The Wayward Bride

Book 1: Besotted Scots

by Anna Bradley

Genres: LGBT Lesbian; International Crime & Mystery

Synopsis

In only six weeks, Isla Ramsey is due to marry Henry Northrup, the sixth Earl of Sydney. But she remains haunted by memories of the dashing Hugh Courtney, the Marquess Pierce. The handsome aristocrat had hinted at forever and then tossed her aside, leaving Isla with few viable options. Now, as she awaits her new fiancé's arrival from London, she rides her horse past Hugh's estate at Hazelwood every day, pining for a man who was never truly hers.

Hugh Courtney may have left Isla's life, but he can't erase her from his thoughts. When he rescues her from a sudden snowstorm, they are forced to take shelter together at his private estate. In such close quarters there is no escaping each other. Yet no man wants a reckless wife-or a woman promised to another. As fate draws Isla further into his world, Hugh vows to keep her out of his bedchamber. However, some vows are meant to be broken . . .

Release date: February 26, 2018

Publisher: Kensington Publishing Corporation

Print pages: 238

Content advisory: Features two intertwined love stories, one conventional, and one m/m

Sample

Chapter One

Huntington Lodge, Buckinghamshire

March 1818

A creaky floorboard was the worst thing that could befall a sneak.

Isla Ramsey didn’t like to think of herself as the sneaky sort, but when the floorboard under her boot squawked in protest, she instinctively threw a guilty glance over her shoulder. Hyacinth wasn’t there, thank goodness. Over the past few weeks her sister-in-law had taken to following her about like a Bow Street Runner after a thief, and for all her sweet, gentle ways, Hyacinth had the instincts of a predator.

Isla crept forward again, wincing as the floorboard shrieked like an outraged mouse. How was it possible every floorboard in this house had suddenly developed an alarming squeak? They’d all been perfectly silent until she tried to creep across them.

Her mouth set into a stubborn line. It was utter nonsense she was forced to sneak about in the first place. It wasn’t as if she were going out to pick a pocket, or set a fire, or kick a puppy. She wasn’t doing anything wrong. It was a morning ride, for pity’s sake, nothing more. Surely there was nothing so shocking in that? Why, people all over England rode every day, and no one asked them to explain themselves.

She cast another nervous glance around, but there was no one about. Perhaps fate had deigned to smile on her at last, because she made it across the entryway to the front door without being taken up by the Huntington Lodge watch. She’d just nip out the door, make her way to the stables, and be gone before anyone even realized she’d—

“Isla Ramsey, don’t you dare set foot outside that door!”

So close.

“I mean it, Isla. I forbid it!”

Hyacinth’s voice was as stern as Isla had ever heard it, but when she turned to face her sister-in-law, she couldn’t prevent a grin. “You can’t forbid me to do something when you’re wearing that gown, Hyacinth. It’s not at all forbidding.”

Hyacinth frowned and smoothed a hand down her dainty skirts. “What do you mean? What’s wrong with my gown?”

“It’s pink.” Isla moved a step closer and squinted at Hyacinth’s bodice. “Blossom pink, with sweet little purple flowers all over it.”

Hyacinth crossed her arms over her chest. “What of it? I don’t see what my gown has to do with you riding out today.”

“You look as if you’ve just tumbled from a tray of sweets. Really, Hyacinth, you can’t play the despot when you look like one of Cook’s teacakes.”

Isla offered her sister-in-law a winning smile to soothe any ruffled feelings, but Hyacinth was having none of it. “Very well, Isla. I can’t force you to listen to me, but you don’t need me to tell you it’s dangerous to ride during a violent storm.”

“Violent storm? Oh, nonsense, Hyacinth. It’s not even raining.”

“Only because it’s too cold for rain, and it’s growing colder by the minute. You may trust me when I say that once the skies open, we’ll be pummeled with ice and snow.”

Isla glanced out the window and bit her lip. A fierce wind was blowing ominous dark gray clouds across the sky, and even her thick wool riding habit was no match for the icy drafts stealing under her skirts. “Oh, very well. I grant you it’s not an ideal day for a ride, but I won’t be gone long. I only intend to go as far as the main road, and then I’ll turn right back.”

