Strictly Forbidden Read online

  Strictly Forbidden

  By

  Shayla Black

  Writing as Shelley Bradley

  Strictly Forbidden

  Shayla Black

  Writing as Shelley Bradley

  Copyright 2012 Shelley Bradley LLC

  Edited by Chloe Vale

  Published by Shelley Bradley LLC

  ISBN: 978-1-936596-16-4

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the work of the author's imagination, or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.

  Bonus Material and Excerpts at the end of the book

  Chapter One

  Bramley Village, Surrey, England – April, 1836

  “You are going to love Miss Melbourne,” James Howland assured. “Truly. Once you come to know her, I’m certain you will.”

  Gavin Daggett, the fifth Duke of Cropthorne, nodded with suppressed amusement. His usually imperturbable cousin had been babbling nervously for the past two hours.

  In truth, it mattered little if he liked James’s fiancée, much less came to love her. What mattered most was that she suited James, was appropriately well bred, and not the kind of woman to cause scandal.

  Though just the day after Easter, an unusually strong spring sun beat down. Gavin lamented the fact that James wished to wait outside for Miss Melbourne’s arrival. Scarcely a breeze stirred, and he was beginning to sweat in his new plum-colored coat. But if he could please James, who had always been like a brother, with such a small act, Gavin would do it without complaint.

  Lifting a hand to shield his eyes from the bright afternoon rays, Gavin shifted his attention from the narrow, dusty lane to James fidgeting beside him. He wished the man every felicitation in marriage. Unfortunately, business in London had kept Gavin occupied too often of late to meet Miss Melbourne. He had noted, however, that his cousin’s correspondence had been curiously absent of her name until two weeks ago. Still, he felt as if he should know her or had recently heard her name…

  Or perhaps lack of sleep that came with launching a new railroad had finally muddled his mind. With his thumb and forefinger, he rubbed his gritty eyes.

  James grabbed his sleeve. “Truly, she is a good, God-fearing woman.”

  At the note of supplication in James’s voice, Gavin faced his earnest cousin. “If Miss Melbourne has secured your affection, I have no doubt she is all that is good and proper.”

  James gazed down the tree-lined lane, a whisper of a breeze ruffling his wheat-colored hair. His shoulders remained tense. Even men of God could be nervous about matrimony, Gavin supposed with a wry grin.

  “Miss Melbourne is very good,” James said finally. “Very kind. She has that rare gift of smiling with her whole face.”

  If the nicest thing James could say about Miss Melbourne concerned her smile, she likely lacked the beauty to be the toast of the ton. But such a girl would suit a country clergyman like James, who had never sought beauty, but goodness. Gavin’s gentle cousin yearned for honesty, favored diplomacy, and did his utmost to understand every man’s perspective, sometimes to his own detriment.

  With a homely, if kind wife, James need never worry about controlling the infamous Daggett lust, as Gavin’s late father and many other Daggetts before him had—quite unsuccessfully.

  Indeed, Gavin himself had used his iron will to repress it for years.

  James’s earnest expression told Gavin that his cousin looked for approval, and he smiled. “She sounds splendid. Have you told Aunt Caroline yet?”

  Pausing, James looked away, down the lane once more. “Mama has been off in London. I thought it best to inform her of my nuptials in person.”

  Gavin nodded, conceding the wisdom of that thought. Aunt Caroline had delicate sensibilities where her only son was concerned. “True. You may share your happy news after she arrives tonight.”

  James answered with a stiff nod.

  Curious now, Gavin ventured, “You’ve told me a bit of Miss Melbourne but nothing of her family. Do we know them?”

  “Not really.” James shrugged, seemingly fascinated by the empty lane. “They are from Suffolk and move in country circles. Her father rarely stays in England. He prefers to travel.” He paused. “Her mother moved… abroad some years ago.”

  Moved abroad, away from her husband and children? Had they separated?

  Before he could inquire further, the rumble of hoof beats and the jangle of horse bridles sounded `round the bend, interrupting. A simple black coach rolled down the rough-hewn lane, spewing a thin layer of dust in its wake.

  “This should be Miss Melbourne and her brother now.” James folded his hands before him, waiting with straight shoulders and a pursed mouth as the carriage came toward Norfield Park, Gavin’s country manor house.

  “Indeed.” Gavin smiled, still amused by James’s nervous gestures.

  “You will like Miss Melbourne’s brother. Darius is quite the sportsman.”

  “Then he will keep this countryside from being deadly dull, I’m sure.”

  As the simple black conveyance lumbered and lurched to a stop at the manor house’s steps, James cast a sober glance to Gavin. “Thank you for coming with me to greet Miss Melbourne. I truly want you to like her.”

  James was nearly as insistent as a costermonger, Gavin thought with a smile. “I am sure I will come to think as highly of her as you.”

  “That is my dearest wish.”

  As James stepped toward the coach, the footmen stepped down and opened the door. Dust floated in the gentle wind, almost like a mist around the conveyance. As usual during the spring season, James sneezed.

