Chapter One

Glasgow 1824

The day was a lazy April day. A brilliant sun beat a steady stream of heat onto the land burning the mist hovering as if the grayness refused to depart. Despite the impetus, the somber funeral continued. In the distance Honey heard the call of a meadowlark. A gray squirrel dashed up a solid oak tree she was standing near. Several bees buzzed around this plant with delicate purple flowers. She didn’t know what to call the flower.

She didn’t feel anything for the man who sired her, who made her life a living hell, the man they were burying. For some odd reason she couldn’t comprehend, she felt drawn to this place of death. Why she wanted to see him put to rest, she didn’t understand. Perhaps she just wanted to make certain he was dead. Any other reason eluded her.

While she watched, her father’s dark black casket was slowly lowered into the ground. The bastard. No melancholy filled her at his passing, only a sense of poignant relief. While she watched, her teeth gritted together, her hands fisted at her sides. She wasn’t at all sad to see him gone. During her lifetime, he caused so many problems along with unending heartache. As his bastard daughter, she received no love from him. He tolerated her presence. That was all. If he cared at all for her mother, she had no idea.

The earl’s five legitimate sons gathered around the hole in the ground. The minister read a few words over the grave. Hearing the single word “amen,” she understood the ceremony was nearly finished. She hoped she stood far enough away that no one would notice her. There were those in the small graveside group who meant her harm. Shaking her head as if the movement would bring sense to her, Honey MacRae didn’t understand at all why she came to the graveside service. Torra along with Muira, her best friends in the entire world, supported her in this strange endeavor despite the fact they warned her against attending the service. Told her numerous times she would regret the rash action. They supported her though. Torra also told her by viewing the memorial new wounds would open. Tristan, the escort service’s bodyguard, stood a discreet distance from the women.

The earl’s oldest son looked in her direction. While shielding his eyes from the glaring rays of the sun, Camdyn seemed to study her for a few terrifying seconds. Honey knew the moment he realized who he stared at. The scowl on his face turned to an evil malicious grin. He was wicked, a demon. She gasped in a startled breath of air ready to turn and run. Stopping herself, she decided to meet him if that was what he wanted. Her brother no longer held power over her. All she could hope for was that he wouldn’t saunter her way then confront her.

She was nothing to him.

He was nothing to her except nightmares needing to be forgotten.

“Is that your oldest brother?” Torra asked, a tender hand on her shoulder. As if intending to give courage, she squeezed lightly. “Should we leave as it appears he is coming this way? Do you wish to talk with him? You don’t have to do so. You know that. Tristan will keep him away from you if that’s what you would prefer.”

“No, I don’t wish to talk to him. However, I will not run from him either. If I did, he would find his world a few shades brighter in the fact he still had a hold on me. He doesn’t. Miss Scarlet made it possible for me to start a new life.” Honey spoke softly reaching to her shoulder to rest her hand on top of Torra’s. “With Father’s death it is only a matter of time before he attempts to assert his will on me again. I refuse to show fear. I’m certain he has known where to find me for quite some time. There are few among the gentry, if any, who don’t know about Miss Scarlett’s place along with the women who reside there. We have no secrets, nothing to hide.”

She touched the rounded curve of her left breast where the horrid tattoo proclaiming her belonging to the evil men’s society was etched to be part of her forever. When her father was deep in his cups, Camdyn would forcibly escort her to whichever home was hosting the meeting. By the time she escaped, they owned a single home where they carried on their lecherous activities where they kept women enslaved.

Thinking of that first time he abused her, her small body shuddered with the renewing despair thoughts of that night generated. The men held her down while the tattoo of the rose and the saber, their motto, was branded into her soft flesh. They weren’t gentle, the pain nearly unbearable. Copious tears slipped from her eyes to run down her cheeks. At one point she fainted. The men wouldn’t allow her to lose consciousness. She found herself slapped awake each time she slipped away into blissful peace. They needed her to feel the most pain possible as well as shame.

After the tattoo was finished, each of Camdyn’s five friends took her savagely, Camdyn being the first. With a fist held high in the air, he hooted then bent close to her claiming, “Your virginity is mine, Honey. You belong to me, now as well as forever. You will never leave me. No man will want you now.”

The men’s association met every week or two at a home the men purchased. Over time, there were more girls initiated into their club. Leaving was impossible; the doors locked, the windows barred, the women threatened. The servants who kept the women fed were all loyal to the men. Besides, none of the women had anywhere to go. Except for her, they all were found on the streets. Some even believed this was a better life. They had food along with shelter, which included a bed. Because of Camdyn’s lies about her, she was banned from her father’s home.

Torra squeezed her shoulder again as the man drew closer. His long-limbed stride, the tilt of his chin, all proclaimed his birth as well as the arrogance associated with aristocratic titles. Anything he wanted was his. He would come for her again and again. She would fight him. Honey tilted her chin defiantly, her eyes blazing with the fury she felt for this man. She prayed he wouldn’t do anything today. Tristan was here to make certain nothing untoward happened to any of them. Her brother was very tall, muscles rippling as he strode toward them. His expertly tailored jacket fit his broad shoulders perfectly. He was haughty as well as cocky. After all he would inherit the title now as well as the wealth. He would be the next Earl of St. Rose. Nonetheless, he was depraved and sinister, an evil man who thought he could take whatever he wished.

Coming here was indeed a foolish endeavor. After the fact, hindsight was often not very useful. She gulped in a smidgeon of air wishing she had more sense than to attend the funeral of a man who despised her, a man she held no respect for. Whatever demons stirred in her soul, to Honey, staying away had been impossible.

“Honey.” Camdyn’s single word oozed from his mouth. “See you came to pay your respects to our dear father. Nice to see you again, sweetheart. After your sudden departure from my country estate, I didn’t believe we’d run into each other again, at least not today. You didn’t have my permission to leave. If I recall correctly, father gave me guardianship over you after he washed his hands of his bastard daughter. I own you.”

No, she came to put an end to one of her fears. This one man could no longer hurt her. There were others though. Beneath his ardent perusal that seemed to slither down her body, she suddenly realized prudence should have kept her from attending. She’d acted impulsively. Could have witnessed the grave at a different time. Now, she needed to deal with the repercussions along with the horrid consequences.

“No,” she said her voice shaking. Her defiance obvious she tilted her chin. “I came to make sure he was indeed gone. As to guardianship, that ended when I turned twenty-one. You don’t own me.”

“You’d rather the man in the casket was me.”

Slowly, he reached out to her, touched her cheek with the tip of his finger, his tiger-eyes blazing with lust she’d come to recognize since the first time he accosted her when she was merely ten years old. That day, he didn’t touch her. Instead, he took great delight in humiliating her, stripping her of all her pride.

Flinching away then stepping backward, “Don’t touch me!”

All too well she understood her command would have no effect on him. He would do as he always did, as he pleased.

“I suggest you do as the lady says,” Tristan spoke, his voice harsh as he set Honey behind him. “Ladies, it’s long past time to leave. Go to the carriage, now!”

“Ah, a bodyguard to call your own. How nice for you,” he chuckled then, seemingly amused at something. “He called the likes of you three ladies. Whores would be a better description.” His smile was a malevolent leer on his handsome face. “Do you give your sweet charms to this man in payment for his protection? I remember how your breasts taste, just like warm honey coupled with summer rain, so sweet, so very tasty. Recall how those small round globes feel in my large hands. Also remember the softness between your white thighs along with the fire of your core.”

Tristan’s fist hit his jaw. Camdyn stumbled back a few steps while he held his hand to the spot where Tristan punched him. “You’ll regret that!” he snarled belligerently, his voice low with a wealth of menace lingering with each word.

“Never.” Tristan shot him an arrogant smile rubbing his knuckles. “You deserved that and more. In lieu of what I know about you, I found the moment quite pleasant.”

Torra and Muira flanking her, Tristan stepping behind, they ushered her to the carriage waiting for them. Her breath fluttered through her lungs as she desperately tried to stop the rush of tears threatening. She had hoped to go unnoticed. Obviously, that wish didn’t happen. Dealing with the consequences might be difficult. She would persevere.

