Mary Jo Putney's Lost Lords Bundle: Loving a Lost Lord, Never Less Than A Lady, Nowhere Near Respectable, No Longer a Gentleman & Sometimes A Rogue

Book 0: Lost Lords

by Mary Jo Putney

Genres: Historical Fiction; Action & Adventure Romance; Regency Romance

Synopsis

Loving a Lost Lord In the first of a dazzling series, Mary Jo Putney introduces the Lost Lords—maverick childhood friends with a flair for defying convention. Each is about to discover the woman who is his perfect match—but perfection doesn't come easily, even for the noble Duke of Ashton. . . Battered by the sea, Adam remembers nothing of his past, his ducal rank, nor of the shipwreck that almost claimed his life. However, he's delighted to hear that the golden-haired vision tending his wounds is his wife. Mariah's name and face may not be familiar, but her touch, her warmth, feel deliciously right. . . When Mariah Clarke prayed for a way to deter a bullying suitor, she didn't imagine she'd find the answer washed ashore on a desolate beach. Convincing Adam that he is her husband is surprisingly easy. Resisting the temptation to act his wife, in every way, will prove anything but. And now a passion begun in fantasy has become dangerously real—and completely irresistible. . . Never Less Than A Lady New York Times bestselling author Mary Jo Putney continues her stunning Lost Lords series with this stirring, sensual story of a rebellious nobleman drawn to a lovely widow with a shocking past. As the sole remaining heir to the Earl of Daventry, Alexander Randall knows his duty: find a wife and sire a son of his own. The perfect bride for a man in his position would be a biddable young girl of good breeding. But the woman who haunts his imagination is Julia Bancroft—a village midwife with a dark secret that thrusts her into Randall's protection. Nowhere Near Respectable Mary Jo Putney's riveting Lost Lords series unleashes a high stakes royal plot—which may prove easier for Damian Mackenzie to handle than his own unruly desire. . . He's a bastard and a gambler and society's favorite reprobate. But to Lady Kiri Lawford he's a hero—braver than the smugglers he rescues her from, more honorable than any lord she's ever met, and far more attractive than any man has a right to be. How can she not fall in love. . .? No Longer a Gentleman Grey Sommers, Lord Wyndham, never met a predicament he couldn't charm his way out of. Then a tryst with a government official's wife during a bit of casual espionage in France condemns him to a decade in a dungeon, leaving him a shadow of his former self. Yet his greatest challenge may be the enigmatic spy sent to free his body--the only woman who might heal his soul. Cassie Fox lost everything in the chaos of revolution, leaving only a determination to help destroy Napoleon's empire through her perilous calling. Rescuing Grey is merely one more mission. She hadn't counted on a man with the stark beauty of a ravaged angel, whose desperate courage and vulnerability thaw her frozen heart. But a spy and a lord are divided by an impassable gulf even if they manage to survive one last, terrifying mission. . .. Sometimes A Rogue. . . Even the most proper young lady yearns for adventure. But when the very well bred Miss Sarah Clarke-Townsend impulsively takes the place of her pregnant twin, it puts her own life at risk. If the kidnappers after her sister discover they've abducted Sarah instead, she will surely pay with her life. . . Rob Carmichael survived his disastrous family by turning his back on his heritage and becoming a formidable Bow Street Runner with a talent for rescuing damsels in distress. But Sarah is one damsel who is equal to whatever comes. Whether racing across Ireland with her roguish rescuer or throwing herself into his arms, she challenges Rob at every turn.

Release date: October 1, 2013

Publisher: Zebra

Print pages: 1586

Sample

Kent, late October 1812



She left with a chime of laughter, sweeping up the skirts of her riding habit and darting down the long corridor before the golden young man could finish his proposal. But when she reached the door at the end, she paused to glance over her shoulder, her expression mischievous.

The Honorable Godfrey Hitchcock smiled, blond and confident in the sunshine that had appeared after days of rain. “We shall talk later, Lady Kiri. And I shall finish what I started to ask you.”

Kiri Lawford gave him the swift smile that always left men breathless, then slipped through the door. Once she was out of his sight, she slowed down, her expression thoughtful. Godfrey was charming, the most appealing suitor she’d had since her family had come to London a year before.

