Taken By The Highwayman

Taken By The Highwayman
Amelia Casey

Stand and deliver!  The highwayman's call made Lady Anabel Mayward's pulse race. . . but not from fear.Tales of the "knights of the road" had always piqued her curiosity, but Sullivan aroused something new: desire. With an arranged marriage looming, Anabel never expected to have control over who would be the first to bed her. . . until Sullivan took her to his forest hideaway where they could give free rein to their wild passion. . . .

“Stand and deliver!”

The highwayman’s call made Lady Anabel Mayward’s pulse race…but not from fear. Tales of the “knights of the road” had always piqued her curiosity, but Sullivan aroused something new: desire. With an arranged marriage looming, Anabel never expected to have control over who would be the first to bed her…until Sullivan took her to his forest hideaway where they could give free rein to their wild passion…

As soon as I saw Mills & Boon Historical’s “Undone” line announced, I knew that we would have a passionate relationship. Since I was a little girl I’ve loved to think about past times and far-off places, and my favorite books helped to provide visuals and memorable characters for my daydreams: brave, beautiful women and handsomely heroic men courted in castles and on battlements and by moonlight. What could be better than Mills & Boon’s “Undone,” set up to transport grown-up girls to distant lands on a sensual adventure?

I have studied English and history for many years, and my shelves are packed full of well-loved novels and esoteric reference tomes. Yet the first spark for Taken by the Highwayman came from art instead of literature. The lovely painting by Victorian artist William Powell Frith, “Claude Duval,” depicts a scene out of old British folklore—infamous highwayman Duval poised to ask a lady to dance after holding up her carriage, so struck was he by her beauty.

I have long been drawn to folklore, mythology and tales with an eclectic bent, favoring ghosts, pirates, fairies, and of course rogues, knaves, and desperately attractive villains. Outlaws allow us to go places we cannot go otherwise. Taken by the Highwayman is the story of what happens after dancing with a dangerous thief at night.

I was excited to write about a sexy highwayman, a legend that appeals to the Robin Hood in us all. My heroine, trapped in a loveless engagement, longs to declare her independence in a strict Victorian era where she is valued only for her marriageability and seeming innocence. Her meeting with a figure out of legend—a masked, accented, and mysterious robber—will lead her down a very different path.

I am thrilled to be joining the “Undone” community and hope that readers will enjoy their encounter with a gallant highwayman on the dark, fog-bound roads outside of London…

Amelia Casey is the daughter of wandering parents who imparted a love of travel and foreign cultures early on. She remembers always wanting to read and later write. As a young girl she would compose stories set in her favorite authors’ worlds, happily oblivious of copyright law.

Amelia’s first love affair with history came through D’Aulaires’ Book of Greek Myths, and the relationship was profound, the emotions heightened. Since then, she’s immersed herself in the study of classical worlds, American and British history, and revolutionary times in Europe.

She is also fascinated by folklore and mythology from the world over and has a weakness for ghost stories and sordid tales from the past. Amelia holds a degree in English literature and history, which gave her a chance to explore lifelong passions. Her bookshelf is crammed full of reference books, romantic and genre fiction, and dusty old volumes that prove so irresistible to collect.

After a youth spent sneaking her grandmother’s romance novels and hanging around the bookstore to page to the “best parts” in those books, Amelia is thrilled to be writing for Mills & Boon Historical Undone. You can contact her at amelia.m.casey@gmail.com.

Enjoy more passion through the ages with the sensual Harlequin Historical UNDONE titles on sale now:

TO BED A LIBERTINE by Amanda McCabe

WICKED EARL, WANTON WIDOW by Bronwyn Scott

WEDDING NIGHT WITH THE RANGER by Lauri Robinson

AN ACCIDENTAL SEDUCTION by Michelle Willingham

NOTORIOUS ELIZA by Barbara Monajem

THE MAID’S LOVER by Amanda McCabe

AWAKENING HIS LADY by Kathrynn Dennis

SEDUCING A STRANGER by Christine Merrill

THE CAPTAIN’S WICKED WAGER by Marguerite Kaye

THE WELSH LORD’S MISTRESS by Margaret Moore

THE WARRIOR’S FORBIDDEN VIRGIN by Michelle Willingham

AT THE DUKE’S SERVICE by Carole Mortimer

HIS SILKEN SEDUCTION by Joanna Maitland

A NIGHT FOR HER PLEASURE by Terri Brisbin

DISROBED AND DISHONORED by Louise Allen

THE UNLACING OF MISS LEIGH by Diane Gaston

Craving something a little longer? Find more historical romantic adventure from Mills & Boon Historical at www.millsandboon.co.uk or your local bookstore.