“Look at the clouds, Isla!” Hyacinth pointed at the patch of leaden sky visible through the window set high above the door. “It will be snowing before you’ve even reached the stables, never mind the road!”

“Perhaps, but I’ve ridden in blustery weather before. I am from northern Scotland, if you recall. Come, Hyacinth. It isn’t far, and I want to see if I can spot Lord Sydney’s carriage on the road.”

Dear Lord Sydney. She’d written, asking him to come, and he’d written back, promising to set out from London at once. He was the dearest of men, and the doubts and chaos in her head always calmed when Sydney was about.

What more could a lady ask of her betrothed than that?

“Lachlan and Finn have both said they doubt he’ll come today. He’s almost certainly delayed his trip from London, or stopped on the way to wait for more favorable weather.”

It was a reasonable enough assumption, but Isla wasn’t in a mood to be reasonable. “Perhaps he has, and yet I’d feel better seeing for myself, just the same.”

Hyacinth regarded Isla in silence for a moment, then asked in a casual tone, “Is that the only reason you insist on riding out?”

Isla had turned back to the door, but now she jerked around. Her gaze snapped to Hyacinth’s face, and what she saw in those sympathetic dark blue eyes made her stiffen.

Hyacinth knows.

Isla had grown up with only rough, wild brothers. She’d always longed for a sister, and Hyacinth was as lovely a sister as she’d ever dreamed of having, but there were certain things she hadn’t understood about sisterhood until after her brother Lachlan had married Hyacinth.

For one, there were no secrets among sisters.

A sister could see past whatever lies you told and scars you hid, right into the center of your heart. There was a reason Isla rode out every day, no matter how indifferent the weather, and a reason why she always went alone.

Hyacinth had seen into Isla’s heart, and she knew the truth.

“Isla?” Hyacinth laid a tentative hand on her forearm. “Is Lord Sydney the only reason?”

Isla met Hyacinth’s eyes. There was no judgment in that steady blue gaze, and yet as badly as Isla wanted to blurt out the truth and cry herself dry on Hyacinth’s shoulder, shame forced a bright, false smile to her lips. “Yes, of course. What other reason could there be?”

Hyacinth, who knew this for the lie it was, let out a deep sigh. “I’m sorry, Isla, but I won’t stand quietly by while you march out that door as if you were going to the garden to pick flowers. It’s far too cold for a ride, and the weather is too unsettled. I won’t let you take such a risk.”

Isla sighed. She didn’t like to quarrel with Hyacinth, but she’d begun to feel quite desperate. “I’m sorry, Hyacinth.” She was sorry, but if she didn’t escape Huntington Lodge soon, she was going to burst out of her skin.

She opened the door to slip outside, but before she could move an inch, Hyacinth’s quiet voice stopped her. “If you take a single step toward those stables, Isla, I’m going straight to your brothers. What do you suppose Finn will say when he finds out you intend to ride on such a day?”

Isla turned back to Hyacinth, her mouth falling open with shock. She and Hyacinth never told each other’s secrets. To do so was a betrayal of sisterly confidence. “You’d tattle on me to Finn, Hyacinth? Truly?”

Hyacinth gave her a pained look. “I don’t want to, but if it’s the only way to make you listen, I will. Please don’t leave me no other choice. It’s for your own good, Isla.”

They stared at each other for a long, silent moment; then Isla turned, her eyes narrowing against the wind as she scanned the brooding sky. She didn’t know how to explain to Hyacinth it wasn’t simply a ride to her, but an escape from the demons only a hard gallop could chase from her head.

But surely, she hadn’t become so desperate she couldn’t endure a single day without it?

She struggled with herself, but at last Isla closed the door with a sigh, removed her gloves and cloak, and propped her riding crop against the wall. “You know I despise being told things are for my own good, Hyacinth.”

