distinct view of women, probably because his mother had died when he was young and he idolized her memory. Lady Blackwood had been considered a sweet, dutiful paragon of virtue, and no woman could live up to her reputation. Grayson’s women generally fell into two groups. There were women, beautiful and sensual, often in certain sexually paid employment, whom he wanted in his bed. Then there were the other women, demure and respectable. Women he considered marriage material. Unfortunately, Portia fell into a third group, women he could not place in one of the previous two categories.

She
was
aware that if her identity became known, she’d be ruined. She’d thought her quest for knowledge was worth society’s scorn. However, as the evening progressed, it appeared that this was her worst venture yet.

“Oh, I say. Who’s the other handsome gent with Lord Blackwood? Perhaps we can entice the two men to play for the night.”

Portia’s heart skipped a beat. She knew without looking who stood behind Lord Blackwood—her brother Robert. Where one went, the other followed.
Dash it all.
If Robert caught her, there would be hell to pay. He might understand her thirst for knowledge, but he’d not condone her being here, or the fact that she came alone.

“That’s Lord Flagstaff, and let me tell you, he has no problem standing to attention.” The Cyprian glanced at her four companions. “I’m sure the two of them can keep us well pleasured tonight.” At the murmured assent, she added, “Are we all in agreement? We five shall entertain these two fine gentlemen.”

“Let’s have ourselves a private party,” tittered another. “I would die to be either of these gentlemen’s mistress.”

Portia’s gaze narrowed thoughtfully. How on earth…five with two? She had so much to learn. She’d come tonight purely as a voyeur; however, she had no intention of watching her brother, and there was no way she could watch Grayson make love to another woman. Her mother did say curiosity often led down a path one did not wish to follow.

It was all Rose’s fault. Her best friend had just taken her first lover, having been widowed two years ago. Rose positively glowed, and Portia wanted to learn more about the act that gave so much pleasure, especially since she’d not be indulging in the biblical sense anytime soon. She had no experience in carnal matters, yet she didn’t wish to die a virgin. She wanted to learn the secrets of conducting an affair. As she had no intention of marrying any man except Lord Blackwood, she could see herself ending up an old spinster, leaving her
I must experience
list unfulfilled.

Several years ago, after recovering from her lung fever, she’d written a list of the things she wanted to have intimate knowledge of in this life. Making love and experiencing passion was on her list. Oh, she was not in any hurry to engage in a carnal affair, but she wanted to learn, to be prepared. Who knows, she might even learn how to attract Grayson’s interest.

When she set her sights on something, she always followed through. Where better to watch and learn about sexual congress than at a Cyprians’ ball? She just hadn’t counted on Lord Blackwood or her brother attending. She had been advised that Robert and Lord Blackwood were otherwise engaged.

“It looks as though we’re in luck, ladies. He’s staring at us quite determinedly.”

Please don’t let him recognize me.
If she did not want to be seen, why then did her blood fire with excitement merely because she was in the same room as the legendary rake?

Tonight he outshone every other man. He presented an enticing image of true masculinity, striking features breathlessly on display despite the event being a masquerade ball. His fair hair curled thick and glossy about his ruggedly handsome face, copper highlights glinting in the chandelier’s light. His black domino, edged in gold, hugged his large frame as if it, too, wanted to touch every part of him.

She wasn’t the only woman tracking his movements through the crowd. His presence became the focus of a bevy of beauties all eager to attract his interest and purse—some women did not care about the money he could provide; they were interested more in pleasure.

Portia reached up and straightened her turban, ensuring that every scrape of her distinctive red hair was hidden. Her face was completely concealed by a mask, which, although annoying to wear in the heat of the ballroom, was a necessity for her diversion.

A wicked thought flashed through her head. What would she do if Lord Blackwell were to find her charms appealing? Just then, from across the room, his gaze clashed with hers and flared with obvious interest. Or perhaps it was the whole group of women who caught his eye. There were many here far more beautiful than she.

How insulting that the one time she’d managed to attract his attention, she was dressed as a lady of ill repute. She knew her costume was just as scandalous as that of the other ladies. She’d wanted to blend in. The décolletage of the harem top was lower than she’d ever worn, and it left her midriff on display. The splits in her Turkish harem pants exposed flesh very few had ever seen.

Heat prickled over her skin as his eyes caressed and explored, inspecting the merchandise. The distance offered no protection. His penetrating stare stirred her senses. Want, need, and desire surged in her blood. His lean, chiseled features broke into a
come kiss me
smile, the look arrogant and knowing, as if no woman ever denied him anything. The handsome viscount commanded attention and was conceited enough to expect to be obeyed.

