Vexed by a Viscount (12 page)

They had decided on a long engagement, so that they could take time to properly get to know one another. Every day her affection for him had increased, and by the time they had finally said their vows, she’d very nearly skipped the wedding breakfast in favor of an early wedding night.

Rolling her eyes, she splashed him back. “Because I
wanted
to marry you, and your father would have rather walked across nails than agree to join forces with my father.”

The week after she had ended her betrothal to the squire had been the lowest in her family’s life. She had never regretted her decision, but it was tremendously difficult to see her parents so terribly distressed. When Ash’s proposal had come only a week after his return, all had promptly been forgiven.

Best of all, he had insisted that the squire be given the dowry without ever turning to the courts, so no one had to sue anyone else. The earl had been absolutely furious to learn of his only son’s broken engagement and subsequent betrothal to his lowly neighbor’s daughter, but Ash had been unconcerned. Having already had a duke marry into the family, he felt his father had enough social connections to last a lifetime.

Ash swam closer to her and pressed a kiss to her waiting lips. “I must say, our parents are the last thing I wish to discuss right now.” His hands encircled her waist beneath the water and tugged her naked body against his.

They had moved to the dower house at the northern edge of the property, and the first thing her new husband had surprised her with was a rather magnificent pool that tied into one of the hot springs. She was quite certain the pool was meant for exactly this purpose. He had chosen a spot well hidden by evergreens on all sides, the clever man.

“Oh?” she asked, lifting an eyebrow. “What, then, would you rather discuss?”

He kissed her deeply, passionately, sending butterflies fluttering through her stomach. Pulling away just far enough to speak, he said, “Absolutely nothing.”

Her grin was as wide as her lips would allow. “Then by all means, dear husband, do kiss me again.”

His wolfish smile sent another rush of butterflies sailing through her. “With pleasure.”

Thank you!

I hope you enjoyed
Vexed by a Viscount
, the fourth All’s Fair in Love novella.

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How about an excerpt? Keep reading for an excerpt from
The Duke Can Go To the Devil
, part of the
Prelude to a Kiss Series
by Erin Knightley!

The Duke Can Go To the Devil

In the new novel from the bestselling author of
The Earl I Adore
, May Bradford isn’t afraid to play devil’s advocate when it comes to a duke....

After her mother’s death, May’s sea captain father sends her halfway around the world to live with his stodgy sister in England. The summer festival in Bath made for a lovely distraction, but now she can’t wait for her father’s return so she can leave this country, its suffocating rules, and one infuriatingly proper nobleman in particular behind.

Because he is the Duke of Radcliffe, William Spencer’s whole life revolves around his duties. He never steps foot outside the bounds of proper behavior, and he expects the same of those around him. With her devil-may-care ways, May vexes him nearly as much as she tempts him, but there’s something about her that he just can’t resist. He knows he’s falling hard for her, but with lives that are worlds apart, will they ever be able to find any common ground?

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Chapter One

T
o most, Mei-li Bradford’s aunt was known simply as Lady Stanwix, second wife and widow of the old earl. To a very select few, she was referred to as Victoria. To the servants, she was called something not entirely fit to repeat. But in May’s mind, her father’s sister—with whom she’d be living until Papa returned from his current voyage—was more often than not The Warden.

An entirely fitting title, given how often she required May to stay buried in the suffocating opulence of the grand house the older woman had called home for the past two decades. The rooms were large, but that didn’t make the place any less confining. Especially since, thanks to her aunt’s uninspired sense of design, the place was as dark and dreary as a mausoleum.

Fortunately, May was nothing if not resourceful.

And while she prudently avoided clashing with her aunt whenever possible—she had made a promise to her father to behave in his absence, after all—she was not above exploiting The Warden’s weaknesses.

Which was precisely why May had been sneaking out every morning for the past three months. She had a routine to keep, and after a lifetime of tropical living, she refused to do her morning exercises within the olive-and-brown-walled confines of the lifeless old house. Although, to be fair, it was hardly
sneaking
when one walked straight out the front door. If her aunt chose to keep to a rigid routine that consisted of being awoken at nine o’clock sharp every morning—and not one minute before—then that was her prerogative. Just as it was May’s to rise before dawn and start her day.

Smiling, she breathed in the cool morning air as she pulled the door closed behind her, more grateful than ever for the quiet solitude of the city this early in the morning. Unlike many of the cities May had visited in her life, Bath had a certain laziness to it this time of the day. This was a city that came alive in the evening, with the monied glow of hundreds of beeswax candles lighting the rented homes and public gathering places that were packed to overflowing come sundown.

