The Pirate's Duty: The Regent's Revenge Series, #3

By Katherine Bone

Innkeeper Oriana Thorpe is a smuggler's daughter who has been hardened by a legacy she cannot escape. She has risked everything, including her safety, in her attempts to break free, going so far as to challenge her evil pirate brother, Charles, in order to save a lady and her maid from his wrath. Determined to atone for his villainy, Oriana distributes the blood money he left behind to widows and orphans living nearby. But when threatening letters promising retribution begin to arrive from Charles, she suspects one or more of her customers may be her despicable brother's spies. Yet one haunted man promises to protect her, and she finds herself taking the greatest risk of all—falling in love.

 

Captain Pierce Walsingham should have died when his ship was destroyed by the notorious smuggler Captain Carnage. Instead, Pierce was pulled from the water by the Robin Hood of Cornwall, a pirate known only as the Black Regent. In gratitude, Pierce accepts the Regent's offer to take over the man's role, allowing his name to be added to the list of the dead and vowing to protect the beautiful innkeeper who saved his sister Chloe's life. Unfortunately, Oriana is also Carnage's next of kin, and the smuggler has sworn vengeance against her and Chloe.

 

While there is no cause dearer to Pierce's heart than stopping Carnage, the task won't be easy. Strategic allegiances have replenished his enemy's power at sea, and he's moving ever closer to enacting his revenge. Now Pierce must find a way to defeat Carnage, all while fighting his desire for the resilient woman who fiercely defends her roost.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Katherine Bone
• Release date: Aug 8, 2017
• ISBN: 9780998207414

Katherine Bone

Bestselling Historical romance author Katherine Bone has been passionate about history since she had the opportunity to travel to various Army bases, castles, battlegrounds, and cathedrals as an Army brat turned officer's wife. Now she lives in the south where she writes about rogues, rebels and rakes, aka pirates, lords, captains, duty, honor, and country and the happily-ever-afters every alpha male and damsel deserve. Katherine would love to hear from you, dear readers! Send her an signal flag at: [e-mail] or join her on deck via Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/Katherine-Bones-Official-Fan-Page/134578253291785, or Twitter at https://twitter.com/#!/katherinelbone. If you'd like to hear about Katherine's adventures and new book offers, join her newsletter here: http://www.katherinebone.com/contact/.

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License and Copyright Notes

The Pirate’s Duty

Copyright © 2017 by Katherine Bone

EPUB Edition

ISBN: 9780998207414

Cover Design by Romance Cover Creations

Editing by Double Vision Editorial

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by any electronic or mechanical means—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without written permission.

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please return to the retailer of your choice and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.

For more information:

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Also Available

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The Regent’s Revenge Series

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The Pirate’s Duchess, Novella

The Pirate’s Debt, Book #2

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The Nelson’s Tea Series

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My Lord Rogue, Novella #1

Duke by Day, Rogue by Night, Book #2

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The Heart of a Hero Series

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The Mercenary Pirate

Dedication

A man does what he must—in spite of personal consequences, in spite of obstacles and dangers and pressures—and that is the basis of all human morality.

~ Winston S. Churchill

This book is dedicated to those who provide a service to others without seeking selfish gain.

Prologue

The Marauder’s Roost, Cornwall, 20 August 1809

Oriana Thorpe stood on the edge of the cliff contemplating how to kill her brother, Charles. If she’d learned anything in this world, it was that even angels were forced to suffer demons. She’d been born into a bloodthirsty family of smugglers, endured a destructive childhood that had toughened her spirit. And now, at three and twenty, after making her way through a gauntlet of pain and heartbreak, she’d finally earned the right to operate her family’s inn, and she would not let Charles take it from her.

She stared up at the Marauder’s Roost perched high atop a cliff facing the English Channel. Below her feet, the sea roiled against jagged limestone in a continual sucking hiss of water and unyielding rock. Wind snatched at the hem of her gown, and gulls soared above the surf, screeching and circling the swells. The horizon stretched out in every direction, a clear blue sky marred only by a few darkening clouds.

Inhaling the salty, tang-filled air, Oriana directed her determined gaze back to the Roost. Horrific events had blemished its history, not least among which was when Charles had held Lady Chloe Walsingham and her maid, Jane, hostage mere weeks before, killing several people inside the inn. But no matter its past, the Roost had been her mother’s pride and joy. And now it was all Oriana had left in this world.

