Mad for Love: Even Gods Fall in Love, Book 2 (30 page)

About the Author

Lynne Connolly has the best job in the world. She writes historical, paranormal and contemporary romance and she doesn’t seem to be able to stop. She has won a number of awards, including two EPPIES, and she lives in damp, rainy England with her family and her mews.

Once a year she crosses the ocean to visit friends, attend conventions and other shindigs, and promote her books, so watch her blog if you want to meet her. She loves travelling and meeting people who she will then use in her books, but then, authors are like that.

Her website is at
www.lynneconnolly.com

You can email her at
[email protected]
or
[email protected]

She tweets @lynneconnolly

Her Facebook is at
www.facebook.com/lynneconnollyuk

And her blog is here:
lynneconnolly.blogspot.co.uk

One day she’ll grow up and get a proper job, but not just yet!

Look for these titles by Lynne Connolly

Now Available:

Triple Countess

Last Chance, My Love

A Chance to Dream

Met by Chance

A Betting Chance

Secrets

Seductive Secrets

Alluring Secrets

Tantalizing Secrets

Richard and Rose

Yorkshire

Devonshire

Venice

Harley Street

Eyton

Hareton Hall

Maiden Lane

Lisbon

Even Gods Fall in Love

Lightning Unbound

Coming Soon:

Even Gods Fall in Love

Arrows of Desire

What the heart wants, it finds a way to take.

Lightning Unbound

© 2014 Lynne Connolly

Even Gods Fall in Love, Book 1

When Gerard Sterling, Earl of Ellesmere, races to Bethlehem Hospital—also known as Bedlam—to rescue a wrongly committed friend, he’s astonished to hear a voice in his head that doesn’t belong to his sister, with whom he shares a mind link.

Fascinated and enchanted by Lady Faith Bradley, inspired by her dedication saving her brother from the horrors of the Incurables ward, he includes them both in his rescue mission. But woo her he cannot—not with a fatal disease that saps more of his strength every day.

Faith would slay dragons to keep her brother safe from her father’s scheme to set his simpleminded heir aside. But it’s Gerard, who feels the hot breath of death down his neck, who wins her heart.

Then it is revealed that Gerard is none other than the reincarnation of Zeus, and they face a far more dangerous enemy—Kronos, whose plan to regain power includes Gerard’s death. To foil his plan, Gerard and Faith must hold firm to the power of love…and defy Fate itself.

Warning: Be careful—beautiful clothes, perfect manners and heat between the sheets are bound to keep you awake at night!

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Lightning Unbound:

Gerard woke Faith with a mental request.
Can you meet me in the garden?

Yes. In about twenty minutes.

In the summerhouse at the end of the garden, Gerard leaned back against the hard wall and closed his eyes. He could see her in his mind’s eye, every luscious curve. In his imagination he watched her cross to the clothes press, her light nightgown drifting over her delectable body, showing a glimmer of warm flesh.

Gerard opened his eyes and stared at the wall opposite, fighting for control. It would never happen. He could only yearn for what he could never have. Gerard had realized a long time ago that the continuation of the title in the direct line was far more important to his father than any mere person. What he wanted, the agony he had gone through, would go through, was of no importance to his surviving parent.

The sound of feet tapping on the path alerted him to her approach. Closing his eyes again, he sent her an image of his whereabouts. This was easy, even easier than with Deborah. The footsteps paused, then he heard the scrape of her heel when she turned and headed for the summerhouse.

In a moment she arrived, neatly attired, her hair drawn into a soft knot at her nape, a thick shawl thrown over her loose gown to protect her against the early morning chill. Her figure was neat, even without stays. He’d seen the sweet curve of her waist, the flare of her hips. His mouth went dry. He swallowed.

“Good morning, sir,” she said brightly. Too brightly.

He got to his feet. “Good morning. Won’t you sit down?” He was surprised to hear his voice, low and steady, seemingly in control.

She smiled and took a seat. He sat next to her, on a long bench. There were no cushions. The frosty atmosphere would have destroyed them in no time, but later in the summer the place would be decked out with drapery and cushions. Gerard preferred it austere and undecorated. It suited his mood.

“You slept well?”

