Elizabeth Hoyt: Scandalous Desires

And that, Gentle Reader, made all the difference in the world….

The harlequin leaned against a brick wall, panting. He thought he might be nearly to St. Giles, but he couldn’t be sure. They’d run him through the streets like a bull to slaughter.

Blood was seeping from a wound on his thigh, soaking into his tunic and leggings, growing cold and making him shiver in the late spring air. He looked up, trying to judge the time, but since the sun was hiding sullenly behind gray clouds, it was impossible.

It had taken him almost an hour to lose the rabid crowd. They’d been promised a hanging. They’d dressed in their Sunday best and gone out cheerfully to Tyburn for a festive spectacle and at the very last minute they’d been denied their entertainment.

Natural, then, that their ire had turned to him, the source of their disappointment.

The harlequin straightened away from the wall, testing his feet. The street swirled and dipped sickeningly and he abruptly emptied his stomach into the channel. Must’ve gotten knocked on the head. Strange how blurry everything seemed.

Somewhere in his mind a tiny alarm bell began sounding.

He tried walking but found he had to grip the wall to stay upright. A further few feet and even that support failed. Blackness was crowding in on his vision and he fell to his knees. He heard the clip-clop of hoof beats nearby, and slowly, agonizingly turned his head. A carriage was turning the corner.

His sword dropped from his fist, clattering to the cobblestones. And then his cheek was on the cold, filthy stones. His eyes were slits as he watched the carriage draw nearer.

His last thought before the darkness took him was how surprised they would be when they discovered who he was.

Then Winter Makepeace, the Ghost of St. Giles, fell headlong into the enveloping black.

Copyright

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright © 2011 by Nancy M. Finney

Excerpt from Thief of Shadows copyright © 2011 by Nancy M. Finney

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

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First eBook Edition: November 2011

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ISBN: 978-1-609-41912-7