Earl of edgemore, p.1
Earl of Edgemore, page 1
Earl of Edgemore
Amanda Mariel
Brook Ridge Press
Contents
Also by Amanda Mariel
Foreword
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
About the Author
Excerpt
Prologue
Chapter 1
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
* * *
Copyright © 2019 Amanda Mariel
All rights reserved.
* * *
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the express written permission of the publisher.
* * *
Published by Brooke Ridge Press
For my husband—You are my favorite reformed rogue. I love you!
Also by Amanda Mariel
Ladies and Scoundrels series
Scandalous Endeavors
Scandalous Intentions
Scandalous Redemption
Scandalous Wallflower
Scandalous Liaison
* * *
Fabled Love Series
Enchanted by the Earl
Captivated by the Captain
Enticed by Lady Elianna
Delighted by the Duke
* * *
Lady Archer’s Creed series
**Amanda Mariel writing with Christina McKnight**
Theodora
Georgina
Adeline
Josephine
* * *
Scandal Meets Love series
Love Only Me
Find Me Love
If it’s Love
Odd’s of Love
Coming next to the Scandal Meets Love series
Christmas at Fortuna’s Parlor
Believe in Love
Chance of Love
* * *
A Rogue’s Kiss Series
Her Perfect Rogue
Coming next to the A Rogue’s Kiss series
His Perfect Hellion
Her Perfect Scoundrel
* * *
Standalone titles
One Moonlit Tryst
One Enchanting Kiss
Christmas in the Duke’s Embrace
One Wicked Christmas
* * *
Mists of Babylon series
Love’s Legacy
One Wanton Wager
Coming next to the the Mists of Babylon series
Forever in Your Arms
* * *
Wicked Earls’ Club
**Titles by Amanda Mariel**
Earl of Grayson
Earl of Edgemore
* * *
Fated for a Rogue
A Wallflower’s Folly
* * *
Connected by a Kiss
**These are designed so they can standalone**
How to Kiss a Rogue (Amanda Mariel)
A Kiss at Christmastide (Christina McKnight)
A Wallflower’s Christmas Kiss (Dawn Brower)
Stealing a Rogue’s Kiss (Amanda Mariel)
A Gypsy’s Christmas kiss (Dawn Brower)
A Duke’s Christmas Kiss (Tammy Andresen)
* * *
Box sets and anthologies
Visit www.amandamariel.com to see Amanda’s current offerings.
Christmas has never been more wicked…
The Earl of Edgemore, Blake Fox, does as he pleases and he would not dream of apologizing for it. His only weak spot is his sister, Lady Minerva. Little does he know the minx has matchmaking on her mind, and Christmas provides the perfect opportunity.
Does Blake stand a chance against his meddlesome sister, mistletoe, and Christmas magic?
Chapter 1
England, 1816
* * *
“Bullocks,” Carstine Greer cussed as her ankle twisted beneath her. She dropped to the frozen ground at the side of the road and inhaled sharply at the ensuing pain. Reaching for her hem, she began pulling her skirt up to inspect her injury.
“Ach,” she seethed as she worked to free her foot from the confines of her boot. Every movement sent unpleasant jolts of white-hot pain through her ankle and up her leg. She glared at the offending icy patch that had caused her misery.
Tossing her boot aside, Carstine feathered her fingers over the angry red and swollen skin of her ankle. Despite the pain she knew would follow, Carstine forced herself to wiggle her toes then flex her foot.
Good, the bone hadn’t fractured, but she was in a great deal of pain nonetheless. She’d earned herself a nasty sprain to be sure.
She’d wager this would not have happened if her parents had allowed her to remain in Scotland.
Why the devil had Mother been so insistent that Carstine come to England? She did not care about English society, nor was she in any hurry to wed. She wasn’t opposed to husband-hunting, but saw no reason why she couldn’t do it in the highlands. A braw Scottish man would suit her best, she thought, as she put her boot back on with care.
The pounding of horse hoofs pulled her from her misery, and she glanced down the snow-blanketed road. A rider presently raced toward her at break-neck speed. She caught a glimpse of the gentleman as he flew past, the tails of his greatcoat flapping in the wind, before bringing his mount to a halt then turning back toward her.
Carstine stared unabashedly as the rider made his way back to her. He was tall and muscular beneath his greatcoat with broad shoulders, a strong jaw, and curious blue eyes framed in thick lashes. The man sat expertly upon a great chestnut beast of a horse. A fine specimen indeed—both the horse and it’s rider.
Carstine gave a slight grin then nodded as the stranger met her gaze.
The man nodded in return before moving his attention to her ankle. His eyebrows scrunched as he inspected her. “You’re injured.”
“Aye.” She nodded then cringed as she finished pulling her boot on. “I slipped on the ice. It’s a wee sprain. Nothin too serious.”