No one understood her agony—the fact that she loved Charles and had been desperate to save her brother from himself. He thrived on control, and like his former ship, the Viper—which was sitting at the bottom of the sea—she would no longer be part of his quest for power and dominance. She had tried to reach him, to make him believe he could change his evil ways, that he didn’t have to be the man their father had wanted him to be. Regrettably, he’d chosen not to listen, forcing her to stand up to him in defense of her customers.

In a final blow to Charles, she’d chosen an outlander’s blood over their own by aiming a pistol at her brother’s head to save Chloe’s life. Her actions had been a declaration of war, although she hadn’t been prepared to follow through with killing him. A costly mistake, that. Now Charles would destroy her, just as surely as he’d killed Eliza Price, the woman he had claimed to love.

The signs of Charles’s descent into madness had not always been clear. She’d protected her youngest brother against their father’s temperamental outbursts, taking responsibility for Charles’s disobedience when he couldn’t absorb another blow. But the dynamics between them had drastically changed over the years. And now her brother was too far gone, making her wonder why she hadn’t killed him months ago while trying to protect Lady Chloe and her maid.

Her failure to act weighed heavily upon her. When would Charles return to claim his revenge and retrieve the gold he’d left behind?

Oriana, Lady Chloe, and her maid were only alive now because of the Black Regent’s fortuitous arrival at a time when Charles, driven mad with bloodlust, had tried to use the innocent women to get revenge for the sinking of the Viper. The infamous pirate who haunted the shores of Cornwall, assisting the poor and downtrodden, had arrived just in time to rescue Lady Chloe and Jane, driving Charles and his men out of the Roost to places unknown.

But not for long. Her brother would be back. And soon, if his most recent letter was to be believed. Oriana had something he wanted: a cache of ten thousand pounds of stolen gold and a trinket chest filled with his lover’s belongings, which she’d hidden in the cellar. Blood money that had been collected from ships her family had wrecked and from whatever illegal acts Charles had performed.

Footsteps crunched behind her, and Oriana’s nerve endings sprang to life. She spun around, engaged her knees, and raised her sword to fend off her attacker’s blade. Steel arced through the air, slashing down until a screeching, sparking hiss ignited. She dug in her heels and fought to keep from losing her balance against her larger opponent, cursing her slow response.

Ye’ve got to be faster. Girard clucked his tongue. He was one of the men the Black Regent left behind to protect her. As before, he lunged, pushing her to the limit of her newly acquired skills. His sharp-edged thrusts exhibited strength and an ability to control every movement, a habit she fought earnestly to mimic. Yer brother will not warn ye of his approach as I did.

She called forth all of her energy to sidestep Girard’s attack. Tell me something I don’t already know.

Keep at it. O’Malley, another of the Regent’s men, encouraged her from the sidelines. Use yer knees. That’s it! Ye’re showin’ vast improvement, girl.

Centering her aggression and imagining Girard was wearing Charles’s face, Oriana wielded her sword to counter Girard’s thrusts. The connecting blow cost her, though, and pain jolted through her arm as she fended off his parry.

She’s not learnin’ fast enough for me likin’. Girard’s stare bored into her as their blades locked at the hilt. "The fight is ’ere. He pointed to his eyes and then his sword. Not ’ere. A man’s eyes speak before ’e acts."

She nodded, chastising herself for forgetting that crucial rule. Is there any hope I will ever be ready for him?

Girard released a heavy sigh as he disengaged and whipped his weapon through the air. He sheathed it in the scabbard dangling from his belt. In time.

"I don’t have time. She lowered her weapon, marveling at how much lighter the blade felt in her grip since she’d first started sparring with Girard and O’Malley six weeks before. Another letter has come."

Another one? O’Malley’s gaze cut to Girard. Demon and scholar by all accounts, why am I surprised?

Why didn’t ye say so, lass? Girard asked, ignoring O’Malley. No wonder I caught ye unawares!

"How long before I will not be taken unawares?" Her heart clenched.

Please say it won’t be long.

