Looking the shipping crate over for damage and seeing none,
he retrieved an iron crow from a workbench. Jo was standing inside the doors,
eyeing the box doubtfully from a safe distance.
“Come closer. It won’t bite.”
“Not a chance. From the smell of that thing, a person would
think you’re importing cadavers. Have you also taken up being a Resurrectionist
as a hobby?”
He patted the crate affectionately. “This sweet thing has
been sitting in the bowels of a ship from Antwerp. You know what the hold of a
ship smells like?”
“Actually, I don’t.” She held a handkerchief to her nose and
drew closer. “But I think you’re correct with the reference to ‘bowels.’”
Hugh took the first nail out. “Well, stand back, since you’ve
become so prissy. Though I recall a younger version of you leading the rest of
us through bogs and marshes that smelled no better.”
“Of course! But as I recall, we had frogs and turtles and
the occasional dragon that needed hunting,” she replied with a smile. “Very
well. Open it and let’s see this treasure of yours.”
Prying off the top took him only a moment. Throwing it to
the side, he pulled back the tarp that covered the basket and then stared
curiously at the dark green rags bundled at the bottom.
Leaning in, Hugh’s enthusiasm evaporated as a horrid
realization settled in. This was no pile of old clothing. A shock of blond
hair. A shoe. A hand. The body of a dead woman lay curled up in the gondola.
“Bloody hell.”
“What is it?” Immediately, Jo was at his side. “Good God!”
Hugh climbed in and crouched beside the body. He took her
hand. She was cold to the touch. His heart sank. The crate had been shipped
from Antwerp. To be trapped for so many days with no water, no food, in the
cold and damp of the ship’s hold. He had no idea who this woman was or how she
came to be in here.
The thought struck him. Perhaps it wasn’t an inadvertent
act. Perhaps she was murdered and her body had been dumped into the crate.
Dismay and alarm clawed at him as he pushed away the matted
ringlets of golden hair. She was young. He lifted her chin. The body had none
of the stiffness of postmortem. He stared at her lips. He may have imagined it
but they seemed to have moved.
“Bright . . .” The whisper was a mere rustle of leaves in a
breeze.
The fingers jerked and came to life, clutching at his hand.
“She’s not dead,” he called to Jo, relieved. “Send for the
doctor. I’ll take her to the house.”
His sister ran out, calling for help, and he lifted the
woman. She emitted a low groan. Her limbs had been locked in the same cramped
position for so many days. Hugh propped her over the side of the gondola.
“Stay with me,” he encouraged. “Talk to me.”
Holding the woman in place, he clambered from the basket and
then gently lifted her out, cradling her in his arms. She weighed next to
nothing.
As they went out into the rain, he feared she was about to
die. The exertion of trying to breathe showed on her face. He’d seen this on
the battlefield. The final effort before death.
Starting up the path, he stumbled, not realizing the woman’s
skirts were dragging on the ground. He staggered but caught himself before they
went down. Her head lolled against his chest, her face gray and mask-like. She
appeared to be slipping away. It would be a shame that she’d survived the
crossing only to perish now.
A dagger point of anger pierced Hugh’s brain as he recalled
another dismal day when he’d lifted two other bodies, wrapped in burial
shrouds, from a wooden box.
“Talk to me,” he ordered. “Say something.”
As he made his way up the hill toward the house, a bolt of
lightning streaked across the sky above Baronsford. Thunder shook the ground
and the sky opened, unleashing fierce torrents of rain on them.
His wife. His son. Hugh hadn’t been there for them. They’d
died as he and the British army were being chased by the French across Spain.
He’d been trying to save his men’s lives, not knowing that those most precious
to him were suffering.
“You’ve survived a horrifying ordeal. Give me the chance to
save you.”
The woman struggled weakly in Hugh’s arms, and her head
tipped back. He watched as her lips parted, welcoming the wetness of the
falling rain.
“We’re almost there.”
“Bright . . .” she murmured.
He looked into her face and saw she was trying hard to open
her eyes.
“Yes, brighter than that crate,” he said, encouraged by her
effort. Any movement, however small, gave him hope. “And you’ve been in there
for Lord knows how long.”
Blurb:
Hugh Pennington—Viscount Greysteil, Lord Justice of the
Scottish Courts, hero of the Napoleonic wars—is a grieving widower with a death
wish. When he receives an expected crate from the continent, he is shocked to
find a nearly dead woman inside. Her identity is unknown, and the handful of
American coins and the precious diamond sown into her dress only deepen the
mystery.
Grace Ware is an enemy to the English crown. Her father, an
Irish military commander of Napoleon’s defeated army. Her mother, an exiled
Scottish Jacobite. When Grace took shelter in a warehouse, running from her
father’s murderers through the harbor alleyways of Antwerp, she never
anticipated bad luck to deposit her at the home of an aristocrat in the
Scottish Borders. Baronsford is the last place she could expect to find safety,
and Grace feigns a loss of memory to buy herself time while she recovers.
Hugh is taken by her beauty, passion, and courage to
challenge his beliefs and open his mind. Grace finds in him a wounded man of
honor, proud but compassionate. When their duel of wits quickly turns to
passion and romance, Grace’s fears begin to dissolve…until danger follows her
to the very doors of Baronsford. For, unknown to either of them, Grace has in
her possession a secret that will wreak havoc within the British government.
Friend and foe are indistinguishable as lethal forces converge to tear the two
lovers apart or destroy them both.
Amazon buy link:
https://www.amazon.com/Romancing-Scot-Pennington-Family-McGoldrick-ebook/dp/B0746MLYFZ/ref=twoen-20
Amazon buy link:
https://www.amazon.com/Romancing-Scot-Pennington-Family-McGoldrick-ebook/dp/B0746MLYFZ/ref=twoen-20
Buy Links
Author Bio
Authors Nikoo and Jim McGoldrick (writing as May McGoldrick) weave emotionally satisfying tales of love and danger. Publishing under the names of May McGoldrick and Jan Coffey, these authors have written more than thirty novels and works of nonfiction for Penguin Random House, Mira, HarperCollins, Entangled, and Heinemann. Nikoo, an engineer, also conducts frequent workshops on writing and publishing and serves as a Resident Author. Jim holds a Ph.D. in Medieval and Renaissance literature and teaches English in northwestern Connecticut. They are the authors of Much Ado About Highlanders, Taming the Highlander, and Tempest in the Highlands with SMP Swerve.
Authors Nikoo and Jim McGoldrick (writing as May McGoldrick) weave emotionally satisfying tales of love and danger. Publishing under the names of May McGoldrick and Jan Coffey, these authors have written more than thirty novels and works of nonfiction for Penguin Random House, Mira, HarperCollins, Entangled, and Heinemann. Nikoo, an engineer, also conducts frequent workshops on writing and publishing and serves as a Resident Author. Jim holds a Ph.D. in Medieval and Renaissance literature and teaches English in northwestern Connecticut. They are the authors of Much Ado About Highlanders, Taming the Highlander, and Tempest in the Highlands with SMP Swerve.
Author Links
Website: www.maymcgoldrick.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/MayMcGoldrick
Twitter: https://twitter.com/MayMcGoldrick
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