Authors: Sandra Hill
Tags: #Historical Romance, #Romance, #Viking, #Vikings, #Love Story, #Pirate
The Pirate Bride (30 page)
“There is hope for me then?”
“Viking, Viking, Viking! Didst not know, there is always hope? Are you ready to begin your penance?”
Penance? Ah. He means punishment.
Still, Mordr nodded, hesitantly. What choice did he have, really?
The angel took him by the hand, and Mordr found himself rising above the ground, higher and higher, spinning, through the clouds, across the skies, over countries. Where he would land, Mordr had no idea.
One thought emerged through his battered brain.
I have been given a second chance. Praise the gods! Nay, that is incorrect. Praise God!
Michael smiled, and this time it was a good smile.
Some inheritances are better than others . . .
Dr. Miranda Hart, psychologist, prided herself on always maintaining a dignified calm. She did a half hour of yoga every morning, after all, and she gave lectures on stress management. Even so, she stared with stunned horror at the lawyer in front of her and practically screamed, “Noooooo!”
“I’m sorry, Miranda.” Bradley Allison, elderly Cincinnati lawyer and longtime family retainer, clearly was not sorry. In fact, he recoiled, obviously disgusted with her reaction. “I thought you’d be pleased at this ‘bequest.’ The highest compliment!”
“Are you crazy?” Miranda asked, immediately realizing that she was the one who sounded crazy. And
crazy
was not a word that a mental health professional should be using. She inhaled and exhaled several times, finding her center. “You have to understand, Mr. Allison. I’m thirty-four years old. I’ve never been married, by choice. It’s taken me eight years to pay off my college loans and establish a successful practice in Las Vegas. Not Cincinnati, by the way. I live in a luxury high-rise apartment with two bedrooms, one of which has been converted into an office. I have no desire for children . . . or a dog.” She shivered with distaste.
“It was your cousin Cassandra’s wish that you adopt her five children. If you decline, there’s no option but to put them in foster care. Cassandra’s neighbor is unable to care for them for much longer. She has a big family of her own. I must warn you, if the Jessup children are adopted, I’m sure they will be separated.”
The oldest of Cassie’s children was eight-year-old Margaret, or Maggie. One set of twins was six-year-old Ben and Sam. The other twins were three-year-old Linda and Larry. Mr. Allison was right. Miranda would bet her medical degree that there would be two separate adoptions for the twins, and Maggie might not be adopted at all because of her age.
Miranda steeled herself not to care. “What about Roger’s family?” Roger Jessup, Cassie’s no-good husband, was in prison for assault and battery, and not for the first time, which had been news to Miranda when she’d arrived for Cassie’s funeral three days ago.
“No family,” Mr. Allison informed her. “Just you.” By his seventy-five-year-old nose raised northward, she could tell what he thought of her. She knew for sure when he added, “Perhaps they would be better off in foster care, after all.”
Miranda didn’t have a maternal bone in her body, but she didn’t like some old codger pointing out her flaws. Besides, she didn’t consider a lack of desire for procreation a flaw.
Despite his obvious misgivings, the lawyer tried a different tack. “If money is the issue, the family home could be sold.”
She waved that remark aside. “I own half the house, our grandparents’, to begin with. Cassie and I both signed contracts years ago that, if one of us died first, the home belonged to the remaining cousin. Even if her husband were around, Roger has no claim on the house.”
“He might try,” Mr. Allison told her.
“Let him.” After what she’d recently learned about Roger, she would welcome the fight. “Cassie made a good living as a nurse, but, as you mentioned earlier, there’s only a few thousand in her bank account. Roger is welcome to that. Let’s hope that satisfies him.”
Mr. Allison nodded. “You do not need to tell me what can or cannot be done with the family home. I am very aware of the circumstances surrounding the house, young lady. Your grandfather was a good friend of mine. I drew up that contract.”
Boy! Talk about pole-up-the-ass irritable! They have a syndrome name for it, in fact. Irritable bowel syndrome. Oh God! I can’t believe I am making psychiatry jokes with myself. Must be the thought of sudden motherhood. To FIVE children! I need a Valium, or a fast train out of town.
“Will you or will you not be taking responsibility for the children, Miranda? It’s Friday afternoon. If you’re going to reject your cousin’s wishes, I need to contact social services.” Bradley pursed his lips and twitched his nose as if there was a foul odor in the room.
Miranda wasn’t ready to make that decision, and the old fart’s pressuring her didn’t help at all. “Argh! What woman chooses to have five children today, anyhow?” Miranda wondered aloud, not really directing her thoughts at anyone, least of all the judgmental lawyer. “My cousin Cassie always was a ditz. Any stray animal—dog, cat, bird, rabbit—found its way into her house. She and her family lived down the street from me in Cincinnati, and their home was like a zoo. Cassie’s mother, Aunt Mary, was just the same. Apparently, Cassie extended her bleeding heart to popping out children.”
