To Love and Protect Page 36

  “I can’t do it anymore,” she cried sometime later.

  “How much longer?” Justin directed the question to his grandmother.

  “Talk to her,” Matilda commanded. He did, talking about anything and everything. “Still too high. We are going to have to try something else.” Matilda gave more instructions, and instead of balking as most might do, Justin merely nodded, trusting his grandmother completely. Clarissa believed in her as well, for she followed along with the new plan. Justin helped her to stand beside the bed. Justin held Clarissa braced against him and after several long pushes like this, Matilda happily announced, “I can feel the head. It’s almost over.”

  “Did you hear that? I love you. I know you can do it.” He watched a look of fear cross her face. “No, don’t be frightened. You are going to be a wonderful mother. Now, push with all your might. I want to see if I have a beautiful daughter just like her Mama.” He wiped her brow and wept along beside her when almost five minutes after Midnight their handsome, squalling, healthy son was born.

  “Please, don’t ever do that to me again,” Justin begged hours later as they lay admiring their son.

  “What?” she asked, her voice still weak and tired. She had napped a little, but the baby had awakened her.

  “I can’t lose you. I never want to come that close to it again.”

  “I’m sorry I scared you. I was frightened, too, but also very determined.”

  “You almost ruined the rest of my life.”

  “Truly?”

  “You doubt it? I love you with all of my heart, for richer or poorer, it matters not to me, only that you are with me. I will love and protect you, and our child, for the rest of our lives.”

  “I love you, too,” she whispered as tears of joy fell from both of their lashes. Their lips met in a life-affirming kiss over their precious son, Jace Alexander Southerby.

  Epilogue

  Twenty-two months later

  Clarissa and Jace lay on the grass near the gazebo. King and Prince lay not far away from their young master.

  “Bird,” Jace said, giggling, ending it with a giant yawn.

  “Oh, look, there’s a butterfly. Be very still, Jace,” his mama said. The little boy stopped squirming and watched curiously as the butterfly few closer to him. “He wants to land on your nose and see what you’re about. Be verrrry stilllll,” she drew out softly.

  Jace remained as still as a two-year-old boy could. The butterfly landed softly on the little boy’s nose making his eyes cross. “Tickles,” he said, giggling, and rubbing his nose as the butterfly flew off. A movement caught the toddler’s attention, and he pushed himself up and quickly ran towards the approaching man. “Papa! Papa!” The dogs jumped up and barked, following him to their elder master.

  “There’s my little man!” Justin exclaimed.

  Clarissa watched contentedly from her prone position on the ground as her husband bent down and swung their son up in his arms. He tossed him into the air causing him to laugh uncontrollably, before he held him close and blew a kiss on his cheek, causing more giggles. Warmth suffused Clarissa at how wonderful a husband and father Justin had become. He even made certain the dogs felt his affection when he rubbed their heads in turn.

  “Butterfly on my nose!”

  “Was there now?”

  “Yes!”

  “And Mama didn’t chase it off?”

  “No,” the little boy giggled, then placed his head on his father’s broad shoulder, yawning.”

  “I’m going to have to take her over my knee,” he teased before lowering them both to the ground and arranging his son between himself and Clarissa. He bent over his son, “Hello, Mama,” he dropped a tender kiss on her lips.

  “Hello, Papa,” she said back, a sleepy, lazy smile on her lips.

  “Kiss,” the little boy demanded. Both parents placed smacking kisses on his cheeks. The dogs settled near the trio.

  “He enjoys training with the boys,” Justin said as he laid on his side, his head propped on his hand watching the two most important people in his life.

  “I’m glad they wear him out,” she said with a husky laugh. “We received two letters today, one from Papa and one from your sister.”

  “How is your father?”

  “Good. He and Lady Jocelyn are having a house party at one of Papa’s estates and invited us. I thought we could look at the dates and go if you think you can get away for a few days.”

  “Of course. I’m glad you two worked everything out.”

  “Me, too. I’m glad he found Jocelyn. She is a lovely woman and makes him smile.”

  “It helps that they have your mother in common.”

  “Yes.” Jocelyn had been her mother’s best friend growing up. Papa had been visiting her mother’s grave, and Jocelyn had arrived. She made sure fresh flowers stayed on her husband’s and Elizabeth’s graves. The two had begun talking and sharing stories, and eventually one thing had led to another. When they had married, a huge burden had lifted from Clarissa’s shoulders.

  “Now, how are John and my sister?”

  “He’s not doing well. She doesn’t expect him to make it to the end of the year.”

  “That is too bad. He is a good man, even though I still don’t know that I heartily approve of their marriage.”

  “It wasn’t our choice, and you know why she did it. And she does care for him. And she absolutely loves and adores Patrick”

  “Yes. I still blame myself. If I had forced Liam to come back with me that night things might have been different.”

  “I might not be here if you had made that decision.”

  “Don’t ever say that,” he shuddered, caressing her cheek. She turned her face into his palm, nuzzling it. “Look, he’s gone to sleep,” Justin said softly.

