Strictly Forbidden (46 page)

Gavin didn’t think it was possible, but her eyes widened further.

Then at her feet, he knelt, with her brother, his family—and the rest of the
ton
as witness.

He wanted Kira, forever. Damn the consequences. He might lead them both to scandal,
his family might abhor them, the
ton
might shun the two of them. As long as this empty abyss in his chest that gaped open
at the thought of Kira leaving forever would no longer plague him, he would take any
risk.

A tremulous smile lit up her face as one silvery tear slid down her cheek, followed
by another. Lord, she was the most beautiful woman, both inside and out, he had ever
known. She stunned him with her love, her giving nature, her seeming fragility coupled
with her incredible strength. Kira was like no other woman.

“Would you do me the very great honor, Miss Melbourne, of
be
coming my wife?”

She stood silent so long that Gavin began to worry. With her heart in her eyes, she
stared at him, tears chasing one another down her face. He feared he had put Kira
through too much, worried she would refuse him. And he likely deserved it.

Around him, the crowd was hushed, waiting, waiting… Gavin heard his heart pounding
against his chest. Beads of sweat broke out across his back.

Please God, let her accept.

“Kira?” he whispered softly.

With a sob, she threw herself toward him. Gavin barely stood in time to wrap his arms
around her. He held her close, reveling in the feel of her, knowing that with one
word from her, he could do this every day for the rest of his life.

Lord, let her say that one word.

“Does this mean yes?” he asked.

Again she sobbed. But this time she nodded, too.

“Yes.” She hugged him tightly. “Yes!”

Someone clapped. Gavin looked up to find Brock Taylor slowly putting his hands together.
He cast a loving gaze at his wife, who soon followed suit. Nearby, James, Aunt Caroline,
Darius, and even Cordelia all joined. Within moments, the entire room clapped, and
the hearty sound swallowed his fears for their future.

“They approve,” he whispered. “Even if they didn’t, I would not care. I love you.
I put you through so much before I realized that, and I’m terribly sorry. Please forgive
me.”

“What about the Daggett curse?”

He shook his head. “There is no such thing. I see that now. The way I want you is
motivated only by love. So if you say that you love me too, we can be married tomorrow
so I might prove to you again how much.”

“Gavin!” She flushed.

His face turned serious. “Do you? Love me, I mean?”

She nodded. “With my Persian
half
, my English half… Every bit of me belongs to you.”

“I cannot think of anything else that makes me happier,” he murmured.

Then he claimed her mouth in a kiss ripe with the promise of the future, laced with
the everlasting love in his heart. And she met him, measure for measure, in every
way his equal—and the woman of his dreams.

Shayla Black (aka Shelley Bradley) is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling
author of sizzling contemporary, erotic, paranormal, and historical romances in print,
electronic, and audio formats. Her books have also been translated into nearly a dozen
languages. A writing risk-taker, Shayla enjoys tackling new writing challenges with
every book. In her “spare” time, she lives in Texas with her husband, munchkin, and
one very spoiled cat. She enjoys reality TV, reading, and listening to an eclectic
blend of music.

Shayla has won or placed in over a dozen writing contests, including Passionate Ink's
Passionate Plume, The Holt Medallion, Colorado Romance Writers Award of Excellence,
and the National Reader's Choice Awards. Romantic Times has awarded her Top Picks,
a KISS Hero Award, and a nomination for Best Erotic Romance.

A writing risk-taker, Shayla enjoys tackling writing challenges with every book.

Connect with me online:

Shayla Black:

Website:
www.shaylablack.com

Facebook:
www.facebook.com/ShaylaBlackAuthor

Twitter:
www.twitter.com/@shayla_black

Smashwords:
www.smashwords.com/profile/view/ShaylaBlack

Also from Shayla Black/Shelley Bradley:

EROTIC ROMANCE

The Wicked Lovers

Wicked Ties

Decadent

Delicious

Surrender To Me

Belong To Me

“Wicked to Love” (e-novella)

Mine To Hold

Coming Soon
:

“Wicked All The Way” (e-novella)

Ours To Love

Sexy Capers

Bound And Determined

Strip Search

“Arresting Desire” – Hot In Handcuffs Anthology

Masters of Ménage
(by Shayla Black and Lexi Blake)

Their Virgin Captive

Their Virgin’s Secret

Their Virgin Concubine

Coming Soon
:

Their Virgin Princess

Doms Of Her Life
(by Shayla Black, Jenna Jacob, and Isabella LaPearl)

