Persuasion: The Abcynians, #1

By Frances Stockton

They have lived for centuries. An ancient, secretive race of were-panthers faced with near extinction. To assure their survival they must conceal their identities and abilities, while protecting mankind from an unimaginable, primordial evil.

Persuasion: The Abcynians, Book I

As an Abcynian Elder, Garrick Forrester has survived wars, plagues, and arranged marriages. Nothing he's experienced prepares him for the discovery of his mate living in his demesne, or for her resistance.

While aiding a child, Aisley Reeves is rescued by the Earl of Danford, whom a village healer should never dare approach without being summoned. At first, she is fascinated with the dark, mesmerizing lord who tempts her in a way no man has ever done. After he claims she's to become his betrothed, she balks.

Already fearful her work and red hair might cause some to brand her as a witch, she believes it is best to keep her distance. When Aisley suffers a near mortal injury at the hands of his enemies, Garrick must gain her trust so that he can protect her. But can she trust her life to a man who is far more than…human? 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Frances Stockton
• Release date: Jul 13, 2016
• ISBN: 9781536521818

Frances Stockton

My love for storytelling began when I created my first fictional characters, mischievous, identical twin brothers, in kindergarten. Years later, I started to write, completing my first handwritten manuscript when I was in middle school. I confess, the heroine was a cross between a contemporary Laura Ingalls Wilder and Nancy Drew, but when I wrote ‘the end’ I knew I had more stories to tell.  Of course, life intervened, but whether I was in high school, college, working a variety of jobs on my path to earning a degree in History and Secondary Education, I was always writing and reading romances. Finally, I joined RWA and the New England Chapter, becoming an author with Ellora’s Cave until the publisher closed its doors. Now, I am writing under my own name and loving every minute of it. I truly enjoy hearing from readers. Please let me know what you think at [e-mail]

Book preview

They have lived for centuries. An ancient, secretive race of were-panthers faced with near extinction. To assure their survival they must conceal their identities and abilities, while protecting mankind from an unimaginable, primordial evil.

Persuasion: The Abcynians, Book I

As an Abcynian Elder, Garrick Forrester has survived wars, plagues, and arranged marriages. Nothing he’s experienced prepares him for the discovery of his mate living in his demesne, or for her resistance.

While aiding a child, Aisley Reeves is rescued by the Earl of Danford, whom a village healer should never dare approach without being summoned. At first, she is fascinated with the dark, mesmerizing lord who tempts her in a way no man has ever done. After he claims she’s to become his betrothed, she balks.

Already fearful her work and red hair might cause some to brand her as a witch, she believes it is best to keep her distance. When Aisley suffers a near mortal injury at the hands of his enemies, Garrick must gain her trust so that he can protect her. But can she trust her life to a man who is far more than...human?

To my husband, Wayne, who has stood by me through thick and thin, from my first sale, to my independent publishing career. Thank you for being my rock, confidant, springboard, and my happily ever after.

Persuasion and the Abcynians are fictional. Any resemblance to humans or shifters, living or dead, is coincidental.

Cover Design: Syneca

Editor: Briana Lambert

Copyright: © Frances Stockton

Author’s Note

This book was previously published under the title Seductive Persuasion. It has been significantly revamped, revised, and scenes previously edited out have been re-written and included. If you’ve read the original version, I hope you’ll give Garrick and Aisley’s story another read. If you haven’t, welcome to the world of the Abcynians, an ancient race capable of shifting into leopards, lions, and tigers.

Persuasion is set in 15th century England. Though I’ve made every effort to assure that terminology, names, titles, and proper address are accurate to the time period, some words and phrases are unknown or ambiguous. Any mistakes made are entirely my own. Terms used in the Middle Ages and by The Abcynians are included in a glossary on my website, and will be updated as the series progresses. http://www.francesstockton.com

Persuasion

by

Frances Stockton

The Abcynians, Book I

Chapter One

2nd August, 1453—Danford Manor—England

Garrick Forrester, Earl of Danford, stood at the window of his solar and inhaled, the scent of a woman reaching him over and above the common smells of the manor, the villagers, tenants, and the damp forest ripe with prey.

Not just any female, one he sensed was unblemished by illness or the stale sweat of a man. He’d not taken a leman since returning from war and already his rod was lengthening in anticipation of spreading her warm, soft thighs and claiming her as...his.

Instead, he buried the roar sawing at his throat, deliberating whether it would be right to pursue a woman not of his kind. He’d married two English noblewomen in his four hundred and fifty years of age and hadn’t been able to trust his secrets to either of them.