Honey was shaking so hard her teeth rattled in her jaw by the time they reached the carriage. The ladies were right. She was a fool for attending. This was no place for her. Since that time almost two years ago, she’d not seen her brother. Never knowing how she managed the feat, she got away from the home where they were holding their weekly debauchery. Honey supposed she managed to escape because they were drunk. No, it was also because they found a new girl to initiate into their men’s association. Their attention that night was riveted on the poor woman, the branding as well as the rape. The new girl now bore the same mark, the rose and the saber as all the unfortunate women who fell into the path of these men.

Just by her appearance here, she understood she would see Camdyn again. He would discover her whereabouts if he didn’t already know where she lived. He did. He referred to Miss Letty’s women as whores. She brought unwanted attention on herself. After that, well, Honey understood she would never survive the depravity of the men’s association if they found a means to force her back into their fold. Maybe they wouldn’t want her. She was used goods. They liked younger women, those most helpless. She had friends who would defend her.

Since she wound up at Letty’s escort service, she never escorted or slept with a man. She became the downstairs maid. The job was pleasant, the ladies all so very kind. Camdyn didn’t know that. She found the home because in her blind rush to escape the country estate, she stumbled into the grounds surrounding the escort service. She hid beneath shrubbery. Billy found her, whimpering, hiding, terrified of anyone who she might meet.

“He can’t hurt you,” Muira said encouragingly. “Tristan will protect you as will Bobby and Scarlett. You don’t have to worry about ever going back to that man who calls himself family.”

“I shouldn’t have come,” Honey said through strangled sobs. “All of you were right. Should have listened to what you had to say. It’s so very strange. I can feel him thinking about me. He still lusts for me.”

“I believe this is something we need to make a bit more public. Next time Bobby and Scarlett visit, I will make sure the Duke of Southcliff understands what happened here. He needs to be apprised that you are still in a precarious situation. He did step in to help both you and Miss Scarlett.”

“Yes, well…I didn’t tell him everything that day he talked to me when we were still dealing with Scarlett’s problems. I couldn’t do so. When I think on that time, the shame along with the humiliation is more than I could bear. While I must endure the memories of what they did to me, I won’t allow those days to bring me down. All I can do is put the recollections in the past then move on with my life.”

“It’s past time the duke is informed of everything. He’s a spy, you know. The Duke of Southcliff works for the government,” Torra said as her mind seemed to drift off to a different time and place. “He believes in protecting women, a rarity from my experiences.”

“He has connections,” Muira pointed out. “Torra is right about the last part. He does seem to care about women. Do you think we should send him a message?”

Honey was aware of Torra’s knowledge of Leslie Stewart, the Duke of Southcliff. The duke saved her from a sordid life where she was sold to men for their convenience. Torra didn’t object simply because without that man who pimped her out, she was slowly starving to death. Just as Leslie Stewart did with her, he saved Torra’s life, in the process giving each of them a place to live along with a means to support themselves. Scarlett gave them back their dignity along with their ability to choose.

“Before we begin sending messages to the duke, we should wait to see what my brother will do. He might not approach us.” She reminded herself Camdyn wasn’t a real brother. He was her half-brother. Recalled all the times he treated her with the same disdain as her father. To Camdyn she was his to possess. As it was, Honey never understood why her father allowed her to stay in his home.

“What if he sneaks into the house and steals you away?” Torra asked, her eyes wide with some emotion she wasn’t certain Torra understood. “He could do that.”

“My brother won’t sneak. If he wants me, he’ll find some time when I’m alone to coerce me or forcibly abduct me.”

“What are we going to do then?” Muira asked, her hands fisted on her hips. “He could take all of us if he’s a mind to do so. We are exactly the type of women they like.”

“No, my brother takes women who are vulnerable, ladies who won’t be missed. All of you will be missed. Bobby along with the duke would use all their multiple connections to ruin him. He kens that fact. Camdyn is not a stupid man. That is exactly why he won’t bring me back into the fold.” The sudden realization gave her the first ray of hope she felt since seeing his gaze glued to her at the cemetery. “Camdyn won’t risk censure of any kind. Since father is dead, he now holds the title. He wants to appear a gentleman. To him appearances are everything. He won’t risk his status in the community to take any of us. Not to say the men’s association won’t continue, the gang of rapists will. Nonetheless, the association will forge ahead with so many destitute vulnerable women they won’t have any difficulties finding ladies for their enjoyment.”

“What I don’t understand is how they continue to hold the women, forgetting locked doors and windows,” Torra asked. “Glass can be broken. Most women will fight.”

Recalling those times when her brother held another’s woman’s life in his hands if she refused him brought back horrible thoughts she prayed she would never have to relive. Her body shuddered with icy fear even though her mind tried to tell her she was safe.

“You’re not telling us something,” Muira said, her voice so very soft the words could barely be heard. “You’re leaving out important details.”

She brought a rush of air into her lungs as she roamed to one of the windows in the parlor. Staring outside she tried to compose herself, all her nerves stretching as she remembered those terror filled days. Yes, she left a great deal out. How could she explain?

When she turned, “After I was forced, I discovered I wasn’t the first woman to fall into their clutches. What the men did to us all was despicable but worthy of keeping all the women at their beck and call, their plan diabolical.” She swallowed hard as she tried to give her throat the dampness she needed to continue to speak.

“How on earth?” Torra asked looking more skeptical than ever before. “How could they keep the women from fighting back, from attempting to escape? That makes no possible sense to me.”

“The woman they held over my head was small, petite in every way. Her eyes were the color of a summer sky they were so blue. Her hair was a soft shade of wheat. If I refused to do something they asked, she was punished, horribly so, sometimes tortured. Sometimes I would hear her scream. Other times, they would punish her in front of me until I gave into their demands.”

“You say the other lady was punished for something you denied them?” Torra poured everyone a glass of wine as she seemed to be mulling over her statement. “Believe I’m going to need this.”

“Yes.” Honey caught her bottom lip beneath her teeth as she accepted the liquid nourishment from Torra. “Yes…they did cruel things to the woman. Sometimes…no I don’t want to go into details. Let it be enough to know they are evil, cruel men, malevolent in every way. I just pray they didn’t kill Mary when I left. I had to…” A sob ripped through Honey. “Mary was punished, I’m certain of the fact.”

Torra’s arm around her shoulder she pulled her close for a comforting embrace between two women. She led her to the sofa. “It’s not your fault they are evil.”

“Which brings me back to the question,” Muira said. “What are we planning to do to keep you safe now that he has been reminded you live free of him? I’m not as certain as you that you are not in danger. Other than the women of Miss Scarlett’s escort service, who would miss you.”

“Beyond any doubt, we need to send for Bobby and Scarlett. Bobby knows men like this. He understands the workings of vindictive male minds. Didn’t he keep Scarlett safe when the underworld threatened her?” Torra asked.

“He did,” Muira said as she tapped her painted fingernail on her chin. “If I recall at the time, Billy liked our little Honey. Seems he has or had a soft spot for her. We should bring him here also. He has money, power influence…”

Honey gulped back a sob. She didn’t want to involve Billy. Yes, he liked her, told her as much but a soft spot? She couldn’t be with the man though, couldn’t be with any man. Not after what happened to her at the hands of her brother. What did he think of her? She told him how she got the tattoo. Not the rest of what happened to change the life she used to know.

“You think we should send a message to Billy?” Muira asked as she swirled the wine in her glass.

Honey watched with fascinated disbelief. Billy didn’t have a soft spot for her. Did he? He did touch a place in her heart that one week he was here when everyone feared for Scarlett. He spent time with her. When he tried to touch her, she recoiled from him. All too well, she remembered how his eyes darkened when he looked at her. She understood exactly the reasons he wanted her. She’d been unable to humble herself enough to explain.

“No,” she quickly spoke up. “Billy is a duke now. What would he have to do with the bastard daughter of an earl? By now he might be married. It’s been a year. Have any of you thought of that? Don’t wish to complicate his life with my problems.”

