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Authors: Kathleen E. Woodiwiss

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“ ‘Twill do you no good to shake your fists at God, Roger,” she quipped with a full measure of sarcasm.

“Perhaps you’d better aim your fury in the opposite direction, for I’d be willing to guess that in the not-too-distant future you’ll be in the netherworld, screaming in agony as the devil’s welcoming heat singes your hide.”

“What devil?” Roger scoffed in rampant derision as he turned a sneer upon her. “You don’t believe in those old wives’ tales, do you?”

She smiled complacently. “When I look into your eyes, Roger, I see vivid proof that the devil exists, because right this very moment I can see how successful he has been at bedeviling you.”

The miller stalked toward her threateningly, but again, she stood her ground. He lifted an arm to backhand her, but she raised her chin with all the pride she could muster, hoping he couldn’t discern how violently she trembled.

“You seem to enjoy abusing women, Roger,” she dared to taunt, despite the intense glower flaming in those green eyes. “Why is that? Didn’t you love your mother? From the little you’ve told me about your past, I can only believe you did, so why this hatred of women?”

“You don’t know what I’ve had to suffer beneath their cruel devices,” he sneered, lowering his arm as if the idea of beating her senseless right then and there was inconvenient for him. “Had you that knowledge, you’d be pitying me instead of heaping your sympathy on those whom you claim I’ve abused.”

“Then tell me, and perhaps I’d be able to feel more compassion for you.”

“Who wants your compassion?” he jeered. “I wanted your love, and you refused to give it. I have no need of your pity.”

“Everyone needs a little pity now and then, Roger,” she reasoned. “If we were all infallible, we wouldn’t need anything or anybody. We’d be towers of perfection and piety unto ourselves, and we all know that isn’t possible.”

“I could’ve used more of someone’s benevolence in the orphanage, but there was none to be had. I was starved, beaten, hung by my wrists until I was sure my arms were being torn from their sockets, but did I get mercy when I pleaded and sobbed for it? Ha! Miss Tittle beat me with a rod until blood oozed from my lacerated back. That day I swore to wreak vengeance upon that bitch and her minions, and I had it, too. If there
is
a hell, then I’m sure they’re writhing in it now.”

Shivering at his cold-bloodedness, Adriana had serious cause to wonder after listening to his ranting if there was any end to the wickedness he had committed. “You killed the women at the orphanage?”

Flicking his brows upward above a lazy smile, he slowly waggled his head. “Not all at once, you understand, but that’s where I learned the benefits of poison . . . rat poison, to be exact . . . arsenic, if

you will. I made everyone there think there was an epidemic going around, except, oddly enough, it was only happening in the home where I had been imprisoned. There were five altogether I killed there, and no one
ever
became mindful of what had been done to them. No one ever thought to look at the supplies of rat poison. We had lots of those foul critters running around, and many’s a time the orphans had to eat their droppings right along with whatever was cooked for them from the stores of vittles those vermin had been chewing on.”

Adriana clasped a hand over her mouth as her gorge came threateningly close to erupting. Her whitish pallor drew a smirk from the apprentice.

“If you think I exaggerate, my dear, then you should visit some of the orphanages in London sometime. I’

m sure you’ll see much the same thing.”

The sound of a carriage arriving in the drive in front of the entrance steps down below brought Roger spinning around in sudden alarm. Adriana seized her chance, fearing what would happen if she didn’t warn the arriving party of the dangers that awaited them.

The miller may have been fast, but, even as a child, Adriana had played enough games of tag with Samantha and other children to know how to skirt around an extended hand, which was precisely how Roger sought to catch hold of her. He missed on his first attempt, and when he lunged toward her again, she whirled quickly about, causing him to lurch off balance as he found nothing in his arms but thin air. He teetered on one leg, trying to regain his equilibrium as she scurried toward the front entrance, all the while screaming at the top of her lungs in an effort to warn the ones who were about to enter.

Colton hadn’t been able to wait until the landau came to rest. He had flung open the carriage door and lit at a run toward the stone steps, bolted up them three at a time, and arrived at the front door in a frantic attempt to abate the nagging dread that had haunted him all the way from London. Throwing open the door, he charged inward to find Adriana racing toward the entrance with the miller stumbling and sliding on the marble floor behind her. Colton raced toward his wife and, wrapping his arms about her, swung her around out of harm’s way, just as Roger launched himself off the floor in an effort to tackle her and take her down. The best the miller caught was her slipper, which readily slid off her foot as he fell to earth.