Mr. Allison looked at her as if she were a species of smelly bug. “Be that as it may—”
“Who says ‘Be that as it may’?” she inquired meanly.
“
Be that as it may
, your cousin died. Her husband is in prison, and even if he weren’t, Cassandra did not want them to be in his custody. You might want to read this letter that Cassandra left for you before making a final decision.”
“Why didn’t you tell me there was a letter?” she asked coldly.
The lawyer shrugged. “I mistakenly thought you would do the right thing before reading the letter.”
She took the sealed envelope from him. “Do you know what’s in the letter?”
“I can guess.”
Oooh, she was developing a real dislike for the man. Turning away from the lawyer, she opened the envelope and unfolded the letter, which was dated two years ago.
Hey Mir:
If you’re reading this, I’m no longer around. Sorry we didn’t keep in touch more after college, but I always felt close to you when we did talk. I love you like a sister. Remember that time we did the blood oath thing up in Willy Markle’s tree house? “Sisters to the end!”
Well, cousin, I need your help now. I have cancer. Looks like I won’t make it past another year. I know, I know, I should have talked to you about this. But it’s hard to admit that your life has been a huge mistake. Except for the kids, of course.
Suffice it to say, my asshole husband Roger is an abuser. The beatings started after Maggie was born. The usual pattern, violence followed by profound apologies and promises to never do it again. As a nurse, I should have known better.
Miranda stopped reading and turned to the lawyer, who was watching her from behind his antique lawyer’s desk, with his bony hands tented in front of his mouth. “The assault and battery that landed Roger in jail this last time . . . was it for beating Cassie?”
He nodded. “Broke an arm, cracked several ribs, and knocked out a tooth. He also hit Maggie so hard with a belt that it broke the skin on her back.” Mr. Allison glared at her, as if Miranda should have done something to stop the abuse. “Thankfully, we have a judge here in Ohio who has a low tolerance for wife abusers, and even less for men who hit children. He gave Roger Jessup the maximum of five years. With good behavior, Roger might be out in a year or so. You can see why the issue of the children needs to be settled before that.”
“No one ever told me,” she said defensively. “Cassie could have come to me at any time, and I would have helped.”
Mr. Allison arched his unruly white brows at her in silent recrimination.
Like now?
he seemed to be saying.
Miranda returned to the letter.
Even knowing that I have cancer, Roger’s rages haven’t let up. In fact, they seem to be getting worse. For the first time, last month I called the police and had him put in jail. Aside from hitting me, he also lashed out at Maggie when she tried to intervene. He beat her with a belt. Can you imagine? The poor girl has scars. And he locked the twins—all four of them—in a closet. I fear the direction his rages might take in my absence if he did this when I was around. That is a travesty I will never allow. I should have stopped this horrible pattern long ago, for my children’s sake, if not my own.
The cancer will probably get me before Roger is released from prison. And so, dear cousin, I am asking you to please, please take care of my precious children. I know what a huge favor I am asking of you. An imposition of the highest order to your single lifestyle! Do it for love of me, please.
Your cousin,
Cassandra Hart Jessup
Single lifestyle? Did Cassie even remotely think I am so selfish as to choose my “single lifestyle,” whatever that is, over helping her?
Miranda had tears in her eyes when she turned back to the lawyer.
“Where do I sign?” she asked.
For the first time, the lawyer smiled at her. “You’ll never regret this decision, my dear.”
Miranda wasn’t so sure about that.
S
ANDRA
H
ILL
is a graduate of Penn State and worked for more than ten years as a features writer and education editor for publications in New Jersey and Pennsylvania. Writing about serious issues taught her the merits of seeking the lighter side of even the darkest stories.
Please visit her on the web at www.sandrahill.net.
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New York Times
Bestselling Author
“Wildly inventive and laugh-out-loud fabulous.”
New York Times
bestselling author Christina Skye
“A singular blend of humor and romance, this breezy read will appeal to fans of Viking romances as well as mainstream historicals.”
Publishers Weekly
“Fun and fast-paced . . .”
Barnes and Noble Heart to Heart Reviews
“Smart, sexy, laugh-out-loud action.”
New York Times
bestselling author Christine Feehan
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Excerpt from
Kiss of Wrath
copyright © 2014 by Sandra Hill
THE PIRATE BRIDE
. Copyright © 2013 by Sandra Hill. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
EPub Edition DECEMBER 2013 ISBN: 9780062210456
Print Edition ISBN: 978-0-06-221044-9
FIRST EDITION
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