Would this villager be any different than his countesses, could she be his destined mate?

He’d no idea if she was fair of face, shrewish, or kind. It mattered not. He was the Earl, her lord. If he were to send word to have her brought to him, she could do naught but comply.

Still, something made him stay where he was, listening, assessing the danger beyond his domain. Mayhap it would be best to shift and go for a hunt. A small deer would satisfy his appetite and go a long way to appeasing his guests for the next fortnight or two.

What troubles you, Garrick? a familiar voice called out, startling him.

Shaking off the seduction of nightfall, he turned. His visitor stood just inside the door, the wood and hinges creaking with age as it closed.

How long have you been there?

I’ve only just arrived, Lucien Montgomery, Lord Raybourne, said. Is something amiss, Garrick? You should have sensed my presence long before now.

Lucien leaned back against the door, waiting for an explanation. Older by a hundred years, Lucien was an Abcynian in his prime, though he looked to be about thirty and five.

My mind was on the village, forgive me for being distant. Unsettled, Garrick pushed away from the window. Have you brought Valiant?

Aye, my son needs to learn the ways of a knight. Who better to instruct him than the second eldest of our kind?

To be granted the right is an honor, he said, inclining his head in deference to Lucien.

Both men switched their gazes to the door when a serving woman neared. I trust Catarina and your children are well? Tell me of them, he requested on the chance that she would overhear.

My wife is well, my youngest son, Adrian, wishes to be a sailor when he is grown. Mercedes and Elena are our pride and joy.

Much time has passed since the twins were born, Garrick said.

They are a handful and a joy. Though my family has grown by one more, Dante, whom I have taken in after Saturians killed his parents. Sadly, he is the last of the Luciano pride.

I’m saddened to hear that. Our kind are already threatened as it is. You are fortunate to be blessed with such a large family. Mayhap someday I shall have an heir, Garrick said, the village maid’s scent enticing him anew.

When the time is right, you will find your mate. I’m looking forward to watching your young wrap you around their tiny fingers.

Garrick growled low in his throat, his fingers itching to turn into claws. There was no one, man, woman, or child who could hold that power over him. Fortunately for Lucien’s wellbeing, the servant knocked.

Enter anon, he snarled.

As bid, the woman peeked around the opening. Sorry to bother you, m’lord, she whispered, casting her eyes to the floor when she saw Garrick. I’ve come to ask if your guest would like something to eat. His son has already scoured the livery cupboard for his meal.

Nay, I have eaten, Lucien replied. Thank you for seeing to his needs, pray make certain my son finds his way to his quarters.

Aye...m’lord, I shall, the servant said and left the room without looking at Garrick.

She fears you, Lucien said.

All females do.

If you did not snarl, they would not tremble at the rasp of your voice.

Mayhap, but I cannot allow myself to speak to them at length.

Why? By all accounts, you are a fair lord to this manor and to those who work your lands. You refuse to allow harsh punishments by your bailiff and have permitted some to pay their fee for freedom if they wish it.

You know I must guard my secrets from the servants and avoid lengthy contact with the tenants. Remaining where he stood, Garrick crossed his arms before his chest.

Garrick, why do we speak as mere acquaintances when we have known one another since we were mere pages?

At first, he did not wish to answer. Pending nightfall drew him to the window. He breathed in. The village woman’s scent had grown stronger. She’d washed recently, he smelled herbs and spices, a hint of lavender.

I confess, Lucien, pacing the manor house is not what I have in mind. I need to hunt this night.

I feel it, too, my friend. Lucien joined Garrick at the window. The change is easiest when the moon is full. You know better than to resist if you’re hungry.

I have no intention of resisting, but I am not in need of food.

Ah, I see, you want a female.

Aye.

Go, choose a wench for the night.

Nay, it is not a wench I seek. I believe my mate may be living in the village.

If you are right, it would be wise to claim her.

Agreed, something is wrong, danger is near and my need to claim what is rightfully mine grows stronger as we speak.

Then by all means proceed. We’ve lost too many of our kind to war with the Saturians over the centuries. You are an Abcynian Elder, the second eldest amongst us. It is your duty to procreate and continue our legacy in England.

I’m aware of my duties, Lucien. It was to that end that I chose my wives. I may not be the gentlest of males, but I tried to be a good husband to them.

Mayhap the one you sense will be different. You must go to her or someone else could step in. Worse, should our enemies learn Lord Danford has a mate, they could attempt to take her from you.

