Perilous Love: Shades of Love 4

By Cristiane Serruya

He’ll protect her at all costs. Even if she’s his undoing.

Hugh Smith has devoted his life to saving others but one grave mistake on his part caused the death of Anneliese MacDonald’s parents. So when he is summoned to protect her from a possible threat, Hugh doesn’t think twice in obeying—even in the face of danger. Because he knows there is no way to save himself. 

Anneliese MacDonald was devastated by the loss of her parents to an attack by the Taliban at a time when her only problem was figuring out how to seduce Hugh Smith. When small reminders of that nightmarish time make their way into her home, she gladly accepts Hugh—whom she still has a crush on—as her temporary guardian.

With danger lurking around every corner, Hugh will sacrifice everything to ensure Anneliese’s security, but the greatest danger of all might be to his own closed-off heart.

A thrilling and steamy contemporary romance that will delight fans of authors Helen Hardt, Barbara Freethy, and Jill Shalvis. Perilous Love stands on its own, but it’s also part of USA Today bestselling author Cristiane Serruya’s TRUST Universe. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Between the Pages
• Release date: Jan 17, 2019

Book preview

Prologue

Afghanistan

July 2007

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We have only this one chance, General Iain MacDonald said in a harsh but low whisper to the younger man by his side.

Group Captain Lord Hugh Smith, the 15th Earl of Lakeside, a billionaire, and one of the deadliest snipers in the United Kingdom, with more kills under his belt than he cared to remember, nodded at the general as he peeked over the edge of the cliff, careful to not give away their location.

Hugh was patient, measured, and soft-spoken; a calm, stabilizing anchor when things were otherwise flying off in all directions.

The perfect man for the job. And he would not disappoint the older man.

General MacDonald had been childhood friends with Hugh’s father, Air Marshal Lord Hammond Smith, and upon Smith’s death he had taken Hugh and his brother, Richard, under his wing.

When the general noticed Hugh’s extraordinary talent for shooting, he suggested Hugh take one of the most challenging courses in the RAF Regiment, known as Sniper School.

Even though the role of a modern sniper was different today, here he was hunting a woman in a blazing hell of a place where men and women blew themselves up along with civilians in the marketplace, and even children killed with such savagery that wolves ran from them in fear.

Hugh had been concealed high in the desolate headlands of the Afghan Mountains for a month now, waiting for his target to make her appearance. He had not been expecting the general to arrive in the early hours with news that the target was expected to come out within a few hours. The general could have very well used an encrypted radio. There was no need to deliver the simple message in person.

Well, there would be no need if not for the fact that Hugh’s target was Nalini Al-Amuli, his ex-girlfriend.

Hugh was about to kill a young woman whom he had kissed, embraced, and loved. And who had just been using him to get top secret information to destroy his country.

Nalini had been posing as a reporter, when in fact, she was a spy, but that didn’t diminish Hugh’s guilt for all the deaths that his inattentiveness had caused while he was blinded by lust, and dare he say it—love?

Hugh understood the general’s presence, and didn’t begrudge the old man for questioning whether Hugh was capable of killing the woman he’d held in his arms not long ago. The general was especially concerned that this target be eliminated because he had recently lost both his son and his daughter-in-law in an attack by the Taliban—due to confidential information leakage.

The general wanted to retire with a less guilty conscience—if that was possible—to take care of his orphaned granddaughter.

Taking his eye from the telescopic sight, Hugh looked up, and even with his special sunglasses he had to narrow his eyes against the light of a white, glaring summer sun and the heavy rainy clouds which had already appeared, cursing silently.

The sun was already past them and a few shadows began to make drawings on the rocky face of the mountains—as beautiful as it was distracting, especially to a killer who had been waiting for his target to appear for days in a row. If the skies opened now in a storm it would be a disaster. No matter how precise a sniper was, or how technologically enhanced his scope, afternoon shadows, stormy clouds, and heavy rain were the bane of a sniper. And as much as he hated his target, he didn’t want her to suffer.

