Read Online The Untamed Bride Plus Black Cobra 02-03 and Special Excerpt by Stephanie Laurens - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Stephanie Laurens
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vital in drawing out the Black Cobra’s men, and ultimately the Black Cobra himself.
They needed to lure him into striking, and for that they needed to reduce his cultists sufficiently to force him to act in person.
Not an easy task, yet by any reasonable estimation it should be within their collective ability. As a decoy, his role would be to deliberately make himself a target, and he didn’t want any extraneous young lady hanging on his arm while he was so engaged.
A tap on the door had him hesitating, then he called, “Come.”
It was Cobby.
“Thought you’d want to know.” Hand on the knob, his batman hovered by the door he’d closed. “I ducked back down the docks and asked around. Ferrar arrived over a week ago. Interesting thing is he had no bevy of natives with him—seems there was no room left on the frigate for more than him and his man.”
Del raised his brows. “Definitely interesting, but no doubt he’ll have had cultists coming in on other ships.”
Cobby nodded. “So you’d think. But it does mean he won’t necessarily have all that many just at present. Might have to resort to doing his own dirty work.” Cobby grinned malevolently. “Now wouldn’t that be a shame?”
Del smiled. “We can but hope.”
He nodded a dismissal and Cobby left, closing the door behind him.
Del glanced at the clock ticking on a sideboard. It was already after three, and what daylight there was would soon fade. He fell to pacing slowly before the fire, rehearsing suitable words with which to break the news to Miss Duncannon that, contrary to his aunts’ arrangements, she would be heading north alone.
It was well after four o’clock, and he’d grown increasingly impatient, before a feminine voice in the foyer, well modulated yet with an unmistakably haughty tone, heralded the return of Miss Duncannon.
Even as Del focused on the parlor door, the knob turned and the door swung inward. Bowden held it open to permit a lady—not so young—in a garnet red pelisse, her dark auburn hair swept up and tucked under a jaunty hat, who was juggling a plethora of bandboxes and packages to enter.
She swept in, her face alight, a smile curving lush red lips, as Bowden hurriedly said, “I believe this is the gentleman you’ve been waiting for, miss.”
Miss Duncannon abruptly halted. Animation leaching from her face, she looked across the room and saw him. After a moment, her gaze slowly meandered upward, until it reached his face.
Then she simply stared.
Clearing his throat, Bowden retreated, closing the door behind her. She blinked, stared again, then baldly asked, “ You’re Colonel Delborough?”
Del bit his tongue against an impulse to respond, “You’re Miss Duncannon?” Just one look, and his vision of a biddable young miss had evaporated; the lady was in her late twenties if she was a day.
And given the vision filling his eyes, why she was still a miss was beyond his comprehension.
She was… lush was the word that sprang to his mind. Taller than the average, she was built on stately, even queenly, lines, ripely curvaceous in all the right places. Even from across the room, he could tell her eyes were green; large, faintly slanting up at the outer corners, they were vibrantly alive, awake and aware, alert to all that went on around her.
Her features were elegant, refined, her lips full and ripe, elementally tempting, but the firmness of her chin suggested determination, backbone and a forthrightness beyond the norm.
Duly noting that last, he bowed. “Indeed—Colonel Derek Delborough.” Sadly, not at your service . Quashing the wayward thought, he smoothly continued, “I believe your parents made some arrangement with my aunts for me to act as escort on your journey north. Sadly, that’s not possible—I have business to attend to before I can return to Humberside.”
Deliah Duncannon blinked, with an effort dragged her senses from their preoccupation with shoulders and a wide chest which
They needed to lure him into striking, and for that they needed to reduce his cultists sufficiently to force him to act in person.
Not an easy task, yet by any reasonable estimation it should be within their collective ability. As a decoy, his role would be to deliberately make himself a target, and he didn’t want any extraneous young lady hanging on his arm while he was so engaged.
A tap on the door had him hesitating, then he called, “Come.”
It was Cobby.
“Thought you’d want to know.” Hand on the knob, his batman hovered by the door he’d closed. “I ducked back down the docks and asked around. Ferrar arrived over a week ago. Interesting thing is he had no bevy of natives with him—seems there was no room left on the frigate for more than him and his man.”
Del raised his brows. “Definitely interesting, but no doubt he’ll have had cultists coming in on other ships.”
Cobby nodded. “So you’d think. But it does mean he won’t necessarily have all that many just at present. Might have to resort to doing his own dirty work.” Cobby grinned malevolently. “Now wouldn’t that be a shame?”
Del smiled. “We can but hope.”
He nodded a dismissal and Cobby left, closing the door behind him.
Del glanced at the clock ticking on a sideboard. It was already after three, and what daylight there was would soon fade. He fell to pacing slowly before the fire, rehearsing suitable words with which to break the news to Miss Duncannon that, contrary to his aunts’ arrangements, she would be heading north alone.
It was well after four o’clock, and he’d grown increasingly impatient, before a feminine voice in the foyer, well modulated yet with an unmistakably haughty tone, heralded the return of Miss Duncannon.
Even as Del focused on the parlor door, the knob turned and the door swung inward. Bowden held it open to permit a lady—not so young—in a garnet red pelisse, her dark auburn hair swept up and tucked under a jaunty hat, who was juggling a plethora of bandboxes and packages to enter.
She swept in, her face alight, a smile curving lush red lips, as Bowden hurriedly said, “I believe this is the gentleman you’ve been waiting for, miss.”
Miss Duncannon abruptly halted. Animation leaching from her face, she looked across the room and saw him. After a moment, her gaze slowly meandered upward, until it reached his face.
Then she simply stared.
Clearing his throat, Bowden retreated, closing the door behind her. She blinked, stared again, then baldly asked, “ You’re Colonel Delborough?”
Del bit his tongue against an impulse to respond, “You’re Miss Duncannon?” Just one look, and his vision of a biddable young miss had evaporated; the lady was in her late twenties if she was a day.
And given the vision filling his eyes, why she was still a miss was beyond his comprehension.
She was… lush was the word that sprang to his mind. Taller than the average, she was built on stately, even queenly, lines, ripely curvaceous in all the right places. Even from across the room, he could tell her eyes were green; large, faintly slanting up at the outer corners, they were vibrantly alive, awake and aware, alert to all that went on around her.
Her features were elegant, refined, her lips full and ripe, elementally tempting, but the firmness of her chin suggested determination, backbone and a forthrightness beyond the norm.
Duly noting that last, he bowed. “Indeed—Colonel Derek Delborough.” Sadly, not at your service . Quashing the wayward thought, he smoothly continued, “I believe your parents made some arrangement with my aunts for me to act as escort on your journey north. Sadly, that’s not possible—I have business to attend to before I can return to Humberside.”
Deliah Duncannon blinked, with an effort dragged her senses from their preoccupation with shoulders and a wide chest which
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