Tamed By A Dangerous Lady (Scandalous Liaisons Book 3) Read online

  Tamed by a Dangerous Lady

  Their past was full of darkness… only together they can build a bright future…

  Ella Edon

  Contents

  Thank you

  Scandalous Liaisons

  About the book

  Prologue

  1. Meeting After an Absence

  2. Getting to Know One Another

  3. A Torment of Memories

  4. Meetings

  5. A Surprising Party

  6. At the Ball

  7. A Thoughtful Pause

  8. Time to Think

  9. Discussion in the Rose-Garden

  10. Sharing a Secret

  11. Setting Out on a Journey

  12. A Change of Events

  13. New Territory

  14. Getting Closer

  15. A Change of Plan

  16. Arriving Home

  17. Exploring the House

  18. A Heartfelt Exchange

  19. Sharing Words

  20. Setting in Order

  21. Making Plans

  22. A Wonderful Day

  23. At Ease

  24. A Summons of Sorts

  25. A Dangerous Ride

  26. A Decision

  27. Taking Time

  28. A Shocking Discovery

  29. Escape Attempt

  30. Discovery

  31. Discussion and Decisions

  32. Dangerous Measures

  33. Awakening

  Epilogue

  Extended Epilogue

  Afterword

  Scandalous Liaisons

  Do you want more Romance?

  Healing the Broken Marchioness

  Never miss a thing

  Thank you

  About the Author

  Thank you

  I want to personally thank you for purchasing my book. It really means a lot to me. It’s a blessing to have the opportunity to share with you, my passion for writing, through my stories.

  As a FREE GIFT, I am giving you a link to my first novel. It has more than 60 reviews, with an average rating of 4.4 out of 5

  It is called “The Duke's Darkest Desire”, and you can get it for FREE.

  Please note that this story is only available for YOU as a subscriber and hasn't been published anywhere else.

  Please click on the cover to download the book

  Scandalous Liaisons

  Book#1

  Abducted by a Fiery Lady

  * * *

  Book#2

  Seduced by a Daring Baron

  * * *

  Book#3 (this book)

  Tamed by a Dangerous Lady

  About the book

  She may be the remedy to all his fantasies, but he's just the scandal she needs to avoid…

  Lady Raymonde Hunsford trusted no one. With her cruel brother gone, she must stand alone before the ton and reclaim her place in society. Having defused one scandal, the last thing she expected was to desire a man, who will probably destroy her reputation once and for all...

  Having suffered unimaginable horrors, Lieutenant Cutler Wingate was haunted by his past. When he meets a notorious Lady and desire flickers in him, Cutler will take it upon himself to protect her. Not only from the ton's gossip but from his self as well...

  How will they surrender to their lust, when there are dangers lurking in the shadows? And how can they believe in each other, if they don't trust themselves?

  Their past was full of darkness… only together can they build a bright future…

  * * *

  Prologue

  The sound of horses’ hooves; a low, insistent rolling sound, like thunder, surrounded him. A cannon rumbled and then blasted, louder than anything he could imagine. He heard the screams of men as the cannon ball tore through their ranks, maiming and killing. The sound turned his blood to ice.

  “Go left!” the major screamed. “Left!”

  The scorched smell of gunpowder hit his nose and throat and was like rotten eggs. He turned and retched, or tried to: his stomach was empty and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten. He wanted to take his coat off – he was so hot! His arm ached from carrying the rifle, but he couldn’t put it down. He had to keep his eye on the enemy where they crouched on the hill between the trees.

  He had to listen and wait for the command – in Portuguese or English – to fire.

  “Fala!” the commanding officer screamed. “Fire!”

  Lieutenant Cutler Wingate, who had studied Portuguese ever since Commander Wellesley had taken charge of the Portuguese in Spain, closed his one eye, cradled the gun at his shoulder, and shot.

  The bullet blasted out, fading into nothing, lost in the chaos of men and horses and cannons. Cutler felt relief. He hated to see his bullets hit. Most men were the same, or so he’d heard. They might be ordered to kill, but to do that, to see your target – a living man, just like you – and kill him? That was something nobody found simple.

  Especially not me.

  He had his own reasons for hating the idea of murder.

  The scene before him changed, turning into the drawing-room at home, where he’d seen his father’s body.

  His childhood-self had frozen in the doorway at first. Father had been behind the desk as if he’d been sitting there quietly, taking a drink before dinner. Except that his head was resting unnaturally far back and, when Cutler shook him, he’d not woken.

  He could almost feel the cold flesh under his fingers, and his heart squeezed again with the pain of the discovery, with the ache to wake him up.

