Child of the Wind

By Tamora Rose

A Foundling Child...

For as long as she can remember, Canace has had no family. Raised by a Scottish lord in a Scottish household, she’d always believed she was a foundling of no real importance. Until the day her guardian tells her she’s the richest heiress in all of England. And beyond that, she’s to be married to the son of her father’s closest friend.

The Duke's Son

He’d thought she was dead. After more than a decade, he couldn’t be blamed for assuming so. So when the lovely Canace is delivered to him, Jett can’t help but rebel against the marriage he had never wanted. All her money and all her properties couldn’t change his mind. And when she arrives, he is repelled by her wildness as much as he is drawn to her beauty.

Bound to wed by the king’s own command, the pair must forge a life together even as a dark shadow from her past rises to steal her from his arms forever.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tear Drop Books
• Release date: Sep 23, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311901057

Tamora Rose

Tamora Rose was raised in the chill of Canada's North. She has been fascinated with literature and the human mind since she was a small child. As she grew into adulthood, a fascination with writing her own stories developed. She majored in English with a focus in creative writing when she attended university and is now pursuing her PhD. She also studies anthropology, religions, and politics, all of which contribute to her written work.Today, Tamora Rose resides in central Canada with her two sons. She is a full-time writer with several pseudonyms. She always has several projects in the works including fiction, non-fiction, poetry, and running several popular blogs.If you’re interested in discovering more about Tamora Rose and her work, connect with her through her blog which can be found at: http://tamorarose.blogspot.com/

Book preview

Chapter One

The stench of death was everywhere. It wafted from the darkened bedchambers, drifted up from the ancient dining hall, and blew in from the abandoned servants’ quarters. Blood covered the stairs, forcing Alan Charles, Duke of Surfolk, to keep one hand on the railing as he worked his way to the second floor. His sword was out and ready, but from the looks of things they’d arrived far too late for that sword to be of any use.

Your Grace! one of his men shouted from above.

Still watching his step, the duke rushed forward but lowered his sword. If there had been any danger, his men would have just said so. Steeling himself against what he might find, what he was certain he would find, Alan made his way down the shadowy corridor and into the master bedchamber.

At first there wasn’t much to see. The room was dark, lit only by the light of the moon shining through the large windows. The massive bed was draped with heavy curtains to protect against the evening’s chill. His man, the one who’d called out to him, stood near the bed. When young Brice didn’t turn to acknowledge the duke, Alan knew something had caught his man’s eye. Something fascinating…or something gruesome.

Alan moved forward and reached out a hand to pull aside the velvet curtain blocking his view. He almost immediately dropped it again. He didn’t need to see the ruined face of his friend, the Earl of Barsland, to know the man was dead.

Where is his wife? the duke asked, letting his eyes dart around the room as he sheathed his sword.

Brice swallowed hard. The countess is in the dressing room.

The duke nodded and moved away, keeping his eyes from the bed. The moment he entered the dressing room, he wished he’d stayed in the bedchamber. The countess, the lovely Dawn, lay on her back, naked and spread eagled. She’d clearly been raped before she’d been killed. The look of frozen horror on her face and the position of the body said as much. The sight would stay with him for years, he was certain. Alan pulled a dressing gown off a hook and spread it over her cold flesh. That small action made him feel better. Only a little better, but it was a start.

Turning to leave, he spotted a young servant in the corner. She couldn’t have been more than fifteen, the age of his own sweet daughter. The servant had also been assaulted before death. Or maybe after death. It was impossible to tell at this point. And it didn’t matter. She was dead and he was leaving.

He strode through the bedroom, kept his eyes off the blood-soaked bed, and very nearly ran into his eldest son. Edward, barely seventeen, was nearly white and looked about ready to vomit. Alan didn’t blame him. There was enough blood in this place to turn the stomach of even a hardened soldier. Since Edward was barely more than a boy…well, Alan fully expected his son to excuse himself.

Instead, Edward swallowed hard. The servants are all dead. All of them. All.

Alan nodded and led his son out the door, leaving the bedchamber behind. Edward didn’t need to see the earl, a man who’d been like a second father the lad, in his current state. And he certainly didn’t need to see the countess.

And the boys? the duke asked. The earl had three sons. The oldest was almost ten years old. The youngest was barely three.

