Patricia Rowell - An Impetuous Abduction

Glancing back at the girl as they climbed the bank into the old trail, he felt very thoroughly the cad she had called him.

A marauder, returning to port with his prize in tow.

And quite a prize she was. Beautifully made. Impressive mettle. He found the task of making himself forget the feel of her warm, soft body struggling against his to be more than he could manage. As was trying to remember that he was a gentleman.

“Lord Hades” did not feel like a gentleman.

Hastily dismounting, he hurried back to his hostage. “Come, we still must travel a bit farther. You will ride with me.”

She stumbled, and he slipped an arm around her. She was shivering, her teeth chattering. If he didn’t get her to shelter soon, she would be ill.

The business with the girl had taken its toll on him—not the physical struggle so much as the sense of responsibility, the worry over her future.

And his, come to think of it. For absconding with a nobleman’s daughter might have severe consequences if he were found out…

Praise for

PATRICIA FRANCES ROWELL

A TREACHEROUS PROPOSITION‘…a page-flipping, high-action adventure.’ — Romantic Times BOOKreviews

A DANGEROUS SEDUCTION‘Rowell creates a wonderful Gothic atmosphere, using beautiful Cornwall and its history of smuggling and shipwrecks to enhance her story.’ — Romantic Times BOOKreviews

A PERILOUS ATTRACTION‘Promising Regency-era debut… a memorable heroine who succeeds in capturing the hero’s heart as well as the reader’s.’ — Publishers Weekly

Patricia Frances Rowelllives in the woods of Northern Louisiana with her husband, Johnny, in a home they built themselves. There they enjoy visits from their collective seven children, numerous children-in-law and eight grandchildren, as well as making friends with the local wildlife. Please stop by her website at www.patriciafrancesrowell.com to visit.

Recent novels by the same author:

A PERILOUS ATTRACTION

A DANGEROUS SEDUCTION

A TREACHEROUS PROPOSITION

A SCANDALOUS SITUATION

Patricia Frances Rowell

www.millsandboon.co.uk

This book is about family, and it is dedicated to

my first family—My parents, Willard Houghton Moore

and Mary Edna Butler Moore, and the best brother

in the world, John Willard Moore

And every time for the love of my life, Johnny

AND A WORD OF THANKS

To the kindest of all editors, Ann Leslie Tuttle,

my appreciation. You took a chance on me and

gave me the chance I needed. Thank you, dear.

1796, Derbyshire, England

The little girl plastered herself against the wall, her gaze held fast by the long streamer of ribbon she twisted around her finger.

“Come now, Phona dearest.” Mama smiled and placed an encouraging arm across her shoulders. “You want to play the game with the other children, don’t you?”

A cold paralysis enfolded the child. Everyone was looking.

At her.

She pushed harder against the wall. Her mother pried the ribbon loose from her clenched hand. “Now, Phona, my love, you don’t want to rumple your new frock. You must be perfect for your party.”

Phona clutched her pristine white skirt with both hands and transferred her gaze to the tips of her white kid slippers. The immobilizing chill seemed to be taking even her breath.

She could not. She could not. She just could not.

“Phona.” Her mother’s smile faded as she jerked the fabric away from Phona’s small hands and tried to smooth it. “This is the outside of enough. Come and join the game. The party is for you.”

The little girl began to chew on her knuckle. Tears pushed their way out from behind her eyelids. She didn’t know these children. She didn’t know the other ladies. They were all looking.

At her.

Someone tittered. Mama seized her arm and pulled her away from the wall, yanking her fingers out of her mouth. “That looks very disagreeable.” She was not smiling at all now. “Do not be such a baby, Phona. You are a great girl of five years. Big girls do not cry at parties.”

A sob burst out of the child’s constricted throat, but not a word could she utter. Someone else laughed.

Now Mama looked angry. “I went to a great deal of bother for this, and now you will not even play.”

Had a pride of lions descended on her, Phona could not have, at that moment, moved. Could not have run away.

Her mother had on her scary face now. She gave the girl a hard shake and leaned the scary face close to hers.

“Persephone Proserpina! You are embarrassing me!”

She was dragged from the room in disgrace.

Chapter One

1811, Derbyshire, England

There he was again.

The stranger on the hill.

Phona reined her gentle bay mare to a halt in the lee of a small copse and patted her on the neck. “What do you think he is doing, Firefly? He has been there on that tall, awkward-looking horse four times this week. And many times in the last several months.” She shaded her eyes with her hand. “I can’t see his face under that brimmed hat.”

The mare twitched her ears.

“No, he never makes a sound. I look up, and there he is, like an apparition in a penny dreadful. And like most apparitions, I suppose, he doesn’t seem to see me . Do you think he is a shade, Firefly?” The mare shook her head, rattling her bridle and bit. “No, I’m sure you are right. He must be flesh and blood.”

Between one breath and the next, the man disappeared again, leaving Phona to wonder if she and Firefly were wrong about his substantiality. “Did you see that? What can he be doing?”

The particular hill on which the non-apparition had appeared lay beyond her family’s land, so heeding all the usual cautions and admonitions, Phona never rode that far.

Today, however, she would make an exception. “Come, let us go and see if we can discover what is so interesting about that specific hill—other than the rider who so often appears atop it.”

Firefly sidled a bit. “Oh, stop that. I know that approaching him is completely improper. Today I have no patience with proper , nor with cautions and admonitions. None at all.”

Whoever the man was, speaking with him would be better than talking to her horse. Which was far better than the conversation of Old Ned, her presently evaded groom. Which was infinitely better than going to the little party of young ladies and their mothers to which she and Mama had not been invited.

Mama would have the vapors. Again.

Except that Mama was already having the vapors over the crushing snub dealt her by Mrs. Rowsley. Phona sighed. “I love Mama, Firefly. You know I do. But sometimes I become very out of patience with her.” And with cautions and admonitions.

Turning Firefly toward the distant hill, Phona gave her a tap of the crop and cantered across the rolling green landscape, enjoying the warm sunshine on her face and the crisp spring breeze streaming through her hair. She skirted scattered clumps of vegetation, drawing in the fragrance of early flowers emanating from them, and guided her mount around the numerous rocky outcrops. They jumped the drystone wall separating the Hathersage property from the neighbor’s and pulled up.