She nodded, meeting his gaze steadily. “I didn’t expect to, after the shock I received last night.”

“Does it frighten you? Should I stop?”

Slowly she shook her head, and let her gaze drift away from him. “I don’t know what it is, and I know it should frighten me, but it doesn’t.”

“Has it happened before?”

Again she shook her head. “Never.”

“Deborah and I thought it happened because we are siblings. We’ve always done it, so it seemed natural to us. Now it’s happened with you.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. It just is. I was astounded to discover I could communicate with someone other than my sister. It happened for the first time in Bedlam, but I wanted to know you better before I tried it again.” He paused, studying her serious, uptilted face. If he could choose anyone, he would choose her. It took all his will not to lean forward and touch his mouth to hers. Forever forbidden. Not to be thought of. Except that he couldn’t stop thinking about it. “I have no idea why it happens or where the gift comes from. I can help you to control it a little.”

“Can you? I learned to close it off last night. Is there more?”

“Yes.” He found himself reluctant to tell her. Long ago Deborah and he had agreed not to tell his father anything of their gift. And he had become accustomed to keeping the secret. “We can sometimes force someone else to hear us or at least influence their thinking. We discovered that purely by accident, when I decided I didn’t like cabbage.” He grinned. “The maid discovered a disinclination to serve it in the nursery. They don’t know you’re doing this, it seems as if their minds are suggesting it to themselves.” He heard her sharp intake of breath as she began to understand the implications of what he was saying. “We prefer not to use that part of our talent. It takes practice and effort, and when it is against the wishes of the person, it doesn’t usually work. We’re always afraid someone will find us out.”

“I didn’t believe it at first. I’m not sure I believe it now.”

He couldn’t help himself. He reached out and took her hand, as he had the other day. She was cold, her hands freezing. “You should have put your gloves on.”

“What?” Her attention went to her hands. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“You need looking after,” he said without thinking. “I’ll wager all your thoughts are for your brother. Are you wondering how you can use this gift to help him?”

She gave a small nod. “I have to. He needs me.”

“Do you never think of yourself?”

“Rarely.”

He pressed her hand. It felt right, good. Gerard pulled his mind away to what he should not be thinking. “Perhaps it’s time you did. If we can help you secure your brother’s future you could take your rightful place in society.”

She gave a scornful laugh, her lip twisting at one corner. “I did that once. I didn’t find it rewarding.”

“Why not?” He really must stop asking these personal questions. However, she didn’t seem averse to answering him.

“I was the young wife of an old man, considered fair game. Not a course I was keen to pursue.”

The terse explanation held a world of pain behind it. He felt it; he knew it as his own pain, his own humiliation. He drew her hand closer and enjoyed the warmth of her body along one side of his own. “You hated it.” He made it a statement, not a question.

“Yes. I…” She paused, but then carried on. “I never enjoyed the—physical side of marriage.”

He kept his voice steady, despite his distaste at the thoughts chasing his imagination. “It’s not to be wondered at, with a husband of seventy.”

“I don’t think I would enjoy it with anyone. It was too—personal. Such intimacies alarm and upset me and I would rather avoid them.” She’d turned her mind away from it, blocked off all of it.

He listened, astonished. To be free to indulge and choose not to. It was a novel thought for Gerard, one he would have to think about before he could make sense of it. All he gave her was a mild, “I see.” He kept hold of her hand. “Perhaps someone might help you feel differently, one day.” He paused, feeling the warmth of her hand in his. At least she didn’t object to that.

Her eyes met his, candid brown, anxiety furrowing her brows. He smiled, tried to look reassuring. “Use the curtains to close your mind. When you want to talk to me, alert me. Send me a sharp note.”

“What? I’m sorry, I don’t understand. You want me to write to you?”

He laughed, delight infusing his voice. “No. Like this.” He sent her a single note, not the one he used when he wanted to communicate with Deborah, but a higher, sharper one. Her eyes widened when she received his message. Then he heard her response, a
ting
, like a hammer striking a small bell, tentative and wavering, but there. He laughed again. “Well done,” he said softly, and brought her hand to his lips.