Roaring from the notion that a Saturian would dare touch that which was his, he very nearly caved and shifted into his leopard’s black form. Lucien drew up tall, prepared to defend himself should Garrick give in to his other half.

You misunderstand. Much like my wives, the villager is English. I’m not sure I want to align myself to another female I cannot trust. It has been my experience that Abcynian women are much easier to deal with.

Abcynian women can be most complicated, as all are, I find.

Garrick rolled his shoulders against the draw of the moon coming up on the horizon. He could not see it easily from where he stood, but it was there nonetheless.

Night was falling across his land. Whispers were spoken as loud as shouts to his ears. The village smelled of the small game and porridge the villagers had prepared for their repast.

Beyond the village, something else drew his attention. Strangers approached his demesne.

Trouble stirs within the village, Lucien, Garrick said. I must see to it and then I shall find my mate.

Do what you must. Take Valiant with you. I will remain here unless you need me. Garrick inclined his head, aware of the amber eyes that studied him as he left the solar.

* * * * *

Come one, come all! Merchant and peasant, come one, come all!

From within her small cottage, Aisley heard a stranger’s beckoning. Curious, she went to the door, opening it, listening. Something felt terribly wrong.

For a coin, no more than a farthing or two, lend your ears to my traveling minstrel. Five pence will earn merriment with a jester trained amongst the best in London. Peruse the candles, spices and incense found in the most exotic lands. Come one, come all!

Finding it odd a stranger had entered the village soon after a rainstorm, she grew more concerned. The gray sky was getting darker, the clouds obscuring the moon’s glow.

Leaving the safety of the doorway, she hesitated to look back at the woods separating her home from Danford Manor. The Earl had recently returned after spending years at war with France. It was his duty to protect the people living and serving on his land.

Alas, she did not know him other than by title. Few did, though she was certain he would send guards if the stranger meant anyone harm.

Years ago, her father had served Lord Danford as the physician to his household and tenants. She’d been so proud, often begging Papa to tell her of life inside the manor house. For unknown reasons, she’d always been curious about the lord that other villagers spoke of in whispers.

When she grew to marriageable age, Papa ceased telling her fanciful tales, reminding her to not to be petulant and mind her lessons. Yet, she’d often wondered about the Earl, saying her nightly prayers for his wellbeing and safe return.

Realizing she was spending too much time thinking about matters that were not her concern, she rushed onward to the village common.

Come one, come all! For I have yet to reveal the best of all. A glimpse will cost each of you a penny. Full reveal will take a shilling.

Finally, she spotted villagers circling around the caller a bit warily. Horse-drawn wagons rested in a straight line. Aisley spied unlit torches attached to the wagons. Did the stranger plan to stay when it was dark?

Two older villagers, Howard Jones and his wife, inspected the wares and concoctions displayed on a market stand. A handful of coins were tossed to the ground and a small lad scuttled to pick them up.

In a thrice, a jester danced about the villagers. His antics induced a trickle of laughter from them but a chill of fear along her spine. At the same time, an eerie grumble emanated from the forest, lifting the tiny hairs on the back of her neck.

Frightened, she rushed for the safety of the crowd and it wasn’t long before she stood amongst them.

Pay your tribute to Ruck, dear friends, the stranger touted, swinging his right arm about as the jester continued to dance. Coins sprinkled the dirt almost as fast as the boy swiped them into a purse. The finale is near. You have my word, one and all, Sedgewick Haywood will not fail your call.

Aisley hesitated to admit she was intrigued by what was to be revealed. Pennies were spread on the ground at Haywood’s feet. How odd that the villagers would give up their coin.

Wait! Aisley called out, stepping forward. What brings you to our village on such a night as this?

I mean no one harm, Haywood promised. His smile was little more than a gap-toothed leer. Repulsed, she stepped back, only to have the rumbling sound she’d heard from the forest grow impossibly louder.

Looking back toward the trees, she tried to determine if an animal hovered nearby, hoping it wasn’t a pack of wolves. They were said to prey upon people, namely the weak and injured. Unable to see anything other than blackness, she turned back to the wagons.

I have traveled far through the day’s rain in the hope of warding away your troubles for at least a night, Haywood contended, leering at her. Might I inquire as to whom quells my efforts?

Aisley, a healer, and I speak not for myself. This village has not gone unscathed by plague. I would not wish for the sickness to return.

