Ryker took a deep breath. He was sure their children would follow their hearts.

My Duke’s Deception

Wicked Lords of London Book 2

Tammy Andresen

Coming in May of 2018

Theo tipped his glass of whisky back and finished it in a single swallow. His third in as many minutes. Any moment now the burning liquid would begin to numb the fresh wave of loss he’d felt before coming here.

His last lead had gone cold. For the past two years, he’d been searching for his sister. The one person in this godforsaken country that he loved. Or maybe it was just him that had been forsaken. He wasn’t sure.

“I’ll have another,” he waved at a barmaid, who grimaced in response. He wasn’t certain if that meant she wouldn’t serve him or she just disapproved. He hoped it was latter because he needed the forgetful bliss alcohol could provide. The worst part was, he was part of the reason Camille was gone.

“Bloody hell,” he murmured under his breath as the memories replayed in his mind. She’d come to him for help but he’d turned her away. Why had he done that? He knew the reason of course, but it still made no sense to him. He’d been mired in his own difficulties and sure they were more important than whatever Camille was about to say.

The hurt in his sister’s eyes couldn’t be measured and he’d instantly regretted his choice. They always helped each other. He’d allowed his own hurt and anger to cloud his feelings.

His head dropped into his hands as the memories continued to plague him. Where was that whisky? That was the last time he’d seen her, before she’d disappeared. Not six months later, their father had passed away. He’d become the Duke of Pennington but even his title couldn’t help him find her.

In fact, he’d found it a hindrance, particularly in places such as this. So he’d posed as a commoner, to try and gain any information he could. He’d traced her to the docks from a nearby tavern, The Kicking Horse. But that was as far as he’d gotten. He believed her ship had sailed to France but he’d been unable to find anyone who could confirm it and her trail had gone cold.

So he’d returned to the last place that he knew she had been, The Kicking Horse.

By all accounts, she hadn’t been here against her will. In fact, the tavern wench who’d seen her said she’d been with a man and they’d been happy, smiling at one another. It gave him some consolation, though he missed her.

A new serving girl weaved her way through the crowd, her tray unsteady. He assumed she was new, anyhow. She had that look like she was unsure of what was happening around her. Her eyes were wide as her feet stumbled about, trying to avoid patrons.

He felt a pang of sympathy. She was lovely, really, with her dark hair pulled back at the nape and wide blue eyes that seemed to beg for someone to save her. As with all tavern wenches, she showed a fair amount of bosom and while it wasn’t overly large, it appeared exactly right for fitting into a man’s hand.

He shook his head. Christ, he had to slow down on the whisky if he was ogling some poor girl. He blinked to clear his vision but he couldn’t help but look at her again as she stopped just next to him and began to serve drinks to the fellows beside him.

Her back was to him but he grudgingly noted the tininess of her waist and the perfect lines of her neck as silky tresses brushed down it. He gave himself another shake. He’d never been a man to indulge himself in the pleasure of women. He’d kept his dalliances few and far between. Not that he didn’t have his share of female attention. But he found it sordid, distracting him from more meaningful pursuits.

The one time he’d fallen in love, she’d only proven what a distraction affection truly was. Sarah had not only broken his heart, she’d clouded his judgment. He’d never forgive himself.

The serving girl made to leave but one of the men at the table stopped her. “What’s yer rush?” He crassly grabbed her by the waist and pulled her into his lap. “Ye just got here.”

He could see her trying to push away. “There are a great many customers and I—”

There was no mistaking her accent. It was as refined as her looks. But what would a woman of grace being doing serving in a place like this?

“Don’t ye sound lovely.” The man holding her captive spoke Theo’s thought aloud. “I’ve always wanted a woman like you under me.”

With those words, she jerked away, knocking into the table, as the freshly poured drinks tipped wildly. Theo was up before he could think too much and caught the table, righting it. But the drinks did not recover as well and several spilled, crashing to the floor.

She jumped back as the liquid soaked her, bumping into him. Without thought he wrapped his free hand around her waist. “I’ve got you,” he whispered close to her ear.

She turned back to him then, as those wide blue eyes stared into his, her mouth forming an O. For just a second, he pressed her closer and she felt like nothing he’d ever held before. Then he tucked her behind him.

The men at the table stood. “You idiot,” the man who’d just held her roared. “Yer paying fer those drinks.”

The others grumbled in agreement and Theo let go of the table, standing straighter. “You should have kept your hands to yourself.”

“Stay out of it.” The man stepped closer, waving his finger in Theo’s face. “It’s not your concern.”

“I disagree.” Theo began just as the man swung his fist directly at Theo’s face. He side-stepped the blow. Rather impressive, he thought to himself considering the amount of whisky he’d consumed, and gave the man a quick fist to the gut.

Tags: Tammy Andresen Wicked Lords of London Historical
Source: readsnovelonline.net