“Oh, thank you, Isla!” Hyacinth squeezed her hand. “I promise you I’ll keep you well entertained. Shall we go to the parlor? I’ve a sudden yearning for Cook’s iced tea cakes. Perhaps we can find Ciaran and coax him into playing a game of cards with us.”

Isla dutifully followed Hyacinth to the parlor. They didn’t find Ciaran, or any of Isla’s other brothers, but Hyacinth was as good as her word. She kept up an engaging stream of bright chatter, plied Isla with sweets, and even read aloud to her from Northanger Abbey. They’d just reached the part where the heroine, Catherine Morland, is about to delve into the mysterious chest in her bedchamber when they were interrupted by Lachlan, who’d come in search of his bride.

“Ah, here you are, sweet.” Lachlan plucked the book from Hyacinth’s hand, laid it aside, and drew her to her feet. “I expected you to join me in our bedchamber a half hour ago for our…rest.”

Isla smothered her snort. Rest, indeed. Lachlan and Hyacinth had married several weeks ago, and since then, they spent every afternoon alone in their bedchamber. Once they were there, they remained for a good long while, and Isla doubted it was to rest.

No one was that tired.

Still, it was rather sweet, and true passion was rare enough without her standing in its way. “It’s all right, Hyacinth. I’ll find a way to amuse myself.”

Hyacinth met Lachlan’s gaze, and when she turned back to Isla, her cheeks were flushed. “If you’re sure?”

“Yes, yes.” Isla waved them off. “Go on. Have a pleasant rest.”

They hurried up the stairs, and for an hour or so Isla did her best to stay occupied. She read for a bit, then made another half-hearted attempt to find her brother Ciaran to see if he fancied a game of chess, but he was nowhere to be found. She set up the board and played both sides of it for a while, but it wasn’t long before the quiet of Huntington Lodge began to press in upon her, and she found herself creeping back over the squeaky floorboards to the door.

Perhaps I am the sneaky sort, after all.

But surely a quick ride wouldn’t do her any harm? She’d go only as far as the road, then come straight back before Hyacinth had a chance to worry about her.

Moments later, she’d slipped out the door. A tiny prickle of doubt rose in her chest when the howling wind instantly whipped tears into her eyes, but she ignored it. Within minutes she was mounted and riding toward the main road, praying she’d encounter Sydney in his smart green carriage, coming for her.

* * * *

There was no green carriage, no Sydney, and by the time the storm had finished venting its rage on Buckinghamshire, Isla thought it likely there’d be no road.

Hyacinth had been right about the rain. Nothing as tame as a late winter downpour would do for this storm. It was as if the sky were an enormous sheet of ice and someone had smashed it with a hammer until thousands of tiny, pointed shards rained down upon Isla’s head. They made hollow popping sounds as they hit the top of her riding hat, and the cacophony was growing louder and faster with every minute.

It had been a mistake to venture out at all today. When she arrived home, she would offer Hyacinth her most sincere apologies and promise to listen to her next time, no matter how dainty her gown was.

But then it was a day for mistakes, it seemed. She’d ended up going farther down the road than she’d meant to, as well, and by the time she was forced to admit to herself Sydney wasn’t coming today, the storm had grown so severe she’d had no choice but to take the shortest route back to Huntington Lodge.

The one that took her straight past the front entrance of Hazelwood.

Lord Pierce’s estate.

It wasn’t the first time she’d come this way, of course. No, she’d passed his house every day since she’d come to Huntington Lodge, no matter that she woke every morning promising herself she wouldn’t. That today would be the day she’d forget him.

Now here she was again, staring up at the empty windows, lingering even as the skies rained fury down upon her head. The symmetrical rows of blank, glassy eyes stared back at her. If there was any light behind those windows, she couldn’t see it.

When she and her brothers had arrived in London, Isla had been so certain her heart would remain forever cold, it hadn’t even occurred to her to guard it. As little as three months ago, she would have sworn she hadn’t any heart left to break.

She’d been wrong. Hugh Courtney had taught her how wrong with every dance, every smile, until it was too late to save herself.