Interested in writing for Harlequin Historical UNDONE? Send your submission to undone@harlequin.ca.

Taken by the Highwayman

Amelia Casey

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk/)

For Rose

The carriage rattled and rolled past Highgate. The night had been prematurely dark and full of fog, and there wasn’t much to glimpse past the thick glass windows. Instead Anabel was forced to turn a blank smile on Lord Houghton, who sat across from her in an imperious sprawl. On the jolting seat beside Anabel her father hummed and sorted through his receipts, cheerfully oblivious.

Lord Houghton was talking, as he had been for most of the journey, of his investments in India, relishing the topic of his own fat purse and connections while Anabel nodded vacant agreement and asked the vague, well-timed questions required of her. Lord Houghton liked it best when she appeared attentive yet displayed no real intellectual curiosity. He’d long made it clear that his ideal woman served as an adornment on his arm and to his ego, and Anabel had long considered it her own peculiar bad luck for having caught his eye.

Lord Houghton had many friends with egos and investments bigger than his own, and he had money. A lot of it. Holding the title of first gentleman across a considerable stretch of English countryside, he also had the right to expect that his offer of marriage would be met with no less than delight on Anabel’s part.

Anabel, who had known Edwin Houghton in acquaintance for years, had to be forgiven for her horror when his suit was announced. Lord Houghton used to stare at her at dances, at dinners, even when she was younger—and she’d never liked his eyes on her. She had, in fact, long since made it her policy to avoid him socially.

And now he had her hand. It was almost official: contracts and paperwork were needed, and the ceremony would have to occur. Houghton looked at her with eyes full of triumphant self-satisfaction, his possessiveness evident as always. It was no different tonight in the carriage. Approving of her absent smile, he stopped speaking about the shipping of cargo and instead eyed her brazenly, as though the small space of the carriage gave him leave to be more forward than in a larger room.

“You have truly outdone yourself tonight, Lady Mayward,” he said approvingly, while her father hummed more and counted higher figures. Anabel’s spine straightened under his scrutiny, but she again showed him what might have passed for a modest smile. “How well we will look,” Lord Houghton added pointedly, “when we are presented together for the first time before Queen Victoria herself.”

“You must be right, my lord,” Anabel demurred, for her history with Houghton had taught her that he hated nothing so much as being disagreed with or crossed in the slightest. And at least part of it was true: she had outdone herself—but she did not think they would look particularly well being introduced together at the grand party. Not with the look that was bound to show on her face. Anabel was a girl who knew and had nearly accepted her daughterly duties; in the Year of Our Lord 1848 there was little else she could do. She was her father’s property before she would become her husband’s,—bartered about like one of Houghton’s stocks. But in the run-up to being socially recognized as the future Lady Houghton, she did not have to pretend yet that she was really pleased.

Anabel’s dark blond hair was upswept with gold beads and pearls, a few loose curls framing green eyes, and she had a rope of pearls gleaming on her neck. At nineteen, her skin was clear and her features pleasingly fresh. Because she had been alerted to her looks by others from a young age, Anabel had learned a long time ago how to best maximize the effect.

Her slender figure, trim after a season filled with dancing, was elaborately laced into a new dress the color of corn silk and edged in gold, shot through with intricate embroidery. The dress was modeled on the latest cuts out of Paris, and Anabel’s final fitting had been today. Considering the clothier’s reaction, she knew she could anticipate Lord Houghton’s, but she had not taken so much care to please him.

While her presumptive suitor saw this as the appearance that would make their new status official, Anabel had put all her energy into preparing for the last public night she would have to herself. After tonight there would be no excuse not to wear the heavy engagement ring that weighed and tugged on her small hand. After tonight Anabel would never be thought of as Lady Mayward again, so she dressed finely enough to give everyone something to think about and someone to remember.

Anabel tugged her golden shawl in close but could not deflect the man across from her.

Lord Mayward smiled up at the young people as the carriage lurched around a bend. “Quite a party it will be, eh? We’re like to see all the good crowd. This is the only event of any significance before court shuts up for winter.”

“We all deserve hibernation,” said Anabel tightly. “We have been positively beastly with the excesses lately.”

Edwin Houghton disagreed. “Life must be lived to the fullest, my dear,” he said with too-easy familiarity. “Why should we deny ourselves our provincial pleasures? The poor, the servants,—they all look to us to know how to feel and how to conduct themselves. If we are easy and free spending they celebrate with us. When we are shut up and stingy, they suffer.”