  “Father?” he had screamed. “Father?”

  His butler ran in, and Cutler sent him instantly away to fetch the doctor. He sat with his father, alternately shaking him and imploring him, his desperation becoming anger, then fear, then sorrow.

  Why wasn’t he awake? Why hadn’t he woken?

  A fit of apoplexy, his doctor had said. A shock too great for him to bear.

  Cutler winced as he recalled his father’s beloved face so cold and unresponsive, and his strong hand resting, half-furled, on the desk. And then Lady Edmore, in the next room – her strong, lovely face slackened in sleep, resting on the chaise-lounge, except that she, too, never woke. Both of them dead.

  Seeing her had been too painful. She had been his father’s confidante and best friend, and a strong figure in Cutler’s life. His guardian and support, something like an aunt, but with more hauteur – and he had loved her with a deep, admiring love.

  Had the one discovered the other, and then died of the shock? He would never know.

  * * *

  He opened his green eyes on flocked silken wallpaper, lit by the mantel piece with gentle firelight. He could smell spice, and pomade, and the sweet smell of champagne. He could hear a low murmur of conversation, and a fire. There was no battlefield and no chaos.

  His mind cleared and fed him bits of information slowly. He wasn’t on the Spanish battlefield near Salamanca. He wasn’t in the drawing-room, surrounded by his dead loved ones. He was at Westmore, in the drawing-room of his friends’ home. He found himself staring into a set of blue eyes.

  Luke.

  He shook his head wearily and cleared his throat, addressing his old friend. “Sorry, old chap.”

  Did Luke think he’d passed out from the drink? He sat up self-consciously.

  “I thought you might like to know that the recital is about to start,” Luke said. He smiled, but the corners of his eyes were tense, and Cutler could see he was worried.

  “Oh,” he said, sitting up straighter and wishing he could check his appearance in the mirror. I must look a sight, he
thought sorrowfully. He forced a smile onto his firm-jawed face. “Capital!”

  Luke gave him a patient look which annoyed Cutler. He had fought at Salamanca and other important battles and been sent home on honorable discharge. He didn’t like the thought that anyone, particularly a good friend, would be patronizing.

  “Who’s going to be playing?” Cutler asked, trying to make it clear he wasn’t the worst for his visit to Luke’s liquor-cabinet.

  “Lady Hestony, my wife’s cousin, will play a sonata or two, and of course Lady Raymonde has put herself down for a rondeau.” He gestured to the window, where a tall lady with dark hair stood with her back to the room.

  Cutler felt his heart stop beating.

  A tall, slender lady stood across from him. Her dark hair, the color of cocoa, hung down to her waist, left fashionably loose. She was wearing a white dress, which fell smoothly on the floor. Her figure neat and trim. It was nothing about her hair or clothing which caught his attention, however – lovely as they were. It was her manner that caught his attention. Her back was straight and her head was tilted a little to one side. She regarded the gardens regally. The way she stood apart from the banter and divertissements of the drawing-room struck him, too, cloaking her in an air of stillness. A mystery.

  He cleared his throat. He’d forgotten Luke was there. Luke was looking at him mildly, waiting for him to reply.

  “Excuse me, Luke,” he said quickly. “I think I might go and renew an acquaintance.”

  Memories of Raymonde flooded back. They came with other memories, ones of a day not too different from this one. He had been out riding on Luke’s estate and someone – he couldn’t remember whom – had fallen off his horse and been knocked unconscious. He recalled the prone form with dark hair, and how, suddenly, he had been nine years old again, and standing in the drawing room in front of the body of his father.

  Then, he had screamed and gone running back the way he had come – back to the parlor, where a lady’s body lay on the chaise-lounge, her long dark auburn hair, streaked with white, fanned around her face. Lady Edmore had been dead – he’d known it the moment he’d seen her. But, his father?

  Nine-year old Cutler had screamed. Twenty-eight-year-old Cutler let his horse bolt underneath him, and took his own fall, when it threw him.

  Dazed, he’d woken up after a moment’s loss of consciousness, to find himself looking into brown eyes with chestnut flecks. A lady with a slender, pale face had stroked his forehead, concerned.

  “Are you alright?” Lady Raymonde had said. “I’m Lady Raymonde. Do you need some help?”

  That had been a year ago. Now, stomach twisting with nerves, he walked across the drawing-room to where she stood. He bowed low and hoped that nothing had made her think badly of him.

  Chapter One

  Meeting After an Absence

  Raymonde stared into the grass-pale eyes of the gentleman who stood opposite her. She felt her heart thump, but schooled her face swiftly to neutral, ignoring her body’s instant reaction to him.

