Tempest of Passion

Published by Evernight Publishing ® at Smashwords

www.evernightpublishing.com

Copyright© 2015 Elyzabeth M. VaLey

ISBN:
978-1-77233-259-9

Cover
Artist: Jay Aheer

Editor:
JC Chute

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING:
The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted
work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced
electronically or in print without written permission, except in
the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a
work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious.
Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or
persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

DEDICATION

To
Evernight Publishing. Thank you for giving William and Emily a
home. For my readers. Thank you for being there!

A TEMPEST OF PASSION

Elyzabeth M. VaLey

Copyright © 2015

Chapter One

Emily settled
into the window seat with a satisfied sigh. At last, her mother and
father had left for their morning walk. It had taken nothing short
of ten minutes to convince Jane Bunsbury that
, though the bump on her head
hurt if touched, Emily was quite fit to be left on her own. She
glanced at the garden outside. The day looked to be sunny and warm,
a soft gentle breeze swaying the leaves of the ash trees. How nice
it would be to sit beneath the light domed canopy. She pressed her
lips together, considering the idea. If she went outside, her
mother would surely have a fit, for Doctor Stanley had ordained her
to rest and that, for Jane Bunsbury, meant that Emily would have to
remain indoors.

“
Not worth the trouble with
Mother,” she muttered to herself.

Biting
back a gloating
smile, she picked up the leather tome at her side. Were anyone to
walk in the room, they’d find her reading the very respectable
works of Sir William Shakespeare. In truth, what lay beneath was
none other than the scandalous works of Sir Pierre Choderlos de
Laclos.

Her younger
cousin, Elisa, had handed her the manuscript promising it to be
positively decadent. She was not mistaken.
Les liaisons dangereuses
included seduction,
revenge, human malice, libertinism… the sort of things her mother
would never approve of. It was quickly becoming Emily’s favorite
book.

She’d
barely
made
it through a few pages when the bell at the front door rang out,
capturing her attention. Cursing under her breath, she threw the
book under a throw pillow and sat up properly. As the only Bunsbury
currently in the household and almost an old maiden, it was up to
Emily to receive whoever had come calling at such an inconvenient
time. Her frown grew deeper as she imagined it likely the visitor
would be one of her cousins. Gossip traveled fast in Brookenshire,
and it was probable that word of her fainting spell from the
previous night had spread. Determined to rid herself of her visitor
as fast as possible, she pinched her cheeks until they hurt and
compressed her nose until her eyes watered. Leaning a bit against
the wall, so that she appeared even sicklier, she waited, breath
held, for Gertrude’s knock to come.

Just when she
was turning to wonder if the red from
her cheeks was fading, the elderly
housekeeper rapped on the door.

“
Come
in,
” Emily
whispered in her best sick voice.

The door opened wide and the maid
entered, fumbling with the strings of her apron and blushing like a
new bride.

“
Gertrude,
what—
?”

Emily’s eyes widened as a man
several feet taller than the small, nervous woman, stepped up
behind her.

“
Ms. Bunsbury. This is Mr.
Dalton,” Gertrude said.

All pretense
of illness forgotten, Emily scrambled to her feet as the
man walked into the
room as if he’d walked through her house countless times. His hair
slid over his eyes as he bowed low to her.

“
Ms. Bunsbury,” he
rumbled.

Careless of
manners, Emily
sank back onto the window bench. Suddenly, she did feel
poorly––her heart beat too fast, and her hands were cold and
clammy. Emily stared at Mr. Dalton as he straightened his posture.
She shivered. William Dalton was by no means the most handsome man
she had ever set eyes on … but there was something about him that
unnerved her.

“
Thank
you
,
Gertrude,” she said, finding her voice at last. “Close the
door.”

“
But, Ms. Bunsbury––”

Emily resisted the urge to roll her
eyes. When would they learn that she was past her prime?

“
All right, Gertrude. Thank
you.”

With a curt nod and a sheepish
smile toward Mr. Dalton, Gertrude walked out, leaving the door
ajar. As soon as she was out of sight, Emily’s attention riveted to
the other person in the room.

“
Please, have a seat, Mr.
Dalton.”