He folded her hand around the kiss and waited for her response. It came, wide-eyed but with no anger, no outrage. She leaned closer and lifted her face to his. “I owe you a great deal. Forget what I said earlier. It’s of no matter.”

His heart missed a beat. She was offering herself to him. It was unmistakable, as was the rigid closing of her mind against him, her determination to show him none of her distaste. Gerard yearned with every fibre of his body to fold her into his arms, kiss her as he wanted to, try to show her that not all loving was distasteful, but he could not. Must not.

He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “You are very generous,” he murmured, his lips against her warm skin, “but there’s no need. What I do, I do from friendship. Nothing more.”

She swallowed, then lifted her head and stared at him. “No other man would do that.” She forced a smile. “Thank you.” Her mind was still closed to him. He had no idea what she was thinking. It was as it should be, but he felt a sense of loss.

Silently she got to her feet, reminding him of her old clothes, the formless garment folding around her body. “I have to go and change,” she said, then turned back to him. “Thank you for understanding, and for making sense of this strange gift.”

“We’ll practice,” he promised her. “Learn to control it better. May I tell Deborah? If she picks up anything it could alarm her.”

“I would appreciate it if it went no further. My father might cite it as grounds to lock me away with George.”

His mouth formed a grim line. “He will not. But I don’t want it general knowledge any more than you do. Even my father doesn’t know of this.”

He got to his feet and held out his hand to help her, smiling easily. “Friends are sometimes difficult to come by. I hope our friendship endures.”

He wanted more.

Her search for safety lands her in a totally new kind of danger.

Wystan

© 2014 Allison Merritt

The Heckmasters, Book 1

Certain that an ad for a job in a small New Mexico Territory town is the answer to her prayers, Nebraska schoolteacher Rhia Duke packs her sister into a rickety wagon and heads west.

Except when they reach the near-deserted town, she learns the truth. There is no job, no future, and no welcome in the bleak blue eyes of the handsome sheriff.

The minute Rhia’s runaway team thunders into town, Wystan Heckmaster feels the change in the air. One of three sons of a demon who dared love a human, he keeps watch over a Pit guarded by seven seals, and slays any Hellbound demon that attempts to free the master imprisoned within.

With a gut full of regret and a forgotten town filled with reformed demons, Wystan is certain of one thing: he can’t be the man Rhia needs. But when the truth behind Rhia’s flight from Nebraska comes to light, Wystan must open his soul—and pray there’s enough love between them to overcome the darkness rising from the Pit.

Warning:
Contains a take-no-prisoners sheriff, a woman who can’t outrun her supernatural secrets, and a dusty town where hope is as thin as dust in the wind. Author recommends keeping a glass of cool spring water at your elbow while reading.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Wystan:

Wystan Heckmaster slapped his battered Stetson on his head, collected the keys to the jail, then stepped out the door. The first thing he saw was a pretty woman with hair the color of maple sugar—a rich brownish-blonde. The frown on her face spoke volumes, and the air around her pronounced trouble. She made a straight path for him.

“Mr. Heckmaster. Or should I called you Sheriff? Or Mayor? I need to discuss the ad in the
Lancaster County Republican
with you. Someone placed an ad, but your brother tells me there is
no
school here. I’m sure there has to be a mistake. There’s only one Berner in New Mexico Territory. I’m very capable at reading maps. If I wasn’t, I would be ashamed to call myself a teacher.”

He doubted she had taken more than two or three breaths during the speech. If she made talking in rambling paragraphs a habit, no wonder she looked so peaked.

“Teacher?” He glanced along the street, but it was deserted as usual. “Lady, we don’t have a school here. Certainly no need of a teacher.”

Her hands balled into fists that settled on her hips. The dress she wore was patched—the egg yolk yellow faded into something even more disgusting. It had little flowers dotting the material, but they looked as worn as her scuffed black boots.

“Then what was the purpose of placing an ad in the
Lancaster County Republican
?”

She spoke with the fierceness of a mama bear warning predators away from her cubs. Wystan reached into his shirt pocket and drew out a toothpick.

“I didn’t place any ad in any Lancaster County anything.” He looked past her, expecting Eban to saunter up the street. Eban had to be the brother she’d referred to since Tell was still on the trail.