  The first person to depart the coach was a man. As the stranger ducked to exit, Gavin caught a glimpse of black hair. Upon his tall, elegant frame, the man wore a stylish riding costume with a fitted blue coat and well-polished boots. Gavin saw a flash of very tanned cheeks and an aquiline nose before the man turned to the coach and held out his hand.

  A woman’s slender fingers appeared from the vehicle next, covered in short gloves of cream-colored silk netting. A single gold bracelet on her right arm, just above her glove, winked in the sunlight. A puffed poplin sleeve of muted blue flowers followed. Then her head emerged—a pale oval bonnet atop thick black curls, as shiny as wet ink. Narrow shoulders appeared in a delicate tiered cape that fell to her elbows. She stepped down to the dirt lane, feet snuggly wrapped in soft kid boots. Though she was surprisingly tall, her movements hinted at grace.

  The woman, Miss Melbourne he presumed, looked up. A hint of a smile graced her mouth as her gaze tangled with his.

  In an instant, her violet blue eyes stunned him like a kick in the gut.

  Miss Melbourne was not exactly a beauty; he had been right about that. But she was the most exotic creature Gavin had ever set eyes on.

  And she was James’s betrothed?

  Gavin froze, staring at the firm angle of her jaw and her wide, wanton mouth. He could not find a word to
say.

  A man thought of one thing when he looked at such a woman, and it was not the latest fashion. Gavin swallowed as lust sliced a sudden gash deep through his belly, straight down to his cock. He let out a shaky breath.

  Why had reserved James, a clergyman, no less, chosen a woman as sensual as Miss Melbourne for his bride? She was not the kind of woman to blend in with a small country parish, particularly not as the parson’s wife.

  She was not the kind of woman to blend in anywhere.

  Had his cousin finally felt the call of the lustful Daggett blood? Always, James had been far more interested in matters spiritual than sexual—at least until Miss Melbourne. But since she aroused more than his own curiosity, Gavin assumed she inspired the carnal in his cousin as well.

  Too stunned to move, he watched Miss Melbourne turn toward James, her shimmering black curls caressing her slender neck. Her eyes, framed by an extravagant border of coal-tinged lashes, shone a pure, vivid blue. Such a hint of the demure was an intoxicating contrast to the opulence of her face. Topped by the wings of her raven brows, her eyes were luminous, expressive… mysterious.

  All propriety, James bowed over Miss Melbourne’s hand as he greeted her with a low murmur of words. Her smile widened into something genuine. Gavin had never been one for poetry, but her radiant face did indeed glimmer like a sunrise.

  He discovered that taking his next breath presented some unaccustomed challenges. In fact, the more Gavin looked, the more enticing Miss Melbourne seemed.

  The elegance of her angled face, the smooth curve of her cheek, the wide forehead—yes, they were all more than agreeable. But another feature—an alarming one—snared his gaze: her perfectly unblemished skin, an olive shade which no pure English rose would willingly lay claim to.

  The man who had first emerged from the coach stepped into Gavin’s line of vision, eclipsing Miss Melbourne. Gavin realized this black-haired man, who possessed an even darker complexion, must be Darius Melbourne.

  James had obviously chosen a wife of foreign descent, one who claimed one or both parents from some faraway country like Italy, Spain, or even India. That seemed unlike traditional James, indeed.

  With a nervous lift to his mouth, James placed Miss Melbourne’s hand in the crook of his arm and stepped with her to Gavin’s side. Some emotion, anxiety perhaps, carved a little furrow between her dark brows as they approached.

  Miss Melbourne only provided more impact up close. Her mouth alone was an image from every man’s most sinful dream. He found that he could not look away.

  “Gavin, please meet Miss Kira Melbourne, my intended.”

  His intended. Gavin took a deep breath. Yes, he best not forget that fact. It would be unwise and unfair to engage in lewd thought about his cousin’s fiancée, no matter how much she inspired it. Miss Melbourne would, after all, soon share James’s life. And though intriguing, she was merely a woman. Gavin had met—and sampled—more than a few.

  She dropped into a perfectly proper curtsey and murmured, “I am honored, your grace.”

  He nodded, swallowing, and took her gloved hand to his lips. Damnation, she even smelled good, like vanilla swirled in moonlight.

  His mouth felt oddly dry. “Miss Melbourne.”

  Forcing his mind away from her… person, he turned her name over in his mind. Kira. It suited her, for it was exotic, a name he had never heard. From what culture had she acquired such a name—and such an incredible mouth?

  “And her brother Mr. Darius Melbourne,” James went on.

  The man extended his hand, and Gavin took it absently.

  “Your grace,” Melbourne greeted, meeting his grip.

  Gavin hardly took his eyes off the man’s sister.

  A moment later, the handshake ended. Everyone stood in silence. Gavin, despite years of milling about the ton, found he had to remind himself to play host.

  “Shall we go inside?” he asked finally.

  But the questions in his head were so different. Why had Miss Melbourne agreed to wed James? When had his cousin become so damned lucky with this particular lady?

  Had his lustful Daggett blood chosen now—and chosen Miss Melbourne—over which to roar?

  * * * *

  “How do you like Norfield Park?” Kira’s fiancé, Mr. James Howland, asked an hour later as the foursome sat with their tea.