Coming Soon
:

One Dom To Love

Stand Alone Titles

Naughty Little Secret (as Shelley Bradley)

“Watch Me” – Sneak Peek Anthology (as Shelley Bradley)

Dangerous Boys And Their Toy

“Her Fantasy Men” – Four Play Anthology

PARANORMAL ROMANCE

The Doomsday Brethren

Tempt Me With Darkness

“F
ated” (e-novella)

S
educe Me In Shadow

Possess Me At Midnight

“Mated” – Haunted By Your Touch Anthology

Entice Me At Twilight

Embrace Me At Dawn

HISTORICAL ROMANCE (as Shelley Bradley)

The Lady And The Dragon

One Wicked Night

Strictly Seduction

Strictly Forbidden

CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE (as Shelley Bradley)

A Perfect Match

Continue Reading for Chapter One of “
Strictly Seduction
”

PURELY PASSION

As an innocent girl, Madeline Sedgewick learned that nothing comes without a price—even
desire. Five years later, now widowed and deeply in debt, she’s certain that the stranger
who bought her last husband’s notes of credit will demand swift, steep repayment.
But she never imagines her creditor will be Brock Taylor, her baseborn former stable-hand
turned newly wealthy entrepreneur—the man who stole her virginity and her heart. She’s
even more stunned when he says that he’ll forgive her debts only if she becomes his
wife.

Brock’s memories of their parting are no less bitter than Maddie’s, and his plans
for their future are hardly a rekindling of their blissful first love. But seeing
Maddie again—just as spirited, strong, and beautiful as ever—reawakens a desire he
thought long dead. When she refuses his proposal, they strike a dangerous wager, with
Brock’s self-made fortune and Maddie’s treasured independence at stake. It’s a wager
only one of them can win—as long as they resist the other’s passionate seduction .
. . and falling in love again.

CHAPTER ONE

London – March, 1834

“My late husband’s bills have been settled? Did I hear you correctly, Mr. Hockelspeck?”
Madeline Sedgewick asked, resisting the urge to wring her hands.

“You did.”

To assure herself he hadn’t told some terrible joke, Maddie opened her reticule with
deceptive calm and withdrew a few bills—the bulk of her remaining funds. “I need not
pay you this installment, then?”

“It’s quite unnecessary. As of yesterday, you owe nothing.”

Jubilation raced through her. Blindly, she reached for her young daughter beside her,
squeezing her small hand, though Aimee was too young to understand.

“Are you happy, Mama?” Aimee asked beside her.

Bending to her daughter, Maddie smoothed the blond curls around her daughter’s pink-cheeked
face, unable to find the words to adequately express her profound joy to a four-year-old.
“Very much, sweeting.”

Since her late husband’s death, she had prayed for some miracle to save her from Colin’s
obligations. Now, relief surged so powerfully within her, she fought back tears. True,
the amount owed Mr. Hockelspeck was not the sum of all her debt, but it was a start.

Her nightmare might soon end. Perhaps she could make a few repairs to Ashdown Manor,
buy Aimee new shoes—a million needs came to mind… Then the tailor’s words replayed
in her head. Her euphoria crumbled.

“My debt was settled, you say?”

He sent her a crisp nod. “Precisely.”

“Can you elaborate how?”

“I...I mustn’t—” Hockelspeck hesitated. “A man purchased your debt. That is all I
am at liberty to say, Lady Wolcott.”

Sudden fear crashed through her. Maddie tried to rein it in. Someone had purchased
her notes and would expect repayment. She still owed far more money than she possessed.

After three years of saving each farthing, of quietly letting servants go one by one,
of selling her late mother’s prized furnishings, of seeing her sweet daughter silently
suffer the winter chills of fireless hearths, so she might slowly pay off each of
her late husband’s demanding creditors, now some stranger had purchased this note
without a word to her. What would she do if her new creditor demanded immediate repayment
in full?

“Who acquired my debt? I must ask.”

And why would anyone do such a thing?

“I cannot say, my lady. Now, you must excuse me. I have paying customers...” The odious
tailor’s lips thinned to an impatient line.

Anxiety gripped Maddie anew. The few remaining family members had refused to aid her
when asked, her father having alienated them long before he died. Her late husband’s
relations had all departed, save his sister Roberta, who had never welcomed her. She’d
gone to great lengths to hide her dire financial situation from her acquaintances,
hiding in Hampstead Heath behind widow’s weeds instead.