Edward grew even paler, if that was possible. Dead in their beds. They were torn apart.

There was no need to be more graphic, not given the state of the servants and the lord and lady of the manor. The boys had likely suffered much the same fate.

What about the baby?

His son stopped in his tracks. I didn’t even think about her. I didn’t check the nursery.

If there was even a chance that the earl’s daughter might still be alive, he had to know. Motioning for his son to follow, Alan headed straight for where he knew the nursery would be. Dawn had never liked being separated from her children when they were only babies, and she and her husband had always shared the same bed, so the countess’s bedchamber had been converted into a nursery many years ago. It even connected through a small door hidden behind a tapestry, though he doubted anyone other than the countess actually used the door since it led through a little-used closet and into the adjacent dressing room.

The nursery was a mess. Two nursemaids, one barely old enough to leave the nursery herself, lay on the floor. A woman he recognized as the wet nurse was sprawled on a nearby chest. Their clothing had been torn from their bodies, telling him they’d clearly suffered the same fate as most of the women in the manor. Since there was nothing to be gained from further examination of their cold bodies, the duke stepped over them. His son did not follow.

Chairs were overturned, baby clothing and blankets were strewn everywhere, and the crib had been all but destroyed. Someone had been looking for something…or someone. The baby? It seemed likely. And if she’d been in here, they’d found her. There was nowhere to hide that they hadn’t looked; they’d even overturned the nearby linen basket. Alan almost searched for her, almost looked for the tiny body he was sure to find, but he changed his mind before lifting the first torn sheet. Seeing the mutilated body of his friend’s infant daughter might just be too much for him. No, better to leave it. Better to not even think about it.

Nodding to himself, the duke moved back to the door. She’s not here, he said to his son.

Dead? Edward asked, voice just a little strained.

In all likelihood. The wind picked up just as moved back into the hall. It wailed, making eerie sounds as it passed through the windows. Until that moment, he hadn’t realized any of the windows had been left open.

Edward, it seemed, had also just noticed. If you didn’t find her body…could she have been tossed from a window?

If she was, it was likely from the nursery, and the nursery backs onto the bluff. He didn’t have to say anything else. They both knew that if a baby had been thrown over the bluff, they’d probably never find the body. And they didn’t exactly want to go looking.

Father and son moved away, intending to rejoin the men searching the house below. Alan’s foot had just hit the top step when a sound, low and almost feral, drifted towards them.

What’s that? Edward asked as he turned toward the sound. A cat? I thought they killed all the animals too.

They did. The sound came again, just as quiet but now pitched a little higher. It wasn’t a cat.

He didn’t know what it was, not exactly, but he did know he had to find out. The duke turned on his heel and almost ran back into the nursery. Another low mewl, this one definitely closer, echoed through the room, followed by the high-pitched cry of a baby.

Edward rushed into the nursery, eyes wide. Where is she? The young man was careful not to so much as glance at the bodies on the floor.

I don’t know, the duke replied, eyes darting around the room. Find her.

Together they searched under the scattered clothing and bedclothes. They righted the crib, looked in baskets, and even checked under the bodies of the nursemaids. Well, Alan checked. His son backed as far away as possible while the bodies were being examined. Still no baby, but the crying was louder now, and it was almost certainly coming from this room.

Or was it? Alan listened carefully and found himself drawn to the far wall, the one that separated the nursery from the countess’s dressing room. His hand touched the thick tapestry covering the wall and suddenly it hit him.

Here! he called out as he ripped the tapestry away from the wall, exposing the small door hidden behind it.

His son ran towards him just as he pushed the door inward. The baby’s cries grew louder and Alan knew he’d found her. And she was very much alive.

Bring a light! It was pitch black inside the tiny closet. He couldn’t see the baby and he didn’t want to risk crushing her, so he’d wait for the light.

It wasn’t long in appearing. Edward darted out of the room and reappeared a moment later with a torch in hand, probably ripped from one of the brackets in the hall. With its flicking light guiding him, it took the duke only a moment to lay his hands on the squirming bundle of swaddling in the corner.

As soon as he lifted the baby in his arms, she started screaming. The high pitched yowling made his head ache, but he gathered her close anyway. The little mite probably needed to be fed, but since her mother and her wet nurse were both dead, there was no one to feed her right now. The poor child would have to wait.