She tried to despise him, but even as her heart ached and bled, he never left her thoughts for long. But it was her own fault she couldn’t forget him, wasn’t it? No one made her ride by his house every day. No one forced her to stare up at those windows and wonder if he was behind one of them, gazing down at her.

A bitter laugh rose to Isla’s lips. He wasn’t. Even if he did happen to catch a glimpse of her, he’d turn away at once. Indeed, he’d already done so, and there was no reason to suppose he regretted his decision. Looking back on it, Isla was surprised she hadn’t predicted how it would all unfold after her season came to its abrupt, disastrous end.

What had she expected would happen? Had she truly believed a man of Lord Pierce’s rigid respectability would overlook her shocking scandal? The gossips had it she’d lured Lord Sydney into a public indiscretion—some of the more creative among them even claimed she’d been stripped down to her corset and stockings when they’d been caught together in Lady Entwhistle’s library. The ton hadn’t hesitated to make the most of her disgrace. They hadn’t spared her, so why had she imagined he would?

In the end, Lord Pierce couldn’t have made his wishes any plainer. She’d written him that night—a hastily scrawled note, asking him to come to her, to let her explain.

He’d responded at once.

Miss Ramsey, please don’t ever contact me again.

The note was proper, correct—courteous, even. Just like everything he did.

And despite its brevity, devastating. Devastating, and final.

He never wished to see her again. She could only assume that meant he didn’t want her on his property, staring up at his windows like some pathetic schoolgirl.

Perhaps he pities me…

It was that thought that made Isla jerk her horse around. She’d return to Huntington Lodge, and tomorrow Sydney would come, and everything would fall into its proper place again, just as it always did when he was there. Once Sydney arrived, she wouldn’t be tempted to ride past Hazelwood again, and she’d soon forget all about Lord Pierce.

Her mind made up, she turned her horse’s head toward Huntington Lodge.

If the storm hadn’t chosen that moment to swell, all might still have been well. Maybe then she never would have gone near the woods at all, but given the choice between sheltering trees and the fierce ice pellets striking her face, she’d chosen the trees.

Another mistake, as it turned out, and a dire one.

She’d only intended to pause at the edge of the woods for long enough to catch her breath, and perhaps scoop the ice from her bodice, but she hadn’t even had a chance to unbutton her coat before her horse, Sophie took a sudden fright, and without any warning, bolted into the woods.

“Sophie!” Isla just had time to let out a startled yelp and snatch up the reins before Sophie was plunging through the trees. She wobbled in the saddle as the horse cut a haphazard path through the woods, struggling to keep her footing on the uneven ground.

“Sophie, no!” Isla jerked on the reins, but shock made her clumsy, and the awkward tug only added to Sophie’s confusion. The horse continued her wild dash through the trees until Isla gathered her wits and brought them to a halt at last.

She remained frozen in the saddle for long, breathless moments and waited for her heart to cease its panicked thrashing. Goodness, her legs were shaking. For pity’s sake, what had just happened? Sophie had never bolted on her before. She was as gentle a horse as Isla had ever ridden.

Something had frightened her. There’d been a noise. Now she thought on it, Isla was certain she’d heard a series of cracking sounds, almost like claps of thunder, right before Sophie fled into the woods.

She went still now, listening, but aside from the wind, she heard nothing.

“It’s all right now, Sophie.” She rested a comforting hand on Sophie’s neck as she squinted into the gloom, trying to get her bearings. The shadows pressed in on her, so thick they felt like cobwebs clinging to her skin. It was so dark she could hardly make out the ground at Sophie’s feet.

She’d ridden through these woods dozens of times. She knew the pathways and trees by heart. It had never occurred to her they could pose a danger to her, but between Sophie’s mad dash and the gloom…

Well, there was a chance—just the tiniest possibility, of course—that they were lost.

She peered into the shadows, but the trees looming over her were no longer the old friends she recognized from her daily rides. They were dark, forbidding shapes, their jagged branches eager to tear into her skin.

