Verity Hart Vs The Vampyres: Part Four: A Hart/McQueen Steampunk Adventure, #1

By Jennifer Harlow

KEEP CALM AND STEAMPUNK ON

The whole of Victorian London knows there is something not quite right about the Lady Verity Hart. She may be the daughter of an MP and the sister of famed inventor Lord David Hart, but she is a spinster whose own father threatens to send her to the madhouse every fortnight. Because Society is correct-Verity Hart is no lady. If they suspected how quick with a quip she is, let alone the majority of her brother's ingenious machines were her design, the sale of fainting couches would double.

Verity requires one herself when her beloved brother is kidnapped by vampyres in the dead of night. With the aid of an aggravating, rude American bounty hunter with a secret of his own, Verity takes to land, sea, and even air to rescue the only person who could ever love and truly accept her. Or is he?

Part Four of Five Includes:

Chapter Eleven-Irish Hospitality

Chapter Twelve-In A Den of Wolves

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jennifer Harlow
• Release date: May 6, 2014
• ISBN: 9781498980210

Book preview

Verity Hart

Vs

The Vampyres

A

Hart & McQueen

Steampunk Adventure

Part Four of Five

By Jennifer Harlow

Copyright

Devil on the Left Books

Copyright © 2014 by Jennifer Dowis

All Rights Reserved

First Edition

Devil on the Left Books, Peachtree City GA

The characters and events in this book are fictitious.

Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced or stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the express written permission of the author.

If you did not purchase this book, please return it and purchase one of your own. Respect the hard work of the author.

ALSO BY JENNIFER HARLOW

A HART & McQUEEN STEAMPUNK ADVENTURE

Verity Hart vs The Vampyres: Part One

Verity Hart vs The Vampyres: Part Two

Verity Hart vs The Vampyres: Part Three

THE GALILEE FALLS TRILOGY

In The Beginning...A Galilee Falls Short

Justice

Galilee Rising

THE F.R.E.A.K.S. SQUAD SERIES

Mind Over Monsters

To Catch a Vampire

Death Takes A Holiday

High Moon (Out Summer 2014)

THE MIDNIGHT MAGIC MYSTERY SERIES

What's A Witch To Do?

Werewolf Sings The Blues

Chapter Eleven

Irish Hospitality

Bloody, buggery birds. Their melodic happy chirping brings me out of a dead slumber, and I want to roast them alive for it. The sun is just poking its head over the hills when I pry open my eyes. Yesterday's hangover was a mild annoyance compared to the agony occurring now. From head to toe, I ache like nothing I have ever felt before. At first I am afraid to move in fear all my bones are broken, but even if they are I cannot remain here. I groan and whimper as I sit up, my head swimming when I am upright. Biting my lip to stop the whimpers, I spend ten excruciating minutes moving all my appendages to work the stiffness out, tendons and bones cracking like they're breaking. Feels as if they are. When I can move my body without too much effort, I rest for a few minutes before attempting wall climbing. I'd be amazed if I can lift a cat let alone make that distance but have no choice. At least in daylight I can see larger holds. Get this over with. Even with the bigger and more copious wrings this trek is far more painful than last night. Perhaps I need a werewolf pawing at me as incentive. My arms quiver as I stare at the wall. Do not look down.

When I reach my stony hill, I collapse in my nook and burst into tears. I sob into the stones of the once great castle now nothing but rubble until I cannot breathe. But deep down I know crumbling is a luxury I cannot afford. I have to find Jamie. Nothing else matters but making sure he is alright. I conjure up his face, his handsome face as he stares at me when his guard is down. The feel of his lips against mine. Within seconds the tears subside, and I can breathe again. Even when he's not present he helps me. My turn. I push myself up, dust myself off, and continue on.

In the light of day, the view is quite lovely. The dark river and hilly, lush green terrain remind me of Somerset. A pang of homesickness grips my soul. The rate things are going I shall never see it again. I'll never ride Barnabas again. Never pet Brutus. I...what is that smell? About halfway to the rendezvous, over the top of the hill, I spot the smoke Jamie smelled lifting from the top of a stone chimney. Probably a farm with warm beds, food, and no need for death defying acts to locate a place to safely sleep. I briefly consider popping there first, but know I shall not get a moment's peace until I set eyes on Jamie. At least I have found civilization.

It takes triple the time back as when I was running for my life, but I know I find the spot of last night's madness from the bloodstained britches, cowboy boots, strips of black shirt, goggles, and bloody stake with a pile of ash beside it. That must be what is left of the vampyre once the sun rose. I hope she felt it, every excruciating second of pain. A little farther down the creek I spot another gruesome sight, a gutted deer lying dead on the ground, grey entrails poking out of its ravaged skin. Dear Lord. As I walk closer, I see smears of blood surrounding it and ragged claw marks on its body and neck. The source of its demise lies close by.

Nude. So very nude.

Splotches of I hope deer blood smeared like war paint everywhere except his derrière, which my eyes immediately appraise. I know I should look away but cannot. I have never seen anyone but myself naked before, never mind a man. A beautiful, virile broad shouldered, tan Adonis of a man I might add. I've viewed paintings and sculptures, but they did not prepare me for this visual bounty. He is so exquisite, taught tight with hard muscles poking out like fleshy peaks, especially his buttocks. Lust overshadows the ever present pain for a few glorious seconds before necessity quashes it. There is no time for ogling. I suppose I have to wake him. Someone might pass and find him like this. Naked. Gloriously naked. I shake my head. Bloody hell, get control of yourself, Verity. He—

Jamie turns over, and I all but swoon. His chiseled, hairy torso is even bloodier than the back with a musky film all over, even in his hair, but after I assess that my gaze moves southward. The paintings never showed one like that. Do they always do that in the morning? I—

Jamie groans, and before his eyes open, I turn my back to him. Jamie? Jamie, wake up. He