Holding her tight, the duke crawled out of the closet and back into the nursery. The baby squirmed in his arms, pummeling his chest with her tiny fists in protest. Her screaming got louder and her pitch got higher. And there was not a damn thing he could do about it.

"How the hell did they miss that?" Edward asked as he backed away from the angry infant.

Alan spoke over the infuriated shrieks. If her mother hid her, and the intruders didn’t know about the closet, and the baby stayed quiet, it’s likely they never would have known she was here.

"You really think that thing stayed quiet?

The duke almost laughed. He would have laughed if he hadn’t stepped in the wet nurse’s blood at that very moment. This was not the place for laughter, not now. Not with so many bodies on the floor and a screaming infant in his arms.

Her pitch got suddenly higher still, causing his son to flinch. A half-smile curving his lips, Alan put the baby to his shoulder. He was a father three times over; he knew just a little about babies. Well, his wife did, and she’d always quieted their sons and daughter with gentle pats on the back. Maybe it would work. Maybe not, but it was worth a try.

He had just reached the top of the wide staircase when the little girl let out a soft burp and immediately quieted. His son looked at him in surprise.

How did you do that?

I must have learned a few things from your mother. The stairs were slick with blood and littered with bodies. Not wanting to drop the child, he held on to the rail with one hand. His son followed.

Who did this? Edward finally asked as he made his own careful way down the stairs. Who hated the earl enough to slaughter his entire household?

The Earl of Barsland is…was…one of the richest men in the country. Any number of people hated him.

Enough to kill his entire family?

There was that, but some needed only the barest of excuses. And money was a powerful motive.

The duke glanced over his shoulder. Who inherits if the earl has no living issue?

Edward stopped. I have no idea. He has no brothers, no sisters…I don’t even think he has any distant cousins.

There’s one, Alan replied, answering his own question. One cousin, but he hasn’t been seen in a decade. Not since he tried to claim the earldom over Garrick.

I suppose it doesn’t matter since she’s alive. The king is sure to recognize her claim to the earldom. Edward started down the stairs again. She—I forgot her name.

The baby? The girl was still mercifully quiet in his arms. Canace. You were at the christening, Edward.

That doesn’t mean I was paying attention. He frowned. Canace isn’t an English name.

No, I think it’s Greek. Or Roman, maybe. The baby squirmed on his shoulder; Alan patted her back again in an effort to keep her quiet. Her mother wanted a more exotic name for her daughter than her sons.

His son laughed harshly. Well, Henry, Richard, and Arthur weren’t exactly exotic.

True enough.

Around them they could hear the sounds of men moving bodies and righting furniture. The cleanup would take days. The stench of death would linger even longer. And the ghosts…well, the ghosts could linger for an eternity. But at least whoever had done this had missed the baby. The baby…

What happens to her? Edward asked, almost as if he’d read his father’s thoughts.

With no living family, I assume that will be for the king to decide. They were now almost outside. Alan paused. Find me a blanket for the little one. Something without blood on it, preferably.

Edward nodded and hurried to do as he was bid. There was a small sitting room off to the left, one that had been empty at the time of the slaughter. Hopefully he could find something to wrap a baby in. Sure enough, there was a clean blanket draped across the back of a chair. It was a little large for such a tiny infant, but it would do. Scooping it up, he headed back to the foyer.

Alan nodded his thanks as he wrapped Canace in the proffered blanket. The baby squirmed but stayed quiet. Once she was as warm as she was going to get, he stepped out into the cold summer night. There were men out here as well, some of them dragging slaughtered horses out of the stables. Whoever had done this had been determined that none would survive, not even the animals. It was senseless butchery on a massive scale. But why? To destroy an entire family? The motive had to be money, but even that didn’t explain the massacre. If it was all about money, why kill the servants and the animals? Try as he might, he couldn’t think of any reason to kill the animals. It wasn’t like they could carry tales back to London.

The sound of distant hoof beats disrupted his thoughts and had him immediately on alert. Since he was holding an infant he didn’t draw his sword. Instead, he backed against the nearest wall as Edward and several of the men nearest them all palmed their blades. Other men came pouring out of the stables and the manor to join them, also armed to the teeth and all determined not to be caught unawares. There’d been enough slaughter for one night.

