The Duke’s Blade (The Duke’s Guard #16)

Chapter One

Thunder rumbled and lightning flashed as the clouds opened up and a cold, hard rain pelted his head and shoulders.

Fenton Flaherty could not believe the black-haired, blue-eyed temptress with the figure of a goddess was so stubborn.

Not only did she ignore his warning about Judson’s men, but then she turned her back on him when he offered to watch over her.

He did not offer his protection lightly.

But her father was one of the local smugglers that had helped create the diversion months ago when they rescued O’Malley, and Flaherty felt it was his duty to offer protection to Doonan’s daughter.

Since then, there had been a shift in the power struggle between the wreckers and smugglers that plied their trade along the coast of Cornwall.

Now that the crooked excise official was gone, both groups had agreed to abandon the caves they had been using beneath Penwith Tower.

The shoreline was riddled with caves, so finding another to store their illegal goods would not be a problem.

Apparently, the caves on the Duke of Wyndmere’s property had been convenient to use during the previous duke’s tenure, until his untimely death.

It had been off-limits since the current duke accepted the title.

Flaherty had sworn an oath to protect the duke and his family from harm—physical, or the more insidious, and just as effective, societal slander.

As the last of the sixteen men in the duke’s personal guard unmarried, he observed, and realized, that it was possible to have sworn an oath to the duke and another to the woman who held the other half of one’s heart.

Even as he thought it, he snorted with derision. His cousins and older brothers had fallen in love (like lemmings) one at a time, with women they had rescued. But it didn’t mean he would fall.

His thoughts returned to the buxom angel who’d captured his eye from the night he walked into the Mermaid’s Glass nearly a year ago.

Lightning streaked across the sky and thunder rumbled closer this time.

He’d best keep his mind on his duties. Foul weather was the perfect time to move the most recent cargo the local smugglers had offloaded from Ruan’s ship.

The Frenchman had made a fortune delivering goods to the coast of Cornwall and beyond.

It wasn’t Flaherty’s duty to go after smugglers—unless it was on the duke’s property or somehow impacted His Grace or his family.

There were more than a few members of the House of Lords who were strongly opposed to His Grace’s reforms to aid those who had been injured while fighting for the Crown.

Any hint of scandal—or smuggling—would be a detriment to the duke’s goal of seeing that the brave men in England’s military received the recompense he was striving to achieve for them. Recompense they greatly deserved.

Flaherty and O’Malley—and the rest of the men in the duke’s guard—had not been hired to enforce the law of the land.

They’d vowed to protect the duke and his family.

Therefore, they were in the unusual position of keeping an eye on the smuggling in and around the village of St. Ives, but not actively interfering.

The last excise official, Buxton, had tried to frame Flaherty and O’Malley, claiming that they received a cut from the smuggling and wrecking, when it was the king’s man himself who was pocketing coin to look the other way!

Thankfully, the French smuggler had had a hand in saving his cousin by helping to unmask the crooked excise official, with the aid of Captain Coventry’s elite force of retired military men.

The battle-scarred Tremayne, Bayfield, Hennessey, and Masterson had been strategically placed to rescue O’Malley from the hangman’s noose.

Otherwise Buxton would have succeeded in his dastardly goal to hang his cousin, as O’Malley’s pregnant wife was forced to watch.

Flaherty’s gut roiled as he remembered their race against time to save Finn.

Each man had had an integral part to play.

The most crucial had been Tremayne, who jumped off the platform and lifted O’Malley from below.

Next was Garahan, who leapt onto the platform and wrapped his arms around O’Malley’s waist to help bear Finn’s weight and slacken the rope.

Hennessey would finish the job, rushing forward to slice through the rope.

But the most startling part of that memory was that the duke himself had driven the carriage that carried Finn and Mollie to safety at the duke’s manor house.

Flaherty shook his head to clear the memory, and his frustration with the feisty siren who’d been casting her wiles while luring him closer to his doom. The Celtic Sea churned below him as the storm moved closer—it was almost overhead now.

A sensible man would seek shelter. Flaherty had never been accused of being sensible.

