Hurst 02 - Scandal in Scotland

  The scent made him freeze in place.

  He was held there by a scrap of a memory—one he’d thought forgotten years ago. A memory of exotic violet eyes fringed with thick, black lashes; of hair that slid through his greedy fingers like black silk; of creamy skin that held the sun’s fragrant kiss; and of a lush mouth, ripe for kisses that—

  “Hello, William.”

  The voice possessed a throaty resonance that made even a whisper clear. It was rich, deeper than usual for a woman, and yet still feminine and richly wanton. William knew it as well as his own … and it was the last voice he expected to hear in his own cabin.

  “Aren’t you going to return my greeting? Or are we still not speaking?” The lilting voice ran up and down his spine, as sensual as a warm hand.

  William gritted his teeth against his traitorous body before turning.

  There, sitting in a chair at the head of the captain’s table, was the one woman he’d never wished to see again.

  Turn the page for rave reviews of

  Karen Hawkins’s romantic storytelling…

  Praise for KAREN HAWKINS

  “Always funny and sexy, a Karen Hawkins book is a sure delight!”

  —Victoria Alexander

  “Karen Hawkins writes fast, fun, and sexy stories that are a perfect read for a rainy day, a sunny day, or any day at all!”

  —Christina Dodd

  “Karen Hawkins will make you laugh and touch your heart.”

  —Rachel Gibson

  and her sparkling historical romances

  One Night in Scotland

  “Enticing repartee … charming and witty.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “Readers will be delighted by the perfect pacing, the humorous dialogue and the sizzling sensual romance.”

  —Romantic Times Top Pick

  Much Ado About Marriage

  “A delicious flirtation that pits a staid Englishman against a fey Scots woman. Humor, forklore, and sizzling love scenes lend this novel the perfect incentive for not wanting to put it down.”

  —Winter Haven News Chief (Florida)

  “Delightful banter.… Colorful secondary characters … add humor and charm.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  The Laird Who Loved Me

  “Filled with biting reparté, humor, and sexual tension that will keep you turning the pages with glee.”

  —Romantic Times (4½ stars, Top Pick)

  “Delightful in every way.”

  —Reader To Reader

  Sleepless in Scotland

  “Amusing yet profound.… Readers will be sleepless in America due to a one-sitting enjoyable time.”

  —Harriet Klausner

  “Made me laugh, cry and fall out of bed.… Karen is an author who will transport you back in time [and] have you placing her on your must-buy list!”

  —Night Owl Reviews (Top Pick)

  To Catch a Highlander

  “Love and laughter, poignancy and emotional intensity, endearing characters, and a charming plot are the ingredients in Hawkins’s utterly delightful tale.”

  —Romantic Times

  “Fast, sensual, and brilliant.… This is romance at its best!”

  —Romance and More

  To Scotland, With Love

  “Another winner … there were so many charming bits in it, I can’t even begin to describe them—but I found myself laughing a lot!”

  —Rakehell Reviews

  How to Abduct a Highland Lord

  “Heated, exciting, and touching. Hawkins excels at taking tried-and-true plotlines and turning them into fresh, vibrant books.”

  —Romantic Times

  “How to Abduct a Highland Lord is laced with passion and drama, and with its wonderfully romantic and thrilling ending, it’s a story you don’t want to miss!”

  —Joyfully Reviewed

  ALSO BY KAREN HAWKINS

  THE HURST AMULET SERIES

  One Night in Scotland

  THE MACLEAN CURSE SERIES

  How to Abduct a Highland Lord

  To Scotland, With Love

  To Catch a Highlander

  Sleepless in Scotland

  The Laird Who Loved Me

  PREQUEL TO THE HURST AMULET

  AND MACLEAN CURSE SERIES

  Much Ado About Marriage

  CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE

  Talk of the Town

  Lois Lane Tells All

  Available from Pocket Books

  Pocket Books

  A Division of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

  1230 Avenue of the Americas

  New York, NY 10020

  www.SimonandSchuster.com

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2011 by Karen Hawkins

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Pocket Books Subsidiary Rights Department, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020.

  First Pocket Books paperback edition June 2011

  POCKET BOOKS and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

  The Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau can bring authors to your live event. For more information or to book an event contact the Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau at 1-866-248-3049 or visit our website at www.simonspeakers.com.

  Cover illustration by Craig White. Hand lettering by Ron Zinn.

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  ISBN 978-1-4391-7593-4

  ISBN 978-1-4391-7601-6 (ebook)

  To my husband, aka Hot Cop.

  It’s been a wonderful, crazy, divine seven years.