But did she really want to marry him?

She liked that Godfrey had joined her for this late afternoon ride even though they risked being late for dinner. She hadn’t wanted to waste the rare sunshine after being trapped indoors ever since arriving at Grimes Hall for this house party. He was a first-rate rider who’d kept up with her as they galloped headlong over the hills of Kent.

Officially Kiri was only one of a number of guests at the party. But everyone understood that she was there to meet Godfrey’s family while they became better acquainted in a relaxed setting. Kiri’s mother had planned to come, but their household had been full of measles, so she’d remained in London.

Luckily Kiri had been staying at Ashton House with her brother and hadn’t been exposed to illness. That allowed her to travel down to Kent with an older couple who were attending the house party.

The visit was going well. The Hitchcocks looked Kiri over with a thoroughness that suggested they thought she’d soon be part of the family. She found them pleasant enough, in a cool English way.

It would not be a brilliant match, since Godfrey was only the third son of a baron while Kiri was a duke’s daughter. But she liked him very well. In the year since her family arrived from India, she’d found no eligible men she liked better.

Godfrey hadn’t treated her like an exotic foreign slut unworthy of respect. He also kissed very nicely, which was surely a good trait in a husband, and his touch of rebelliousness matched her own. But was that a strong enough basis for marriage?

Kiri’s mother came of royal Hindu blood, and despite her gentleness, she’d defied tradition to twice marry Englishmen. Both had been love matches. Kiri’s father, the sixth Duke of Ashton, had died before she was born, but she had seen the love between Lakshmi and her second husband, John Stillwell. Her stepfather had been a famous general in India, and he was the only father she’d ever known. A good father, too, who treated his stepdaughter exactly the same as his own two children.

Godfrey was amusing and good company, but compared to General Stillwell, he seemed rather short on substance. Of course, most men were. Though her brother Adam measured up to the general rather well. So did most of Adam’s intriguing friends, now that she thought about it. A pity they all treated her like a little sister.

But perhaps she wasn’t being fair to Godfrey. They simply weren’t well enough acquainted for her to know if he had hidden depths. She must accept the offer made by his mother, Lady Norland, who’d suggested Kiri stay on for another week after the formal house party ended.

Wondering if her parents would be able to come down if she stayed longer, Kiri decided to stop by Lady Norland’s morning room. Her hostess would probably be there if she hadn’t gone up to dress for dinner, so Kiri could ask to extend her visit. Surely another week in Godfrey’s company would clarify whether they would suit.

The countess’s morning room was cozy and attractive, and she spent a good deal of her time there with her female friends. Kiri quietly opened the door, then paused, seeing that Lady Norland was chatting with her sister, Lady Shrimpton. Lounging on a sofa with their backs to the door, the sisters didn’t see Kiri.

Kiri could talk to her hostess later. She was on the verge of withdrawing when Lady Shrimpton said, “Is Godfrey really going to marry that Kiri creature?”

Kiri froze at the sneering tone. What on earth . . . ?

“It’s looking likely,” Lady Norland replied. “She seems quite smitten. What girl could resist a man so handsome and charming?”

“I’m surprised you and Norland would allow such a match,” her sister said disapprovingly. “I wouldn’t let one of my boys marry a half-breed foreigner. Such a bold, vulgar creature! I’ve seen the lures she casts out. Why, men sniff around her like hounds. Godfrey won’t know if his children are his own.”

Kiri’s hand pressed to her chest as her heart pounded with shock. Her brother Adam had experienced dangerous disapproval of his mixed blood, but Kiri had been treated with more tolerance because she was a mere female, not an English duke. While some members of society disapproved of her heritage, they were usually discreet about it. She had never heard such malice directed at her.

“The chit is half English and her stepfather is General Stillwell, so she should have some sense of proper conduct.” Lady Norland sounded as if she wasn’t quite sure about that. “What matters is that she’s a duke’s daughter and will have a very generous dowry. Godfrey is expensive, and he won’t find a richer wife than this one. If she foists other men’s brats on him—well, he has two older brothers and they both have sons, so her blood will never taint the title.”