That depends on ye. A low growl erupted from Girard’s throat. But don’t dismay. A man can practice ’is entire lifetime and still not be good enough to prevent ’is own death.

Aye. O’Malley strode over to her, a piece of straw clenched between his teeth. Seen it happen meself.

Ye’re not ’elpin’, Girard complained. He turned back to Oriana. No matter ’ow many times ’e threatens ye, focus on bein’ one step ahead of ’im. It’s the only way ye’ll remain so.

I know. She sighed, grief for the man Charles could have been piercing her very soul as it always did. They were bonded by blood and by enduring their father’s cruelty. Their mother had died because of it, and their father and two older brothers were killed while committing their own atrocities. Without Charles, she was alone—sorrowfully alone—and only a family of her own would someday heal the fractures widening inside her heart. But she’d have to outlive Charles before she could ever allow anyone to love her.

Let’s see the letter. Girard reached out a hand and wiggled his fingers impatiently.

Oriana set down her weapon and nodded. She reached into her apron pocket and pulled out the missive, peeling back the red seal—an anchor supporting a T for Thorpe—and handed Girard the note.

He flipped it over and read the postscript. Looks like this letter came by way of Whitsand Bay.

Damn sure he ain’t there no more, O’Malley said. Read it.

Clearing his throat, Girard fought the wind to keep the parchment from tearing apart. Then he began to read aloud:

"Beloved sister,

"Hear me well. You defied me, severing the ties that bind us. Broke my trust, you did, and that is a betrayal I can never forgive. Be glad our father is not alive to witness your deceit.

"Prepare for a reckoning, Sister. The day is close at hand. You have something I want, and I aim to get it back. Do not think of using it against me. I have eyes and ears everywhere.

"Judgment is coming. Cold blows the wind.

C.

Girard refolded the note. Why did ’e use that phrase at the end?

She swallowed. ‘Cold Blows the Wind’ is the song Charles sang after he killed his lover.

Girard exchanged a glance with O’Malley. Killed ’is lover?

She nodded. Eliza had been aboard one of the ships our father wrecked, and she had been taken alive from the sinking vessel against Father’s command. He’d meant for all to perish.

No witnesses was the Thorpes’ steadfast credo, and one Oriana had never abided.

What happened to her? O’Malley asked.

Eventually Eliza escaped her captivity and fled to the magistrate, she went on. Unfortunately, the magistrate was in our father’s employ. He accused Charles of saving Eliza and endangering the family.

O’Malley’s eyes narrowed. What became of the woman?

Oriana suppressed a shiver. Our father demanded Charles’s loyalty. He made him drown her before our very eyes.

Wind swept Oriana’s hair about her head as she cringed, wishing she could forget that horrible day ten years ago. Eliza’s pleading cries for help as a cold blade pressed against Oriana’s neck and her father, in his sinister governance, held her face, forcing her watch the gruesome scene. It was at that exact moment she had witnessed her adoring brother’s hellish destiny unfold as he chose his course.

Girard shook his head. And ’e did it?

Aye, she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Charles had followed their father’s orders, transforming into a devil she no longer recognized—the man now known across Cornwall as Captain Carnage.

O’Malley let out a whistle. Cast out from hell, he is.

Aye. She retrieved the note from Girard and put it in her pocket, holding back her despair as best she could. Charles would find her like a hound on the scent, just as he’d sworn to do. And when a Thorpe was angered, his determination would not be extinguished until the thirst for vengeance was quenched.

One

The RETURN of the Earl of M from SABBATICAL caused quite a stir amid news that our esteemed hero, CAPTAIN W, died off LOOE and TALLAND BAY when his ship, the WINDRAKER, sank. This not being a time for POMP and CIRCUMSTANCE, Lord M ASSUMED his late father’s title, Marquess of U, and RETURNED to his estate with a WIFE. Lady U is a CREDITABLE choice, a most beloved SISTER to that PREVENTATIVE WATERGUARD OFFICER who faced CAPTAIN CARNAGE and PAID the ultimate PRICE . . . his life.

~ Trewman’s Exeter Flying Post, 15 September 1809

Smuggler’s End Cove, Devon, 15 September 1809

Miss Thorpe wasn’t part of the bargain. Captain Pierce Walsingham regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth.