He shook his head, swiping at the water that blurred his vision. There was movement near the mouth of the caves below him, as the sound of hooves and wagon wheels approached the path leading down to the beach. Finally! He would have the proof he needed to—

A shout, and the unmistakable click of a pistol being cocked behind him, had his blood running cold.

He had seconds to react and dove to the side.

He felt his flesh burn as a lead ball tore through the meat of his shoulder.

Damn the woman! He needed a clear head—not a brain muddled with memories of the past brought on by the sharp-tongued lass with midnight curls and luscious curves.

Ignoring the pain, he scrambled to his feet and raced toward the edge of the cliff he’d been patrolling.

There was no other way to escape certain death.

He’d have to take a running leap and hope he hit the water below the sharp drop-off, and not the jagged rocks.

With a curse on the siren’s head, and a prayer in his heart, Flaherty pumped his legs faster, racing toward the edge of the cliff.

He took a flying leap, windmilled his arms, and plummeted through the darkness.

He plunged into the sea and immediately fought not to sink any farther.

He surged upward, breaking the surface, gasping for air.

A wave carried him toward shore as he used his flagging strength to swim to the beach.

Fighting to stay conscious against the white-hot pain in his shoulder, he didn’t see the jagged rock until the next wave tossed him against it.

His head hit the rock and warmth poured from a gash above his eye.

Flaherty struggled as the tide receded and tried to drag him with it.

“Bloody fecking hell!” He fought with all he had against the strong undertow.

He surfaced again and heard someone shout.

Just his luck to survive being shot, jumping off a cliff, and nearly drowning, only to be captured by the very men he was spying on!

His injuries coalesced simultaneously as he slammed into another grouping of rocks. His head and body felt light, as if he were floating. Was he dead, then? Why was it so dark?

“God forgive me for me sins. Sorry ye didn’t pray hard enough for me, Ma, for sure and I’m going to Hell!”

Hands grabbed hold of him. “I’ll send you there myself if you give up now, you pain-in-the-arse, red-headed devil!”

The darkness slowly receded and a beacon of light shone in the distance. He turned his face toward the light. Sensing peace, he followed it.

“Flaherty!”

He glanced over his shoulder, but the peace washing over him pulled at him.

“Don’t you dare die on me, Flaherty!” Full, sumptuous lips pressed against his, demanding attention. Manna from Heaven.

Surprised that the beacon of light was fading, he squinted up at the blurry image above him. “Never thought an angel would kiss like that.”

“Stay with me, you big eedjit!”

Flaherty slowly closed his eyes, murmuring, “Faith, ye sound like the black-haired lass who has me by the bollocks. Sure and it must be the devil himself playing with me heart and me mind.”

“You’ve called me a siren and a temptress,” the voice grumbled, “but never a devil. For that, I should leave you here!”

“You’ve dragged him this far out of the water without help. Hang on to him while we pull him farther up onto shore.”

“But Da—”

“Not buts, lass. You’ve done your father proud. Risking life and limb to pull a drowning man out the sea, when clearly the sea wants him back.”

“Da, you know what he thinks of me because I work at the Mermaid’s Glass.”

“That I do, lass, but he’s wrong, and if I have my way, he’ll be finding that out on your wedding night. Grab hold of his arm and pull.”

Gut-churning pain slashed through Flaherty as bile rushed up his throat.

“Turn him on his side. Quickly now.”

Flaherty gagged and vomited until he’d emptied his guts of the seawater he’d swallowed.

Small, cold hands brushed the hair out of his face.

He flinched when they brushed against the edge of the gash he’d earned smashing into the rocks.

His shoulder burned where he’d been shot, and his throat ached from puking.

That was when he noticed the beacon of light and peace had vanished.

“God, why have ye consigned me to Hell?”

It wasn’t the Lord who answered. The lilting voice was familiar and decidedly feminine. “Mayhap because you treat me as if I’m any man’s for the taking.”

He thought he recognized the voice, but Flaherty needed to be certain that he had not conjured her up again in his battered brain. He opened his eyes, but his vision was still slow to focus. He squinted at the woman leaning over him. “Do I know you?”