“A good dowry does compensate for much,” Lady Shrimpton said. “But you’ll have to socialize with that dreadful little mother of hers. A heathen, and so dark!”

“Lady Kiri is less dark, and her dowry is golden!” Lady Norland laughed. “I suppose I mustn’t give her mother the cut direct, but believe me, there will be little social intercourse between that family and ours despite the presence of General Stillwell.”

Kiri’s vision darkened as a red, killing rage possessed her. How dare they speak that way about her mother, who was the wisest, gentlest, kindest woman Kiri had ever known! She was a true lady by any standard. Kiri wanted to mangle both of those horrible women with her bare hands. She yearned to crush their sneers and bigotry.

She could, too. As a girl, she’d been fascinated by tales of ancient Hindu warrior queens, so she’d insisted on joining her male Hindu cousins to study the traditional Indian art of fighting called Kalarippayattu. Kiri had been one of the best students in the class, and now she burned to use her skills on those evil females.

But it would be very bad form to kill her hostess. Nor should she murder Godfrey, the lying, deceitful fortune hunter. As she turned and headed blindly to her room, she felt ill at the knowledge that she’d considered marrying the man! She wiped her fist across her mouth as if she could rub off the memory of his kisses.

Almost as infuriating as the slurs against her mother were the horrible claims that Kiri was a slut who cast out lures to men. She had been raised in military camps among men, and she enjoyed their company. From the time she was old enough to walk, General Stillwell’s subordinates had teased and talked and taught her riding, hunting, and shooting. When she grew up, young officers sometimes fell desperately in love with her. Of course she was no shy English miss who was afraid of all men outside her family!

She could not stay in this house for another day, or even another hour. She entered her bedroom with relief. She would borrow a Norland horse and ride cross country to Dover, a busy port where she could easily get a coach back to London.

Hands shaking and buttons popping, she jerked off the expensive new riding habit she’d worn on her daily rides with Godfrey. She had made an effort to be an English lady in all ways, but no longer.

Free of the yards of fabric, she dug into her wardrobe for the well-worn divided riding skirt she’d brought from India. The skirt made it possible to ride astride, and she’d thought she might wear it here.

The buff-colored twill of the divided skirt settled into place with welcome familiarity. As she donned a tailored navy jacket, she glanced at herself in the wardrobe mirror.

Dark hair, vivid green eyes, above average height even for an English girl. Her complexion was darker than the average Briton, but not startlingly so.

This was the true Kiri Lawford—a daughter of the empire, half English and half Hindu and proud of both heritages. In a sari and with a bindi on her brow, she would look almost entirely Indian, just as in a riding habit she looked almost entirely English.

But never fully one or the other. She could not change that about herself. Nor did she want to. Especially not to please spiteful cats like Lady Norland and her sister.

She could carry little on horseback, so she scanned the room to see if there was anything she must take besides her money. She’d brought some of her finest outfits, but she wouldn’t stay here merely to protect her wardrobe.

She wrapped her jewelry in a change of linen, then an Indian shawl. Tucked in a leather pouch, the bundle would pack unobtrusively behind her saddle.

Much as she wanted to storm out of the house, she had been too well raised to leave without a word. She must write a note to the woman she’d traveled down with, which would be easy. Also a note to Godfrey, which would not be easy, but she couldn’t bring herself to address Lady Norland directly. She sat at the desk, wanting to rage at him. But mere paper could not contain her fury.

She settled for scrawling, You must find another fortune to hunt. Please send my belongings to Ashton House. She deliberately specified her brother’s ducal mansion. Though these people might consider her a slut, by God, she was a high-born slut.

Since Kiri’s maid had been trapped in the measles quarantine, she’d been assigned a Norland girl of small skill and less personality. Kiri left a generous vail for the girl’s service, then swept from the room.

Luckily she didn’t see any of the Hitchcocks or other houseguests on her way downstairs and out to the stables. She knew which horse she wanted—Chieftain, a splendid blood bay gelding belonging to Godfrey’s oldest brother, George Hitchcock. George, the pompous heir to the title, married to a bland blonde and with two sturdily English, towheaded sons. He didn’t deserve so fine a horse. She’d been longing to ride it.