The effect of his smile made her lose her breath
and
her courage. Her reflexes screamed at her to flee, and she had the sudden urge to hide.

“Oh, look. He’s coming this way. Bosoms out, ladies.”

One of the courtesans sighed. “I know our code, but I could lose my heart to a man such as Lord Blackwood.”

“Don’t be daft. These arrogant aristocrats have no hearts. Lord Blackwood may be a magnificent lover, but he’s not interested in love, especially with the likes of us. Remember the tales? His last mistress was stupid enough to fall in love with him, and he left faster than he can get you to drop your pantaloons.”

Their words hardly surprised Portia. Grayson was no different from any of the wealthy lords she knew. Women had a place, either in a bed for pleasure, or in a bed to provide an heir. Both positions rarely involved the heart.

To her horror, she noted the men were almost upon them.
Move.
Her feet would not obey her command. Grayson prowled closer, his smile growing more knowing as she stood like an obedient puppy waiting desperately to be patted. Thank goodness she wore a mask.

Attending this ball had been a terrible idea.

Portia managed to tear her eyes from his hypnotic stare and back away. Turning quickly, she slipped through the frolicking throng and, after several minutes, found herself in one of the many side corridors, shutting the door firmly behind her. She closed her eyes and leaned back against the cool wood panels, trying to catch her breath. That had been too close for comfort.

She needed a place to hide until it was safe for her to slip home without her brother or Grayson being any the wiser. She was sure it would not be long before the men were otherwise engaged. Portia rubbed her chest again. Images of Grayson with those women would not leave her in peace, heightening the throbbing at her temples. She would not cry. She had only herself to blame for being in this pickle.

Suddenly, the door she’d just swept through opened and a man stepped into the corridor, closing the door quietly behind him. She knew without looking who it was.

“What the blazes do you think you’re doing here?” Portia winced at the familiar sound of Grayson’s voice. She glanced up to find his handsome features clouded in anger. He probably had no idea that his scolding tone had set her heart racing—and not in fright.

“Merely observing. Unlike you, I suspect.”

He was looking up and down the corridor. “I should tell Robert and let him wring that pretty neck of yours.”

She smiled. He’d said
pretty neck
. “How did you recognize me?”

He stepped closer, almost vibrating with suppressed anger. She pressed back into the wall. His hand reached beside her ear, and a finger wound around a stray curl and tugged. “I’d recognize hair this vibrant anywhere. So would many others.”

She struggled to think as her body reacted to his proximity. His light sandalwood fragrance sent her senses reeling. She came out fighting. “I should have known you’d attend this event.”

A growl rumbled deep in his chest. “Well, I had no bloody idea you would. What would Robert think if he saw you? It would break his heart. He has enough to worry about without his wayward sister causing another scandal.”

Portia tried to understand the meaning behind his words. What had Robert to worry about? Before she could ask, he added, “Your selfishness knows no bounds. First it was your cider business, flaunting it in society’s face, and now you’re at a Cyprians’ ball.” His eyes narrowed and he drew in a breath. “Why Robert hasn’t seen you married off, I’ll never know.”

“I have no intention of being married off to be a nobleman’s baby maker. I will not marry unless it is to my heart’s desire.”

“Is that why you are here? To meet a lover?”

“No.” Her anger was roused by his sanctimonious words. “But if I were, it would be none of your business. I don’t condone double standards.”

“The world is full of double standards. These are the rules we live by. Robert needs to leave knowing his family is protected. He can’t have his mind filled with worry over his—”

“Leave?” She put her hand up to her mouth to stop the nausea from rising. “He’s going to war, isn’t he?” Grayson’s lips firmed. His curse her answer. “No.” She shook her head. “He’s the eldest, the heir. He can’t.” She looked at Grayson with wide eyes. “Oh God. You are both going.”

Grayson could not look her in the eye. “I’m going to fight Napoléon because of Robert. To protect him.”

“Why is Robert going? You are the last of your line. You can’t go,” she said crossly.

“Robert is going to watch over Philip. He’s scared the young hothead will try to do something heroic but stupid and get himself killed.”

Portia slumped against the wood. Philip was only a year younger than Robert and four years older than she. Robert and Philip were very close. Philip had been declaring his intention to fight the French. She hated the idea of war. If women were in charge of this world, she was sure, there would not be any war. A woman who bore a child would never want him to fight.

Grayson said, “Can I appeal to the small part of you that is a Flagstaff and ask that you give Robert no reason to worry? At least until this war is over. Then you can go back to your scandalous ways.”