A man appeared from within the cave and then retreated. One full hour ticked away before another man came and went.

Goddamnit, the general hissed as he looked through his spotting scope. Where is she?

Hugh doubted Nalini would appear in daylight. She knew she was marked for death and she had been holed up in the cave on the other side of the mountain since she had been revealed as a spy.

When military counterintelligence got a whisper about her location the general had immediately sent Hugh there.

And now Hugh was waiting quietly and patiently for his target. He could go like that for days, weeks, until he killed whomever he had come to kill. Even if it was Nalini.

He adjusted his rifle against his shoulder, blinking as the sweat dripped into his eyes, tingling like the pain piercing his heart.

After what the target had done…he understood she had to be killed, and strange as it might seem for any other, he’d rather it be him that did it. At least he would make sure she died instantly. He knew the general would prefer for her to be trapped, caught, and interrogated, and Hugh understood that. But if there was one thing he could do in honor of what she had meant to him, it would be to kill her quickly.

The general quietly backed away from Hugh’s sniper perch and headed inside their own cave to communicate with the man he’d left waiting there, much to Hugh’s relief.

Hugh turned his attention back to the enemy cave entrance and aimed carefully once more.

When the sun began to set a veiled woman appeared to the left of where he’d expected her, emerging from a smaller, less visible cave opening.

There was a light breeze. The shadows were lengthening, his gun barrel was heated, as were the bullets inside the chamber. He took all of this into account in the split second before he pressed the trigger.

In the time it took for the bullet to pierce precisely between her eyes and fell her to the ground, Hugh said a small prayer for her soul—and for his too, though he was quite sure that the devil would be gleefully counting the days for him to arrive in hell. His heart shattered into a million pieces and his soul went dark; the light inside him extinguished like a cheap candle as blood seeped out from beneath her black veil, soaking the rusty ground, stirring chaos inside the cave and causing men to come running out.

Hugh fired several more rounds killing her second-in-command, two other important lieutenants, and injuring at least four more before he dived into the cave behind him, following the general to the exit at the other side of the mountain, and mounting up quickly in a jeep that was waiting for them.

You’re still our best sniper, son. The general praised him, grinning, as the car peeled off down a mountain trail. It’s a pleasure to watch you in action.

Hugh slid a surprised glance toward the older man. He refused to believe he saw more than excitement at a job well done in the man’s expression, but there was a light that reminded Hugh of pleasure. Sir?

Your father would be proud. I know I am. Well done, son. Well done.

Hugh felt a strange sense of relief. He had been mistaken. The general wasn’t enjoying this, it actually was just pride at a job well done. And maybe some feeling of being vindicated.

Because that’s what it usually was for Hugh: just a duty he had to fulfil. Not a good task, and usually not a foul one either.

It was this moral code that allowed Hugh to kill more people on the battlefield than any other sniper in the British RAF—including women and children targets. There were bad guys—and bad bitches and bad little imps—and they all had to die. He was not a monster, nor a murderer of hundreds. He was simply a man doing his duty.

It was that simple.

That did not mean he was a good man, a great man, or even a hero. Though some would say he was.

When they neared a village, the driver slowed and the general continued, in a more serious tone, Though this mission is confidential, as soon as we arrive in England, I’m going to recommend you for the Victoria Cross.

Hugh’s stunned expression made the general clear his throat and say, Don’t look so shocked, Lakeside. You lose a son and a daughter-in-law, then you’ll understand.

Hugh shook his head and quietly said, I was just doing my duty He did not regret for a minute what he had done, but he couldn’t find any joy—or any emotion other than plain numbness—inside him for it.

With a sorrowful grimace, the older man put his hand on Hugh’s shoulder. "It’ll be something more, when it becomes all you have."

Hugh swallowed his answer because in the general’s words he heard all the emotion of a father who had lost his only son to the enemy.