Sophie let out a nervous whinny, and Isla stroked the horse’s neck. “Well, my girl. You got us into this mess. Which way shall we go to get out of it? Straight on, or back the way we came?”

Whichever way that is.

Sophie didn’t seem to have any ideas, but only pawed anxiously at the ground. The horse, sensing Isla’s tension, was growing more nervous by the minute. “Right, then. This way.” Isla tightened her gloved fingers around the reins and guided Sophie to the right, but they hadn’t taken more than half a dozen steps before she hesitated, frozen with indecision. Or was she just frozen? It was difficult to tell if it was the encroaching panic making her shiver or if the temperature was still dropping.

She twisted in the saddle to look behind her, hoping to see something she recognized, but only darkness met her gaze. Dash it, they’d gotten hopelessly turned around. Every step she took could be leading them deeper into the woods.

She remained still for a while, her ears straining for any sound of approaching riders, but no one came. Eventually Hyacinth would discover she’d gone, and her brothers would set out at once to search for her, but there was no telling how long that might take. If Lachlan and Hyacinth were feeling unusually amorous this afternoon, it could be hours.

Sophie whinnied again, anxious to be off, and Isla fought against the urge to strike out wildly in any direction. Giving way to panic was the worst thing she could do. No, she needed to stay calm and think. She’d spent countless hours running through the woods with her brothers when she was a child. This wasn’t all that different, really. Surely, she’d learned something back then that could prove useful in this situation.

If you ever get lost in the woods…

The memory was hazy, but she was certain Lachlan had taught her how to save herself in just such a predicament as this. Now, what had he said…something about navigating a way out by following the North Star.

Well, that wouldn’t do. The sky wasn’t yet dark, and the thick layer of clouds would swallow any stars once it was.

But there’d been another way, hadn’t there? It had to do with the moss growing thicker on the north side of the trees, where there was less light…

Yes, of course! The greatest danger of being lost in the woods was she’d travel in circles until she became hopelessly confused, but if she kept moving steadily in one direction, eventually she’d find her way out.

But it will take hours…

Isla tried to keep her heart from sinking as she took stock of her situation. It was so dark she could hardly make out the trees, much less the moss, but there was no help for it. She’d simply have to go slowly and feel her way through.

“Right then, Sophie, off we go.” She tugged off one of her gloves, shoved it into the pocket of her riding skirt, and then urged the horse forward. “To the north, sweet girl, and you’ll let me know if you think we’ve strayed off course, won’t you?”

Isla tried to keep track of the passing time as they made their way from tree to tree, but as the hours passed, she became exhausted from the strain of holding off the cold. Her brain grew dull. Her thoughts became hazy and began to blur, one into the next until she could no longer tell how long she and Sophie had been wandering through the woods. The ice rained down from the sky, and the wind howled. It shook the trees around her and crept down her neck and under the skirts of her riding habit.

Her hands were the first to go numb, and the rest of her body quickly followed. At first it felt like needles stabbing into her, but then a strange sort of lethargy fell over her, and she didn’t notice the cold anymore after that. At some point she became aware she was no longer stroking Sophie’s neck. The horse, who’d been trembling with fear and cold, had gone quiet beneath her, and Isla wondered dazedly if Sophie had fallen asleep. Her own eyes were falling closed, and sleep seemed a good idea. By the time they awoke, surely someone would have found them…

Crack!

Isla jolted awake, fear gripping her throat. Where was she? Where—

The woods. She and Sophie were lost in the woods, and, dear God, had that sound been a gunshot? Isla shook off her stupor, hope flooding her chest. Lachlan, Ciaran, and Finn had come for her, and they’d fired a pistol into the air to let her know they were close! It had to be them—it was the only explanation. She tried to call out, but when she opened her mouth to yell, only a hoarse croak emerged. Panic threatened again, but Isla shoved it back and kicked Sophie into a trot. She didn’t need her voice. She’d follow the sound of the gunshots, and before long she’d—

Crack!