“Married or not, the fact doesn’t mean he won’t help,” Muira pointed out shaking her finger at her. “We should figure out some way to send Honey to him. The farther away from Glasgow the better is what I say.”

“What reason would I have to travel to his place in the highlands?”

These women were so different when they started scheming. The last arrangement they were behind was nearly the undoing of the escort service. They presented a friend to the Earl of Downberry as an escort. She wasn’t. No, she was a highborn lady who desperately wanted a baby. Well, that was a horrible mistake that ended up in a positive way. Camdyn might also be able to ruin their livelihood if he set his mind to the task. Honey didn’t want Scarlett’s business to suffer because of her.

Torra downed the wine in her glass then grinned over the top. “We will think of something. If you are not here, he won’t have reason to visit us. If he can’t find you, he won’t be able to threaten you or our business. Out of town out of mind is what I always say.”

“She fixes Scarlett’s books whenever there is a mistake,” Muira said thoughtfully. “She’s a financial wizard.”

“Yes, Honey is a genius with numbers, isn’t she? Perhaps Billy will need help with all his books. That’s perfect, an arrangement made in heaven.” Torra grinned as if she now had all the answers.

“Why would he need help from me?” Honey asked, her voice a shaky whisper, so terribly unsure of herself.  “The man has the groats to buy expert help, the best in the business. He doesn’t need me. Nor will he want me to muddle up his well-ordered life. He is a duke. I’m a bastard.”

“A duke of slightly less than a year. Need I remind you where he came from before that? His background is worse than a bastard.” She paused seeming to wait for her words to sink in to her head. “Because he will want to see you. Doubt if Billy wishes for a well-ordered life. He’s probably bored to tears caught up in all that ducal posturing. You’ll put some adventure back into his life when you show up,” Torra said appearing as if a plan was falling into place. “Fetch paper and a pen. I’ll start the missive to him. When he reads this, the man will send for you. I’m positive.”

“I don’t want to go,” Honey said softly, terrified she was making a huge mistake. “It wouldn’t be right for us to deceive the man.”

This did not bode well for her. The ladies were insistent. While she enjoyed Billy’s company those long-ago days, she shied away from him when he thought to even hold her hand. Terrified of men, she would never be able to be with a man intimately. From all that Billy told her, that was the way he wanted her. If she showed up at his door, he would believe she changed her mind. She could never deceive him.

“We will speak only the truth. What happens after that will be between the two of you,” Muira said seeming as enthusiastic about this as was Torra. Holding up her hands, “We are not playing matchmakers even though it might seem that way to you. The two of us have your interest at heart. With your brother eyeing down the barrel of his gun at you, you cannot remain where you can be his target.”

“I can never be what Billy wants me to be.” Honey’s voice held a fine tremble as moisture threatened to clog her throat. “If you write to him, you will give him hope for us where there is none.”

Honey didn’t know how to convince these fine ladies that she could not, would not travel to the Duke of Aubries estate. After all that happened to her, she could never be intimate with any man, even one as sweet as Billy, Lord William Alexander Cameron, Duke of St. Aubries.

“Bah!” Torra laughed as she waved one hand in the air her grin wide. “There is always hope. I’m certain Lord William would love to pick up where the two of you left off when he visited Bobby. If anyone could ease your way into lovemaking, he could.”

“We did not leave off. We never started anything. I told him no. Explained to him there could never be anything between us. He respected my decision. What more is there to say? If you write him, he’ll believe I want him that way. That would not be fair since nothing for me is different.”

“No, he won’t. What we are planning is a business arrangement, not a matchmaking scheme,” Muira laughed gaily reinforcing an earlier statement. She clapped her hands together. “He will be so pleased to hear from us. I’m just as certain he will be delighted to see you. He is sure to rise to the occasion.”

As well-meaning as they were, Honey clenched her teeth against the machinations of these two women. While she understood protesting overmuch would just set them to a more determined state, she closed her mouth. Warily shaking her head at the two women, she spoke softly, “Do what you will. If he agrees to your enquiry, I will go only because the farther away I am from Camdyn the better I will feel. Even as we stand here speaking, my brother is conjuring plans to get me back into the fold. I ken the fact just as I live and breathe. I would rather die.”

“Be assured we will,” Torra said grinning, an all-knowing smile gracing her delicate features. “By this time next week, you will be on your way to the highlands with all your trunks packed for an extended vacation on Billy’s home turf. Think of this as an adventure waiting to happen. Have you ever been to the highlands?”

“I believe Billy’s home turf is St. Giles Parish in London. He never wanted to become a duke, never wished for the responsibilities associated with the title. Would have been happy staying with Brett MacLachlan as his bodyguard. Know he had a girl there he liked. When he became a duke, she didn’t want anything to do with him.”

Honey could not help protesting this debacle. The scheme would more than likely turn out in the very worst sort of way. Something in the back of her head though prompted her to agree with the women. Unable to keep the thoughts of Billy out of the muddled mess her mind was experiencing, she did understand that she would like to see him again. What she didn’t understand was why. Even though she wished she could, she’d never be able to give him what he wanted.

“As you recall, just as Bobby didn’t have a choice in his future neither did Billy. He is a duke. You are the daughter of an earl. The two of you are perfect for each other,” Torra said, her grin wide. “You have the necessary pedigree to make a lovely wife for a duke.”

“Bastard daughter,” she corrected with a heavy sigh. Honey continued, “At least Bobby remembered his father and mother. Knew who he was along with the fact someday he might be called on to accept the responsibilities he no longer wanted. Billy had no idea who he was when the title was dumped at his feet. Why would he accept a bastard for a wife?”

“All true,” Torra eyed Muira with a crooked grin, “Should we start the letter to Billy. I don’t know, perhaps we should just send Honey to him tomorrow. That way we won’t have to wait for a reply. We also won’t have to worry about Honey changing her mind. She would be in his protection all the sooner.”

“No! Protection? You make it sound as if I’m to be his mistress.” Honey stood so quickly she nearly swooned, her head becoming dizzy with the jerky motion. “I will go but not in that manner. I will be no man’s mistress or play thing!” She came to the conclusion earlier, simply because she didn’t want to see her brother again. “I will go if Billy accepts whatever foolish reason you two come up with to send me to his home. My doing the books as well as some of the paper work I’m certain he is hounded with was a good idea. Nonetheless, I’m convinced he has hired someone for that purpose. He will not have need of the likes of me.”

Honey wanted no more of the two women who seemed to take it upon themselves to make all her problems go away. This situation was all her fault, she dispiritedly admitted to herself as she walked up the stairs to her room. Going to the funeral was a colossal mistake, one she might have to suffer the consequences for some time. After she stepped inside her room she wandered aimlessly around, picking up objects then setting them back in their place. She didn’t know what to think of this conundrum that she found herself in.

This was the first actual home she ever experienced since her mother died. When she lived with her father, she’d felt out of place, known always as the bastard daughter. Camdyn threw her parentage in her face constantly. He went out of his way to find her alone so he could maliciously taunt her. Not that their father would have ever stopped him if he’d known.

There were so many times. Wrapping her arms around herself in a meager attempt to ward off the horrific memories, she leaned her forehead against the cold windowpane. Even after the incident with the men’s association, in her romantic heart, she still searched for love. Vividly, she recalled the time Camdyn gave her to his friend. He’d told her how much the boy liked her, that all he wanted from her was a kiss. Eagerly, so pleased that a boy liked her, she ran to the stable where he waited for her in an empty stall. Honey knew the moment she saw his eyes shimmering with lust along with the way he grabbed her pulling her to him, he expected more than a kiss. Without warning he stripped her…that time she got away.

Tears slid down her cheeks. Because of the memory a wrenching sob of despair wracked her body. She should not have gone to the funeral. Even if her brother didn’t approach her, the sullied memories would have erupted. She despised men and what they could do to a woman. Until Billy, she thought she hated all men as well as what they were capable of.