  Stop it, Raymonde! Why would he even remember who you are?

  She bit her lip. Osburne, her brother the Duke of Maverly, would have told her she was just being stupid. Why would a gentleman remember her after a whole year’s passing? She was nobody. Not beautiful like Cousin Vee or accomplished like Stella. She was just herself.

  She recalled Osburne’s words with something like a physical pain in her heart. You’re just plain and drab. No wonder you’re a wallflower.

  That, she thought sadly as she glanced down at her white muslin day-gown, was one of the reasons she never usually attended society events. She had nothing to contribute, and no desire to have that pointed out by everybody there. Osburne had always said that nobody liked her.

  She drew a breath. “Good afternoon, sir,” she said, dropping a low curtsey. She watched his reaction through half-lowered lids. She expected him to look bored, or drunk. Why else was he here, with her, when there was a whole roomful of people to talk to? He did neither of those things. His strong-jawed face registered surprise, and then he bowed, too.

  “Enchanted, My Lady,” he said gently.

  Her eyes drifted from broad shoulders to a narrow waist. He was a fine fellow, she thought. She felt her face flush. She seemed to recall he’d been in the army at some point of his life. She vaguely remembered him from Luke’s last year. He wasn’t the sort of gentleman who’d be interested in her, she was sure.

  I’d be lucky if anyone was.

  Again, Osburne’s words seemed to speak inside her mind. She shut her eyes a moment, wishing she could keep them out. She had wished it so many times in her life.

  She was a little girl, standing at the bottom of the steps at her father’s house. The smell of dust was around her, mixed with the beeswax lineament used to clean the banisters. She was standing on a step below her brother. His tall form loomed over her. His face was stern.

  “Beanpole!” he teased. “Who’d want to teach you to dance, anyway? You won’t need to.”

  “How so?” she’d asked. She was thirteen, and he was sixteen. She still thought he knew something more than she did. He was already attending parties, and she was still a child and she waited for him to pass on whatever truth he had to tell.

  “Nobody would ever want to dance with anyone like you.”

  She’d burst into tears and ran to her room, but she hadn’t the silence and privacy to herself for long. Her maid, Mrs. Partlow, came in to clean. She told her to grow up and forget it.

  “You’re a young lady, Lady Raymonde. You’ll hear worse from people, and you must learn to steel yourself.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Partlow,” she’d agreed softly. She tried to shut the words out.

  She would have, she thought sadly, if she could. But Osburne never apologized and never stopped. He’d teased her horribly about her pale skin, her gangly height, her clumsiness, and she’d wished both then and now that she could find some way to drown out the words Osburne had planted in her mind. Somehow, they seemed to stick there and grow, until now, even though he wasn’t here anymore. She was still afraid to come out into public.

  They’ll see what he sees: a graceless, wheaten-faced wallflower.

  “My Lady… Might I interest you in some cordial?” the officer in front of her said politely.

  She frowned, surprised he was staying on to chat with her. Most people tended to exchange a few sentences out of politeness. Osburne said it was only the Ton’s manners that made anybody bother.

  She looked at him suspiciously. “Are you going to fetch more for yourself?” she asked frankly. “I had thought there was enough to drink at the card-table.”

  It was a challenge, of sorts. If he was just one of the drunken louts who tended to flock to Luke’s house for food and cards, then he could leave her alone.

  He smiled, and she felt her heart leap. He had a plain face – squarish, with a high forehead and a slim, elegant nose – but when he smiled, he transformed. His green eyes sparkled, and his grin was like a flash of brightness. It struck all of the way to her heart and she found herself looking at him with fresh interest.

  “What?” she asked. “Did I say something that amused you, good sir?”

  “I don’t play cards. Not unless persuaded.”

  “Oh?” She felt a smile twist her lips, too. She had either not noticed that or forgotten. “Why is that?”

  A strange look came over his face and she wondered what it was. She turned away, feeling embarrassed. He clearly didn’t want to answer. That was it, then. Just like Osburne always said, people would tire of her quickly. She had nothing to offer, not even sparkling conversation like Claudine.

  “Did you ride this morning?” he asked politely, changing the subject.

  She turned around and fixed him with a look. “I don’t go riding,” she said smoothly. “Not unless persuaded.”

  He laughed.

  She felt a bubble of joy rise in her, hearing his infectious chuckle. She
felt her lips lift in a grin. She had hoped to quash his polite interest and found instead that he was a companion able to do more than just exchange pleasantries or talk about the weather.