And that made him realize he was not simply a man doing his duty.

The much more complicated truth of his life had been left on the jagged rusty ground of Afghanistan, amidst blood and gore, a broken heart, and a fractured soul.

He didn’t know exactly what he had just become, but he felt a dark hopelessness taking control of his being. His inner landscape was being reshaped, as if an avalanche was engulfing whom he had always been.

He felt unfamiliar, scared, as his own mountainside was falling, crashing downward at a terrifying speed, taking everything he had always known and been along with it, destroying all in its path, mercilessly.

In the terrible, echoing silence of the aftermath, Hugh saw he was still the same, but not really.

If he could kill a woman he had loved—in cold blood—what could the future possibly hold for a man like him?

1

England, Warwickshire

Lakeside Manor

Monday, January 11, 2016

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Shoulders rigid, Hugh walked through the grand hall of Lakeside Manor. His echoing steps clicked on the marble floor, but sounded like war drums in his ears.

After a footman silently swung the tall wooden door open, he went down the wide, old stone steps and walked to where his mother, Martha, his brother, Richard, and Richard’s wife, Giulianna, were eating breakfast.

Good morning.

Morning, were the three answers, followed by his mother tapping her cheek for a kiss that he dutifully delivered.

You’re late, she said, as he sat beside her and poured a mug of coffee for himself. Then she noticed his clothes and her eyes narrowed. Are you going somewhere?

Hugh licked his dry lips and glanced away from her stare before saying nonchalantly, I was summoned by General MacDonald.

His mother’s hands stilled before she cleared her throat. To active duty?

Martha Smith was thin and small, with a will of steel and the generosity of a born philanthropist. It couldn’t have been otherwise for a woman who had lived her life as a daughter, wife, and mother of military men. But he knew that after Richard’s accident, she was hopeful neither of her sons would ever return to active duty.

No, Mom, he needs me for a…private service. He could see the relief coursing through his mother as she resumed eating her eggs.

Hmm. What service would that be? asked a curious Richard.

His granddaughter needs my…help. Hugh didn’t have to explain to them how Bradley and Bridget MacDonald had been brutally murdered by the Taliban who had invaded the general’s house, but failing to find him, beheaded the couple instead. And how Bridget was able to hide their daughter, Anneliese, in a very small secret room Hugh had helped the general build in between the walls of their house before she herself was found and killed.

More than all the blood and the beheaded corpses of the adults, Hugh, who was in the first group of soldiers who arrived at the house, still remembered the ghostly visage of the girl when he found her in the secret room and took her out of there.

How is she?

According to the general, she still hasn’t recovered, really.

Even though she was in hiding when her parents were killed, no one knew for sure if Anneliese had watched it happen or not, because she had never spoken a single word after that day.

Poor girl. I saw her briefly four years ago at her grandmother’s funeral. She looked almost…autistic, Martha said. But what can you do for her?

The general wants to try some equine therapy, he lied, not very comfortable about doing so but that was what they had agreed on saying to Martha. And since it was not entirely a lie, it quelled his guilty conscience. She still hasn’t regained her voice and her doctor thinks it might do her some good.

I’m glad you still care about him enough to help. I’ve never understood why you two suddenly became estranged, said Martha, finishing her tea. You and Anneliese were good friends once.

I still care for her, Mom. He blew out a long breath and looked around, his eyes stopping on the impressive Jacobean facade of Lakeside Manor, knowing he would miss his house.

Catching his mood, Richard frowned and opened his mouth, surely about to ask what was going on, but Hugh discreetly signaled for him to wait until their mother left the room.

When Richard was injured, Hugh took an extended leave of absence and watched over his brother like a Grizzly bear mother over her cubs and somehow he had discovered a new Hugh inside himself. One he liked much more than the hardened man he’d become after Nalini’s betrayal but still a far cry from the young Hugh who had left Lakeside Manor with the dream of defending his country against evildoers.