Billy was different.

Still…the horrible memories haunted her. Even though she understood in the darkest, deepest recesses of her brain that Billy would never handle her the way she’d been treated, she didn’t believe in a man’s presence she would ever be able to relax enough to even allow a kiss. Billy wanted more than a kiss. She wanted more too. Nonetheless, she stopped him every time.

When she told him her feelings, he said she’d thrown down the gauntlet. Told her he had a lot to prove to her. In the telling of that brief story, she challenged him to change her mind. That day had been almost a year ago. Maybe more, she lost track. He didn’t mean what he told her. There had been no letter from him. Nothing to give her hopes that perhaps he might want to change her mind. For the longest time she watched the mail. Finally, she gave up hoping.

The ladies could write all the letters they wanted. The messages would be for naught. Billy would never appreciate a visit from her. His life must be running smoothly, without interference from a woman who could never be a woman in a man’s arms. He would have other lovers. He wasn’t a man who would remain celibate as he thought about another female.

The unhappy fact in all this was that she wished she could go back to those days before she was misused. The days when her dreams revolved around falling in love with a man who would not care about her parentage would never despise her because she was a bastard.

Long ago she resigned herself to the fact that couldn’t happen. Her half-brother molded her into the woman she was today. Nothing for her would ever vary. She had to admit to herself a change of scenery might be welcome. If nothing else, just to terrorize her, Camdyn would show up at the escort service. Tristan would throw him out, would refuse him entry if he saw him before he strode arrogantly through the impressive double doors on the front porch. Despite his wealth and power, he could not pass the interview given at this place of business to be allowed to pay for an escort. She wasn’t an escort. She was the downstairs maid.

Despite all the protection, she would be a prisoner in her home.

The quiet tapping on the door surprised her. She figured it must be Torra with the letter to Billy. “Come in.”

Torra handed the paper to her while she seemed to be holding her breath. “Thought you might want to read this before we sent it. You should know what we told him.”

Honey sat on the chair near the fire, the letter held in her shaking hands. She read every word. It was just as Torra told her. She mentioned Camdyn along with her fear then asked if he had a safe place where he could keep her from harm. Torra also mentioned her thoughts about her helping with his paperwork. Billy would be overwhelmed by all the details he would have to see to.

“It’s everything you said it would be. It’s the truth. Billy does have a protective nature where you are concerned.”

Honey recalled his story about little Piper. He and Bobby protected her with their lives. He would do the same for her. She wasn’t certain that she wished for him to put his life on the line for her. Reminding herself she had no reason to believe that might come to pass, she tugged in a breath of air understanding she would go to him if he asked.

“No lies, he should understand your dire circumstance. Don’t you think? We both understand he cares for you.”

“Cared for me,” Honey reminded her friend softly. Yes, once in the distant past he cared for her. How would he feel now?

~ * ~

Lord William Alexander Cameron Manchester, the new Duke of St. Aubries, thoughts were not pleasant at the moment. Where his mind traveled had little to nothing to do with Honey. Because of his title, no other reason, he’d been invited to the Richleigh’s ball. Colorful silks and satins twirled by him in a dazzling display of color. A high-pitched giggle caught his attention. He turned to see Lord St. John dance by with Fannie Lipscomb, his dark head bent close to the lady’s ear. Billy wondered what outrageous bit of gossip St. John offered or if he seduced her even then. Perhaps there was more to the small flirtation than met the eye.

Negligently, he leaned against a pillar. The balcony outside the ballroom was empty now, beckoning him. With a quick look around the room, he escaped to enjoy the chilled night air. None of this year’s debutantes caught his eye. When he danced, he always thought of Honey. One time in the upstairs ballroom at Miss Scarlett’s home he danced with her. The feeling of her small body pressed against the hard chiseled planes of his masculine form infiltrated his head. None of these women would ever do for him. Still, mothers dragging along their daughters for his perusal reminded him constantly he needed to wed, needed to provide an heir for the dukedom. Unable to stop himself, once again his mind drifted to Honey. When she smiled, her delicate features lit up creating a warm glow around her.

She was a bastard.

He was a street urchin from St. Giles Parish. All his life he believed he was a bastard. They would suit as none others would.

Inclining against the railing on the balcony, his hands clenched tight, his mind wandered always to Honey. Her tawny golden curls danced provocatively around her small head. The amber eyes that always seemed to light up when she looked at him reminded him of warm brown honey. She had a pert little nose, the tip of which he yearned to kiss. Ah, there were other parts of her demanding his kisses. She would never allow her to touch her intimately or truly kiss her. He wished he understood how to break through that defensive wall she surrounded herself with.

Drawing in a long deep shuddering breath of air, he reminded himself she was afraid of him. That one time he danced with her, felt her slender body so close to his, he felt her shaking. He could never be a part of her fears. When he finally understood she would never give herself willingly to him, he left. Reneging on his promise to write, he spent each day wondering how he could convince her to come to him. One stupid idea after another mucked around in his pathetic brain. After reviewing his deliberations, he understood how faulty they were. She was terrified of men. He didn’t have one clue how to change that fact.

“There you are, darling. I’ve been looking all over for you,” Della Brown sidled next to him. Her hands around his arm, she leaned into his body, her soft luscious breast pushing against him. Flirting outrageously, she went on to say, “Wondered where you were. Thought you left without dancing with me. Knew you wouldn’t do that.”

“Needed fresh air,” Billy said softly staring out into the darkness of the night. “You know how much I dislike these affairs. Promised though, had to attend at least for a short time.”

Della tapped him on the chin with her fingertip, her smile bright. “As do I dislike the crush. We could leave, you and I. No one would be any wiser. Well, the doting mamas who are after you for their daughters would miss you.” Slowly, she lowered her lashes, an invitation somewhere in the gesture.

“True, nonetheless I promised Lady Richleigh that I’d dance with her daughter. She has an eye for a title. Nonetheless, she won’t become my duchess. The chit is way too young. I’m not about to wed a little girl.”

“Ah, you do not care for the simpering little darling. Do believe she just turned seventeen. That isn’t old enough for you? No, I suppose you appreciate a woman’s charms.”

“You’re right. I much prefer a woman grown to a girl just out of the classroom.”

Della purred softly in the back of her delicate white throat, her tender blue eyes shimmering with raw passion. Billy understood her hunger for sex. The tops of her breasts were framed in black lace. The sight gave Billy reason to smile. Tonight, he would taste her beautiful jewels, explore all the soft curves she possessed. Della was a good lover, as she knew how to please a man. She also understood that sex was all they would share.

Five years ago, when Della was all but seventeen, she married an old man. Lord Brown was an earl, an incredibly wealthy earl. When he died, Della was left with enough wealth to outlive her. There were no heirs, not unless she sired a child. Della didn’t want children; said she couldn’t abide them. What would happen to the wealth after that? Billy didn’t know nor did he care. Della’s affluence was no concern of his.

“How long before you can leave?” she purred eagerly, softly pushing against his body, understanding her seduction sent heat straight to his groin.

“Another hour,” he told her as he turned pulling her into his arms.

Slowly his lips found hers. She opened for him, her tongue sliding into his mouth playing and exploring the inner recesses. He knew she felt his heavy arousal as his large hands closed around her buttocks to pull her against him. She tasted of the sweet wine that was served. Before he stepped into the ballroom, he would have to get his unruly body under some semblance of control. He pushed her away, chuckling at her look of chagrin.

“So soon?” She sighed softly touching his moist lips with one of her fingertips.  “Please hurry. You’ve no idea how much I want you.”

“I’ll meet you at the small cottage behind your home in another hour.”

“I’ll be there.”

“What do you have planned this time?”

He was never certain what role she wanted him to play. One time she wanted him to be a pirate with a patch over one eye. He was to take her as if she was his plunder from the high seas. Another time, she wanted him to pretend he was a mincing dandy and the control was all hers. None of her scenarios were to his liking. Still, she was willing as well as passionate.

