Sarah Mallory - Beneath the Major's Scars

Twin brothers Dominic and Jasper Coale

set Society’s tongues wagging

with their disreputable behaviour.

Get to know the real men behind the

scandalous reputations in this deliciously

wicked duet from Sarah Mallory!

Major Dominic Coale

He’s locked away in his castle in the woods,

with only his tormenting memories for

company, until governess Zelah Pentewan

crosses the threshold …

BENEATH THE MAJOR’S SCARS

December 2012

Jasper Coale, Viscount Markham

Used to having his own way where women

are concerned, Jasper would bet his fortune

on being able to seduce beautiful

Susannah Prentess—but she proves

stubbornly resistant to his charms!

BEHIND THE RAKE’S WICKED WAGER

January 2013

Identical twins—fascinating, aren’t they? And they have been used very often in plots—by Shakespeare and Georgette Heyer, amongst others.

I have identical twin boys myself, and they came as a bit of a shock. It was only after the birth that I learned there were twins on my mother’s side of the family, and as she and I were both born under the star sign of Gemini—the twins—perhaps I should have been more prepared! However, I know from experience that twins are individuals, so when I decided to write about Jasper and Dominic Coale I wanted to give them very different stories. I began with Dominic, the younger brother. This is his story.

It was common practice amongst the English aristocracy for younger sons to join the army, and so it is with Dominic. He goes off to fight in the Peninsula War, but after suffering terrible injuries he finds his life takes a very different turn from that of his twin.

When Zelah (and the reader) first meets Dominic he has retired to Rooks Tower, an isolated house on Exmoor. He is irascible and a confirmed recluse, but Zelah’s young nephew Nicky has seen beyond his defensive shell and considers Dominic a firm friend. It is through Nicky that Zelah and Dominic meet and discover a mutual attraction, although they are both reluctant to acknowledge it. Zelah has been hurt before, and is determined upon an independent life, while Dominic believes his scarred face and body must repel every woman. They both have lessons to learn if they are to achieve happiness.

Some time ago I wrote a Christmas story—SNOWBOUND WITH THE NOTORIOUS RAKE—which is set on Exmoor, the beautiful wild moors in the south-west of England. Ever since I have wanted to use Exmoor again, so this is where Dominic buys his property, Rooks Tower, and it is here that Zelah falls in love with the proud man behind the horrific scars.

I really enjoyed writing Dominic and Zelah’s story, and I hope you have as much pleasure reading it.

SARAH MALLORYwas born in Bristol, and now lives in an old farmhouse on the edge of the Pennines with her husband and family. She left grammar school at sixteen to work in companies as varied as stockbrokers, marine engineers, insurance brokers, biscuit manufacturers and even a quarrying company. Her first book was published shortly after the birth of her daughter. She has published more than a dozen books under the pen-name of Melinda Hammond, winning the Reviewers’ Choice Award in 2005 from Singletitles.com for Dance for a Diamond and the Historical Novel Society’s Editors’ Choice in November 2006 for Gentlemen in Question .

THE WICKED BARON MORE

THAN A GOVERNESS

(part of On Mothering Sunday )

WICKED CAPTAIN, WAYWARD WIFE

THE EARL’S RUNAWAY BRIDE

DISGRACE AND DESIRE

TO CATCH A HUSBAND …

SNOWBOUND WITH THE NOTORIOUS RAKE

(part of An Improper Regency Christmas )

THE DANGEROUS LORD DARRINGTON

Look for Sarah Mallory’s THE ILLEGITIMATE MONTAGUE part of Castonbury Park Regency mini-series Available now

Did you know that some of these novels are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk

Sarah Mallory

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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For P and S, my own twin heroes.

Cornwall—1808

The room was very quiet. The screams and cries, the frantic exertions of the past twelve hours were over. The bloodied cloths and the tiny, lifeless body had been removed and the girl lay between clean sheets, only the glow of firelight illuminating the room. Through the window a single star twinkled in the night sky. She did not seek it out, she had no energy for such conscious effort, but it was in her line of vision and it was easier to fix her eyes on that single point of light than to move her head.

Her body felt like a dead weight, exhausted by the struggle she had endured. Part of her wondered why she was still alive, when it would be so much better for everyone if she had been allowed to die with her baby.

She heard the soft click of the opening door and closed her eyes, not wishing to hear the midwife’s brisk advice or her aunt’s heart-wrenching sympathy.

‘Poor lamb.’ Aunt Wilson’s voice was hardly more than a sigh. ‘Will she survive, do you think?’

‘Ah, she’ll live, she’s a strong ‘un.’ From beneath her lashes the girl could see the midwife standing at the foot of the bed, wiping her hands on her bloody apron. ‘Although it might be better if she didn’t.’

‘Ah, don’t say that!’ Aunt Wilson’s voice cracked. ‘She is still God’s creature, even though she has sinned.’

The midwife sniffed.

‘Then the Lord had better look out for her, poor dearie, for her life is proper blighted and that’s for sure. No man will want her to wife now.’

‘She must find some way to support herself. I cannot keep her indefinitely, and my poor brother and his wife have little enough: the parish of Cardinham is one of the poorest in Cornwall.’

There was a pause, then the midwife said, ‘She ain’t cut out to be a bal maiden.’

‘To work in the mines? Never! She is too well bred for that.’

‘Not too well bred to open her legs for a man—’

Aunt Wilson gasped in outrage.

‘You have said quite enough, Mrs Nore. Your work is finished here, I will look after my niece from now on. Come downstairs and I will pay you for your trouble …’

The rustle of skirts, a soft click of the door and silence. She was alone again.

It was useless to wish she had died with her baby. She had not, and the future seemed very bleak, nothing but hard work and drudgery. That was her punishment for falling in love. She would face that, and she would survive, but she would never put her trust in any man again. She opened her eyes and looked at that tiny, twinkling orb.

‘You shall be my witness,’ she whispered, her lips painfully dry and her throat aching with the effort. ‘No man shall ever do this to me again.’