As soon as Martha rose and made her way further into the house, Richard asked, What’s wrong?

The general thinks someone is trying to kill her.

Giulianna’s breath caught and Richard’s mouth dropped open. What?

According to the general, Anneliese has been finding little things that remind her of the time she lived in Afghanistan. Insignificant things, except for the fact that they’re appearing out of the blue, inside their house. Like someone is sneaking in and putting them there. At first, he thought she was just trying to get his attention… He looked away. He didn’t know if he should tell them everything, but they had always been honest with each other. He’s not sure if she’s going crazy or if a loose end from his past is back for revenge.

You knew her before, right? Did she seem like she might be mentally unstable then?

His impressions of Anneliese came easily to his mind. She had loved to talk to him and tease him, but it was only a teen infatuation which he had indulged. Not at all. At least nothing like that ever made itself known. I remember her as being a normal nice girl, I guess. And then…after…she was shy and quiet as a mouse. Black and white. His mouth twisted humorlessly. Oh, yes. She’s very, very rich now.

Giulianna’s eyebrow rose. That’s it? Nice, quiet, and rich?

I scarcely know the woman she’s become. I only know that General MacDonald is concerned that her wealth might attract gold diggers and he also asked me to act as her…protector. He thinned his lips. I’m not even sure I want to do it. Especially when just the thought of her makes me want to punish myself for my stupidity.

No one can make you do anything against your will. Giulianna frowned, not understanding why he was about to head off and do something he didn’t want to do. So, why are you doing it?

I owe my life to him. Even though he tried to keep the bitterness away, it toned down his voice. It was more than his life that he owed. His assessing gaze scanned the soft hills of Lakeside Manor land as far as the eye could see. The only reason he was sitting here, and not in prison, was because of General MacDonald. He could hold his head high only because of the general. He owed everything to the general: his honor, his pride, his life. His heart and his very soul. And the general’s cryptic words—Anneliese is in grave danger—left him with a bad premonition.

There’s more you’re not telling us.

Hugh shrugged.

Don’t even bother, Richard added when Giulianna opened her mouth, clearly intending to ask more. Hugh could give a rock lessons in silence.

Yes, he could. He’d kept most of Nalini’s shameful betrayal from Richard, which had created a deep wedge between them that had only been bridged by Hugh taking care of him after he lost his legs below the knee from an IED explosion.

But then Richard had kept things from him, too. Or maybe the bridge had been fixed by Giulianna. But he had been sworn to secrecy by the general.

Richard regarded Hugh gravely. If you need something, all you have to do is call.

I know.

I mean it. We’ll take care of everything around here. It’s good that you didn’t let mother know there could be danger…but really, Hugh, take care.

I will. Hugh nodded. I’ve gotta grab my bag and head out.

A few minutes later, as he hoisted his baggage onto his shoulder and closed his bedroom door behind him, he was struck by the sense that he was locking away the Hugh Smith he had come to know over the last several years that he had spent at Lakeside, away from war, away from military secrets.

From this moment on, he was back to being Group Captain Lakeside, the arrogant, billionaire earl who killed terrorists without blinking an eye; a man who was utterly sure of his place in the world until it had all came crashing down on him, in the form of the woman he had held in his arms and made promises of love to, betraying him—and then, him killing her.

The thought was surprisingly upsetting. He didn’t like that man.

He’d scarcely thought of Afghanistan anymore—or what had happened there. General MacDonald and seven years had helped disguise his invisible open wounds and the ugly, great scars.

And every time he remembered, he was chilled to the heart.

That was also what had made him avoid Annelise.

He feared the paralysis that crept inside him, icy cold and midnight dark, threatening to make his emotions turbulent and uncontrolled.

He feared one day looking inside himself and finding a heart of steel pumping black oil into plastic veins, he exerted so much control over those emotions, and made so much effort to avoid entering in contact with them.