Nor would I, fair lady. Feigning elegance, the man bowed at the hips. The expense of his green and tan robe and the silk of his gypon made him appear a man of means. At the hem of his robe, Aisley caught a glimpse of a sword. I am free of plague. You may inspect me for lesions if it would set your mind at ease.

The rumbling she’d heard grew more prominent, frightening. It felt as if the beast was warning her against touching the man. Oddly, no one else seemed to hear it.

I think it best if you leave, she said.

Inspecting this man would require three areas, the armpit, neck and the inner thighs. Touching him was not something she relished, regardless of her vow to attend those in need.

Aisley, do not rush him off. He promises to reveal the creature behind that curtain, and I, for one, have paid to see it, Howard Jones argued.

It was difficult to avoid staring at the curtained stage resting behind the stranger. The jester had tumbled his way to one side of the wheeled contraption. The minstrel strolled toward the opposite.

Throwing away coin can only lead to trouble, Aisley warned.

How is it that a woman speaks so bold? Sedgewick Haywood demanded.

It is common for Aisley to do so, Andrew White answered. Her father was the trusted physician for the Earl of Danford. She is valued amongst us.

Then why have you given what this man has asked for? Aisley wondered aloud.

Curiosity.

We want to see what he has to offer.

Worry not, Aisley. All will be well.

The villagers relayed their wishes and Aisley stepped back. She could not deny them a few moments pleasure. More coins hit the ground as Sedgewick demanded. Apparently pleased with the villagers, the visitor bowed once again in acceptance.

Ah, at last my performers will grant your due, Haywood pronounced. Proudly, he moved to the side.

Both the minstrel and the jester beckoned to the crowd and the curtain before them. Whispers filled the air, but they could not mask the eerie sawing drawing ever closer to the village. Did no one else hear the beast? It sounded as if he boomed from a mountaintop.

Is someone cutting branches in the forest? she asked.

I hear nothing of the sort, Aisley, Howard said.

Cease, little one, only you can hear me. I am close. Do not provoke the strangers, I will protect you and my tenants, someone said, a man, with a deep, gruff voice spoken so close to her ear, she swore his breath brushed her ear.

Unbidden, the scent of cinnamon tickled her nose, the memory it triggered bittersweet. Her father had always favored it in his porridge, a rarity to be certain, as it’d been a gift from Lord Danford in return for his physician’s fealty.

You like cinnamon, I shall procure some from the kitchens for you by the morrow. Ease your worry, it will be all right. Again, that voice, so compelling, so distinct and male, reached her.

Who spoke to me of cinnamon? Aisley demanded, glancing about. The villagers stared back as though she’d gone mad.

Your attention, healer, Haywood insisted. To one and all, I give you living proof of werewolves in England!

Werewolves...are you mad, Haywood? Andrew asked.

Nay, I tell you true, feast your eyes on a werewolf’s babe. Sedgewick swept his right hand toward the jester, who sliced a rope and the curtain shushed to the ground.

Dastard! Aisley cried as the villagers gasped. A little girl with large, rounded blue eyes stared at them and wept, pleading for love.

What did you call me, woman? Haywood questioned, his tone turning menacing.

It matters not! How dare you cage a child? she accused, her heart lurching painfully at the site of the girl’s dirt-strewn hair and face. Her eyes were different than most English children, though the fear within them reflected unspeakable cruelty.

It is for yours and the villagers’ safety, dear lady.

Nay, this is an atrocity the likes of which none of us have seen.

All should know by now there’s no such thing as werewolves, Howard said. You show us an unfortunate child.

Can you not see her deformity? She is eight, practically mute with the mind of a babe, Haywood insisted. This occurs in the offspring of a werewolf.

You speak of what is evil! Andrew White shouted.

There is no evil here, Aisley warned. Talk of evil could spread quickly amongst the villagers. This little girl is an angel from God, not some mythical creature.

Mayhap the healer feels herself capable of speaking for God, Sedgewick hedged, rounding on Aisley and marching toward her.

There is nothing wrong in speaking of God.

Yet, you are certain you can dispel the existence of evil.

Evil is a man who can cage a child! Aisley accused.

How dare you speak to me with such disrespect! I see standing before me a woman of flame red hair, freckles, and a dark patch of skin right beneath her chin, one who shouldn’t be so outspoken. Sedgewick looked at the villagers. Your healer bears the marks of a witch.

Unbidden, tiny bumps pricked Aisley’s skin as Sedgewick spoke of witchcraft. Because of her father’s teachings, Danford’s villagers and tenants did not believe a birthmark was the sign of evil. But such talk could sway minds, causing hysteria.