They needn’t have bothered with the precautions. The men who clattered into the courtyard belonged to the king. Both Edward and Alan recognized several of them, including their old friend Duncan MacKenna. MacKenna wasn’t exactly one of the king’s men, but he was an ally of the English crown and a great friend to the Earl of Barsland. Alan didn’t relish the conversation to come.

MacKenna dismounted and approached, dismissing the gathered men with a wave of his hand. What happened here?

Edward sheathed his sword and stepped forward. Wholesale slaughter, Mac.

The Scotsman’s eyes widened. And Garrick?

Now Alan stepped out of the shadows, baby still held firmly in his arms. The earl is dead, Mac. And his wife and all three sons. There. He’d said it.

The entire household? The dead horses, dogs, and servants in the courtyard indicated that it was so. Alan’s nod only confirmed it.

All except the baby girl. The duke pulled the blanked aside, revealing the swaddled child sleeping on his shoulder.

MacKenna reached out and took the child from the Duke of Surfolk. Since Mac was one of the earl’s oldest friends, the duke did not object. Besides, the child could wake at any moment and the duke had heard enough of the child’s wails for one eve. More than enough.

Little Canace, Mac whispered as he cradled the infant. She opened her eyes, screwed up her little face, then thought better of it and cooed at the Scotsman instead. He chuckled down at her.

Alan and Edward exchanged a surprised glance.

She doesn’t cry for you, Edward remarked sourly.

She likes me, Mac returned, keeping his voice pitched low. I don’t frighten the lass. Are you sure she’s the only one left?

Edward grimaced. The boys are dead. I saw their bodies myself.

Then the little one is now one of the richest heiresses in England. The baby waved her little arms, prompting Mac to coo softly. She immediately relaxed. We’ll have to find a wet nurse for the lass.

Alan nodded. We’ll find one in London. That’s where she goes, at least until the king decides what to do with her. Then he’ll be responsible for keeping her safe from whoever did all this.

You think she was a target?

They were certainly looking for her, the duke insisted as he remembered the state of the bedchambers. The nursery was torn apart. They wanted the baby dead as much as they wanted anything else.

Mac glanced at the duke. Then we’d better get her to London.

The three men nodded in agreement. Within the hour they were galloping towards London surrounded by the king’s men.

Chapter Two

Merciful silence would not come no matter how much they prayed for it. The baby had been crying for hours. She apparently didn’t take well to traveling. Though she’d been silent most of the way to London, now that they were once again leaving London, little Canace was shouting up a storm. A wet nurse attended her constantly, but that didn’t seem to comfort the little mite.

Is she ever going to shut up? Edward asked, glancing behind them at the carriage that held the infant and her nurse.

No, his father replied. That baby is determined to scream until we all run mad.

And we’re stuck with her forever? The very idea repelled him. Maybe he’d join the army in France. At least then he couldn’t hear her shrieks. In theory.

Alan sighed. It’s a good thing for us. I may be a duke, and you may be my heir, but next to Barsland we’re bare paupers. By betrothing her to your brother, the king has ensured her safety and our continued good fortune.

You mean Jett’s good fortune. He’ll get her money when they wed. And the king has even decreed that he’ll get the title. That might have rankled Edward just a little, but since he would one day be Duke of Surfolk…well, he didn’t mind that his brother would be an earl. He did mind the money. He wanted the money. Not enough to marry the little brat in fifteen years…

He’d have betrothed her to you, but you’re to wed Nora. And since Edward had already bedded the girl, he really had to marry her or her father would have something to say about the matter.

I’d rather have Nora than that little baggage.

Canace chose that moment to shriek like a feral cat, proving Edward’s point.

I wish Jett joy of her, Edward muttered.

Alan couldn’t help but laugh. We really should have brought Mac with us. He seemed to quiet the little one with relative ease.

He said he’d visit before he returned to Scotland. Hopefully that visit will be sooner rather than later. Another shriek, this one even louder and angrier than the last, echoed through the air, making Edward flinch. We’re going to have to live with that forever.

She’ll grow out of it, the duke assured his son. You did.

I was never that loud.

Of course you were. And if you remember Jett—

He howled like a banshee day and night. I was only seven, but I remember that.

The duke nodded at the memory. But he did eventually grow out of it, just like you did. And Canace will as well.

When?