Maddie grabbed Mr. Hockelspeck’s arm. “Wa-wait.”

He turned back and raised a thin brow.

Maddie pasted on her best smile to hide the desperation and fear tearing at her hard-won
composure. She didn’t like mysteries. Good rarely came from them.

“Forgive me,” she murmured. “I cannot credit who would buy such a debt and not present
his terms to me. Can you not give me his name?”

“No. He asked very particularly to remain anonymous. However, I feel certain he intends
to present himself and his terms to you very soon.”

#

Two weeks later, spring hovered a breath away. Maddie couldn’t stop thinking about
anything other than the mysterious stranger who now owned her future.

After leaving Mr. Hockelspeck and visiting the rest of her creditors, each had indicated
that a mystery gentleman had purchased her debt and insisted on remaining anonymous.
She still had no notion who, what, or when to pay—much less why. Each day that slipped
by frayed her nerves a bit more.

In the interim, Maddie had purchased Aimee a new pair of much-needed shoes, and Aunt
Edith had persuaded her to splurge on a chicken for stew to celebrate her freedom
from Mr. Hockelspeck’s incessant demands. Maddie hadn’t had the heart to worry her
elderly aunt about the money she still owed and the enigmatic stranger to whom she
owed it.

Though creditors had ceased hounding her, she still felt the shameful sting of her
impoverished state, worried her anonymous creditor could appear, demanding what she
could not give.

At a sudden knock on her door, she gazed at the mantle clock. Nine o’clock in the
evening. A very late hour for visitors, especially in quiet Hampstead. Frowning, Maddie
set aside Aimee’s tattered frock that she’d been mending and strode to the parlor
door.

As her butler Matheson’s heels clicked across the floor, her stomach twisted as she
waited.

After a low-voiced exchange, Matheson approached.

“Who is it?” she whispered, then bit her lip fretfully.

His brow knit in puzzlement. “He says he’s a gentleman who wishes to remain anonymous.”

Her heart stuttered. Maddie drew in a deep, trembling breath, knowing the moment she
had dreaded had unflinchingly arrived.

“Is he anyone I know?” she whispered to her butler.

“I’m afraid he is,” drawled a deep voice beyond the parlor’s portal.

It was a voice Maddie never, ever thought to hear again.

A sudden, dizzying spike of shock swept over her. Mouth gaping, she reached for the
wall to steady herself. She peeked past Matheson, hoping her ears had deceived her.

They had not. Brock Taylor had returned to Ashdown Manor.

As bold as could be, here stood the cad who had broken her heart five years ago when
he’d left her to seek his fortune. From gossip and reputation, she knew he had more
than found it. Now refined and wealthy—and more handsome than ever—he stood in her
foyer wearing a faintly wry smile and a stylish green coat that perfectly matched
his mocking eyes. The thick waves of his mahogany hair still wouldn’t quite behave.
Maddie remembered running her fingers through them with a bittersweet pang.

“Brock.” His name tumbled from her lips on a whisper.

“How kind of you to remember me,
Lady Wolcott.”

He spoke her married title with contempt, matched by the disdain in his eyes. She
swallowed. Why was he here? What did he want? Had
he,
of all people, truly bought her debt? She fought for her next breath, trying to beat
back the panic encroaching.

Brock turned to her butler. “Your name?”

“Mine? It is Matheson, sir.”

“Splendid. Matheson, fetch your mistress a spot of tea. She looks unwell,” Brock said,
displaying the urbane charm he had refined to an art.

Her butler sent her a measuring stare. “Indeed, sir.”

Matheson quit the room before she could object, leaving her alone with the man she’d
sworn to hate for the rest of her life.

“You are not welcome here.” Maddie lifted her chin sternly.

“Have you no kind words for an old...friend?”

Mouth dropping open, she glared at him. Five years after betraying her, Brock Taylor
stood in her parlor as if he belonged here. Of all the things she’d envisioned saying
to him over the years if she ever saw the cad again, not a single one came to mind.

“Friend?”
She raised a disdainful brow at him.

“May I sit?” He did so without waiting for her reply, dwarfing the ancient rosewood
armchair. “Perhaps you should sit as well. You really do look pale.”

Though Brock’s voice had acquired a definite upper crust clip, one of the few qualities
that had not changed about the scoundrel was his smile. The wicked tilt of that wide
mouth still bespoke sin, as potent and beguiling as ever. Once upon a time, she had
been innocent enough to fall prey to the charm of his grin.