Walking along the deserted streets in the timid predawn glow, one would never suspect the thousands upon thousands of visitors filling every available inn and town house, nearly all of whom had flocked to Bath for the first annual Summer Serenade in Somerset music festival.

The festival, and the new friends it had brought her, was the only thing making this forced visit bearable.
Until last night.
Her jaw tightened at the memory of the disastrous evening she had endured thanks to the combined efforts of The Warden and one self-entitled, pompous visitor in particular. As quickly as the thought had popped into her mind, she mentally shoved it away again.

Coming to the park by the river today wasn’t about her aunt, or more specifically, defying her aunt. Nor was it about the encounter last night, as infuriating as it had been. Coming here today was about
her
. It was about doing what she had done every morning for years, whether she was in the Far East, the East Indies, the open ocean, or right here in Bath.

And she’d be damned if she’d let her aunt’s dictates or last night’s confrontation spoil it for her.

Arriving at the park at last, May slipped out of her shoes and stepped onto the soft, dewy grass.
Bliss.
Next she shed her dull gray pelisse, letting the ugly fabric fall in a heap on the damp ground. The coat had been the first thing Aunt Victoria had commissioned for May upon her arrival this past spring. It had seemed a nice enough gesture, until she realized it was The Warden’s attempt to cover May’s bright and exotic wardrobe. Still, its dreary color did come in handy this time of morning, when she wished to avoid notice if, by chance, someone did happen to be about.

Sighing happily, she stretched her hands over her head, reveling in the loss of the restrictive garment. God bless the English and their propensity to sleep in. Not only did she actually have some time to herself each morning, but there was no one around to dissolve in a fit of vapors over the thin silken tunic and trousers she wore.

The soft whisper of the fabric was nearly lost in the muted sounds of the flowing River Avon as she walked toward the clearing beside the water, limbering up her body as she went. Rolled shoulders, windmilled arms, a few neck stretches—just enough to get the blood flowing for her routine. The light was particularly lovely this morning, all pinks and purples with the blushing promise of a new day. In this light, the greens of the trees and grass and shrubs and, well,
everything
in this bloody country, wasn’t quite so overwhelming. Truly, it was as though the king had ordained exactly one shade of green for every plant, leaf, and blade of grass in the country, and the flora, being good little English subjects, had obliged.

She caught herself, sliding down the familiar path of negativity, and firmly banished the thoughts from her mind. She was here to find peace. To be centered for the day, to start off the morning on the best possible foot.

Breathing in a long, slow lungful of the fresh morning air, she cleared her mind of all the clutter it had accumulated over the past twenty-four hours. And there was a
lot
of clutter, thanks to yesterday’s debacle. Getting her body into position, she closed her eyes, imagined her favorite place on Earth, and began her routine.

Each movement was slow and controlled, gliding effortlessly from one position to the next. She took slow, measured breaths and focused on the feel of the air as her hands swished through it, on the gentle sound of the river flowing against its banks, and on the soft, spongy grass beneath her feet as she slid from one step to the next.

Yes, the routine that she’d learned from Suyin, her friend and lady’s maid, was technically a form of martial arts, but it could more accurately be described as meditation in motion. The movements were so familiar, it was as though her limbs moved themselves, following the age-old rhythm that she’d learned years ago. The sleeves of her tunic slid along her arms like cool water, pooling at her elbows before slipping back down to her wrists. Again and again the silk caressed her skin as she went through the routine, a sort of silent lullaby.

As the minutes ticked by, the knotted muscles of her upper back loosened and her body became more and more relaxed. The tension caused by the day before melted like candle wax. Her mind settled as well, letting go of all the negativity that had plagued her since yesterday.

Just as she had reached the perfect place of quiet clarity, the sound of a cleared throat startled her from her peace, wrenching her back to the present. She straightened abruptly and swung around, her heart pounding.

She saw the interloper at once, standing only a dozen feet away with arms crossed and lips raised in a slight sneer that she was beginning to think was the only expression he was capable of. His strong, aristocratic jaw was tipped up in a look of superiority as his decidedly disgusted whiskey-brown eyes raked her over from the top of her head to the bottom of her bare feet. May silently cursed.

In four different languages.

The Duke of Radcliffe, it would seem, was not as easily forgotten as originally hoped.

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Despite being an avid reader and closet writer her whole life,
Erin Knightley
decided to pursue a sensible career in science. It was only after earning her BS and working in the field for years that she realized doing the sensible thing wasn’t any fun at all. Following her dreams, Erin left her practical side behind and hasn’t looked back. Now an award-winning and best-selling author, she is living her own Happily Ever After in North Carolina with her tall, dark, and handsome husband and their three spoiled mutts.

Join her on Twitter, Facebook, or at
www.ErinKnightley.com