The stables were quiet and she guessed that the grooms were eating their supper. No matter, she’d made friends with Chieftain during the past week. She paused over which saddle to use.

Godfrey’s was a good size, but using anything of his would make her skin crawl, so she chose anonymous tack. It took her only a few minutes to saddle Chieftain and walk him out of the stable. She swung onto the horse as easily as any man, turned Chieftain toward Dover, and left Grimes Hall forever.

A good thing Kiri had her anger to keep her warm, she thought acidly, or she’d be shivering. The late October night fell quickly as the sky clouded up, and the temperature dropped like a stone. Though Chieftain was a splendid mount, progress was slow because the ground was muddy from several days of rain. The track she was following north to Dover twisted up and down through the rugged hills, which slowed her even more.

But Dover was only a few miles farther. She couldn’t miss it as long as she followed this track, which paralleled the coast. She would spend the night in an inn—a nice, warm inn—and take a coach back to London in the morning. It would be interesting to ride a public coach instead of a luxurious private carriage. She liked new experiences, even if they were likely to be uncomfortable.

The track descended a hill in a narrow cut that was barely wide enough for a horse and rider. A good thing she was in relatively safe England rather than India, where bands of dacoits might lie in wait.

She was contemplating a roaring fireplace when she rounded a bend and found herself face-to-face with a pack train of heavily laden ponies heading upland. What the devil . . . ? It took a moment for Kiri to sort out the jumble of rough-looking men, ponies, and tightly shielded lanterns.

Smugglers! As soon as the thought crossed her mind, she tried to pull Chieftain around so they could escape, but the free traders had also recovered from their surprise. “Get ’im!” a sharp voice bellowed. “Can’t let a stranger see us!”

A smuggler lunged at Kiri. She slashed her riding crop across his face while applying her heels to Chieftain. But more men grabbed her and the track was so narrow the horse couldn’t turn quickly. She kicked two men away, slashed others with her whip, but before she could win free, the sharp voice shouted, “Jed, use yer bird net!”

A weighted, malodorous net flew through the air and dropped over her, entangling arms and legs. As she struggled to free herself, her assailants dragged her from her horse. She slammed to the ground with bruising force and exploded into furious Hindi curses.

A redheaded trader grabbed her and exclaimed, “Jesus, it’s a bloody woman!”

“Wearing trousers and riding astride?” another said skeptically.

“I know a tit when I feel one!”

A lean man with a long, morose face approached and knelt beside Kiri. Her hat had come off, and in the narrow beam of a lantern, her face was clearly visible. “ ’Tis a woman, right enough,” he said in the leader’s voice. “Or rather a girl. She was babbling in some foreign language. Do you speak English, gal?”

“Better than you do!” She tried to knee him in the groin but was too trapped by the net to manage it.

“In those trousers, Captain Hawk, she’s mebbe a whore,” a smuggler remarked.

“I’m no whore!” Kiri cursed them again, this time in English and using the filthiest language a little girl could learn in an army cantonment.

“Mebbe not be a whore, but she sure ain’t no lady,” a man said rather admiringly.

“Gag and blindfold her,” Hawk said tersely. “Then tie her up and toss her over her saddle. Howard, Jed, take her down to the cave and make sure she don’t get away. Mac the Knife is coming tonight, so make him welcome if he arrives before we get back. We’ll figure out what to do with ’er then.”

“I already know what to do to her, Captain,” a man said with a lewd chuckle.

“We’ll have none of that,” Hawk said as he admired Chieftain. “This horse is worth a pretty penny, so the girl might be valuable, too.”

“We need to be careful,” the heavyset man warned. “If her people are too important, asking for ransom might bring a troop of soldiers out here looking for us. Safer to roger her, then toss her off a boat with a few rocks for weight.”

Kiri stiffened. If they learned she was sister to a duke, they might be so afraid of consequences they’d kill her out of hand. She unobtrusively used her right thumb to turn her ring so the diamonds were underneath and only a plain band showed on top. “I’m neither rich nor important, so no need to murder me.”

“You talk like money.” The captain’s eyes narrowed. “What’s your name?”

She thought quickly for a name close to her own. “Carrie Ford.”