A penance, it is, said Angus Pye, his first mate. Dressed in a sad-looking navy coat—one size too small—faded white trousers, a calico shirt, and a neckerchief, he didn’t flinch as the carpenters hammered topside. But a deal is a deal, is it not?

Aye. Walsingham propped his feet on his desk and crossed his arms. A deal meant to keep the devil from patrolling shipping lanes, killing innocent victims, and making orphans.

Spit ’im out, ’Ades did.

And we’ll throw him back in. Walsingham gave Pye a triumphant smile.

As a former pirate hunter with the Board of Excise—a man all but a few thought was dead—Walsingham actually enjoyed the anonymity of being the Black Regent, Cornwall’s Robin Hood. He’d accepted the Regent’s mask from the Earl of Markwick, now Marquess of Underwood, on his sister Chloe’s wedding day and had promised Chloe that he’d protect the owner of the Marauder’s Roost, Miss Oriana Thorpe. And he’d be damned if he didn’t.

He owed Miss Thorpe a debt he could never repay. And therein lay the problem. Before he could actually step into Miss Thorpe’s life, a plan to ensnare Carnage had to be put into place. Which meant he had to use her and protect her at the same time.

First, he needed a fleet to sink Carnage’s ship. Second, Carnage expected the Regent to go on the attack sooner rather than later, and Walsingham would need to disguise his easily recognizable ship, the Fury. To the former, Walsingham had deepened his relationship with the Seatons of Talland Bay, whose frigates far exceeded any in the Royal Navy in agility and speed. To the latter, he’d enlisted the youngest son, Keane, to refurbish the Fury so the vessel could hide in plain sight.

"Carnage wrecked the Mohegan, Walsingham went on, trying not to think about what would have happened if Markwick had not saved Chloe’s life. And he sank the Windraker. Walsingham’s former ship now sat at the bottom of the Channel due to his own idiocy in thinking he could outwit Carnage without a plan. Though, I blame myself that over half my men are dead. If I hadn’t attacked his ship . . ."

Ye cannot blame yerself, Cap’n, Pye said. These things ’appen.

Not to me they don’t. I captained that ship. As its commander, I am solely responsible. He closed his eyes, trying to block out the sights and smells that haunted him. I will not sail half-cocked again.

Pye pulled out his pipe and a pouch of tobacco. The crew believes in ye and stands behind ye, and the Seatons sent their best carpenters and sailmakers. We’ll be ready.

Walsingham picked up Chloe’s letter and studied Underwood’s seal. Keane is quite the naval architect. I’m impressed with his work. No one will recognize our ship when it leaves Smuggler’s End.

’E knows. Grinning, Pye tapped tobacco into his pipe reservoir. "And ye’ll be pleased with the results, sir. ’E expects the Fury to be fully outfitted for our mission within a sennight."

Almost as if on cue, the hammering above them stopped.

Pray he’s right. Walsingham tossed Chloe’s letter onto his desk and stood, keeping his back to the mahogany bulkhead. I will not be satisfied until Carnage can never harm Miss Thorpe or anyone else again.

As in yer sister, sir?

Damned right. If we fail to stop him, he’ll come after Chloe next, just as he threatened to do. ‘No witnesses,’ remember?

Pye nodded and reached for the lantern. Any new word as to Carnage’s whereabouts?

Walsingham grabbed his tankard. He looked down at the scar that angled from the first knuckle of his forefinger to the underside of his left palm, reminding him that brutal men did inhuman things.

Severity depends on circumstances, and whenever I have been severe, circumstances have rendered it necessary. So said his commander on board the Fulminante, Lieutenant Corbet, before the cat-o’-nine-tails had destroyed Midshipman Jellet’s back and caused the young officer’s death. Sickened, Walsingham moved to the sideboard and poured himself another drink.

Cap’n? Pye asked.

Hmm?

Any word? his first mate repeated.

Oh . . . yes. After acquiring a ship in France, he’s seaworthy again. As was the now Captain Corbet.

Traitorous. Pye lit his pipe and stoked it, releasing several puffs of smoke. What good will it do ’em, do ye suppose, to join the Frenchies?

There’s a price on his head. He took a drink. I suspect after nearly killing a marquess, Carnage did the only thing he could once we blew his ship out of the water—go where the best frigates can be found.