“You’ll have to wait to find out, now, won’t you?” She winked tapping him on his shoulder with her fan. “I’ll never tell, at least not before you get there. I do believe you’ll be surprised. What I’ve planned is different even for me.”

At first the role-playing had been fun. Now, since the newness was wearing off, he grew weary of the pretentious games she initiated. Each time they were together in some physical presentation, he decided that was the last time he would take part. Whenever she propositioned him, he didn’t deny her the fantasies contrived from her avid imagination. So far there had not been a single role he played he enjoyed. He was a tender lover. Inflicting any type of discomfort on a woman went against the grain making his stomach sour with distaste.

Della rose to kiss him quickly on his cheek. “Don’t be late.”

Maybe that was a clue. She wanted him to be late so she could scold him. Della appreciated arguments. Billy didn’t like dissension of any kind, especially not with his women. The way he saw lovemaking was warm as well as extremely willing. He didn’t welcome carnal delights any other way. As she flounced from the room, he did appreciate the gentle swaying of her hips, caught the view of a slender ankle every now and then. A dance with Della might have been nice. Ah, but she had a way of making everything sexual. Billy was known for his zealous lovemaking among the widows in the area. Even he needed to come up for air every now and then.

Lady’s Richleigh’s daughter, what was her name? Searching his mind for the answer, he stepped onto the floor, his hands behind his back once again surveying the room looking for the girl. Snapping his fingers, he realized what his problem entailed. He was never very good with names or small talk. Noticing Lady Richleigh, her daughter standing beside her, determined to get this dance over with, he strode toward the woman.

The young woman standing beside her mother couldn’t have even been seventeen. Her hands clutched tightly together, eyes wide with apprehension, Billy felt certain he heard her knees knocking together. Good God, what was her mother thinking? She looked as if she were only thirteen or fourteen. Even dressed in silks and satins, her hair wound becomingly on top of her head, he understood she was far too young for the likes of his jaded self. This young woman needed a man who was just as innocent as she was. Pushing thoughts of turning tail in the process avoiding the inevitable, he stepped forward.

“Colleen.” He picked up her hand, bending gallantly to place a gentle kiss on the top. Her skin was smooth and soft. He sent her his most charming smile; at least he hoped the grin would charm some of the terror from those daze-struck eyes. “Would you like to dance?”

“Y-yes.”

Her small face flushed with the first rush of embarrassment as she looked at him then her mother as if she sought approval, her eyes huge dark pools of brown. The girl wasn’t smiling back at him as he hoped. Instead, she appeared terrified, ready to head in the opposite direction. If her mother didn’t now move to stand behind her, Billy felt certain that was what she would do.

Keeping his distance from her slender body, he twirled her onto the dance floor. She didn’t look at him as she kept her face straight ahead, focused, he believed on his chest. He wanted to ask her how old she was. Even though she appeared extremely young, he understood she would have to be at least seventeen. It was generally believed a young lady should never be presented to society until they at least came to that tender age. Billy knew he’d never been that young, never filled with innocence, didn’t think he’d ever been seventeen. His entire life he understood at some time he’d be caught either sent to Newgate to hang or find himself deported to some penal colony down under.

“Has your dance card been full?” he asked softly, innately understanding she was having difficulty speaking. He had no idea what to ask of her. Do you still play with dolls came to mind, as he tossed that absurd notion aside in search of something more appropriate.

She nodded, her gaze still glued to his chest. “It-it’s only because of my mother. M-mother made sure I would not want for attention.” Her voice shook with the effort to utter those few words. “I don’t want that…attention.”

No, she most likely didn’t. With that tiny attempt at conversation, Billy decided the fewer words the better. Her stuttering gave him the distinct impression he’d just become a defiler of an innocent. He’d never done so before. So, he didn’t intend to start now. For the duration of the music, they silently danced. When the strains of the waltz ended, he brought her back to her mother. Thank God he’d done his duty.

Swiftly, he said his good bye to the daughter as well as his host and hostess. Stepping briskly from the doors of the Richleigh home, he breathed in the scent of the daphnia growing by the door. Quick strides brought him to the stable. Strangely, he didn’t feel at all eager to see Della. For some reason his thoughts revolved around an amber-eyed temptress who was afraid of him. Well, not just him, she was afraid of all men. Silently, he cursed Camdyn, her half-brother, for causing that. He knew for certain if not for the likes of her half-brother, she would be his wife.

In his phaeton he drove the two matched grays at a spanking pace thinking of the next few hours that Della would spend in his arms. This rendezvous was giving him second along with third thoughts. Della did ease his needs. Other than needing him as an ardent lover, she didn’t demand anything of him nor did she expect to become his duchess. He would play whatever role she contrived then he would go home never staying the night. Waking up in a strange bed brought nightmares to his head, reminding him too often of the bitter cruel days he spent in St. Giles Parish running from the law.

The crisp cool evening air exhilarated him. His spirits lightened as he made his way down the long curvy road to the cottage. Part of the highlands he loved the most was looking into a velvet black sky to see the stars twinkling as if they were diamonds. All one saw in London was darkness or gray skies during the day. Because of all the smoke coupled with the lights there were very few nights a man could see a star. Here the air was fresh, smelling clean when a person inhaled deeply. At times scents of flowers filled the air, along with green grass, heather, and pine. For his pleasure he inhaled deeply of all the wonderful aromas he was coming to adore.

A few minutes later, promptly ten minutes late to this meeting with Della, he pulled the phaeton to a stop. Inhaling a long deep breath, he gazed at the little cottage while he wondered what the woman had in mind for the evening. A shudder passed through his body. One light shone from the study. Well, that must be where the games would begin. He tied the reins of his horses to the hitching post. Swiping a hand through his hair to push his growing locks back from his face, he strode up the steps of the front porch.

Slowly opening the door, he peered into a darkened room. The place was not entirely black. One candle burned on a table. The soft scent of jasmine sifted through the air. He stepped toward the study his body strangely tense knowing she would hear his booted steps. He didn’t make any attempt to be quiet.

“Come in, I’ve been waiting for you. You’re late, naughty boy.”

Della’s voice sounded small and tight. He heard her giggle. The sound was more like a schoolgirl than a grown mature woman.

What the devil? He stood framed in the doorway, a deep frown forming across his forehead, his nostrils flaring. This was the worst-case scenario. To the tips of his toes, he was disgusted. He would have never imagined she would present herself this way. For a moment he considered bolting.

His breath caught in the back of his throat for several tight seconds while he perused her small form. The sound of his heart hammering in his chest singed his ears. The sight in front of him curdled his innards. Della was dressed as if she was only fifteen. The bodice of the apple green muslin gown ended at the top her neck, reaching her chin. She’d done something to her lush full breasts so they appeared to be nonexistent. No paint enhanced her lovely face. Her long blond hair was braided into two plaits that hung on either side of her head. While she sat on the huge cherry wood desk, flirtatiously she ran her tiny pink tongue along her bottom lip before catching the plump lip between her teeth. After she looked at him, she blinked several times while she invitingly spread her legs. Her gown inched upward. She wore nothing beneath her single skirt.

Deep in the back of his throat he groaned. She did this to point out the fact Lady Richleigh’s daughter was no more than a schoolgirl. Single handedly she made it her mission to create beyond a doubt exactly how woefully unsuitable the little girl was for him. Good God, he didn’t need her help. When he wed, which he would have to do someday, his wife would never be a debutante.

“What are you doing, Della?”

His voice harsh, he strode into the room, ready to tell her he wasn’t interested in this ridiculous game. If she didn’t justify this in some way, he meant to turn around.

As if she anticipated his revulsion, the bodice of the gown suddenly gave way to showcase her now opulent unbound breasts spilling free for his perusal. This was a ploy to keep him interested. His heart slammed against his ribs. The large jewels tipped with tender pink buds sent blood racing to his groin. Clenching his teeth, he held his sexual thoughts in check. The need to taste centered in his brain. All thought of fleeing left his head.

