Rory

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Authors: Julia Templeton

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Books by Julia Templeton

SINJIN
VICTOR
RORY

Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation

APHRODISIA BOOKS are published by

Kensington Publishing Corp.
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Street
New York, NY 10018

Copyright © 2011 by Julia Templeton

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

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eISBN-13: 978-0-7582-6823-5
eISBN-10: 0-7582-6823-8

First Kensington Trade Paperback Printing: January 2011

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Printed in the United States of America

To my readers–
for your loyalty and support over the years.

CONTENTS

Books by Julia Templeton

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

22

23

24

25

26

27

28

29

30

31

1

R
ory squinted against the early morning light. Dew glistened on the plush, green lawns, and the first glimmer of sun filtered through the tree branches.

All in all, it was a beautiful day to die.

The man at his back started to tremble, and Rory wondered if the quick-tempered lord wasn’t regretting calling him out so hastily. No doubt, like Rory, the earl was replaying last night’s events in his head and wishing for a different outcome.

The dinner party had been an elegant affair, and from the moment Rory had walked into Lord and Lady Cordland’s townhouse, Lady Cordland had set her sights on him. He had no more taken his seat at the dinner table when her hand had clamped on to his thigh. She had then proceeded to give him a come-hither look that could not be misinterpreted.

When she’d left the table between the second and third courses,he followed a discretionary few minutes later,and nearly walked right past her when she reached out and caught him by the arm,jerked him into the parlor,and shoved her hand down his pants.

It had been a fevered and quite exciting coupling, especially given the fact that thirty guests chatted and dined on the other side of the wall, including Lady Cordland’s husband and his young mistress, his wife’s own cousin.

“We can forget about this with an apology,” Cordland said in an unsteady voice, bringing Rory back to the present.

Hell could freeze over before Rory would apologize to the pompous pig. Why was it all right for Cordland to fuck his mistress under his own roof and beneath his wife’s nose, but God forbid Lady Cordland do the same?

Rory scanned the park where he had met at least five dozen men in his short life. In the distance, he saw a carriage with the Cordland crest emblazoned on the door, and he wondered if Lady Cordland sat within, awaiting the outcome.

Victor, his brother, had recently mentioned Rory’s fondness for fucking only married women. A gross exaggeration, but still, he did prefer married women because they were
usually
so cautious when compared to their younger counterparts. Perhaps he should steer clear of them in the immediate future.

“Do I take your silence as acquiescence?” Lord Cordland asked, his voice hopeful.

“My silence means no,” Rory replied matter-of-factly, rolling up his sleeves.

Rory’s second, an old friend from Oxford, stood on the sidelines, looking blurry-eyed and terrified that he might have to step in. He need not be so concerned. Rory had never had to use his second.

“Gentlemen, you will walk off ten paces, and when I say turn, you shall turn and fire,” the man in charge said in a booming voice that made Rory cringe. His head still hurt from drinking too much whiskey last night, and the pot of tea he had drunk had not helped in the least.

Taking a deep breath, he released it and then lifted the pistol, readying himself for the count.

Damn, but he was still not thinking clearly, and his hand shook, another sign he’d been drinking too much of late. Indeed, it seemed as though he had been in a perpetual state of drunkenness since his brothers had married and he’d realized how ill his father truly was.

Life, which had been fun and exciting for so many years, had suddenly turned lonely, mundane, and exceedingly boring, and the future appeared so bleak … especially without his father in it. Their father had always been incredibly kind and patient, save for his latest ultimatum that all his sons marry–an idea no doubt forced upon him by Rory’s mother.

Was she really going to push him to marry now that both Sinjin and Victor had done so? In his mind, she was getting greedy. He was the youngest, had the lowest title and the least to offer a bride, so why did it really matter that he marry?

“One, two …”

As the count continued, Rory took a step, then another, his mind racing. Life had lost its spark, and he sincerely doubted that finding a wife would help him regain that which he’d lost. Unless she was truly exceptional, but he had yet to find such a woman, even with his mother’s assistance.

“Eight … nine … ten!”

The number was shouted and Rory turned, raised his pistol, and for whatever reason, did
not
pull the trigger.

He heard the roar of his opponent’s gun, felt the rip of the bullet tear through his flesh, followed by the sensation of blood seeping through his shirt.

How come he didn’t feel any pain?

Lord Cordland’s expression was triumphant … and then his eyes widened when Rory continued to stay on his feet.
Dizziness washed over him, but he fought it off and cocked the hammer.

The man put his hands out and shook his head. “No, dear God, no!”

Rory frowned. There was a second where he considered sparing the wretched man’s life; then without thought of consequence, he squeezed the trigger.

Lord Cordland hit the ground with a gasp, the blow fatal, square between the eyes.

“Bloody good shot!” Rory’s second yelled as the surgeon rushed forward, followed by Lord Cordland’s second, who glared daggers at him.

Glancing down at the blossoming color on his shirt, Rory closed his eyes as a wave of dizziness came over him.

“My lord,” the groom said from directly beside him, his voice tinged with concern.

When had he hit the ground? Rory wondered as the cold, wet grass soaked through his shirt and trousers. He grit his teeth. Oh yes, now he was definitely beginning to feel the pain.

“Get the carriage!” he heard the groom yell. Those were the last words he heard before the world went black.

Shannon was concerned when Lord Graston’s younger brother was brought to the Twickenham manor house on the River Thames with a bullet wound to the shoulder.

Thank goodness the surgeon had done his part by removing the bullet and was at the moment stitching the wound closed. There was not much a person could do now but wait to see if fever took hold. She hoped earnestly that her ministrations would help him, because all of London and Rochester would sincerely feel the young baron’s loss if he were to die.

Her experience with helping the sick would come in handy
in the days and weeks ahead. While volunteering at the Dublin hospital, death had claimed a good number of the patients, and she had seen and learned enough to realize the young man on the bed was gravely ill. His skin had turned a startling white, almost gray, and the bullet wound was bright red. He had lost so very much blood that she was concerned he would not survive.

Word had already been sent to Lord Graston in Wales, and the rest of the family would be alerted to Rory’s condition, but unfortunately, his eldest brother, Sinjin, and his wife were on their honeymoon, and his mother, Lady Rochester, was staying close to her ailing husband at their country estate. The poor woman would be sick with grief and worry when she heard the news about her youngest.

Until his family’s arrival, at least the handsome lord would not be lacking in concerned companions. Already all the female servants in the mansion were aflutter, each wanting to tend to the handsome lord; but it had been Edward, Lord and Lady Graston’s trusted butler, who had put Shannon in charge of his care. Upon Rory’s arrival in a rented carriage, Edward had lined up the servants and asked who had experience in caring for the wounded. She had immediately raised her hand.

Following Edward into the dining room where Rory had first been brought, Shannon had very nearly tripped over her feet when she’d seen the half-naked lord thrashing on the dining room table, where male servants, including her brother, Zachary, did their best to hold him down.

Rory moaned in his sleep, his handsome face wincing in pain as the physician applied the bandage. How she wished Lady and Lord Graston were here. She knew his lordship would go to any lengths to save his beloved brother. Until such a time as her employers returned from their trip to Wales, she would have to do her best to keep him alive.

“Make sure the dressing is changed often,” the physician said, putting his items back in his bag. “I shall come tomorrow to check on him.”

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