Colton pushed Adriana toward the entrance, bidding her to leave, and turned to lunge at the man. Alas, Roger snatched forth a loaded pistol from his coat, the sights of which he quickly directed toward the face of the retired colonel.

“Twitch your lip and I’ll put another hole in your head right above the one you call a mouth,” the younger man warned with a snide smile.

Colton had no choice but to spread his arms. Even so, he stepped this way and that to keep his wife safely behind him though she sought in desperation to move around in front of him. “Stay where you are, Adriana,” he bade sharply. “If you don’t, I’ll have to attack him!”

Rising cautiously from the floor, Roger smirked at them. “So quaint the way you two are trying to save each other, but ‘twill do neither of you any good. Before I leave here, you’ll both be dead, and this time I

’ll be the one who’ll be laughing in triumph.”

“Why must you kill Adriana?” Colton demanded. “She has never done you any harm.”

Roger shrugged, as if somewhat amused by the man’s question. “I’m afraid your wife must pay for making the wrong choice. You see, she chose you over me, and I won’t take any of your leavings, especially since she has your brat growing inside her. You’ll both die, and the babe right along with you.

Actually, you could say that I’ve had my revenge upon this household in many different ways. First Lord Sedgwick”—he chortled as Colton’s eyes narrowed ominously—“then the dogs . . .”—he watched the man glance in surprise at his wife, who nodded sadly—“and, of course, ‘twill give me the greatest pleasure to do away with you, milord. That will truly be an achievement I can revel in for many a year to come. A decorated hero who fought under Wellington. Forsooth, dealt a death blow by a simple miller.

How sad, they’ll lament. Then, finally, my beautiful Adriana, whom I will truly regret losing, but there’s no help for it, you see. If left to live, she’ll manage to tell someone of my deeds eventually, and I can’t allow that to happen. I must protect myself.”

A sound thoroughly familiar to both Colton and Adriana made them peer curiously beyond the miller. A smile tracing across the manly lips caused Roger’s hackles to rise, and then he heard it, too, the sound of toenails clicking against the marble floor.

Startled, he twisted half around to look behind him, and immediately his breath was snatched sharply inward as he saw the lone figure standing at the arched entrance separating the great hall from the vestibule. There stood Leo, the largest of the wolfhounds, with his hackles erect, his head lowered at a menacing depth, and his fangs bared in a sinister grin. The low growl that issued forth from the canine’s throat caused Roger to scramble frenetically about as he sought to find a place of safety. He saw the door of the drawing room ahead of him, but in his haste, his metal-clad soles seemed inclined to slip on the marble floor. He just couldn’t seem to get enough traction to move, much less advance. Even so, when Colton sought to charge him, Roger swung his pistol around as he shakily aimed it somewhere in the area of his lordship’s chest. When his feet finally ceased their frenzied shuffling, he was able to sidle around toward the entrance of the drawing room.

Leo moved forward, slowly stalking his prey, placing one paw on the floor in front of him before bringing forth the other, causing Roger to whimper in terror as he saw a very real possibility of his impending doom. This time, to be sure, no commands to “sit” or “stay” were forthcoming from either Colton or Adriana.

“Call off that animal!” Roger shrieked in panic. He swung his pistol about, turning it on Adriana. “Or, by heavens, I’ll blow her beautiful head off her shoulders!”

The sudden flash of pain that in that instant seemed to fill Roger’s head was enough to drive him to his knees. His jaw descended ever so slowly as the outer corners of his eyelids drooped heavily over a dazed stare. Another blow was delivered against the side of his head, and a third slammed into it from the opposite side. Tongue lolling loosely from his mouth, Roger collapsed facedown on the marble floor.

With quiet dignity, Harrison withdrew a handkerchief from the inner pocket of his coat and proceeded to wipe away the blood and hair that encrusted the end of the poker as Adriana raced toward him with arms held wide and tears filling her eyes.

“Oh, Harrison! Dear, dear Harrison, you saved our lives!” she cried jubilantly, hugging and kissing the servant, who tried not to smile. Still, he was inclined to turn his cheek to get the most from her kisses.

“My pleasure to be of service, madam. I couldn’t let that brute get the better of us, now could I?”

Colton chuckled as he joined his wife in conveying his heartfelt gratitude. The three of them soon turned to extend their enthusiastic gratitude upon Leo, who yawned as if extremely tired.

“Roger said he poisoned the dogs,” Adriana informed the two men, “but he also admitted he may have picked up the wrong vial by mistake. ‘Twould now seem he did and gave the dogs a sleeping potion rather than the arsenic.”

