Margaret Moore - Scoundrel Of Dunborough

“I like you , Celeste, even when you’re angry with me.”

Warmth flooded through her. The heat of desire. Lust. Sin.

“I don’t care whether you like me or not. I am not leaving.”

“Oh, yes, you are,” he replied, in that same low, seductive tone. “You can come quietly and obediently, like a good little nun, or I’ll have to carry you.”

She must be strong. Her faith, her duty and her self-respect must make her so. “I will not allow you to drag me through the village like some chattel.”

“I didn’t say I’d drag you. I shall pick you up and carry you—like a groom carries his bride across the threshold.”

She swallowed hard and fought to maintain her composure … such as it was. “I am a bride of Christ and shall never be a man’s.”

Author Note Author Note Title Page About the Author Dedication Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three Chapter Twenty-Four Chapter Twenty-Five Chapter Twenty-Six Extract Copyright

I enjoy creating the main characters of my novels, but I also really enjoy coming up with secondary characters—the ‘best friends’, ‘second bananas’ and ‘bit players’. Sometimes I know from the planning stage who my secondary characters are going to be— especially if the character is a villain. Other times I realise in the writing that I need somebody for my hero or heroine to interact with. So sometimes very minor characters become more important.

Arnhelm and Verdan, who first appeared in Bride for a Knight, began as basic background characters. Then I realised I had more than one place where I had such characters. Why not combine them? Why not give them names?

Once they had names, I began to give them more to do. They were soldiers in the household of the heroine’s uncle, so they would know her better than the hero—at least at first. Why not make them a sort of protective Greek chorus, wondering and worrying about her?

Then I made them brothers, and the minute I did that I realised their friendly relationship could contrast with that of Roland and his twin brother, Gerrard.

Being a romance writer, I couldn’t resist giving Arnhelm and Verdan their own love interests—two female secondary characters who live in Dunborough. And I gave them a mother who is making a bit of trouble for them.

That’s how secondary characters become just as real and vital to me as the heroes and heroines of my stories—and I hope for my readers, too.

Scoundrel of Dunborough

Margaret Moore

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Award-winning author MARGARET MOOREhas written over fifty romance novels and novellas for Harlequin Mills & Boon, Avon Books and HarperCollins Children’s Books. Her stories have been set in the Dark Ages and medieval Britain, Restoration, Regency and Victorian England, and pre-Civil War Massachusetts. Margaret lives in Ontario, Canada, with her husband and two cats.

She can be found online at margaretmoore.com, margaretmoore.blogspot.comand @MargMooreAuthoron Twitter.

With thanks to my family and friends for their love and support, especially during times of crisis. It’s appreciated more than words can say.

Contents

Cover

Introduction “I like you , Celeste, even when you’re angry with me.” Warmth flooded through her. The heat of desire. Lust. Sin. “I don’t care whether you like me or not. I am not leaving.” “Oh, yes, you are,” he replied, in that same low, seductive tone. “You can come quietly and obediently, like a good little nun, or I’ll have to carry you.” She must be strong. Her faith, her duty and her self-respect must make her so. “I will not allow you to drag me through the village like some chattel.” “I didn’t say I’d drag you. I shall pick you up and carry you—like a groom carries his bride across the threshold.” She swallowed hard and fought to maintain her composure … such as it was. “I am a bride of Christ and shall never be a man’s.”

Author Note

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

England, 1214

The November night had fallen, but inside Sir Melvin’s hall, warmth and light dispelled the cold and gloom and provided a welcome shelter for the young woman dressed in the habit of a nun. She had been traveling many days, and it had been a long time since Celeste had enjoyed such comfort.

A fire blazed in the long central hearth and several torches lined the gray stone walls. Two beeswax candles in silver holders graced the trestle table covered in linen on the dais. Behind the high table where Celeste and the plump and prosperous Sir Melvin sat, a tapestry of knights and finely dressed ladies swayed. His wife, the calm and competent Lady Viola, was seated to his left. Servants male and female moved among the other tables, where the steward, a priest, retainers, senior servants and household guards prepared to eat the evening meal.

The elderly priest, who put Celeste in mind of Methuselah, finished the grace. Serving maids brought trenchers of stale bread to hold a thick beef stew. More bread sat in baskets on the table, and wine was poured into bronze goblets that gleamed with the reflected glow of the firelight.

“It’s kind of you to offer me shelter and such a fine meal,” Celeste said to her host, her voice soft and sincere.

“We’re delighted to have you stay the night, Sister,” Sir Melvin said with hearty good cheer and a broad smile. “Delighted!”

“We’ll be happy to provide you with an escort for the rest of your journey,” Lady Viola offered.

“I thank you,” Celeste replied, “but I have not far to go. I should reach Dunborough tomorrow.”

“Dunborough?” Sir Melvin couldn’t have sounded more astonished if she’d announced she was going to the devil and happily so. “Why are you—”

He caught his wife’s eye, cleared his throat and began again. “Dunborough, eh? I know the lord there. Sir Roland. He and his bride stopped here on their way from her home to Yorkshire. Lady Mavis of DeLac, she is.”

Celeste stopped reaching for a small brown loaf from the basket of bread on the table. “Sir Roland is lord of Dunborough and he’s married?” she asked, doing her best to hide her astonishment.

“His father and older brother died a short time ago and he is recently wed,” Lady Viola supplied.

Celeste had to believe her, and yet she still found it hard to imagine.

“A fine fellow, a fine fellow!” Sir Melvin cried, picking up his eating knife to carve a piece of beef from the roasted loin a neatly dressed servant set before them.

“Quiet and a bit stern for my liking,” he continued, “but I’m not the bride. Our byre caught on fire when they were here and she lost all her dower goods. He never asked for a penny in compensation.”

“And he led the efforts to put it out,” his wife noted.