Isla’s head snapped around, every one of her senses straining toward the sound. It bounced off the trees, and she looked up, certain it had come from above her. It was very near, just over her head, but if her brothers were as close as that she’d be able to see and hear them by now.

Unless it wasn’t a gunshot.

Another sharp crack exploded above her. For one confusing moment she thought it was thunder, but then she heard a rattle of branches and looked up just in time to see a thick limb break free from an enormous tree and come hurtling down from above. Isla froze in horror as it crashed down, shaking the ground not ten paces away from where she and Sophie stood. Her heart stopped, but it surged painfully against her ribs again as understanding dawned on her.

A heavy coating of ice had gathered on the trees, and between the weight and the wind whipping everything into a frenzy, the limbs were tearing loose. Enormous limbs, some of them thicker than a man’s thigh, were tumbling to the ground, as if they were no more than bits of kindling.

Crack!

Every hair on Isla’s neck rose at the sound, and a shiver of pure terror shot down her spine. Branches, limbs, even whole trees could come down in this wind, and it was only a matter of time before one of them fell on top of her and Sophie. If they couldn’t find their way out of these woods, they’d be crushed.

Isla snatched up the reins, set Sophie’s head straight forward, and dug her heels into the horse’s flanks. Despair threatened to overwhelm her as she stared hopelessly into the darkness. She couldn’t tell when the next limb might crash down, or where it might fall, but if they kept moving, there was at least a chance they’d make their way clear of the forest.

Sophie strained against the reins, her animal instincts urging her to flee the danger, but Isla kept the horse under tight control. If Sophie bolted again, they could hit a tree—

Crack! Crack! Crack!

The sound of limbs breaking loose came at them from all sides. A loud crash echoed in her head as a branch fell to the ground behind her, but she didn’t look back. She kept moving forward, her arms burning as she wrestled Sophie for control. She leaned over the horse’s head, searching the darkness in front of her for any sign of a break in the trees, or the palest ray of light to indicate they were nearing the edge of the woods.

But they went on and on, Isla’s heart sinking with every step, her body sagging with exhaustion from the effort it took to control Sophie. The horse was going to win this battle, and tears gathered in Isla’s eyes as she realized she was going to have to let Sophie off the reins. Braving the woods alone could be the horse’s doom, and very likely Isla’s, too, but she had no choice. She couldn’t hold her any longer—

Crash!

This time, there was no warning.

One moment the way was clear, and in the next a tree fell in front of them with a deafening boom, its sharp branches shaking from the impact of the fall. Sophie let out a terrified scream and reared back, her hooves clawing at the air for a heartbeat before she regained her feet.

By then, it was too late for Isla. She dropped the reins and tried to throw her arms around Sophie’s neck to save herself, but her muscles were shaking with fatigue. She flew off Sophie’s back and landed on the forest floor with a hard thump that snatched the breath from her lungs. She heard Sophie’s hooves scrambling frantically against the ground, and by the time she managed to open her eyes, her horse was gone.

She was well and truly alone.

Isla didn’t try to get up but lay still on her back, blinking at the trees swaying wildly in the wind above her, wondering with an odd sort of detachment if she’d die here.

If she did…

What would become of her brothers, and Hyacinth and Iris, her new sisters? And what of Sydney? Why hadn’t he come? Was he safe, or had something happened to him on the journey? He wasn’t only her betrothed, but also her dearest friend. She couldn’t bear to think he’d been hurt or lost in the storm.

If she died here, he’d be left alone.

More tears threatened, but she was too exhausted to cry for long.

Just before she gave in to the darkness pressing down on her, she had the oddest dream. She imagined she saw Hugh Courtney’s face above hers, his dark eyes bleak as he stared down at her. His lips were moving. He was saying something. Her name?

Isla didn’t try to answer. She knew it was a dream. He’d never been anything but a dream…

Darkness pressed down on her eyes. She let them fall closed with a little sigh and waited patiently for whatever was next to come.

Chapter Two

“Pierce! Lord Pierce, wait!”

The voices echoed across the open field, driven forward by the force of the wind, but Hugh didn’t. . .