“Then where is Aris?” Colton asked, glancing around.

“He’s in the gallery,” she replied, leaning against her husband’s long frame as he slipped an arm about her. “I’m sure since Leo is alive, Aris must be, too.”

“And the servants, where are they?”

“In the vegetable cold bin, outside.”

“I shall let them out immediately,” Harrison informed the couple and gingerly felt the large lump on his head before drawing away his hand and rubbing his fingers, which were now stained red. “Mayhap I can get Cook to wrap a bandage around my head. I fear it’s still bleeding.”

“I’ll be pleased to do that for you right now, Harrison,” Adriana offered. “His lordship can let the servants out and send someone to fetch the sheriff, and then we’ll have a look at Aris.”

Not too many moments later, the household was pretty much back to normal. Roger had been tied up and dragged behind the tea table where no one would stumble over him and where he’d be easily accessible to the sheriff. He still hadn’t regained consciousness, and it seemed doubtful that he would before the authorities arrived.

It was soon officially determined that the two wolfhounds had merely been given a dose of laudanum rather than poison, for Aris awoke yawning as if from a long nap. The dogs enjoyed the attention Adriana bestowed upon them in the drawing room as she knelt beside them and taught Genie how to stroke their long coats. Colton opened a fresh bottle of brandy just in case Roger had been tampering again with any of the brews in the decanters, and he proceeded to pour Harrison a glass and one for himself. Watching as the pair of dogs eagerly bestowed their affection upon Adriana and Genie, the two men chortled in hearty amusement as the pair made faces evidencing their disgust after being licked across their mouths and cheeks by the hounds. Nevertheless, Adriana sputtered in happy protest, not only thankful that the animals were alive, but that they themselves were, too.

Moments later, Philana swept in, waving her arms excitedly as she fairly scurried to the door of the drawing room. “Finally, at long last, I’m a grandmother! I rushed here to be the one to deliver the news to everyone. I now have a grandson.”

“ ‘Tis wonderful news, Mama Philana!” Adriana cried with a joyous laugh and accepted Colton’s smiling assistance as she scrambled to her feet. Running to her mother-in-law, she embraced her affectionately before leaning back to ask, “Is Samantha all right?”

“Of course, dear child. She’s happy as a lark,” Philana declared lightheartedly. “But I must confess, I’m feeling a little spent after all the pacing Percy and I were doing outside their bedchamber while Dr.

Carroll was with Samantha. I can definitely assure you that no one in this house has had such a traumatic day as I. Very happy I am that it’s over, and I can finally relax.”

The hearty laughter made the woman stop and stare at family members and servants in some bemusement.

“Well, I am!”

 

 

 

 

Epilogue

 

 

 

 

A
driana gently jiggled her wailing son in her arms, trying desperately to shush him long enough for the

rector to conclude the christening ceremony, for which they had returned from London to see accomplished in the same church in which Colton had been dedicated. The baby had slept through his earlier feeding, refusing to be awakened, and was now thoroughly incensed that he couldn’t have what he demanded. Try as he did to latch on to something familiar as he nuzzled his mother’s bodice, he just couldn’t seem to find what he wanted.

The pained expression on Reverend Craig’s face clearly evidenced the fact that the infant’s lungs were in good working order. Even Gyles Suttons’ eyes seemed to water when his grandson’s shrieks pierced the level beyond that which he could easily tolerate. Philana and Christina stood together with proud smiles, as if luxuriating in the moment. As for Colton, he gave every indication that he was highly amused by his son’s display of temper. Smiling broadly with fatherly pride, he stood beside his wife as the good rector arduously went through the motions of christening Gordon Sedgwick Wyndham.

When Adriana was finally able to retire to a private room to nurse her son, she was pleased to be joined by Samantha who was on the same maternal quest, that being to find a quiet spot to nurse her own son.

The two babies looked very much alike and seemed to eye each other rather speculatively after being laid side by side. It was fairly safe to predict that these two, like their mothers, would grow up to be inseparable friends.

Later, the two women found their husbands standing with Riordan and his bride, the most radiantly happy Felicity Kendrick, who seemed to relish her husband’s gentle consideration. It was a stark, but thoroughly welcomed contrast to the abuse she had received from Roger. With the assistance of a manservant, Jane Fairchild had brought her father, Samuel Gladstone, in a chair on wheels. Jarvis Fairchild was noticeably absent, but that didn’t seem to bother the industrious woman, for she conveyed a vivacious wit as she chatted with her new son-in-law, daughter, and other aristocrats who had become close friends with the Gladstone family throughout the years.