Sometimes he thought the general knew more about Nalini Al-Amuli than he did. And maybe that was true, because he had never learned any of her secrets. The woman to whom he had given his body, his heart, and his soul.

The woman who had betrayed him. The woman who had made him a betrayer. And the woman he had killed in cold blood.

That was the real reason he was going to Scotland for as long as the general needed him. That was the real reason, regardless of how he felt about it.

Because he needed to know the truth about her, about their relationship.

In the end, he needed to know the truth about himself.

2

Scotland, Highlands

Bharraich Caisteal

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It was barely three o’clock in the afternoon when Anneliese MacDonald woke from a nap covered in perspiration, her body shaking, after a dream made of angry shouts and frightened screams and flashing-steel knives and vivid red blood.

At her shuddering sigh, Athos, her Great Pyrenees dog, a large, thick-coated, and immensely powerful giant, opened his eyes and studied her before fumbling his way to where she was curled up on a spacious lovechair.

Barking a welcome, he jumped beside her and wrapped his furry body around her legs. Then he butted his bearish head on her stomach, and settled down contentedly on her thighs, as if he were a lap dog.

That brought a smile to her face.

Her Pyr was a giant, immensely strong mountain dog, standing as high as her waist and weighing more than 100 pounds, with a lush weatherproof all white coat she loved to burrow in.

Her grandfather had given her Athos a few months after they had come back to Scotland. A steadfast guardian exhibiting a Zen-like calm, Athos had been one of the keys to her recovery from the trauma. He could stay beside her all day and then quickly spring into action, moving with grace and speed to grab a ball—or meet a threat.

And that thought took her mind back to the nightmare.

She could chalk it up to the amount of haggis she had eaten at lunch. Or to the boring algebra book she was studying for the test tomorrow and that had made her fall asleep.

Not that she was lazy, really, but she saw more virtue—and had more enjoyment—in a nap than in a brisk jog, if that was what her body and mind felt like in the moment. She used her energies according to her feelings and needs.

Even though her parents had a whisky distillery to run, the lack of a constant bristling social life left them time to enjoy life’s pleasures. Growing up in a Highland small town, with its yawning pace, gave her the excuse she needed to be exactly who she liked.

Academically, she liked challenges. Dealing with pressuring deadlines and difficult subjects stimulated her mind. She was more blasé with her personal life.

But she wouldn’t discount the fright she’d had this morning when she found another tulip bulb in the hothouse. She didn’t even tell grandfather MacDonald about it this time. She didn’t want him thinking she was going mad.

Over the years the nightmares had been coming less often, but since she had been finding these little reminders of Afghanistan where they shouldn’t be, her mind began to churn again with the terror. Even though more than eight years had passed, the terror never diminished.

Shivering, she snapped her fingers twice so Athos would know she wanted to get up. He jumped down and walked by her side as she made her way to the window, his paws click-clacking softly on the shiny wood.

It had rained earlier and the afternoon was cool and damp but the sun was out—a miracle for a January day. She opened the latch and went out onto the balcony, taking a deep breath.

The ruggedness of the highland scenery soothed her; her connection with the land as strong as the pulse of nature around her. Especially because she knew too well that she could never take for granted a single second, and that was what made her restless.

A lethal whir of wings over her head marked the passing of a golden eagle seeking its prey. Even the green, luxuriant grass of the lawn had a signature tone.

All her life, she had been tuned to the life forces around her and since the death of her parents, that connection had grown deeper and it was the only thing that made her feel content.

She wondered if she’d ever have any satisfaction in life. It certainly didn’t seem to be her fate.

She felt a sharp pang of loss for the bright teenager she had once been; her future destroyed by a travesty of humanity.

The horror that sealed her words inside her left within her the silence of an entire world. A silence so heavy it threatened to bury her sometimes.

If her parents had not died in a savage attack, she would probably be under-graduating now like any other normal girl of twenty-two, maybe in Environmental Science