Samantha Kane

Love’s Surrender

Samantha Kane

Book 9 in the Brothers in Arms series.

Lady Vanessa Carlton-Smythe is from one of England’s most

wel-respected families and the daughter of an earl. She has lived

an exemplary life—the perfect daughter, the perfect lady. Until

one Christmas Eve, when she meets two men who unleash her

secret desires. She can’t surrender her heart, only her body, and

only for the next twelve days. After Twelfth Night, their affair

must end and she wil return to a life that is slowly suffocating

her.

Veterans Nick and Oliver have been constant companions since

Veterans Nick and Oliver have been constant companions since

Waterloo. They share everything, including women and a bad

reputation. When Lady Vanessa catches them in a compromising

position, they are seduced by the longing in her eyes. Cool,

distant, unattainable—the more she protests, the more they want

her. Vanessa’s desires prompt the two men to finaly give in to

their feelings and become lovers. When desire becomes love,

can they convince Vanessa to leave her privileged life behind and

surrender to them forever?

Elora’s Cave Publishing

www.elorascave.com

Love’s Surrender

ISBN 9781419937460

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Love’s Surrender Copyright © 2011 Samantha Kane

Edited by Raelene Gorlinsky

Cover design by Dar Albert

Photography: Kiselev Andrey Valerevich; Oly/Shutterstock.com

Electronic book publication December 2011

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Love’s Surrender

Samantha Kane

This one is for my readers. Merry Christmas! And for my editor,

Raelene Gorlinsky, who said, “Why don’t you write a Christmas

story?” And, as always, for my ever-lovin’ husband.

Acknowledgments

I’d like to thank reader Annette Pascual, who won the chance to

name a character in one of my books in a charity auction. She

went above and beyond to help out a romance book blogger in

need, and I was thriled with her enthusiasm for the project.

need, and I was thriled with her enthusiasm for the project.

Annette named one of the heroes in this book, Oliver Gabriel,

using her two favorite male names. Thanks again, Annette!

No one had asked to partner her in a dance.

It had been happening more frequently. And it was glaringly

obvious here in this smal drawing room, where the furniture had

been pushed back for dancing. There were no potted palms or

columns to hide behind.

She never would have come if she’d known there would be

dancing. It was supposed to be a smal Christmas Eve dinner,

nothing more. Ordinarily she wouldn’t have accepted an

invitation from the Shelbys, but it had been last minute and she

hadn’t wanted to stay at home on Christmas Eve. She should

have known there were ulterior motives behind her invitation.

There always were. Tonight’s agenda seemed to be to humiliate

her while showcasing young Melinda Dorsett’s popularity and

vivacious beauty.

Lady Vanessa Carlton-Smythe felt al the weight of her

ponderous name and her equaly weighty ancestors. Not to

ponderous name and her equaly weighty ancestors. Not to

mention The Incident.

Lady Dalrymple chose that moment to take pity on Vanessa and

sidled over to where she stood alone.

“No partner again, my dear? What a pity.” Lady Dalrymple

languidly applied her fan as she surveyed the balroom. Curls the

color of a cold, gray dawn barely moved in the tepid breeze she

made. “Perhaps you can convince your father to…lower his

standards a bit, hmm?” Lady Dalrymple continued mercilessly.

“You are getting on, my dear. If he isn’t careful you’l be on the

shelf, like poor Miss Peasbody over there.” The old woman

tsked as Vanessa choked on a horrified gasp.

Miss Peasbody was old. And unwed. And unwanted.

“Certainly one would think with your bloodlines that some

gentleman would come up to scratch,” Lady Dalrymple mused

unkindly. “The Carlton-Smythe connection alone is enough to

forgive any deficiencies in character or looks.”

Vanessa pasted on a brittle smile. She’d forgotten Lady

Dalrymple was Miss Dorsett’s great aunt. Which reminded her,

where was her Aunt Grace? Her job as chaperone was to help

Vanessa avoid situations just like this. “It does seem to make a

difference,” she agreed cooly. “Dancing and coy artlessness are

not required of a woman in my circumstances. My name alone

recommends me, as good breeding, impeccable manners and

inteligence are understood in any Carlton-Smythe.”

Lady Dalrymple was not so stupid that she didn’t recognize the

censure in Vanessa’s words. Other than a thinning of her already

thin lips, however, she did not acknowledge the set down.