In bed that evening, Adriana lay nestled against her husband’s side as Leo and Aris slept not too far away, indulging in the warmth radiating from the fireplace. Gordon had just received nourishment from his mother’s breast and was sound asleep in his tiny crib. As for Genevieve Ariella Kingsley, she was ensconced in her own room a short piece down the hall, with Blythe in the bedchamber next door and, as always, ever eager to see to the needs and care of the beautiful little girl, who would grow up with full knowledge of the wonderful couple who had been her real parents.

“It’s hard to believe that Riordan and Felicity are already expecting a child,” Adriana mused with a smile.

“She must have been caught on the very first night, too. Two months already, and as radiant a bride as I’

ve ever seen.”

Colton stroked a hand over his wife’s thigh, admiring its sleekness. “Felicity seems quite happy and content now that she’s married to Riordan, and I can certainly imagine why she should be after what she

went through as Roger’s wife. Jane’s ecstatic over the idea that she’ll soon be a grandmother. She’s very fond of Riordan, and of course, he’s very fond of his mother-in-law, as I am of mine.”

Adriana giggled. “You’d better be. You have no other choice.”

Her husband grinned down at her. “Now, I wouldn’t say that. I left home once when I didn’t like the arrangement that had been laid out for me.”

“Oh, I know!” Adriana feigned a heavy sigh. “You’ve always been stubborn about having your own way.


“Madam, be honest. Would you have been confident of my love had I agreed to my father’s edict at the very beginning and gone to the altar out of duty?”

“Well, Samantha and Percy are very much in love, and they did that very thing,” she reasoned.

“I’m not Percy, and you’re not Samantha, and I’d say that we’re every bit as happy as they are, if not more so. At least, you needn’t worry about my ever straying. I’ve indulged in that kind of life enough to know I prefer the one I now have with you. If you’re not aware of it, madam, I’m very much in love with you.”

She snuggled her head contentedly upon his shoulder and brushed her fingers admiringly over the neat feathering of hair covering his chest. “And I you, milord.”

It was some moments before Adriana rose up on that formidable expanse and peered down into her husband’s smiling eyes. “I believe Gordon is going to look exactly like your father.”

“Me, madam! He’s going to look like me,” Colton corrected with a gritted grin.

Smiling, she seemed to mull over his answer for a long moment as she glanced about the room. Finally, she lifted her shoulders in an impish shrug. “Well, if it bothers you so much not to get
all
the credit, then I suppose I can allow that he does look very much like you. But . . .”

Colton held up a hand to halt any further argument. “I know, madam! I’ve heard it all my life. I look just like my father before me.”

Smiling, she pressed her slender nose against his cheek. “I’m glad you do. If you’re not aware of it, sir, you’re an admirable specimen of a man, and I’m so very, very glad you’re mine.”

Another long moment passed before she lowered her chin upon the arm she had braced on his chest. “

Did Riordan say anything to you about witnessing Roger’s hanging?”

“He did.”

“And? What did he say?”

“He said he felt it necessary to assure himself—and Felicity—that she would be safe from that monster forevermore. In spite of all the people he killed, Roger proved to be a full-fledged coward when he faced death himself. He wept and pleaded for mercy all the way to the gallows, but of course he never extended any compassion to any of his victims, so he received none in return.”

“Mr. Fairchild is certainly pleased by the fact that Felicity is now married to Riordan,” Adriana said. “

According to Jane, he predicted a gentleman of the peerage would ask her to become his wife. Since Edmund passed on, and Jarvis bought the Elston mill, his attitude toward Samuel Gladstone has changed

for the better. He seems to admire the elder much more now and, from what I’ve heard, he has repaid all the funds he directed into his coffers after laying off Creighton and others, who’ve now all been hired back. Felicity said her father is even courting her mother now, as if she weren’t his wife at all. Of course, the fact that they’ve been living apart for some months may have had much to do with his repentance.

Perhaps he finally realized what a jewel of a wife he had and that he was going to lose her if he didn’t make amends.”

Chuckling, Colton rolled to his side to face his young wife and slid a hand down her naked back, settling it fondly over a tempting buttock. “As Shakespeare wrote, madam, all’s well that ends well.”

Adriana’s eyes gleamed with merriment as they warmly melded with his. “Lecher.”

Happy-Ending Oriented

An Interview with Kathleen E. Woodiwiss

Q:
Some people credit you with being the “inventor” of the Historical Romance as it is known today.