  Or has it been eight? I don’t remember. I only know

  that however much time we’ve had, it’s not enough.

  Contents

  A Note to My Readers

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Epilogue

  From Sleepless in Scotland

  From The Laird Who Loved Me

  From One Night in Scotland

  A NOTE TO MY READERS

  During the Regency period, a number of famous actors and actresses performed at Drury Lane theaters. One of the most notable was Sarah Siddons. Although Mrs. Siddons retired in 1812, near the beginning of the Regency period, she was the standard by which most actresses were judged for decades afterward.

  Actresses occupied a very difficult position, as acting was only just becoming a respected profession. Famed actors and actresses mixed with the literary and social elites, and were often hired to perform scenes and even entire plays at various social gatherings. Unfortunately, actresses were also preyed upon by the wealthy and indolent for far more notorious purposes, and many younger actresses were lured from the stage for less than respectable reasons.

  There are many stories about Sarah Siddons’s acting abilities, and one of my favorites is when she played Asphasia in Tamburlaine. After witnessing her stage lover strangled before her very eyes, Mrs. Siddons was supposed to fall lifeless upon the floor. Her performance was so grippin
g that members of the audience thought she’d really dropped dead, and raised a horrendous cry until the manager assured them that she’d only been acting and was, in fact, quite alive.

  Scandal in Scotland

  A letter from Michael Hurst, explorer and Egyptologist, to his brother Captain William Hurst.

  William,

  I doubt this will reach you before you set sail, but letter writing is one of my few diversions while locked in this godforsaken place. I shall endeavor to send this on the next English ship that arrives.

  My captors are growing more impatient as the days pass. And while I’m perfectly capable of dealing with their rude treatment, being forced to remain in such close confines with my assistant, Miss Jane Smythe-Haughton, is making my captivity a living hell. She’s removed all of my precious brandy and has implemented an exercise regime. I feel as if I’ve returned to boarding school.

  William, as soon as you can, pray release me.

  CHAPTER 1

  Dover, England

  June 20, 1822

  William Hurst strode onto the Agile Witch, the salty wind swirling his cape as he crossed the gangplank, his boots ringing with each step. He paused on the deck to look up at the rigging and gave a satisfied nod. Every brass hook and ring had been polished until they shone and every sail was freshly patched.

  Good. An idle crew was a troublesome crew, and he had no time for such nonsense. He hadn’t been captain for fifteen years without learning exactly how a ship should be run.

  “Cap’n!” The first mate hurried over, saluting as he came to a halt. “Ye’re early.”

  “Aye.” William took another look about the ship. “She looks to be in fine fettle, MacDougal.”

  His first mate beamed. “Och, so she is. I put Halpurn in charge whilst I purchased supplies. He did a fine job keepin’ the crew on task, except—” MacDougal hesitated. At William’s pointed look, he continued, “There was a minor lapse in the watch, but I’ve taken care o’ it. It won’t happen again.”

  “Excellent.” William lifted his face to the breeze. “Plan on sailing with the morning tide—our mission is urgent. And give Lawton a copy of the manifest. We make this journey at my brother’s behest; he can damn well repay the expenses.”

  MacDougal chuckled. “Aye, Cap’n. Consider it done.”

  William headed belowdecks. Michael had gotten himself into quite a mess, all for the object now resting in William’s coat pocket.

  Entering his cabin, William removed the ancient Egyptian artifact from his pocket and placed it on his desk. Then he withdrew a chain from his neck and used the small golden key hanging on it to open the desk. He set the artifact inside and locked it away. It was a relief to have that damned thing under lock and key. His sister Mary had gone through hell getting her hands upon it, and now it was up to him to deliver it to the sulfi who held their brother prisoner.

  “Soon,” he murmured to the far-away Michael.

  William returned the chain to his neck and tucked it out of sight before reaching for his map case. His fingers had just closed on the stiff leather tube when he caught a faint whiff of the purest essence of lily.

  The scent made him freeze in place, held there by a scrap of memory he thought he’d forgotten years ago. A memory of exotic violet eyes fringed with thick, black lashes; of hair that slid through his greedy fingers like black silk; of creamy skin that held the sun’s fragrant kiss; and of a lush mouth, ripe for kisses that—

  “Hello, William.”

  The throaty voice yanked him from the memory. He closed his eyes, his hand still on the map case. Her voice possessed an unusual quality, a throaty resonance that made even a whisper clear. It was rich and low for a woman, feminine and wanton.

  William knew the voice as well as his own. And it was the last voice he expected to hear inside his cabin.