“Surely a man requires more than a name, my dear. It might be

enough to attract, but to secure him you must display the warmth

and sensibility that a man wishes for in a wife. Wit, dancing,

inteligent conversation are al required to keep a man’s

attentions.”

Vanessa gave Lady Dalrymple the coldly blank look she had

achieved at a young age, after rigorous training with her mother.

The look reserved especialy for those who did not know their

place when addressing a Carlton-Smythe. “A Carlton-Smythe

has no need to snare a man through posturing, Lady Dalrymple.

While some young ladies,” she glanced over at Miss Dorsett,

laughing a little too loudly while she was spun around the dance

floor, “feel a less refined manner wil attract and secure, it is not required of me.”

“Perhaps the handsome Duke of Ashland would argue that

point.” Lady Dalrymple drove that nail home with undisguised

malicious pleasure. “Her Grace is wel-known as a lively young

woman who enjoys dancing and laughing and the pleasures to be

found in such endeavors.”

Vanessa took a quiet, dignified, deep breath. Of course Lady

Dalrymple would bring up The Incident. “Then His Grace was

quite right when he felt we would not suit. As I have said to

Ashland,” she used the familiar address to show she was intimate

with the Duke and Duchess while Lady Dalrymple was not, “if

he had not behaved so badly when he broke our engagement,

neither of us would enjoy the happiness we do today.” She

inwardly cringed. Happiness, indeed. She hardly knew what the

word meant these days.

“If you wil excuse me, Lady Dalrymple, I believe I see my aunt.

Good evening.” Vanessa hurried in the direction of her Aunt

Grace, whom she’d spotted gossiping near the far end of the

room. She passed the dance floor on her way to her aunt’s side,

and noticed Miss Dorsett was no longer displaying her dancing

and wit there. She caught her aunt’s eye and the smal older

woman excused herself from her companion and stepped

forward to greet her niece.

“Is something the matter, my dear?” she asked quietly, taking

Vanessa’s hand and tucking it in her elbow as she slowed

Vanessa’s steps to a stately walk around the room’s perimeter.

To most observers it most likely seemed as if the two had met

deliberately to strol around the room and chat.

“I was ambushed,” Vanessa said softly as she smiled politely at

Mrs. Crusher and her two daughters. The girls were rather plain

Mrs. Crusher and her two daughters. The girls were rather plain

but very sweet and wel dressed, ensuring at least one offer for

each of them this season, Vanessa was sure. She always made it

a point to show her approval of them when they met. The

opinion of a Carlton-Smythe was enough to sway many families

in favor of a match they might not have sought otherwise.

Her smile grew brittle as they passed the Crushers and stroled

into enemy territory. Lady Dalrymple now stood with her sister

and niece, Miss Dorsett’s grandmother and mother, al three

glaring at Vanessa and her aunt.

“I saw. Keep smiling,” Aunt Grace said. She nodded at the

ladies, forcing them to acknowledge her and Vanessa. She knew

they couldn’t afford to risk a faling out with the Carlton-

Smythes. They al nodded back politely.

Vanessa felt a spurt of disgust. She knew they disliked her and

resented her family, and yet they al put on masks and pretended

an affinity none of them felt. Including Vanessa. But she was

reluctant to ruin their family and Miss Dorsett’s chances for an

advantageous match, simply because she disliked them. As a

Carlton-Smythe she may wield a great deal of power, but

Vanessa had been taught from a young age to use it wisely and

judiciously. It simply wasn’t in her nature to be so spiteful.

“Do you need a moment, Vanessa?” Aunt Grace asked,

continuing their strol, smiling and nodding as she went. She had

been raised a Carlton-Smythe as wel and knew how to maintain

been raised a Carlton-Smythe as wel and knew how to maintain

appearances. She also knew how this life sometimes suffocated

Vanessa, and she was sympathetic. Aunt Grace had never

married, not by choice but because her father and brother had

never found a suitor worthy of her. She had once confided in

Vanessa that were the grocer to offer for her at this point, she

would say yes without a moment’s hesitation or consideration.

“Yes.” She did need a moment alone. She needed to regroup

and settle her nerves. It wouldn’t do for anyone here to see her

flustered or in a temper. She lived her life in a glass bowl. Her

thoughts and feelings were her own, however, and not for public

scrutiny.

Suddenly her aunt stumbled and caught her heel on Vanessa’s

hem, tearing it. “Oh, dear!” Aunt Grace exclaimed. Several