Abandon

CHAPTER ONE The Scilly IslandsCornwall, England The castle servants had warned him that he would pay for ignoring the girl. On the very night he took possession of the ancient keep, the domestic prophets of doom surrounded him in the hallway. They assured him that the girl possessed some vague magical powers which she would use against him for turning her away. "And what sort of magical powers might those be?" he had asked out of amused curiosity. "She brings rainbows to the sky after a storm," the castle housekeeper said proudly. The coachman nodded. "She causes flowers to bloom where nary a weed could grow before.""Oh, my goodness, Anthony said, hiding a grin. "These are terrifying powers, indeed. Is it safe to leave my room?""And she's under the protection of the sorceress Morgan le Fay, King Arthur's own sister," a chambermaid piped in ominously. "Not the same King Arthur who lived in Saxon times?" Anthony walked the small group of servants into the bronze umbrella stand, his voice rising. "Who probably never lived at all and, if he did live, would have banished the lot of you to the dungeon for aggravation?" "The one and only Arthur," the housekeeper said, adding under her breath as she hid behind the coachman, "and old Annie Jenkins has had a vision that you and Miss Halliwell are destined to marry." "Marry?" Anthony muttered to himself as he waved the absurd little group away. Now, that is a terrifying thought."Still, inspiring his own brand of terror in the much-beloved Miss Halliwell was probably what he needed to do to get rid of the girl once and for all. Ignoring her for a week obviously had not worked. In fact, the thunderous echo that resounded through the walls this very moment could have been caused by the brutal Atlantic breakers that pounded at the foundations of the castle. Or they could have been her again.The persistent young woman had demanded, and been denied, an audience with him for more than a week.Anthony Hartstone, third Earl of Pentargon, sat unmoving in his balloon-back chair, his brandy untouched. The coal fire highlighted the cynical humor on his angular face as passionate voices rose from the bailey. Ah, yes. One oclock. His feminine tormentor had arrived right on time. Foolish girl. Brave girl indeed to beard the lion in his den. It sounded from the fracas as if she had finally brought reinforcements to plead her case. Which, of course, was a waste of time. Anthony could not have helped her even had he so desired.His lips curled at the corners as a man shouted, "Over my dead body! You are not to disturb his lordship!"Vincent, his valet, butler, and former butcher, was apparently losing his temper, which never boded well for the object of his annoyance. Under different circumstances, Anthony might have enjoyed watching the spectacle between the Cornish Titan and the infamous Miss Halliwell. Vincent would not raise a finger to the lady; one shake of his meaty fist would probably send her scurrying. A belch of thunder broke overhead, portending another storm. The waves below the cliffs threw white flecks of spume high against the mullioned windows. The room darkened. Anthony put aside the letters of condolence hed received at the same moment the door behind him flew open. "My lord." Vincent's bulky frame shook with indignation. "The tethers of my patience are stretched to the breaking point." "Admittedly thin threads to begin with." Vincent's cheeks reddened under his bushy whiskers. "The woman refused to take no for an answer.""Until you escorted her back to the beach. In the most polite way possible, of course.""She poked me, my lord." Anthony sat forward, his face delighted. "She what?""With a parasol. In the -- the hindquarters." Clearly distraught, Vincent pressed his intimidating bulk against the door panels. Prepare to defend yourself, he managed toHunter, Jillian is the author of 'Abandon' with ISBN 9780743417907 and ISBN 0743417909.