Leaning back on her hands, she moved back and forth, her breasts swinging enticingly to greet his avid gaze. She understood exactly what would get his attention. Yes, Della knew exactly how to seduce a man, how to coax and sweet talk until there was only one thought in a masculine brain.

“Papa won’t be home for another two hours maybe longer. We can do whatever takes your fancy,” she purred as she touched her kissable top lip with her tender pink tongue.

As she sat up, her breasts once more caught his attention, the bulge beneath his pants growing harder as he watched mesmerized by her audacity. Della had no shame when it came to her sexuality. She would do as well as risk anything to have her way with any man foolish enough to fall in with her plans.

“Papa? You’re not actually going to pretend you’re a little girl? You want me to rape a young lady. I can’t do that, Della. Not even for you. You will have to change this game you are dancing around me with if you want your pleasure.”

She huffed a bit, coming out of her role. “You know who I am…now,” she spread her legs wider this time, her skirts riding provocatively to her knees then higher. “Just pretend that you don’t know I’m not a little girl.” She shifted again, her lashes lowering demurely on her shimmering eyes. “I want you, Billy. I’ve never had a lover. You’ll be my first. Take me slow and easy. I’m not a little girl. Nonetheless, I’m a virgin.”

Especially a woman such as Della couldn’t ignore the bulge behind his breeches. No, she wasn’t a little girl. Just as he’d never been a little boy, he doubted if Della had ever been innocent. For an instant much to his chagrin, he wondered at what age she lost her virginity. Unlike this woman, despite the proclivities inflicted on her, Honey was innocent still.

“Della, stop the play acting. When you do so, I’ll be more than pleased to see to your woman’s pleasure.” As he stepped forward, his cravat landed on the floor. He bent over to place a tender kiss on her lush ripe mouth. “I don’t like this. It’s sordid.” His hand cupped one of her large breasts, his thumb brushing tenderly across the hardened tip. Heat flared as her tongue pushed into his mouth.

Pulling his shirttails from his breeches, she ran her hands along his back to his shoulders. A moment later her fingertips sashayed across his nipples. After a harsh gasp of air, he groaned. Her nails scraped down his chest to his waistband to return to the tiny hard buds on his chest. She spread her fingers. Like a wild thing Della twisted beneath his probing caresses. As always if they continued in this manner, they would reach the pinnacle all too soon. Billy wanted this to move at a snail’s pace not a wildfire. He moved back, his fingers slipping beneath the fabric of her gown, slowly lowering the material to her waist. He needed to savor her ripe woman’s body.

“Lift your hips, sweetheart.”

She did. Her dress fell in a puddle on the floor of the study. Standing between her spread legs, Billy took his time now, delighting in the silken warmth of Della’s skin beneath the palms of his hands. She was lovely yet Billy didn’t like the direction of his thoughts, which suddenly centered on Honey. The devil, he needed to get that woman from his mind. She bewitched him all too easily. Honey would never be his.

Della’s fingers found their way to his breeches. Billy stepped back for a few seconds struggling with his boots. Stripping the rest of his clothing from his body, he returned to her. Eagerly, she welcomed him between her thighs. He held her hips with his hands. Della’s hips began to move in a dance as old as Eve, older than time. Almost frantic she pushed up against Billy’s hand, her body trembling. Billy smiled knowing she was just about where he wanted her. The next time the dance between them would be slower.

Still, Billy deliberately held back, fighting the screaming demands of his body to take her, to lose himself in the hot, satiny sheathe he knew waited for him. The waiting was an exquisite torture for him, his manhood ripe and swollen with desire. Wanting more he denied them both the immediate pleasure their joining would bring until neither could wait a moment longer. His fingers wound through her braids, unwinding them at an unhurried pace. After he finished, he spread the strands out so they covered the desk.

He watched her eyes shimmering, slightly dazed, her lips wet and parted begging his attention. When he touched her intimately, she dripped with her honey the sweet nectar produced, compelling. Softly in the back of her throat, she moaned her ecstasy. His hands on her hips forcefully he drove into her silken softness. Her delightful scream sent a wave of power through him.  Compulsively, his lips caught hers, his tongue filling her mouth just as he filled her. She arched to meet the thrust of his body as he plunged deeper into her fiery heat. As her screams of pleasure filled his senses, he released himself inside her.

Thoroughly sated he pulled away. When he looked at her, he admired the way he arranged her loosened hair from the childish braids then spread the long strands enticingly around her ample form. Sitting on the desk, her legs still spread wide, she did present a wanton picture.

“Don’t ever do that again,” Billy told her as he pulled on his pants then his boots. “Don’t ever pretend to be a little girl. If you do, you will never see me again.”

“You’re leaving?” she asked as she postured in front of him, her breasts thrusting forward.

“I’ve a busy day tomorrow. You’ll have to be content tonight with just one time.” There were other words Billy thought to use for this joining. In another place and time, he would never hesitate to tell her how he felt about this vulgarity. Honey had been little more than fifteen when her brother violated her. This evening’s events didn’t sit well with him. He wasn’t proud of his loss of control.

Della pouted prettily as she scooted naked from the desk. “It was only a fantasy.” As if regretting her game, she found her dress, pulling it over her head. “You should not be so sour. That little chit, Colleen, she’s too young for you. I only wanted to make certain you understood.”

“You didn’t have to point out something I know. At the moment, I’ve no intention of courting anyone, especially a little girl straight from the classroom.” He was too world-weary for something so vulgar. After tugging on his shirt, he grinned wickedly. “She was terrified of me. I’m a jaded man, yet I didn’t appreciate her fear. What mother would wish her daughter thrust into the hands of a man such as myself just because I hold the lofty title of duke? No secrets have been kept. Everyone knows where I came from. All I can offer a woman of breeding is wealth along with the esteemed title.”

Lifting her shoulders, a coquettish smile on her ripe swollen lips, “Who wouldn’t be terrified? At the ball, you were scowling darkly at everyone who glanced your way. You weren’t thinking about your lost love, Honey, were you?” She placed a delicate finger against her soft pink lips, “Of course, you were. How exceedingly drole.”

“What if I was?”

Billy cursed the afternoon he confided in Della about Honey. He’d been foxed on brandy, feeling sorry for himself as well as lonely when she flounced into his home looking for someone to ride with her. Later, he discovered he told her far more than she had business knowing. As far as he knew, except for the rare times she spoke to him, his secret stayed behind her lips.

“No reason.” She leaned forward scooting from the desk. “You can’t wallow in despair over a woman you say you cannot have. Nonetheless, Billy, you could charm a nun into having carnal pleasures. I hate to see you depressed. Get on with your life. Seek out a woman who is good enough for you, who can satisfy all your needs.”

He ran a hand through his hair leaving a disheveled mess behind, one lock falling rakishly over his eye, not wishing to give more of his feelings away to this woman. The strange thing about Della was that he felt certain he could trust her. Della didn’t care about anyone except herself. Nevertheless, she was loyal to him. Neither wished to marry. They understood each other. At least he hoped they did. In his mind, he always harbored a doubt that this was possibly a ploy.

“It makes no difference. She is not here and less likely to ever come for a visit. You know of course, I should have never told you about her along with the horrible events that created her life. She fears men including me. If I could find a means, I would change that.”

“You could gently coax. You have such a caring, sincere way about you. If you used patience coupled with tenderness, who knows what you could achieve.”

“I would always feel as if I forced her. If I ever make love to Honey, it will happen because she came to me. She won’t approach me of that I’m certain.”

“Don’t understand why you’ve given up so easily. That’s not like a man who survived St. Giles. After all the atrocities you’ve lived through, one would be led to believe you possessed more courage.”

No, he supposed it wasn’t like him to give up. Where honey’s life was concerned, bravery eluded him. He just didn’t want to force her or coax her into doing something he felt certain she would most likely feel distress. He didn’t want to feel guilt over any stolen moments she spent with him. Although a bit of tender sweet-talking might erase some of her fears, she would still say no.

“I’ve thought on all that, nipped every notion in the bud before I could talk myself into doing something I’m certain I would come to regret.”