  “Good, because I have something I want to tell you and this is the perfect place, but I didn’t want little ears listening.”

  “What is it?” he asked, his curiosity peeked.

  “We’re going to have another babe,” she said, a smile lighting her face.

  “Truly?” he inquired, his hand moved from her cheek to her still flat stomach, his thumb moving back and forth, gently caressing.

  “Yes.”

  “How do you feel?”

  “So much better than with this little scalawag,” she nodded towards Jace.

  “Sick?”

  “Just a little unsettled occasionally. Truly, I feel wonderful.”

  “I hope this one’s arrival goes more smoothly.”

  “Oh, I think all will be just fine.”

  “Clare, I love you so very much.”

  “I love you, too.”

  “This time it will be a girl.”

  “You think so?”

  “Absolutely, and I think it’s time for Gertie to receive more flowers.”

  “Indeed,” she said laughing softly, as he leaned over to kiss her once more.

  About the Author

  I grew up in the Panhandle of Texas, but have always been fascinated with the land of my forefathers – England, Scotland, and Ireland. I also classify myself as a true romantic, and find I frequently dream of greater than life heroes that leave me thinking – that is what love should be like. So, I work on creating love stories with strong women and stronger men, and let the battle of wills ensue. I am currently busy writing my fourth book in my little cottage in the woods of North Texas with my cat, Ajax, to keep me company.

  I would love to hear from those who read my books. I can be contacted at: tammyjo@tammyjoburns.com

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  I truly hope you enjoyed this book!

  Warm wishes & happy reading,

  Tammy Jo

  A Traitorous Heart

  The Reluctant Lords, Book 1

  “Good evening, my lord,” Lieutenant Harding greeted Derek as he arrived at the safe house well past midnight.

  “Lieutenant,” Derek nodded curtly. Harding held Goliath while Derek lowered himself to the ground. Derek untied the cane and removed the two pistols. “The prisoner?”

  “Upstairs, my lord. She’s a right fetchin’ lass.” Derek nodded, but paused giving Harding a look that had the man looking sheepish. “Pardon me, my lord.” Derek prominently limped as he moved toward the stairs, leaning heavily on his cane. His leg began to throb uncomfortably. He silently reprimanded himself for not taking a carriage.

  “Has the physician arrived yet?”

  “No, my lord.”

  “Show him up as soon as he arrives.”

  “Yes, my lord.” Derek climbed the short entrance stairs and saw the guards standing at the far end of the hall. He gave a short nod before entering the chamber where they held the prisoner. The guard opened the door for him and closed it firmly after he entered. A slight figure lay on the bed in the shadows. The fire burned cheerfully in the grate belying the seriousness of the situation. Derek stopped in front of the fire and removed his coat, waistcoat, and cravat. He knew from experience it would be a long evening and decided to get as comfortable as possible. He wished for a draught for his leg, but needed all his wits for questioning the prisoner.

  Derek lit a candle from the fire. The glow showed the cracks in the ceiling and the stained walls. If this were not more of a prison, it would be a slum. He moved towards the bed and noticed the prisoner dressed as if she resided here, her clothes little more than rags. She looked more like a street urchin than a woman with traitor’s secrets.

  Her feet and good arm were manacled to the thick bedposts by long chains. Her other arm lay at a slightly odd angle from the shoulder, and her skin looked pasty and covered with perspiration. Her auburn curls caressed her sunken cheeks. She looked to be in desperate need of food. A light blanket covered her, but her teeth still clicked together as if she were freezing. He attributed the action to shock.

  Derek lowered the candle to get a better look at the woman’s face. Something familiar tugged at him. He studied her more intently, trying to see past the grime that covered her. His heart picked up an unsteady rhythm. His hands shook and he tried to calm himself, placing the candle on the side table with a thud before he dropped it and caught the whole bloody house on fire.

  She turned her eyes away from the candlelight, and a moan escaped her lips. Her hair lay matted at the base of her skull. He lightly touched the area and discovered a huge lump. Upon withdrawing his fingers he found them coated in her blood.

  He took out his handkerchief and wiped at the red staining his hand, unable to remove it completely. He lectured himself about look-a-likes and imposters. She could not have survived. No one had. He had been assured over and over. Derek grasped her pointed little chin in his hand and turned her face towards him once more. She cried out at the movement. He focused on the freckles scattered across her upturned nose and the lush bow shape of her lips. Her brow furrowed in pain, and her eyes squeezed tightly shut.

  He noticed a glint of gold on her left ring finger and immediately recognized the signet ring. Auburn hair, the ring, and that familiar spattering of freckles – it could not be, yet the evidence said otherwise. He fell heavily onto the ladder-back chair that sat next to the bed. His heart thundered until he thought it would leave the confines of his chest at any moment. He grasped the hand of her uninjured right arm, not noticing the blood that covered it. He chaffed it gently between his own.

  “Open your eyes,” he commanded.