The man dismounted. He strolled toward her with long confident strides. “Allow me to assist you home?”
Carstine shook her head. She wasn’t foolish enough to mount a horse with a strange man. Certainly not in a country she wasn’t familiar with. “I haven’t far tae go. Fox Grove Hall is just around the bend. I can see myself there,” Carstine said.
“Nonsense,” he insisted, then met her gaze with a confident smile. “Blake Fox, Earl of Edgemore at your service.” He gave a sweeping bow. “You must be Lady Minerva’s new maid?”
Carstine narrowed her eyes on him. The man did bear a striking resemblance to Lady Minerva. His coloring was fairer, but the almond shape of his eyes and high cheekbones were precisely the same. She cleared her throat. “It’s a pleasure to meet ye, my lord, though I fear ye are mistaken about Lady Minerva.”
“Nonsense.” He waved his hand. “My sister would have my hide if I left her maid out in the snow, and injured at that. Come along.” He reached his hand out to her.
Maid? The word echoed in her mind, and Carstine narrowed her eyes. Whatever would make him think she was a servant? She glanced down at her wet skirt and muddied boots. She may be a bit disheveled, but she was no maid.
“Don’t be stubborn.” Lord Edgemore wiggled his fingers impatiently. “Come, I’ll help you onto the horse.”
“Nae.” Carstine shook her head. “I’ll not be ridin with ye.”
“But of course you will. You are in my sister’s employment and, therefore, my responsibility.” He took a step closer, the crisp breeze stirring the golden locks that hung near his shoulders. “I know you Scotts are used to the cold, but you’ll freeze if you stay out much longer.” He captured her arm and nudged her to stand. “Don’t be stubborn.”
Carstine’s cheeks flamed with angry heat. She jerked away, then pushed to her feet. “I told ye already. It’s nothin. Yer assistance is not needed.”
He’d insulted her, and she could not help but be upset. And what did being Scottish have to do with anything? Did he think her to be less than him because of her heritage? Is that why he instantly decided she was a servant?
It was on the tip of Carstine's tongue to correct his misguided beliefs. However, the thought of watching his smugness crumble once they were properly introduced proved too tempting, and she swallowed back her words.
He deserved his comeuppance and the embarrassment that was sure to follow. What’s more, she would delight in every uncomfortable moment he suffered. A smile stretched her lips as she imagined the look that would no doubt overtake his handsome face.
She was a wicked lass, indeed.
Carstine squealed as the earl lifted her off her feet and swung her onto his saddle. She glared at him, her chin notched defiantly. “I’ll not be ridin with ye.” She began lowering herself from the horses back, sliding toward the edge of the saddle. “Ye canna force me.”
Lord Edgemore reached up, gripping her waist and holding her in place. “I dare say I do not understand your objection. Nor do I care. I’ll not leave you here to freeze, nor will I allow you to further your injury by walking on that ankle.” He spared a glance at her boot. “You will ride.”
“Nae—”
“That is an order.” He pushed her more firmly onto the saddle. “And I warn you now; I’ll brook no further argument.”
Carstine huffed an irritated sigh. “Then ye will guide the horse,” she tossed the reins down at him. “As ye walk.”
Satisfaction flooded her as Lord Edgemore took the reins and began leading the horse toward Fox Grove Hall. The highhanded, smug lord may have insulted her, but at least in this, she’d got the best of him. The knowledge that there was more to come vastly improved her mood.
Carstine turned her attention to the countryside as she relaxed in the saddle. She would soon have the full measure of her revenge.
Chapter 2
Blake Fox, fourth Earl of Edgemore, led his horse Crusader and its angry parcel down the drive of Fox Grove Hall. He was fully intent on delivering the feisty, if not beautiful, woman to the servant’s door, then retreating to his billiards room for a much-needed brandy.
His bones were chilled to the marrow. No doubt, the woman suffered as well. Blake could not help but wonder if the woman enjoyed brandy too. If she were not so cross with him, he’d invite her to join him for a glass.
He hazarded at a glance at Crusader’s rider. She sat high in the saddle, her arms crossed over her ample bosom, and her head held high. Based on her appearance, she was handling the winter chill far better than he. Perhaps it was her angry disposition that kept her warm?
He’d heard Scottish woman were a different breed, though he’d never believed the tattle. Not when the Scots he’d meet did not seem much different from their English counterparts, but this woman…
She was all fire and brimstone hidden beneath a fair complexion and captivating eyes. A plaited crown of dark auburn hair created the effect of a halo on top of the little devil’s head, while her heart-shaped face was equally deceiving.
He wanted her.
The realization startled him, and he turned his attention back to the drive. But then why shouldn’t he want the lass? She was stunning and fiery. No doubt, the chit would make a splendid bedfellow.
Assuming, of course, that he could sway her opinion of him.
Charm her out of both her desire to hang him and her skirts.