“Some Fords over in Deal,” a man volunteered. “She don’t look like one of ’em.”

Stick to the truth when possible. She said, “I’m from London, not Deal.”

“Where did you get your fancy horse?” Hawk asked.

Her mouth twisted. “I stole him to get away from a man who lied to me.” Which had the advantage of being true.

The smugglers laughed. “Sounds like she’s our kind of woman,” one said.

“Could be she’s lying.” Hawk scowled. “We’ll figure that out later. For now, truss ’er up and don’t damage her. We need to be moving.”

Despite Kiri’s furious struggles, the smugglers were able to peel the net off her upper body and tie her wrists with a length of thin, hard line. She wanted to scream with frustration because she couldn’t free herself to fight properly. She should have been carrying a knife, but she had wanted to be genteel for the wretched Norland house party.

Howard, the heavyset man, tried to gag her with a filthy square of cloth. “You swine!” she snarled before biting his fingers.

“Bitch!” He slapped her cheek and tied the gag painfully tight, but she had the satisfaction of seeing that she’d drawn blood.

After her bite, the free traders handled her with wary efficiency. Jed, the wiry redhead, blindfolded her. Trussed like a goose, she was draped over Chieftain’s saddle and tied to the horse.

It was a gut-wrenchingly uncomfortable way to travel, especially since she could see nothing. Using her hearing and other senses, she knew that she was being taken downward on a path so narrow that sometimes her feet brushed a rough stone wall.

Kiri was perilously close to throwing up before the horse halted and she was untied and pulled from the saddle. She staggered, but a hard hand caught her elbow. “Since there’s nothing for her to see but rock,” Jed’s voice said, “I’m taking off the blindfold so she can walk down on her own.”

Even though it was night, having the blindfold taken off gave her some sense of her surroundings and cleared her head. They stood in a sheltered pocket surrounded by boulders on all sides. One end was fenced off for a crude paddock that held a couple of ponies munching on a mound of hay.

Looking wary, Jed tried to remove Chieftain’s saddle, and got nipped for his efforts. Rubbing at the rapidly forming bruise on his forearm, he growled, “Then you can just stay in your tack and be uncomfortable, horse.”

Chieftain entered the paddock willingly since hay awaited. He was a fine animal, so Kiri hoped one of the other runners knew how to care for horses. Not that she blamed Jed for being afraid. Chieftain was a large, high-spirited aristocrat among horses, and he obviously had little patience with peasants.

Jed took her arm and led the way to a path hidden between two boulders. Unable to use her hands, she might have fallen if he hadn’t kept hold of her. No chance of escape with Howard just behind them.

The path flattened out to a ledge that led to the narrow entrance of a sea cave. A path split from the ledge down to a sliver of shingle beach. There was just enough light for her to see several boats moored out in the small natural harbor. The free traders’ fleet—fish by day, brandy by night. It was a good hideout that excise ships sailing along the coast would have trouble finding.

Jed led her into the cave, which broadened into a surprisingly large chamber. Kiri estimated that it was almost as large as the ballroom at Ashton House.

Once they were inside and away from the entrance, Jed lit a lantern that illuminated much of the cavern. Alcoves were stacked with contraband, particularly wine and spirits in small, easily carried casks. She’d heard that smuggled spirits were so concentrated that large amounts would kill a man. They had to be diluted before being served.

There were oilskin-wrapped bales that probably contained tea and tobacco. Other packages might have been bolts of fabric and lace and other luxury goods. She couldn’t even guess at how much the merchandise was worth. Surely a lot.

Kiri was marched to the far end of the cavern. Before she realized what Howard was doing, he snapped a manacle around her left wrist. Despite her fury at being tethered to the wall like a beast, she held still while he cut her wrist bonds. The rope had been tied with a sailor’s skill and it was cutting cruelly into her wrists.

She was massaging the grooves left by the rope when Howard put a heavy hand on her breast and squeezed. Outraged, she jerked back and kicked hard at his groin.

She didn’t connect dead center, but her riding boot hit close enough that Howard screamed and fell backward, clutching himself. “You bitch! ” Bent over and gasping with pain, he raised his knife. “You’ll be sorry for that!”