Soon.

For some reason, that did not make Edward feel any better.

***

Alan watched as his wife kissed the baby before laying her in her crib. Little Canace had taken a liking to his lovely wife, so she was quiet and content. For the moment. He expected the baby to start screaming again shortly, probably once his wife left the room.

But to his great surprise the baby only went to sleep.

How did you do that? he whispered as his wife walked toward him. They exited the newly-furnished nursery and moved down the hall.

Rosemary laughed softly. Babies aren’t as difficult as you men seem to think they are. All they need is love, warmth, and a healthy wet nurse.

With one arm draped around her waist, he led her toward their shared bedchamber. As he opened the door and ushered her inside, he heard her sigh.

What’s wrong? he asked as he unfastened the back of her gown.

Rosemary turned to face him as her gown slithered to the floor. I already love that baby, but she makes me sad too.

Why sad? He reached for the ribbons holding her shift in place.

Her smile was without its usual sparkle. She reminds me that I haven’t been able to give you another child. Not in ten years.

His hungry eyes moved over her naked flesh. You’ve given me two strong sons and a beautiful little daughter. That’s enough for any man.

I would have liked to give you more. As his hands touched her heated skin, her head fell back and all thought was driven from her mind.

Alan’s lips brushed her ear. Maybe we can fix that, he murmured as he swept her into his arms.

***

It was well after midnight when Rosemary suddenly jerked upright in bed. Alan, ever aware of his wife’s movements, woke immediately.

What? he asked.

Her eyes were fixed on the door. I don’t know. Something was wrong, she was sure of it.

A cold finger of dread curled around her heart, urging her to her feet. The duchess threw back the covers and jumped out of bed. She was already rushing toward the door when Alan realized she was totally without clothes.

Rosemary! Alan climbed out of bed, grabbed her dressing gown from the back of a nearby chair, and raced after her. He caught up to her just as she dashed into the hall. You’re not running about naked in the middle of the night.

She shoved her arms into the dressing gown then tied it on the run. Alan almost darted after her before realizing he was also naked. Muttering a curse, the duke turned around to search for his own dressing gown. When he was covered, he left the room in search of his wife.

He had only just started down the hall when a scream echoed throughout the manor. Rosemary. It had been Rosemary’s scream and it had come from the nursery. Thoughts of his wife and the infant sleeping down the hall sent him flying. Unarmed and unprepared, he entered the nursery.

His wife was against the wall, pinned there by a man dressed all in black. Even his face was covered. Alan didn’t hesitate, didn’t stop to consider the man’s identity. With a low growl he threw himself at the intruder, knocking the man sideways. Together they tumbled over each other until the man in black was on top.

A flash of silver was the only warning he had. Alan brought his arm up just in time to keep the blade from his neck. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his wife rush to the crib and scoop up the baby right before she ran out of the room screaming. As she did, Alan felt the knife dip closer to his neck.

Footsteps sounded in the hall, footsteps that couldn’t have arrived at a better time. The man on top of him was heavy and strong, much stronger than he was. The blade was mere inches from his throat, and getting closer with every passing second.

Men rushed into the room, all with blades drawn. The man in black had only a second to decide. He could kill the duke or he could try to run. Like most cowards, he tried to run. The man jumped up and raced for the open window. The duke’s men followed, climbing out onto the roof in an effort to apprehend the intruder. There were shouts and thuds as the men struggled.

Alan, who could never stand not seeing what was happening, found his feet and rushed for the window. While he wasn’t actually going to crawl around on the roof in his dressing gown, he could at least watch his men capture the trespasser. And when they did, they’d find out who’d hired the man to either kill or kidnap the earl’s daughter. Answers were near at hand.

Or so he thought. His men chad chased the interloper to the very edge of the roof. Just when he was sure they had him, the man moved to the edge, looked back over his shoulder for a pregnant moment, and jumped. The duke brought his hand down heavily on the window ledge in frustration. They were on the third floor. It was highly unlikely that the man would survive his fall. Still, it was possible…

Edward! the duke shouted as he spun around—only to see his son stumble into the nursery, slightly drunk and thoroughly disheveled. Tuck in your shirt and go find out if that man is still alive.

What man? his son slurred.

Just get out there!

Edward nodded and stumbled back out of the nursery. The duke shook his head is