“Someone did,” she insisted. She fished a crumpled and much-folded piece of newsprint out of the pocket hidden by the folds of her skirt. “See? Right here it says, ‘School teacher wanted for spring term at Berner Schoolhouse. Wages paid based on experience. Room and board provided. Apply in person at City Hall, Berner, New Mexico Territory.’ I’m sure my eyes don’t deceive me.”

Wystan stared at the clipping, then back at the woman. A galaxy of freckles spattered across her nose and cheekbones, making her look younger than her eyes said she was. Full figured and sure as shittin’ a grown woman. The wariness and worry darkening her hazel eyes gave her away as one with a lot of trouble on her plate.

“I can read.”

She pulled the ad away from his face, folded it, and returned it to her pocket. “Where would you suggest I look for an explanation, Mr. Heckmaster?”

Fussy little thing. “I assure you that no one in this town did. There’s been a mistake. Sorry to inconvenience you, Miss Schoolteacher. Now turn around and head home.”

A flush colored her cheeks. “I can’t
head home
! I have no home to return to. My little sister and my friend are waiting at the doctor’s office for me to straighten this mess out. The ad says that room and board will be provided. I’d expected to move into a room, sir.”

“You left them with Eban?” That explained his absence.

“Beryl is ill, Sheriff. This is the first town we’ve seen in days and it was past time for her to get some attention.” Despair crept into her voice.

Wystan shifted his weight and transferred the toothpick to the other side of his mouth. “Eban’s not exactly trained in human medicine.”

The woman’s mouth opened into an
O
. She shook her head and seemed to regain her senses. “He’s a veterinarian? He seemed certain he could help Beryl.”

Wystan cleared his throat. “Sure, animal doctor. I’m sorry for your misfortune, lady, but as you can see, Berner’s about run into the ground. There’s nothing here for you or your friend. Might be best to move along.”

She seemed to deflate. “Move along.” Her lips moved, softly forming the words, but it was as though she didn’t comprehend them. “We’ll move along, right down the trail into the next town where there won’t be any teaching jobs either. Sylvie, Beryl, and I will starve to death on the side of the road with no one in the world to care.”

The crushing weight of responsibility on her shoulders was almost visible. They slumped under her problems. If he thought she’d looked peaked before, now she looked on the verge of breaking down into tears.

They had secrets in Berner that wouldn’t behoove any outsiders to know. Dangerous things lurked on the streets, things Wystan and his brothers had to mind. This fragile-looking schoolteacher would probably keel over if she had any idea what sort of place she’d stepped into.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry for your trouble, but you’ll have to—”

“Wys, I have a problem at the clinic. The young woman who arrived with Miss Duke needs to stay.” Like an apparition, Eban appeared out of nowhere, his overcoat and waistcoat missing, shirtsleeves rolled up past his elbows. “She’s not going to be comfortable on the trail. The best thing for her would be to rest here.”

Miss Duke turned to Eban. “What’s wrong with her?”

“Pleurisy. If she gets enough rest, she should recover. Right now, your sister is helping her settle in at the clinic. I’ll do everything I can for Miss Brookshier.” Eban turned his candle-bright smile on the schoolteacher.

Wystan frowned. “No.”

Miss Duke gaped. “You can’t refuse to let Beryl stay. It’s Dr. Heckmaster’s clinic.”

He ignored her. “Eban, we’ve talked about this.”

“I don’t think
these
women are quite what we talked about, brother.”

“I’m sorry, but you’re refusing to let us stay because we’re women?” Miss Duke put her hands on her hips and glared. “If we were men—”

“I’d say the same thing. It’s nothing to do with you being a woman. It’s because there’s nothing here for you. No work. Your chances of finding some down the road is slim, but it’s better than dying here.” Wystan plucked the toothpick from his mouth and flicked it away. “Eban, give Miss…Brookshier, was it? Give her the medicine you can spare and get that wagon rolling.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Wys.” Eban’s shoulders squared. “In fact, I refuse to let them leave.”

Sometimes being the oldest of three brothers was trying. Wystan clenched his jaw.