Blake turned his gaze back to her. “What is your name?”
She smirked as though she held a secret, then said, “Miss Carstine Greer.”
“Ah, a beautiful name for an equally stunning woman.”
She notched her chin a fraction higher, indignation swimming in her bright green eyes. Despite her apparent distaste for his flattery, a small grin curved her lips.
Blake could not help but tease her. “It seems you are not accustomed to flattery. A pity to be sure.”
“On the contrary, my lord. I have suffered far more flowery praise than any lady should,” Carstine held his gaze, her stare hard, but not altogether unfriendly.
At that moment, he made up his mind. The insolent Carstine would be in his bed by Christmas. She’d be begging for his compliments and craving his kisses. She would be his, and it would be a Merry Christmas, indeed.
Leastwise, a vastly pleasurable one.
“Dear God! What happened, Carstine?”
Blake stilled at the high pitch sound of his sister Minerva’s voice. He pivoted slightly to see her racing toward them.
“Why are you riding Blake’s horse? Are you hurt?” Minerva called out as she continued toward them, her chestnut curls bobbing with each footfall.
“I slipped on a patch of ice and twisted my ankle. A wee sprain. ‘Tis nothing. Dinna fash yersel.” Carstine answered.
Blake turned to a footman that had followed Minerva from the house and said, “Do help the woman down. Take her below stairs and see that she is tended to.”
“Below stairs!” Minerva squealed with indignation. “Why ever would you send her there?” Minerva looked at the footman. “His lordship is mistaken. Please take Miss Carstine to her guest room and see that Mother is informed.”
“Guest room?” Blake raised a brow in question.
“Yes, her guest room. Carstine is Mother’s guest. Her ward actually.” Minerva narrowed her gaze on him. “Who did you think she was?”
“He thinks I serve you, milady,” Carstine said.
“My servant?” Minerva swatted his arm. “You’re an idiot. Did you not think to ask her who she was?”
Blake glanced from Minerva to Carstine. His Mother’s ward? Why the devil hadn’t she said as much. And why the deuce was she dressed like a fishmonger’s wife?
Heat rose up, flaring across his chilled skin. A mixture of anger at being deceived and embarrassment over his mistake coursed through him. He heaved a sigh as he returned his attention to Minerva. “I was more concerned with her injury than her identity,” Blake confessed.
“On the contrary,” Carstine said as the footman carried her toward the front steps. “He was too highhanded tae care. I attempted tae tell him, but he wouldna listen.”
“Blake!” Minerva scowled at him.
He shot the lass a dubious glare. She had bested him to be sure. She’d made a fool of him and seemed rather pleased with herself for it. He’d wager that smug look would disappear quickly once he had her in his bed.
This was war!
Minerva elbowed him, bringing him back to the moment.
Blake glared at his indignant sister.
“Apologize,” Minerva demanded.
“Very well.” Blake turned toward Carstine, and in three long strides, he’d reached her. Rather than speaking, he took her from the footman. She immediately stiffened in his arms but did not put up a fuss. “I’m sorry for my mistake. Allow me to make amends by seeing you to your chamber,” he said in a cool flat tone.
“That is not at all proper,” Minerva called out from behind him, but Blake ignored her as he carried his burden into the manor house.
He knew he was acting uncivilized, but at the moment, he did not care. He’d make it up to Minerva latter. Presently, he had a point to prove.
Carstine needed to recognize that he was not a man to be trifled with. He was lord of the manor.
Blake mounted the stairs two at a time, his hold on Carstine firm. The feel of her lush body in his arms wreaked havoc on his senses. His pulse increased as desire took hold threatening to overwhelm his good sense.
For her part, the minx acted unaffected. Her gaze cold and body still but for the jostling caused by his movements. The fact only served to further grate on his nerves. He started down the hall, his gaze trained on the doors that lined either side of the corridor. “Which room?” He spoke the question through clenched teeth.
“Third one on the right,” Carstine answered as though there was nothing amiss with their current situation.
Blake hastily made his way to the door she’d indicated, then shoved it open with his hip before strolling inside. He marched over to the large four-post bed. There, he took a moment to bring his mouth close to her ear and whisper, “This is not over, beauty.”
Before she could react, he deposited her in a heap and turned to take his leave.
Like an angry little shadow, Minerva was at his elbow. She wrapped her hand around his arm and tugged. “We must talk.”
Blake allowed his sister to lead him from the room, but once they stepped into the hallway, he took control, turning them toward the billiards room.
He would allow her to talk all she pleased. He never denied Minerva anything—never could. But while she filled his head with her chatter, he’d be filling his gut with good brandy.
When they reached the billiards room, Blake held the door so Minerva could enter. “Be a dear and pour me a glass of brandy before you knaw my head off,” He said as he dropped onto the sofa nearest the hearth.