  ***

  She heard the commanding voice and moaned as the pain filtered into her unconsciousness. She heard the command again. I’m trying, she thought. She fought her way out of the darkness to hear the voice she thought lost to her forever. The pounding in her head intensified so much it almost caused her to give up and retreat back into the darkness. She tried to move her hands to her head, hoping to ease the pain only to find one immobile and the other produced such pain when moved, that she cried out. Oh please, just let me die, she thought as the throbbing intensified. No, she would not give in to death, not when so many others had been taken from her.

  The voice called to her again. Perhaps God had sent him to take her to Heaven. She had always thought it would be her mum to do that, but as long as she had him again, she did not care. Her eyes fluttered open, but the light from the fire and small candle on the bedside table were too much for her to bear. She quickly closed them again, certain she would be sick at any moment.

  “No, open your eyes now,” the voice demanded again. Sometimes he could be so intolerably high-handed, she thought. Nevertheless, she obeyed this one final time and opened her eyes. She knew either he would not truly be there or she had expired and entered the afterlife. She had dreamed of him so many times and woken up certain he would be with her, but there had been no one. Therefore, she decided, I must be dead, only I hurt too badly.

  Derek watched intently as her emerald eyes shown brightly from behind fluttering lids. They looked feverish, set in a very familiar and dear face. He brought her manacled hand up to his lips and brushed a kiss over the knuckles covered in dry blood.

  “Contessa,” he whispered softly.

  “I must be in Heaven,” she said hoarsely, “but it feels like Hell.” After uttering those words, the ragamuffin prisoner smiled at her jailer and then let the darkness carry her away once more to blessed oblivion.

  Derek stared dumbfounded at the limp hand that he held in his. He reached across her and gently caressed the signet ring gracing her delicate finger. She looked malnourished. What had happened to her in these last ten months? How could Gabe believe her a traitor? What possible causes did he have to even consider it?

  He stood painfully and leaned over her letting his lips lightly caress hers. Derek stood watching her and raked his hands through his golden brown hair giving it a decidedly rakish appearance. He paced the room like a caged animal forgetting about his throbbing leg. The Earl of Blackburn alternated between thanking God that He had seen fit to bring her back to him, and cursing the circumstances all in the same breath. He limped to the door and jerked it open. The guard jumped to attention.

  “Have you heard from the physician yet?”

  “Yes, my lord. He sent the lad back with word ten minutes ago. He will be at least another half hour.”

  “Damn,” he paused and rested his head against the hand tightly gripping the door. “Send the lad for Hawkescliffe. Tell him it is an emergency,” Derek barked the order. “Give me the keys to the manacles,” he held out his hand and his tone brooked no argument. The guard handed over the keys reluctantly and Derek slammed the door in his face, having to take his frustration out on someone.

  He limped back over to the bed and released the prisoner from her restraints. The chains dropped to the floor with a loud metallic clank. He sat and stared at her, his thoughts chasing each other. How could it be? He had been told everyone perished, except the handful that had been severely wounded. Nearly an entire village had been wiped out. He heard a disturbance outside the door before it flew open.

  “All right Blackburn, what’s so damned important that it could not wait until morning?” Hawkescliffe demanded as he strode into the room. Derek had been unaware of the passage of time while he watched her and contemplated the various scenarios. The doctor had not yet arrived, so surely not much time had passed. Derek shushed Hawkescliffe when the woman winced. “Did you just ‘shush’ me?” he asked incredulously.

  “As my friend, shut the hell up,” Derek whispered. “Follow me,” he led Gabe to the fireplace.

  “Well, what is it? What is so important that I ha
d to leave my conference with the Prime Minister?”

  “This woman is not a traitor,” Derek spoke with conviction.

  “What makes you so certain? Tell me you have not let an attractive woman turn your head. You are a better man than that. This woman had incriminating evidence on her person. Of course she is a traitor.”

  “I swear to you she’s not.”

  “Have you questioned her? Did she give you reason to believe that she isn’t?”

  “No, I have not had the opportunity to question her.”

  “Then give me one good reason why she is not, and,” he cut him off before he spoke, “I assure you it had better be one bloody good reason.”

  “Because she’s my wife, dammit!”

  To purchase A Traitorous Heart, click here.

  A Thin Line

  The Reluctant Lords, Book 2

  “Oh how dare he?” Kala questioned the empty room. Her voice sounded raspy even to her own ears. Most would think she had a cold or the ague, but no, this was her new voice courtesy of the villain who had been after her sister-in-law, Tessa. Who knows? she thought wryly. Perhaps I will start a new trend among the ton.

  Back to the matter at hand. She had found Gabriel Hawke, the Duke of Hawkescliffe to be a traitor in the true sense of the word. She had argued with herself for over a month that she had misunderstood what the voices on the other side of the door had been saying the night of Derek, her brother, and Tessa’s ball. As many times as she tried to deny it, she could not deny overhearing him speak of troop movement, nor could she come up with a plausible answer for his actions.