She was no longer that green girl.

Maddie feigned calm as she faced Brock. “Matheson said you are the anonymous gentleman.
Is that so?”

“Yes.”

His clipped reply hit her like a blow to the chest. Legs weak beneath her, she tread
slowly to the sofa and sank to its threadbare cushions. “Why? Eight thousand pounds
is a great deal of money.”

He shrugged. “Or not, depending.”

Maddie fixed narrowed eyes upon him. “Depending upon what?”

“The repayment one receives.”

“I knew I could count on you to make demands.”
You opportunistic blackguard.

The words were out before Maddie could stop them.

She clenched her hands into angry fists. Damn him for buying her debt. Damn him twice
for taking her heart and her innocence five years ago, then leaving her in his quest
for wealth. Damn him to eternity for coming here with the notion of collecting more.

A faint apology tinged his smile. “I’m not running a charitable organization.”

“I did not ask you to buy my late husband’s debt.”

“But now that I have, you owe me.”

Fury seethed inside her, like a beast fighting its chain. “And you want your precious
money from me?”

“I want repayment.”

How dare he make demands of her in light of the terrible wrong he’d dealt her. He
was no gentleman. But then, he never had been.

Matheson appeared suddenly with the tea. As Maddie poured, the scent of the brew tinged
with milk drifted up to her, calming her to a manageable level. Taking a warm sip,
she dismissed the servant, then clutched the cup in her cold hands.

“If I had eight thousand pounds,” she bit out, “I would have paid my creditors already.
So you see, immediate repayment is impossible.”

Brock crossed his arms over his wide chest, but the arrogant, presumptuous cad said
nothing at all about the biggest shame of her life. Or one of them, anyway.

“In fact,” she continued, “I believe you owe me a thousand pounds to repay the money
you accepted from my father.”

“He told you about our...agreement?”

“Of course. He told me the very night you left that he had offered you money to abandon
me. And that you quickly accepted it with a smile.”

“Abandon?” He gave her a mocking laugh. “You didn’t suffer long, Lady Wolcott.” Again,
he spoke her married title with disdain. “It’s of no consequence, anyway. I returned
that money to your father three months later.”

“Papa said he never saw a farthing of it.”

“And naturally you believed everything he told you.” Brock’s voice held a faint note
of derision, then he shrugged. “If you want your thousand pounds, I shall credit it
toward your balance. I’ll even grant you eight-percent interest. You still owe me...”
He cast his gaze to the ceiling, calculating. “Six thousand, seven hundred eighty-three
pounds and twenty pence.”

“I scarcely have two farthings to rub together, but I’m certain you knew that before
buying up my debt.” Five years of choking resentment exploded with the force of a
volcano. “What the devil do you want from me?”

“A choice, Maddie. A simple choice.”

She scoffed. Nothing about Brock Taylor had ever been simple.

“What?”

He shrugged casually, but Maddie caught the tension latent in his neck, his broad
shoulders. “If you cannot repay me in full...”

“I’ve said that I cannot,” she said through clenched teeth.

Brock rose from the armchair, the muscles of his hard thighs flexing beneath chocolate-hued
breeches. Maddie chastised herself for noticing as he paced closer, brushing the muslin
of her gray skirt as he walked past. He turned back to her. Their gazes locked. Brock’s
stare penetrated her bravado, seeking to see into her soul.

“Then you must marry me.”

Maddie nearly choked. He must be jesting, surely. But his strong, solemn face said
quite the opposite. Her tea cup fell from her hand and to the carpet with a soft clatter.

Fresh fury made her whole body tremble. How could he even suggest they wed? Once upon
a time, he had abandoned her. She had no wish to wed anyone, but if she had to choose
between Brock and a snake, she would hope the snake would be content to share her
quiet country life.

Because of this man, Maddie had suffered doubts about her moral character, her desirability,
her judgment. She’d worried that her choices would someday haunt Aimee. Above all,
Maddie had learned heartache.

Now she knew pure fear. The law gave a man complete power over his wife and her body.
A husband could beat and belittle her without repercussion. Colin had plied his own
form of torture mercilessly during their two year union. She shuddered at the thought
of placing herself in that hell again, especially with an opportunistic liar who had
proven his callousness so thoroughly.

Standing and meeting his gaze, she asked, “And if I refuse?”

“You will be a debtor, and your options will be those of most debtors. Very unpleasant,
if you ask me.”