She waved her
hand toward one of the chairs in the room, expecting the man to
sit. He did not move. A nervous tingle worked its way into her
stomach as the heat of his gaze traveled down her body. He was
watching her, like a dog deciding what end of the bone to chew on
first. Irked, she stared back.
William Dalton’s features had no finesse.
To be honest, he reminded her of a wild dog. His hair was unruly
and too long. The lines of his face were angular and rough. His
lips were too wide, his nose too narrow and his left cheek
disfigured by an ugly pink scar extending from below his eye to the
edge of his mouth. Then there was the matter of his eyes. Dark and
unreadable, they had an air about them that spoke of a man with
little joy in his life. Emily shuddered. It mattered little to her
that this was the man that had “saved” her last night. It was time
for him to leave.

“
Mr.
Dalton
––”

“
M
iss
Bunsbury––”

They spoke at
the same time,
both of them stopping short at their impasse. Emily pressed
her lips together but William Dalton broke into rich, cheerful
gales of laughter. Unexpected warmth rushed over her, making
butterflies in her stomach dance a minuet. Her frown grew
deeper.

“Please…I apologize. Do
continue, Ms. Bunsbury.”

Straightening her spine, Emily gave him
her best piercing gaze.

“
Mr. Dalton, I am indebted to
you. I do not know what came over me last night, but I have been
told that my well-being is your responsibility. I am most grateful
for your assistance.”

William smiled broadly, the
motion pulling the mark beneath his eye. Emily’s breath caught. She
curled her hands into tight balls at her side, aghast against the
unexpected urge to touch that blemished flesh.

“
It was but my
duty to rescue you from the cold, heartless floor, Ms. Bunsbury,”
William said with a jovial grin. Clasping his hands behind his
back, he waited for her to say something. Emily only clamped her
jaws together, desperately searching for words.
Speechless.

Only one
other time in her life had she been unable to speak under a man’s
gaze
, and
back then she had been but a naïve girl of ten and eight years.
Now, she was twenty and eight years, a wiser woman who knew what a
perusal like the one Mr. Dalton gave her meant. He was like all
others: Thoughtless to a woman’s desires and mind, only curious to
what lay beneath skirts and petticoats. The thought angered her.
Yes, he had aided her and saved her from social shame, but he had
no right to look at her like that.

Abruptly,
he
turned
away, a small smile playing on his lips as if he knew something she
ignored. Emily shifted in her seat, searching for words to dismiss
the unpleasant man.

“
Your parents…?” he
asked.

“
Have gone for
a walk,” she responded mechanically. “
It is their routine at this hour. I
shall tell them you have called.”

“
Please do. Though, it is you I
have come to see. After I found you unconscious on the terrace and
brought you back inside, I lost sight of you and wanted to see how
you were faring.”

He smiled at
her, a brilliant, earnest smile that had her taking back her
thoughts on his appearance.
His eyes still spoke of profound sadness, but
there was also a glimmer there she had failed to see earlier which
called to her like a moth to a flame. For an instant, she lost
herself in that gaze flecked with golden sparks. Her flesh prickled
with awareness, a hot flash rushing over her body and landing
between her legs. Flustered, she grasped the nearest throw pillow
and her book toppled to the floor. Cheeks burning, she bent to
retrieve it. She gasped as William’s fingers brushed across hers. A
wild current swept through her and she sat up
straight.

“
Your book.”

Agitated and tongue-tied, she
nodded and accepted the novel. William said nothing else, simply
smiling at her. Placing the tome on her lap, Emily caressed the
leather edges of the binding.

“
You are well, then?” he
asked after a moment.

“
Oh, yes, I am well. Thank you,
Mr. Dalton. My fall on the terrace only created a slight bump on my
head … one which the doctor said shall pass in a few
days.”

William
smiled.
“I
am pleased. I see I have interrupted your reading. I shall leave.
It was a pleasure, Ms. Bunsbury.” He bowed.

Emily stood, clutching the book
to her breast, relieved that he was finally departing.

“
It was a pleasure, Mr.
Dalton.” She curtsied. “Now I can put a face to my
rescuer.”