  “Aren’t you going to return my greeting? Or are we still not speaking?” The lilting voice ran up and down his spine, as sensual as a warm hand.

  He gritted his teeth against his traitorous body and released the map tube before turning.

  Sitting in a chair at the head of the captain’s table was the one woman he’d never wanted to see again. The woman whose gut-wrenching betrayal had left him hollow, causing him to set sail and keep from England’s shores for more than two years.

  He’d vowed to never, ever trust another woman … especially this one. And he’d vowed to never trust her again—he’d promised himself he’d never again lay eyes upon her.

  Yet here she was, sitting in his cabin, the fading sunlight caressing her creamy skin and limning her graceful neck. Her black cloak was tossed over the back of her chair, revealing a red gown as wanton as her nature.

  Her gown was a perfect foil for her upswept black hair, the thin white ruffle at her décolletage pretending a modesty that was betrayed by the full breasts swelling above it. She was a master at looking innocent and wanton at the same time. It used to make him crazed for her. Fortunately, he now recognized artifice when he saw it, and it was written all over her beautiful face.

  He removed his own cloak, turning away from her to break the spell of her beauty. As he hung the cloak on a brass hook by the door, he took a deep breath. Without turning he said, “Get out.”

  “You’re not even going to ask why I’m here?”

  “I don’t care why you’re here. Just leave.”

  A faint rustling told him she’d stood. “William, I must talk to you. I hoped you weren’t still upset about us—”

  “There was no ‘us.’ We were an illusion.” He finally turned to face her, his icy gaze pinning her in place. “That’s all we were and you know it.”

  She flushed, her skin pinkening as if he’d slapped her. “I’m sorry. I was wrong to have acted as I did and—”

  “Leave.” He had to grit his teeth. There was something about her that was simply breathtaking, mesmerizing, that made it almost impossible not to watch her. Damn it, I should be over this! It’s been years.

  Her hands fisted at her sides and she sank back into her chair. “I can’t go. I came all the way here and I—” Her voice broke. “William, I am desperate.”

  Any other man would have been moved by her tears, but he ignored the obvious manipulation. “Find another fool, Marcail. This one isn’t available.”

  She gripped the arms of her chair. “You must hear me out, William. No one else can help.”

  “What about your lover? Or has Colchester finally come to his senses and ended his protection?”

  Her lips thinned. “Of course not. But this is a private matter.”

  “Private? Or ‘secret?’ Those are two very different words.”

  “It’s both. I can’t share this with Colchester.”

  “Don’t you trust him?”

  “Yes, but this could cause a scandal and I don’t want him—or anyone else—hurt.”

  William examined her a moment. “Ah. You don’t think Colchester can help you.”

  Her cheeks stained a deeper pink. “Whatever you say about Colchester, he has helped me in ways no one else would.”

  “If by ‘helped’ you mean ‘gave large sums of money,’ I’m certain that’s true. The earl is a wealthy man.”

  She shrugged indifferently, but her expression was strained and he took pleasure in knowing he was pushing the limits of her considerable acting skills.

  That was how she earned her living, by treading upon the boards of Drury Lane. Marcail Beauchamp was beautiful, accomplished, and reportedly the finest actress England had ever produced.

  His gaze flickered over her, noting that her elegant gown was a trifle too revealing for true modesty. And that is the other way she makes her living, he reminded himself harshly. She gives herself to the highest bidder. “Colchester can have you.”

  “William, please. Can’t you put the past behind you long enough to hear me out? I—” She hesitated and he saw a flicker of uncertainty. But was it real? “William, I came to ask a favor.”
>
  He gave a bitter laugh. “No.”

  “You don’t even know what I’m asking.”

  “I don’t need to. If it has to do with you, I want nothing of it.” What was I thinking, to believe the words of an actress? I was besotted. Wildly, crazily, stupidly besotted. He was older now, and knew her measure. His gaze flickered across her and he realized that she was just as beautiful as before, curse it—perhaps even more so. Her beauty had ripened, as had her body. Gone was her slender, almost coltish beauty; in its place was a seductive, mature woman who moved with an assurance that couldn’t be faked.

  “Please, William, this is important. And this is not easy for me, either.”

  He smiled coldly. “I don’t care if this is easy for you.” He pulled out a chair and dropped into it. “How did you get in here? The crew didn’t alert me that I had a guest.”

  “I came onboard before it was light.”

  “There is always a guard by the gangway.”

  “He was asleep.”

  Ah. The watch lapse MacDougal mentioned. “I sense some trickery here. I know you, Marcail Beauchamp, and you cannot be trusted.”