My father and mother were good, decent Christians, as am I, she said.

She speaks the truth, Andrew added in her defense.

The jester and the minstrel pulled long, sharp daggers from their scabbards. Andrew and others stepped forward to protect the women. Aisley turned away, rushing to the cage.

Realizing she shouldn’t have been so outspoken, she tried reason. Please, free this child, let me take care of her, she urged and reached for the door.

Step away anon, he sneered. She was sold to me by a mother who’d have let her starve and has been in my charge for nigh unto three years. She is all but an animal that can only cry and bite if you venture too close. Would you care to see the teeth marks she’s left?

Mayhap she cries of hunger and defends herself out of fear. I am a healer. I can take care of her.

Aisley faced the little girl, attempting to smile, to soothe as best she could from the slight distance. She would love to trace her wispy brown hair back behind her ears and wash away the dirt streaked across her sweet, plump face. Or, provide a warm meal and a safe place to sleep.

You will be all right, angel, she said, speaking gently so as not to frighten her further. I promise to do right by you. Paying no mind to the rush of voices warning her to stop, she rushed to the cage, seeking a key or a means to open it.

Healer, take your hand from that door or I will smite you where you stand, Sedgewick threatened, slamming her from behind into the cold, hard cage.

The sing of a sword echoed in her ear, still she showed no fear even as the stranger grasped her hair and jerked it so hard, her neck nearly snapped. From the corner of her eye, she saw the stranger raise his arm, the gleam of a blade frightening as she waited to die for the girl’s freedom.

Touch what’s mine, knave, you will face a wrath unlike anything you could comprehend! A man’s unexpected voice rumbled behind them, a haunting growl emanating all around her, within her.

Released at once, she looked about, discovering a man of considerable height and size for an Englishman hefted Haywood with a big hand wrapped about his throat. The stranger’s feet dangled from the ground, his eyes bulging.

Something within Aisley shifted, awakened, as if sensing her entire world would one day center upon her rescuer. Though she knew it was wrong to look right at a man whose finery marked him as a man of considerable rank, she couldn’t avert her gaze.

There was enough gray light left in the day to reveal his green eyes. Long straight hair fell between broad shoulders in a sleek black curtain. His face, free of beard growth, allowed her to see the sharp arch of his cheekbones, prominent nose, and strong squared chin.

Finding herself staring at his full, masculine lips, she felt an odd flutter low in her belly. There was no doubt that the man was strong, powerful, his bearing so proud she thought he was capable of standing just as he was for hours, mayhap days.

His long, muscular legs were encased in black braies and thigh-high boots. The expanse of his chest was apparent in a silver and blue cote-hardie. Though he’d not given in to gluttony, it amazed her to think such a big man could come upon the villagers without being heard.

As she stared, soldiers on horseback closed in on the common, joining their lord, swords drawn. Aisley knew who’d come to her aid.

The Earl of Danford maintained a lethal hold upon Sedgewick’s throat, and the rumbling growl continued, freezing her to the spot.

Chapter Two

The Earl tightened his fingers, the blueness creeping into Haywood’s face breaking Aisley’s trance. Nay, milord, I beg of you... do not take his life.

She thought he’d not heard until the set of his jaw eased. Without delay, Sedgewick was released and he doubled over, clutching his throat.

You have been spared, for now. Pray I do not change my mind. To that end, what would you have me do to him, milady?

Milord? she gasped, startled that he spoke to her.

"That witch tried to steal what’s mine and you ask for my punishment?" Haywood rasped.

Sedgwick, you’re in the presence of the Earl of Danford, Ruck, the jester, warned.

That is correct, everyone and everything in this demesne is under my protection. Now, bow before me or I will feed your quartered body to the manor’s swine, the Earl commanded without raising his voice. The falcons can have your head.

Haywood lowered to the ground as told. All the while she heard a beast’s harsh growling, creating a fearful respect for whatever animal could emit such a sound. She prayed it wasn’t a wolf. Mayhap the Earl’s soldiers traveled with wolfhounds to protect the forest and land.

Judging the set of the Earl’s massive shoulders and fisted hands, Aisley worried that a simple aye or nay from Sedgewick’s lips would induce the very rage Lord Danford displayed when he’d nearly reduced his foe to rubble with one hand.

No sword, no axe, or weapon, his hand and a mythical god’s strength. She had no wish to witness a man’s death, so she waited, suddenly aware that the mysterious sawing had ceased.