“When will I see you again?” she asked as she walked to the door seemingly ready to leave, her hand on the handle.

“I’ll send you a message.”

What he was actually thinking was not anytime soon. Some of the words she spoke to him tonight about Honey had him thinking of all the sweet possibilities if he could manage what she suggested. Honey only knew degradation along with pain from a man. Perhaps it was possible for him to teach her pleasure from his hands. Maybe coaxing wasn’t the same as forcing. Sweet-talking might be the way to show her how he felt about her as long as he didn’t push her to move too fast. Show her he would never harm her. As long as he stopped if she asked. The devil, he didn’t understand. He’d never had to charm a woman to come willingly into his arms.

During the trip home, Billy thought more about Della’s words. Perhaps a trip to Glasgow would be the perfect plan. He would have to put all his business affairs in order before he could leave to reacquaint himself with the tawny haired lady with shocking gold-flecked amber eyes. He grimaced. That feat might take him weeks. What he needed was a competent man who he could trust to shuffle the papers confounding him.

When he walked into his study, he found he was wide-awake. Pouring himself a large drink of brandy he sat down to meticulously go over some of the papers that had piled up on his desk over the long week. The devil, it seemed it had taken him forever to learn to read. When he stared at all the tiny little print, he would inevitably end up with a headache. Massaging his temples, he ordered the beginnings of one to leave.

A perfume scented letter sat on top of one of the piles catching his immediate attention. Ah, Jacob, his under butler must have thought to put this one on top of the stack. Jacob was a matchmaker at heart. For a few seconds, he tapped the envelope on his desk afraid to open the dispatch. Seeing the address was Scarlett’s place in Glasgow, he quickly opened the missive hoping maybe Honey was writing to him.

After he read the words written not so innocently on the paper, anger caused him to clench his teeth tightly. Several times he swore while he furiously drummed his fingers on the hard wood of his desk. He had to remain calm. Overreacting would do Honey only harm.

Rapidly, he penned a quick letter, sealed the envelope then set the message aside for his butler to take care of first thing in the morning.

~ * ~

Camdyn sat on the edge of his desk, idly swinging one leg a glass of whiskey in his hand. As he gazed from one man to the next, he felt a moment of pleasure. These friends of his were loyal. He could count on them for anything. His mouth lifted in a half smile of appreciation. Everything in his life had gone his way. Now he was the seventh Earl of St. Rose. Power, wealth, ladies a plenty all that went with the title was his. He meant to capitalize in every way possible.

Tipping back the glass of whiskey, allowing the slow glide of heat to slither down his throat then eventually pool in his belly, he thought of Honey, his dear, sweet half-sister. By attending the funeral, she reminded him that he missed her sweetness the taste of her the scent that was unique to her. No woman bested him. He would have her in his power again. If he had his way, and he would, she would be ensconced in the country estate of the Rose and Saber Men’s Association before the end of the week.

“What has you grinning shamelessly? Something wicked I hope,” Julian Newell asked as he too drank the whiskey.

Julian was a tall man, broad of shoulder, lean of hip. Of all his friends, Julian was the by far the cruelest. His silver-gray eyes gave none of his wickedness away. Women flocked to him, just as they did his other associates. It had been Julian’s idea to form the Rose and Saber Association while he carried out the intricate as well as minute details that made the association overpowering. They were a force to be reckoned with. No one could stop them.

“My bastard half-sister,” Camdyn murmured a soft expectant purr hummed in the back of his throat understanding he missed her in his bed. She was such a hellish fighter. What Honey didn’t understand was that she was his. No longer would he allow her separation from him. He walked to the window overlooking the rose garden. The path leading to the lake and the small gazebo caught his attention, fondly recalling the time he took her in the gazebo. That was just after the forming of the house along with the creation of his stable of women, most of them young girls, barely into their teen years. They were molded into exquisite creations in the very image he liked best, subservient to all males. They all understood their place in life.

“The one that got away?” Rufus Stanford asked sneering a half mocking smile on his handsome face. Rufus was smaller than the other men although his face was handsomely chiseled. He was still a fine figure of a man. His green eyes seemed to lure women to him. “The only one that escaped you? You scheming to get her back?”

Once again, fury rose quickly in Camdyn. The fact Honey was able to escape his plans for her never ceased to be a sore spot for him. Having his friends remind him of that fact didn’t sit well. Redeeming himself in their eyes was foremost on his mind. Man or woman, no one else had ever bested him. Behind his back his hands fisted as he whirled to meet his jeering friend.

“I will get her back. I will dominate her. She will be mine once again to do with as I please. Don’t any of you ever doubt that fact. She will be in the stable by the end of the week, sooner, if at all possible.” Camdyn thought about all he needed to do. More than ever, he was determined to see her naked, beneath him, crying, pleading with him.

“Shouldn’t be too difficult. I’ve heard she is whoring for Miss Scarlett. I could use an escort to the theatre. Once in my keeping for the evening, I will joyously hand her over to you,” George Wren offered succinctly.

He too seemed to be unable to hold his smirk behind his teeth. George was not as handsome as the other two fellows. Though he possessed a brilliant mind. His amber colored eyes didn’t miss anything nor did it seem he forgot even the minutest detail.

“I’ll never gain entrance,” Camdyn murmured softly as he thought of his friends.

Any of them might be able to gain entry to the escort service but he doubted the fact. Ah, escort service, simply a fancy way of describing a bordello or a whore house. He didn’t like the fact other men were able to buy Honey’s favors. He would be the man who would decide what men would use her. Back to his friends, their pedigrees were impeccable as was his. Nonetheless, the women at the service knew who he was. Most likely they heard Honey’s version of what happened to her. She would have given the brothel owners their names.

“Why ever not?” Nathan Ridgeway asked while he lit a slim black cheroot, the soft blue smoke curling upward.

Nathan was tall, nearly a stick figure in form. His lips were thin, his eyes narrow as he surveyed the room along with the people he called his friends.

Camdyn sifted in a long breath of air while he decided what he should tell his friends. Of course, his friends knew about the games he enjoyed playing with women. After all, they were part of those sporting diversions all of them willing participants. All of them took Honey that day when he appropriated her virginity and saw the tattoo placed on her breast that proclaimed her as his. His mocking smile grew. Five men spewed their seed inside her that first day which signaled the beginning of an era. Honey was the first woman initiated into their club.

Clearing his throat, he began in a soft voice, “Saw Honey at the funeral last week. Seems she has a bodyguard.”

A large man, Camdyn remembered. While he was tall, just over six feet, the bodyguard seemed to tower over him. “I would have to acquire Honey by trickery. I doubt if I’d ever be allowed in the massive front doors of Miss Scarlett’s establishment.”

“That bad?” Julian slanted him a mocking smile while he chortled. “You will find a means to circumvent that particular problem. Seems minor to me. I have all the faith in the world in your abilities.”

“Yes, with the four of you on my side, I foresee no difficulties,” Camdyn bit out as he thought about Honey’s pert little breasts her lush full lips.

She was a woman grown now. He wondered if she would taste the same as she did when she was fifteen or even a year ago when she orchestrated her escape. He could tell at the cemetery she was no longer a child. Her slender body formed now into delicious curves. More than ever before he wanted her. Needed to teach her lessons in obedience. He thought on ways he could go about doing so.

“Hear they interview the men requesting escorts,” Rufus offered blandly. “Do you think any of us blokes would pass the test? I for one don’t enjoy answering questions about myself. Nonetheless, I’m a damn good liar.”

“No one except the five of us know anything about our little peccadillos in the country,” George chuckled softly, his gaze wandering absently around the room. “Wouldn’t mind having your little bastard sister in my arms again. She always was a feisty little piece of baggage. Enjoyed all that wiggling and squirming. Set me on fire, she did.”