“Can’t blame the chit for not wanting to be groped.” Jed put a restraining hand on the other man’s arm. “The captain will know what to do with her. Start a fire while I get the fixin’s for a kettle of bumbo. The lads will want a hot drink when they get back.”

Grumbling, Howard obeyed, and within a few minutes the two men were sitting by a fire and taking turns swigging from a bottle of gin. Kiri could smell the sharp scent of juniper clear across the cavern.

The gin kept Howard quiet while Jed prepared the bumbo, which required him to suspend a large kettle of water over the fire, Then he added sugar, a lemon, and a pinch of nutmeg. Smuggling must be profitable to afford the ingredients.

The nutmeg and lemon put a pleasant scent in the air while the smoke disappeared into crevices in the ceiling. Kiri guessed that when the flavored water was hot, it would be combined with rum or some other spirit. Kiri wouldn’t mind a tankard of it herself—she was horribly thirsty, and cold as well.

Since she could do nothing about thirst or cold, she sat with her back against the wall and drew her knees up. Resting her wrists in her lap, she investigated the manacle. Cave damp had put rust on the surface of the metal, but it was still solid.

Or was it? She twisted at the metal circlet with her left hand, and had a sense that the manacle was more rusted than her captors realized. If the metal was weakened just a little bit more, she might be able to wrench the manacle open.

On her right hand, she wore the ring her parents had given her on her eighteenth birthday. Elegant rather than vulgar, the ring was set with seven small, perfect diamonds in a line across the top, tapering in size from the largest in the middle down to slightly smaller stones. Diamonds were very hard, and a line of them were like a saw. If she could groove the rusting metal, she might be able to twist and break the manacle.

She began to scrape the diamonds across the rustiest section, glad the surf covered up the rasping sound. The element of surprise would help her get past Jed and Howard if she could free herself before the other runners returned. Once she was on Chieftain, she’d be halfway to Dover before they figured out what happened.

The diamonds scratched into the metal, but progress was painfully slow. She was still tethered when the other smugglers returned. They were in high spirits from safely landing and moving so much valuable merchandise. Even if she could break free, she’d have to get past the whole gang of them to escape.

Quickly Kiri rested her hands in her lap when Hawk came over to examine her, fingers of her right hand resting on the manacle. “What to do with you?” he muttered.

Howard gave a bark of laughter. “Careful, Cap’n, she kicks as well as bites. Like a horse, she needs to be broken to saddle. I’m willin’ to ride her.”

“We’re smugglers, not criminals,” Hawk said tersely. “A pity she ain’t a local gal who could be trusted to keep her mouth shut about us.”

“Worry about ’er later, Hawk.” One of the men brought his captain a steaming tankard of bumbo. “’Tis time to celebrate a good run.”

Hawk turned away from Kiri. “Send a draft up to Swann since he’s waiting above for Mac. He deserves a bit of warmth.”

Kiri watched uneasily. Most of the smugglers would be family men and not prone to murder. But drink could make even sensible men violent, and Howard and perhaps others might kill in cold blood. Grimly she returned to working on the manacle. She had to do something, or she’d go mad.

Time passed, the runners got drunker—and then the devil from hell swept into the cave.

Shock jolted down Kiri’s spine before she realized the newcomer was only a large man with a torch-bearing smuggler behind him. The sweeping folds of a dark greatcoat and the wildly flaring flames were what made him look like the devil arriving to claim Faust.

He stepped into the light, doffing a hat to reveal a handsome face that looked as if it was seldom troubled by deep thought. “Greetings,” he said in an easy voice that filled the cavern. “How are my favorite free traders?”

Staccato exclamations greeted his appearance. “It’s Mackenzie!”

“Aye, Mac the Knife himself!”

“I bet you say that to all the smugglers, you silver-tongued devil!”

“Where ye been, ye rogue?”

“Pull up a rock and join us, Mac!”

“Sorry I’m late,” Mackenzie said cheerfully. “I spotted a troop of excisemen and didn’t think you’d want me to lead them here.” He shook hands with the captain. “Could you bring in all I ordered?”

“We were a cask short of the hock, but everything else is on its way.” Hawk poured wine into a glass. “Taste this claret. ’Tis a new vintage, but mighty fine.”