What would you have me do to this man? Lord Danford addressed her again. Something about the way he spoke tempted her to stand there and listen to him for years, centuries.

Banish him, jail him, whichever you believe just, she said after a moment. Pray, do not let him take the girl. He mustn’t. I am a healer, she needs me.

Haywood looked up in alarm. The Earl’s hand went to the sword strapped to his waist. No one dared move as Lord Danford’s gaze came back to Aisley, studying her so long she thought he must be assessing her face and body for injury, or worth.

And, for one breathless moment, she imagined what it would feel like if he caressed the same places with his bare hand. Would his hands be rough like a tenant’s, like hers?

Those same green eyes switched to the cage. The girl began to cry until Lord Danford’s stance softened and he smiled, his countenance regal until he saw the pennies on the ground, his jaw setting, his teeth bared.

The villagers remained silent. Haywood trembled. His men had long since retreated to the safety of the crowd. Aisley heard that threatening sawing, raspy grumble again. Strangely, it seemed closer, almost beside her, as if it was coming from the Earl’s throat.

Ease your worry, what you hear is difficult to control when I am angry. Green eyes locked with hers. Soon, you will understand why you can hear me and others cannot. You need not fear it, or me.

Milord, did you speak to me?

Aisley, are you all right, dear? Mrs. Jones asked. The child needs—

Oh my, she cried, facing the girl who no longer cried, her big blue eyes going back and forth between Aisley and the Earl. My name is Aisley. I want to call you Angelica. Is that all right?

Angelica nodded, a telling sign she understood more than Haywood let on. The Earl snapped his fingers. Squire, ask the men who brought the child for a key to the cage.

Aye, milord.

A tall lad, not quite grown into his broad shoulders and uncommonly large feet, stalked between the villagers until he found the minstrel and jester. Without much protest, the jester gave the key to Valiant.

From where he knelt, the dastard spoke. Milord, if I may? I am Sedgewick Haywood and wish to appeal to your good grace and judgment.

Were it my judgment alone, you would be dead, the Earl said, his authority absolute right then.

I bought the girl, she belongs to me, Haywood insisted, though wisely went silent.

You wish to raise the child as your own, milady? the Earl requested of Aisley, causing the villagers to whisper.

Aye, milord, very much, she said, refusing to look away.

Haywood, henceforth, you will remove yourself from this village. Should you or your companions return or remain within a thousand double paces of my demesne, I will have you all imprisoned for the remainder of your miserable lives. Threaten my lady or the girl’s wellbeing again, I will have you executed. If you understand, nod.

Sedgewick nodded.

Take him away before I change my mind. The Earl shifted his attention and walked toward Aisley and the squire, who’d opened the cage.

At once, she faced Angelica, approaching slowly, praying the girl would stop trembling. I’ll not harm you, Angelica. Might I come closer? To her heart’s delight, the little one nodded, once.

Calmly, she reached out, offering her hand. After a moment, a small hand wrapped around Aisley’s forefinger, holding on tightly.

Touched to have earned Angelica’s trust, she smiled. That’s right, you can trust me. The bad man is going away. I’ll not allow him or anyone who means you harm to come near you again.

Aisley lifted Angelica into her arms, discovering she was heavier than appearances told. It was a relief to know the child had not starved in Sedgewick’s care.

The Earl’s guardsmen snuffed the torches, distracting Aisley from Angelica. Curiously, she watched the guards escort the visitors from the common, their leader warning that they hadn’t seen the last of him.

Aisley didn’t think it was wise of Sedgewick to make such a comment, but her eyes were drawn to the ground. She was pleased to see that the soldiers had refused to allow Haywood to take the villagers coins.

You see, Angelica, Lord Danford will protect you, Aisley said quietly, unsure how she was to refer to his title. I would like to take you home now.

Walking slowly toward her cottage, she was unaware of the Earl’s approach, starting when she found him blocking her way.

Oh, I beg your pardon, milord. I’m sorry I didn’t say so before, thank you for saving us, she said, nodding to Angelica and the villagers scattered around the common.

You have a kind heart. It is good to know you like children. A rather pleasant sort of rumble resonated in voice now, reminding her of the sound a cat made when it was pleased or playful.

Reminding herself how quickly a feral cat could swipe with its sharp claws, she bowed her head, yielding to the Earl’s rank. You are kind to say so, milord.

You do not need the formal address. My name is Garrick. Use it at your will.

Shaking her head, she