“This is all well and good, the remembering along with the joking. Who’s going to go to the escort service?” Camdyn asked, impatient to get on with this. Since the funeral he’d been in a state of semi-arousal. Every time he pictured her naked as he recalled the last time, his blood rushed straight to his groin bypassing every other organ. This second time around would be more pleasant than the first. While little girls proved enjoyable, a full-bodied woman held more fascination. Thoughts of running his fingers through that thick tawny mane of hers sent his body into a tailspin of delightfully carnal thoughts. Even more the possession of her, the scent of her womanly charms, filled his body with need.

“I’ll be pleased to offer my services,” Julian spoke up. “I’ve impeccable credentials as you all know.”

“I’ve a different thought.” Camdyn placed his hands in a steeple beneath his chin tapping his fingers as he formed the words in his head he meant to speak. “Since Honey knows all of us, do any of you believe that we will be able to escort her anywhere? She will have all of you tossed out the door before you are barely inside if you make it that far.”

“What do you plan?” Rufus’ gaze met his questioning. “What else is there? Since she has seen you, she will be wise to us, especially to you.”

“Think…” he paused thoughtfully tapping his jaw as his gaze centered on each of his friends. “We should plant a girl in the little bordello. She will befriend and cozy up to Honey. When we are prepared, she will bring her to us. I want to have a special room made up just for her new appearance. When she is installed, there will be no way for her to break out.”

“This new girl…” George inquired solicitously.

“Will be the one she befriends,” Camdyn said with a quiet chuckle remembering how she quickly did as he bade whenever the woman only she could protect by her compliance was threatened. “Honey has always been too softhearted. She won’t want to see the woman hurt so she will come along with no complaint understanding full well what will happen to the gel if she doesn’t cooperate. Honey will believe the girl was punished the first time she escaped.”

“Do you forget the night she ran away she didn’t give a fig about the woman who was to receive the punishment if Honey didn’t behave. She fled without a backward thought,” Nathan deftly pointed out the fact. “So, why do you think she will cave now? Doesn’t seem as if the strategy is well thought out.”

“No,” Camdyn let out a long slow breath of air. “No, I haven’t forgotten a thing about that night. Mayhap we should use that very woman to draw Honey back into our welcoming arms.” He thought that a fine idea. “Little Mary suffered some extreme abuse unless I’ve forgotten. Do believe at least for revenge, she will be more than willing to entice Honey from the safety of Miss Scarlett’s into our welcoming embrace. We can always offer a reward, something pleasant for Mary to enjoy when she succeeds.”

“For a short time, you could allow Mary to be the woman presiding over Honey. There could be a wealth of tit for tat. Mary could be encouraged to disobey so that we have an excuse to do whatever we want with Honey, not that any of us need justification. The act might serve to remind Honey of what her misdeed would inspire if she were to attempt another escape,” Julian pointed out with a satisfied sigh.

Several seconds passed while Camdyn considered Julian’s suggestion. The plan seemed like a fine one to him. He didn’t care if Honey suffered pain or humiliation at his hands. He so enjoyed implementing the punishment. Looking forward to enjoying as well as humiliating his bastard sister once more, he downed the remains of his brandy.

~ * ~

More than a week passed before Torra received the message from Billy that gave her reason to smile. He agreed to see Honey while he laid out the facts that he would protect her from her half-brother. He knew the entire sordid affair that Camdyn embroiled her in less than a year ago. Understood what her brother did to her was the root of her issues with men. All she need do was to let him know when to expect her.

“Well, that’s not possible,” she told Honey after she gave her the chance to read the message. Torra gave herself time to think on the issue before bringing the information to Honey. “I’m putting you in Bobby’s carriage first thing tomorrow morning. I do believe you are packed as well as eager to leave Glasgow behind you for an extended time in the highlands. Mark my words, Camdyn will have some plot to get you back. Showing up at that funeral was the last thing you should have done.”

“Billy will be surprised. While I don’t want to wait, don’t you think it’s impolite for me to just arrive on Billy’s doorstep unannounced? I…he is a duke now. He has obligations to fulfill.”

“Not impolite but prudent. Billy will understand. Even with their upbringing and sordid past, both Bobby along with Billy are the gentlest men I’ve ever known,” Muira chimed in with an all-knowing grin. “If you give him the chance, he will treat you right.”

“What if he’s busy or he isn’t at home?”

While Honey wasn’t having second thoughts about this journey or the reason for the hasty departure, she was afraid Billy would believe she had a change of heart about their extremely tame relationship. While she would like to know what it felt like for a man to cherish her, she didn’t believe she could ever willingly submit to a man’s hungry passion.

“I’m certain he has a butler to take care of unexpected visitors. Your arrival won’t be totally unanticipated. If you weren’t packed as well as eager to leave, I would send a message. Perhaps I will. By horse the message is certain to arrive at his estate before your carriage. I shall think on that.”

“That’s better. I wouldn’t like to surprise him.”

Miss May, a small woman with delicate features wrapped a tender arm around her shoulders hugging her close. Her smile broad, “This will turn out for the best. You will be safe from the earl. Billy will protect you.”

“I hope so,” she murmured, as she seemed to see the hint of amusement shining in Torra’s eyes. “I would like to feel protected as well as loved. Except for the women in this house, I’ve never felt loved before.”

“You will see that you will be welcomed by Billy. He will be eager to see you. If you give that man a chance, I’m certain he will love you if he doesn’t already.”

“Lord William Alexander Cameron Manchester, to be accurate,” Miss May said, a twinkle in her expressive green eyes. Miss May was always intent on matchmaking. Her mother was a renowned matchmaker in the little village of Selkirk Scotland.

“Now, you go on up to your bedroom. Rest is necessary. The trip will be long as well as tiring,” Torra tenderly patted her on the shoulder.

Without warning Honey turned pale as death itself. Torra wondered at that. When she saw the new girl walk into the home, that was when her face took on a deathly hue. Despite Torra’s valiant attempt to get Honey to speak of it, she was met with icy silence.

Torra had an uneasy feeling about the new girl who appeared skittish as if she hid something about her past. While her story was sad, filled with the same type of abuse all the girls here experienced in their short lives, there was something sinister in the way she held her body, the way her gaze focused with hatred shining in her eyes when she looked at Honey.

“What do you think is bothering, Honey?” Muira asked, concern etched in her voice.

Torra set a finger on her chin watching a woman she’d come to care for a great deal walk dejectedly up the stairs. She looked as if she didn’t have a prayer of surviving something. Torra felt certain her brother caused the desolation Torra read in every line of Honey’s slender body. “I don’t know. Nevertheless, I mean to discover the truth.”

“Seemed to happen when Tristan introduced Mary to us,” Miss May said kindly. “Do you think she knows this new girl? Could she be part of the past she came here to forget?”

“I’m certain of that fact. If Honey wasn’t leaving first thing in the morning, I would have more concern for the girl’s sudden appearance so soon after the funeral.”

“You don’t think her half-brother has anything to do with this woman. do you?” Muira asked.

“I’m not putting the thought aside. What we don’t want is for Mary to learn where Honey is going. I will inform Tristan he is to set a man to following Mary whenever she leaves the safety of the home,” Torra felt such deep-seated fear the uneasiness growing the more she thought on the girl.

“There is no denying the bruises or the burn marks on her skin. She’s been ill-treated. There is no doubt about that,” Muira pointed out as she too stared up the steps toward Honey’s room. “Didn’t Honey tell us about the burning of the women’s flesh when they didn’t obey?”

“Some of you don’t know Honey’s story, at least not in its entirety. I do. If I think too much, damn, I’m certain she lived in the same filthy, despicable place where Honey was mistreated.”

“A woman’s presence here might be the only way the new earl could infiltrate Miss Scarlett’s home. Camdyn is after Honey. It’s my guess, he’s using Mary to fulfill his wishes. I’d bet on that fact,” Miss May said, her voice soft yet determined. “Is Mary in her room?”

“Yes, at least I hope so. She’s supposed to be enjoying a bath along with a late dinner. I’m going to speak with Honey first.”

It seemed Torra’s worst fears came true after she spoke with Honey. With Tristan’s help along with the carriage driver that Bobby sent, with no one the wiser, they ferreted Honey from the home shortly after midnight.