Nay, Pye said. Talland Bay makes the best frigates.

Except you forget the Seatons have chosen sides, Walsingham reminded him. "And if Blackmoor is right—his information has never been wrong, mind you—Carnage has outfitted his frigate to resemble the Fury. A sacrilege the Seatons would never have agreed to."

Blackmoor had first enlisted the Seatons when he’d turned pirate, requesting their aid to restore the fortunes of mineral lords associated with the duke’s father. The Earl of Pendrim, patriarch of the Seatons, has letters of marque, an invaluable commodity that had kept him and his sons out of Bodmin Gaol. Walsingham, on the other hand, had been promised the use of their fleet should the need arise. It had. And now he’d called in favors. Together, they’d constructed a plan to lure Carnage back to the Marauder’s Roost once and for all.

A French ship built to look like ours? Pye asked, brow furrowing.

Walsingham nodded. No good can come of it. He stopped in front of the stern windows and swirled the rest of the brandy in his glass. Carnage is attacking English ships in our name.

Nay! Pye choked. ’E ’spects to frame us, then smuggle his gold to Boney? God’s teeth, Cap’n! What do ye suppose the Frenchies ’spect in return?

Carnage’s diabolical scheme to work with Napoleon and blame the Regent for killing innocent Englishmen assured Walsingham and his crew would hang for the fictitious crimes unless proved innocent.

Think on it, Pye. What’s in France’s best interest? A ship in exchange for funds to continue aggression against England offers them the most personal gain. It’s a perfect plan. The French are hard strapped to make alliances and do not give away their beloved ships without reason. Few trained commanders remain in their ranks to combat English ships after the revolution stripped their navy clean.

French allies assured Walsingham that Carnage intended to engage the Royal Navy, enlist their wrath, and turn King George’s ships against the Black Regent before returning to the Roost to destroy the tranquil bay. The tyrant’s villainy surely wouldn’t stop there unless someone stopped him first.

Mark my words, Walsingham said. Carnage has hidden something of value in the Marauder’s Roost. I suspect it’s to be the very payment the French expect for their ship. And we’re going to hide in plain sight, protect Miss Thorpe, and wait for him to come and get it.

Makes me blood boil thinkin’ another ship could be out there posin’ as us, killin’ without prejudice.

We’ll put an end to Carnage. It’s only a matter of time. But we have to live long enough to do it.

Pye nodded. Whatever yer orders, sir, the crew be ready for a fight, down to the last man.

They better be.

"I will not underestimate Carnage again," Walsingham said.

A cornered rat strikes out, but we’ll be ready, sir, and we won’t be by our lonesome.

Aye. The Seatons were a powerful presence along the Cornish coast, thirty years in the making. Long tested by French and Spanish vessels that plied the coast, only one of the Earl of Pendrim’s ships had ever been lost in battle—the Black Belle—and that was only when his own daughter had tried to capture HMS Dragon to deliver her brother’s ransom to the Bay of Biscay.

Six sons bore the Seaton name. The oldest, Garrick, Viscount Seaton, had established a presence near Exeter, west of the River Axe, with his half-Spanish bride. Meanwhile, Keane, the man who’d designed the Fury as well as her sister ships—Priory, Abbot, Creed, Prophet, Allegiant, and Vesper—had offered the Regent and his ship refuge among the Seatons’ fleet in Abbydon Cove, Talland Bay.

Knock. Knock.

Come in, Walsingham said, lured from thoughts that reassured him he was making the right decisions.

The door swung open, revealing his quartermaster, Jarvis.

What is it, Jarvis?

Jarvis dug his thumbs into the waist of his trousers. Lord Seaton has arrived.

Which one? he asked, dumbfounded.

The elusive one, sir—James.

Walsingham waved a hand dismissively as he turned from the windows. Send him in.

James Seaton moved through the door, his footsteps making nary a sound.

I understand you’re looking for me, Captain. Lithe, dressed in black leather trousers, boots, and a white linen shirt, he resembled the Black Regent in striking ways as he swept out his arm and bowed. Your humble servant.

Walsingham bowed his head. The two of them were sons of lords with no titles to call their own but merely the ones they earned by the sweat of their brows. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, James. Your brother speaks highly of your, shall we say, talents.