“Aye, you do. Whenever you come to the tavern, you stare at me. Your gaze lingers where no man’s has a right to.”

The pain in his head was blinding. Flaherty pushed past it to place the siren’s voice, the frowning face, the distracting curves. He groaned. “God in Heaven—Eileen Doonan.”

“Well, now that you’ve seen the face of the woman who saved your life before I arrived to help pull you out of the sea, you’d best be keeping your word.”

Confused, he stared at the man who knelt beside Eileen—Iain Doonan, her father. “Keep me word? What word would that be?”

“The pledge you’ll be saying now that you’ve seen my daughter half clothed from her perilous dive into the storm-tossed waters of the Celtic Sea to save your hide.”

“Pledge?” He repeated the word, but his mind was slow to catch on to Doonan’s meaning.

“That I’ll add her to those that I’ll be protecting?

I already offered me protection earlier when I warned her not to smile at Judson or his men.

She stared at me and turned away, as if she did not need me strength and protection, when everyone in the village knows none of Judson’s men can be trusted.

” He narrowed his gaze as the lass leaned closer.

Her bounteous breasts were all but in his face.

His body stirred as he envisioned peeling her out of her scant, wet clothing.

No! He wasn’t ready to marry, and certainly not ready to marry the lass who wouldn’t listen to him and would turn her back whenever he approached her in the Mermaid’s Glass.

His eyes met hers, and the worry in them belied her normally astringent attitude.

Had he misjudged the lass? Had his offhanded way of teasing and flirting with Eileen given others the impression that he’d already made a conquest of her?

Mayhap he should have offered more than just his protection.

Bollocks! He should have offered her marriage… the protection of his name!

“Bloody hell!”

“I’ve changed my mind, Da. I wouldn’t care if he saw me dripping wet in my nightrail! I wouldn’t marry Flaherty if he got down on his knees and begged!”

“Now, Eileen—”

She interrupted her father. “He’s made up his mind that I could be any man’s for the asking, but not worthy of marrying without knowing anything about me. I’d rather marry one of Ruan’s men!”

Flaherty reached for her hand as her words cut through his rattled mind. Had he savaged her reputation? Just because she had a body made for sin did not mean the lass gave her favors freely.

He tugged until she fell on his chest. “If I’ve ruined yer reputation by misjudging ye, then ’tis me fault, and I’ll do right by ye and marry ye, lass.”

Tears welled in her eyes, gutting him. He sensed that her pride was as injured as her heart.

He could fix that—if she let him. He could offer a marriage of convenience, then court her.

Once she got to know him, she’d fall in love with him.

Other women had—why not the black-haired, blue-eyed goddess whose breasts were tantalizingly close?

A few inches more and they’d be plastered against his chest.

For a heartbeat he wished he could start over and not let her constant rebuffs injure his pride to the point where he’d reacted, badly, and started his campaign to lure her to his bed.

He realized now that she was not like the other serving wenches he’d bedded.

Eileen Doonan would never have accepted.

He’d misinterpreted her meaning entirely.

The lass had not been leading him on—she was innocent.

The full meaning of his words and teasing had been lost on her, confused her, until she’d ignored him in self-defense.

The warmth of the blood running down the side of his face had him easing her off his chest. When she was kneeling beside him, he ignored the wounds making themselves known and braced one arm on the sand, shifting until he was on his knees facing her.

“Forgive me, lass. Yer beauty blinded me and had me thinking I was not good enough for ye, when Judson’s men were.

I never meant to injure yer heart or yer pride.

As God is me witness, ’twas never me intention to have others questioning yer reputation because of me thoughtless words.

Let me make it up to ye. Marry me, lass. ”

“I’ll consider it, Flaherty.”

Doonan chuckled. “Welcome to the family, son.”

“I did not say yes, Da.”

“Why wouldn’t you say yes when it will stop the village tongues from wagging and restore your good name?” He slapped Flaherty on the back, jarring where he’d been shot in the shoulder. Blood loss and the pain of his injuries had Flaherty’s head reeling.

Before he could reply, his vision grayed around the edges. His last thought before darkness claimed him was that the black-haired temptress had wormed her way into his heart, and he was keeping her!