What prompted you to write a book [
The Flame and the Flower
] with so much more historical detail than anything else that was being written at that time?

KEW:
I love history, historical settings, and the fashions of bygone eras. It was much easier to escape into the realm of fiction when I allowed myself to imagine what it was like centuries ago. To build a firm foundation for my first books, it seemed necessary to create a vivid picture of what life was like back then and to settle the stories’ roots deep in the history taking place at those times.

Q:
Your early novels,
The Flame and the Flower
and
The Wolf and the Dove
among them, were among the raciest novels ever published in the Romance genre.

KEW:
Would you consider
Valley of the Dolls
in the Romance genre? If so, then I’d have to say that was the raciest novel I had read prior to becoming published. I also found it a most depressing book. I didn’t finish reading it but gave it back to the friend who had loaned it to me and started writing
The
Flame and the Flower
instead — but I never imagined I’d get it published. If not for
Valley of the
Dolls
, I doubt I would have made any serious attempt to write a book of my own. I just wrote it for myself. I was definitely tired of searching for a romantic book that had a satisfying conclusion ... and I am most certainly a happy-ending-oriented person. Then, after finishing
The Flame and the Flower
, I allowed some people to read it, and they encouraged me to make an attempt to get it published.

Q:
What did you like to read, growing up?

KEW:
I started out reading fairy tales. From there, I graduated to Nancy Drew mysteries, horse stories, and other books that appeal to young girls. Though I even read Jules Verne. I was an avid reader, and I was always searching for a “wonderful novel.” Of course, I count
Gone with the Wind
,
Jane Eyre
,
Rebecca
, and a host of other classics among my favorites.

Q:
Some people feel that romance novels should depict an idealized but realistic portrait of relationships, while others feel that novels should be more escapist fantasy. What’s your take?

KEW:
To each his own. I write the kind of books I enjoy reading. It’s as simple as that. I would never attempt to instruct another author on the kind of book she/he should write. It should be their preference.

After all, what motivated me may not motivate the next person, and vice versa.

Q:
What is your favorite time period to write in?

KEW:
Usually the period I’m writing in, whatever that may be.

Q:
The Reluctant Suitor
is your first novel to be published in hardcover. Does this have any special significance to you?

KEW:
Actually, all my other books have been published in hardcover. However, the paperbacks came first; the hardcovers followed. Cart-before-the-horse, more or less. I was somewhat leery of making the switch, knowing in these hard times the difficulty some women will have paying for a more expensive book, but I was told that it was time for me to be published first in hardback. After all, my first book was published over thirty years ago.

Q:
Do you have another book in the works?

KEW:
Yes, I do. The next one will have a medieval setting.

Q:
Do you ever have thoughts of retiring?

KEW:
As far as retiring, I really can’t see that happening unless I lose interest in writing. I recall hearing some years ago about a woman still editing books at the age of eighty-two. I’d count myself fortunate if I

’m still able to write books at that age. Besides, writing a book is stimulating to the brain. I’d much rather do that than let it molder from disuse.

~

Adapted from a February 2003 interview with Ms. Woodiwiss by Waldenbooks.

About the Author

Kathleen E. Woodiwiss wrote the very first historical romance novel in 1972 —
The Flame and the
Flower
created a genre and made Ms. Woodiwiss one of the world’s most popular writers, with 36

million books in print. In celebration of Ms. Woodiwiss’s new novel,
The Reluctant Suitor
(2003), PerfectBound is publishing Ms. Woodiwiss’s classic backlist, including the complete Birmingham Family Saga:
The Flame and the Flower
;
The Elusive Flame
;
A Season Beyond a Kiss
. Also available are Ms. Woodiwiss’s
Ashes in the Wind
;
Come Love a Stranger
;
Forever in Your Embrace
;
Petals on
the River
;
A Rose in Winter
;
Shanna
;
So Worthy My Love
;
The Wolf and the Dove
.

Works by Kathleen E. Woodiwiss

The Birmingham Family Saga:

The Flame and the Flower
The Elusive Flame
A Season Beyond a Kiss
And also:

Ashes in the Wind
Come Love a Stranger
Forever in Your Embrace
Petals on the River
A Rose in
Winter
Shanna
So Worthy My Love
The Wolf and the Dove
The Reluctant Suitor
NEW YORK TIMES
BESTSELLING AUTHOR
KATHLEEN E. WOODIWISS

“A LEGEND! . . . THE QUEEN OF HISTORICAL ROMANCE.”
Atlanta Journal-Constitution

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