Ah, James said. Keane has a way of embellishing details, especially when it comes to us.

Is it not true, then? he asked.

James furrowed his brows. Is what not true? He laughed. You’ll have to forgive me. My brother makes many claims; I cannot be held to account for them all.

Ghastly words, ’eld to account,’ Pye said. Wouldn’t use ’em aboard.

I’m always bored. James cocked his head, narrowed his eyes, and studied Pye all the way down to his peg. No pun intended.

Board! Pye looked down and then burst out laughing. Aboard. Bored. Me peg!

Now that you two have bonded . . . Walsingham held in his mirth as he moved to sit down at his desk. Your brother says you’re searching for excitement and that three of your other brothers are equally thrilled at the prospect of clearing out the competition. I also hear that you are responsible for convincing the earl to align his fleet against Captain Carnage.

James’s jovial expression sobered. All true. He moved about the cabin, hands behind his back. It’s been a long time since I’ve been inside this cabin. May I? He pointed to the brandy on the sideboard.

Of course, Walsingham said.

James made himself at home, poured several fingers of brandy, and downed the contents in one swallow. Od’s blood, that’s good. He glanced at Walsingham. Armagnac from Gascony?

Walsingham nodded. I’m impressed.

My brother Garrick has spent a lot of time in the Bay of Biscay. We’ve traded for this particular brand. James poured himself another glass and then paced the cabin. "Tell me, what is it like to captain the Fury?"

Walsingham took in the lanterns swaying in tempo with the moored ship, the table and chairs, the sideboard with washbasin, the mahogany panels lining the bulkhead, the black damask curtains at the stern windows draping over cushioned seats below, and the black-shrouded box bunk. The Fury was his home now, a surrogate to the Windraker with her sleek lines and teak decks.

Would you like to find out? he asked, testing James.

The pirate cut him a sharp look. Are you serious?

I might be. But first—he propped his feet on the polished desk—what news of Carnage?

James cleared his throat and settled his gaze on Pye. I’m afraid the news isn’t good.

That has proven to be the case. Walsingham grumbled under his breath. Out with it, then.

"There are reports that the Fury targeted another merchantman near the Channel Islands. No survivors reported. James raised his glass heavenward, tipped it to his mouth, and downed the contents in one gulp. Closing his eyes, he released a sigh. Damn, those Frenchies know how to make good brandy."

Anger swept through Walsingham. Where is Carnage now? he bit out.

Headed to Cornwall. Making good speed, if I miss my guess, which means he’ll be caught in our trap soon enough.

And yer brothers? Pye asked, easing himself into the conversation. Can we count on ’em?

James grinned broadly. Aye. Willing to weigh anchor and cast a wide net.

Good. The tension eased from Walsingham’s shoulders. He glanced down at Chloe’s letter and the maps strewn there. I’d like to meet one more time to coordinate our efforts.

That can be easily arranged, Captain, when you join our fleet in Abbydon Cove. James braced his hand on the hilt of the sword strapped to his waist. I feel it’s my . . . obligation to warn you that something else is afoot. My grandfather, Zephaniah Job, owns a bank in Polperro and he’s found discrepancies in several accounts that forced him to scour a number of records in the District over the past several years. Do you know him?

Who ’asn’t ’eard of Zephaniah Job? Pye asked, astounded. Been piratin’ for over thirty years.

Aye. James examined the books in their inlaid cases. There’s a rumor that old Boney is smuggling gold out of England. My grandfather thinks Charles Thorpe is involved.

Suddenly confused and restless, Walsingham removed his feet from the desk and stood. I had assumed Carnage acquired a significant cache from wrecking ships.

Aye. Most wreckers do.

That must be what he intends to give to the French . . . Hair on the back of his neck prickled as he realized the Thorpe woman could be in more danger

Reviews for The Pirate's Duty

[mariajusino · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Awesome 3rd book in The Regent's Revenge Series

What a great story, it was everything I expected from one of Katherine Bone 's books. I could not put the book down. Even though this is a stand alone book, I recommend to read the other two books in the series. You will not be disappointed. Congratulations Lady Katherine, you have another great book. Love it, hope there will be a story for James.