Mackenzie accepted a glass and swallowed thoughtfully, judging the wine. “Excellent. I’ll want some of this next time around.” He held out his glass for a refill.

“Here’s your special French tobacco.” Hawk handed over a packet. “Smells nice, but no tobacco is worth what you pay me for smuggling this in.”

Mackenzie sniffed the packet appreciatively before tucking it inside his greatcoat. “Worth every penny. A moment, please . . .” He reached into a different pocket and pulled out two canvas pouches, one large, one small. They clanked when he handed them over. “This for the tobacco. This for the wine and spirits wending their way to London.”

“’Tis a pleasure doing business with you,” the captain said with a rare smile. Kiri noticed he didn’t count the money. Mackenzie must be a regular and trusted customer.

Though the newcomer was large, good-looking, and well dressed, that wasn’t why everyone in the cave watched him. The word charisma flitted through Kiri’s mind. She’d had a brief flirtation with a Cambridge student who claimed Kiri was charismatic because her beauty compelled all attention whenever she entered a room. Charisma was a personal magnetism that drew others close, he’d explained. It gave leaders the power to inspire their followers.

Then he’d presented her with a poem written in Greek, which was sweet of him, and concealed the fact that he was probably a bad poet. Calling Kiri charismatic was mere flattery, but Mackenzie was the real thing. All the runners, even the angry Howard, brightened when the newcomer acknowledged them with a glance or a smile.

Mackenzie was savoring his claret when his gaze reached Kiri. “Who’s the wench?” he asked as he moved in her direction.

Hawk, Howard, and Jed moved with him. “Trouble,” the captain said dryly. “She rode into us when we were moving the goods. Had to take her captive. I’m not sure what to do with her. Maybe see how much her family will pay to get her back.”

“They’d be fools to pay a shilling,” Howard growled. “She needs taming, and I’m going to be first in line.”

Jed laughed. “A good thing her kick was a little off or you’d not be able.”

Coarse banter ensued among the smugglers, but Mackenzie ignored them and went down on one knee to study Kiri more closely. She stared back with narrowed eyes.

The man looked a little familiar, though she was sure she’d never met him. Despite his air of genial frivolity, he moved with the feral alertness of a soldier. One who knew how to kill. But she didn’t sense mad-dog violence.

“If looks could kill, we’d all be dead,” he said with amusement. “She might be handsome under that gag. Is it necessary?”

“Had to gag her because her filthy tongue was embarrassin’ us,” Hawk said morosely. “Swears like a drunken sailor.”

The smugglers found that hilarious, and a roar of laughter filled the cavern. Kiri was chilled by the recognition that they were getting to the drunken state where they didn’t care about consequences for their actions.

“What are you going to do with her?” Mackenzie asked.

“Not sure. She’s probably worth something to someone, but I don’t know who.” The captain scowled. “She ain’t the cooperative sort.”

“Bites like a wildcat and kicks like a bloody mule,” Howard muttered.

“She has spirit,” Hawk agreed. “The sort to march off to the excisemen and persuade them out to hunt us down. She must have a pretty fair idea where this hideout is, too. Damned if I know what to do with her.”

“Tie rocks to her and drop her in the Channel,” Howard said.

Kiri glared at the man with murderous rage. She had meant these men no harm. Though she didn’t approve of smuggling, she knew that it was accepted and almost respectable in this area. She’d not have interfered.

But she no longer felt neutral. Given the way they’d treated her, she wanted to do just what the captain feared: bring the law down on these filthy kidnappers. Though she would pass on that in return for the opportunity to kill Howard with her bare hands.

“Says she stole her fancy horse, but I’m thinkin’ she comes from money,” Hawk continued. “Her clothes are strange but not cheap.”

“Sellin’ her back to her family would cause trouble,” Howard argued. “Better to use her and lose her.”

“That would be a waste of a tasty morsel.” Mackenzie’s gaze was still on Kiri, but coolly unreadable. “What’s her name? Maybe I can tell you how valuable she is.”

“Says she’s Carrie Ford, but she could be lyin’,” the captain said with a frown. “Know any ric