“Miss Duke, I need a word with my brother. If you’ll excuse us.” He didn’t wait for her to agree. Grabbing Eban by the arm, he led his brother inside the jail and slammed the door. “What happens when they find out?”

Eban’s gaze dropped. “They won’t.”

“Right now, things are real calm. Easy to control. Tonight…” A humorless laugh left his throat. “How long do you think a sick woman would last in a town like this?”

“You make it sound like there’s no control here. I thought that’s what we were doing. You’re the sheriff. Make it clear these women are protected. Miss Duke’s sister is just a little girl.” Eban’s shoulders tightened visibly. “They’re lucky they made it to town. There’s no way of knowing where Tell is or who’s with him.”

A strong argument, but Wystan stood his ground. “You let them stay one night, they’re gonna want to stay two. We’ve got our hands full already. You know that.”

A glimmer of anger appeared in Eban’s dark-blue eyes. “She’ll die. I don’t want that on my conscience.”

Wystan had no special training, no extra schooling outside what he’d gotten as a boy, which in the grand scheme of things was pretty insufficient. Tell hadn’t given a fig for book learning either. Eban was different. He wanted to
help
the citizens in town, rather than keep them from creating chaos in the outside world.

He expected nonsense like that from Tell, who probably didn’t remember much about what had happened to their parents, but he thought Eban knew better.

“I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

The spark of anger turned into a flame. “Pleurisy is serious. We’re not talking about a head cold. She could drown in her own fluid. She’s underweight, fevered, and coughing up sputum an abbeylubber wouldn’t touch.”

Wystan grimaced at the mention of sputum. “If this were a regular town, it would be different.”

“When did you turn into such an unfeeling bastard? Even after Ma died, you weren’t so cold,” Eban said. “Don’t think about it. Listen to me for once. A woman needs my help and you’d have me turn her away. I can’t. I won’t.”

Bastard, was he? Wystan gritted his teeth and leaned forward. He’d whupped Eban often enough when they were boys, and wrestled with worse on a weekly basis. “What are you gonna do, Eb? If I say she goes, then that’s it. My word is law here, in case you forgot.”

“It’s my clinic. I guess that gives me the right to decide who stays there.”

Over his brother’s shoulder, Miss Duke peered through the round window in the door. He could tell she was standing on her tiptoes, straining to see. They’d been loud. It was hard to say what she’d heard. He felt certain neither of them had mentioned anything too abnormal.

“This isn’t over, Eban. I expect you to heal her up fast and get them out of here. I’ll do what I can to warn everyone before dark, but it’s up to you to bar the door at night.”

“Thank you.” Eban’s words were short, his posture stiff. “I’ll let the Dukes sleep near Miss Brookshier tonight. Keep them all in one room. It’s safer that way.”

“I can’t wait to give Miss Duke the news. I’m sure she’ll fall all over herself with gratitude.” He brushed past Eban and threw the door open.

Miss Duke took a step back, her face pink. She tucked her hands behind her back. Her eyes were hazel, almost green, but with a light-brown ring around the outside and little flecks like broken-up autumn leaves.

“Eban insists that you stay, even though I argued against it. Believe me, you’re better off somewhere else, but I doubt he’d listen if God wrote it in the sky. So you go with him, get whatever you need out of your wagon, get inside the clinic and stay there. Savvy?”

She shrank away from his harsh tone. “Y-yes.”

Eban stepped around him and muttered, “Bastard.” He offered his arm to Miss Duke and they stepped into the street.

Wystan’s mouth tightened as he stared after his brother’s retreating form.

“You’re sure Beryl will be all right? Sylvie can’t get sick?” Miss Duke’s voice drifted back to him, full of worry.

It wasn’t a wolf’s responsibility to look after a sheep. Everyone knew that. So it shouldn’t be up to him to keep strangers out of the jaws of the nightmarish hell that could potentially open on Berner’s streets when the sun went down.

Eban was ten kinds of foolish for thinking he could get the job done. He didn’t want one woman to die on the trail, but he’d sentenced three to perish here. Miss Duke glanced over her shoulder. Her brow furrowed when she caught him looking.

It wasn’t that Wystan didn’t care; he didn’t
want
to care.