  Kira glanced about at the elegance of the duke’s home, surveying everything from the elaborate plaster moldings lining the ceilings to the thick, jewel-toned carpets.

  “I’m entranced, I confess.” She sent a scolding glance to her fiancé. “It is far too grand to be merely comfortable.”

  James shrugged, looking boyish. “I spent much of my youth here, so allow me to be less impressed by its appeal. But I am most happy if you like it.”

  “Oh, I do.”

  Kira gave him an indulgent smile. As with all things, James displayed his charm and kindness at once.

  She could not say the same, however, for his cousin.

  The duke was reserved, haughty even. His demeanor, his reticence, communicated that fact. But Kira had expected such behavior. A man of his consequence could have no interest in meeting her, the daughter of an earl’s second son, beyond indulging his poor relation.

  What she had not expected was the man himself. He was almost painfully handsome, standing nearly a full head taller than his cousin, watching her with fathomless dark eyes. She wished he would stop staring. Kira feared his grace was sizing up her faults, including her half-Persian heritage, and making a list he would later recite for Mr. Howland. But the duke might as easily have been contemplating estate business in his head. His eyes gave nothing away.

  Beside her, Darius nudged her ribs with his elbow, reminding her that she must overcome her natural reluctance to talk with new acquaintances.

  “Your grace, certainly you are not so jaded as to find Norfield Park unremarkable, I hope.”

  The duke sharpened his focus on her. Kira could swear an invisible line existed between them, almost connecting them. Most likely, she was attuned to his anger. Had he heard the rumors of her debacle with Lord Vance? Quite possibly. And he, like most in England’s good families, would not relish the idea of a woman of mixed heritage joining their family, much less a half-breed woman with a scandal.

  Taking a surreptitious breath, Kira reminded herself that she would soon wed James, and those who indulged in the ugly gossip about her would move onto the next tale. Then perhaps she would finally have peace and a place where people accepted her for her, rather than judging her for the circumstances of her heritage.

  “Indeed, I do not,” the duke answered. “I prefer Norfield to nearly every place on earth. I regret that I am called away much on business to London and must often leave Norfield because of it. The grounds alone make it excellent.”

  Well, his grace did not lack pride in what he owned, just an easy manner.

  “Indeed. I shall take you and Darius on a tour tomorrow, if you like?” Mr. Howland offered.

  She smiled. “I should like that very much.”

  Her fiancé was a good man, a kind one, full of understanding and caring. He was the type of man willing to turn his life upside down to help her. Kira feared merely being his wife would never repay even half the debt she owed. Perhaps she would come to love him in time, as he deserved.

  “Splendid idea, James,” said Cropthorne.

  Silence fell. The duke stared at her, gaze dark, inscrutable. Kira resisted the urge to fidget in her seat.

  “Mr. Howland informs me that you are one of the primary investors in a new railroad,” she ventured to break the silence.

  The rise of Cropthorne’s dark brow reflected surprise. “I am. The T & S will open its London to Birmingham route in roughly two months.”

  “Then Gavin is fond of teasing that he shall finally have the time to find his sisters wealthy husbands who can pay their shocking modiste’s bill,” James said, laughing.

  “They had best be wea
lthy men, given Kate’s and Anne’s tastes.” The duke even cracked a smile, to her surprise.

  But still he stared at her, and Kira looked away. Despite that, his handsome countenance lingered in her mind.

  That invisible something, that odd… awareness she felt between she and Cropthorne, it did not make sense. His demeanor suggested that he did not approve of her. And Kira was discomfited by his aristocratic manner. Oddly, though, she was mindful of his every word, his every gesture.

  The Duke of Cropthorne was a difficult man to ignore.

  He was also dangerous, with his wealth, power, his sway over his younger cousin, and his apparent disapproval of her. For those reasons, Kira vowed to cut his grace a very wide path.

  * * * *

  Gavin was not surprised when he received a summons from his Aunt Caroline close to midnight.

  His father’s younger sister had all but raised him when his own mother died shortly after his tenth birthday. Caroline was like a mother to him, and he knew her very well because of it. When he’d noticed her stewing after James made the announcement of his upcoming nuptials following dinner, Gavin knew his aunt would wish to speak with him, sooner rather than later.

  He approached Caroline’s door, knocking quietly as he arrived. Impatiently, she flung the door open. She met him in a long blue dressing gown, face flushed, mouth taut.

  “The others sought their beds a half hour past. I’m surprised it took you this long to send for me,” he teased.

  “Gavin, how can you torment me at such a time? This is terrible. Simply dreadful!”

  “Since we’ve had fine weather of late, I can only assume you mean James’s choice of a bride.”

  “Of course! Have you any idea how entirely unsuitable she is for him? For any man of good breeding?” Aunt Caroline threw her hands in the air.

  Because his aunt was quite good at sending herself into a frenzy, Gavin had become skilled at calming her.

  “I admit she is something of a surprise, but James said she is a good, kind woman. We must allow that he knows the girl far better than we. Have we any reason to doubt his judgment?”