Forever changed by his capture at the hands of the French, Viscount Carlisle is no longer the naive, carefree idiot who left the shores of England. He has spent eight years trying to find the man who betrayed him, but his plans are thwarted by the t...
Miss Sophia Trentham is tired of her deuced poor luck; her mother's memory was worsening, her fiancé had left her at the altar, her horse had a tendency to disobey her and land her in scrapes. And now, worst of all, her disgusting sixty-year-old neighbor is dead set on marrying her to gain ownership of her land. What she needs is a husband, and she needs one quickly, so when she saves a man from the brink of death, she figures the least he can do is marry her.
But naturally, things can never be simple in her life; her patient has no interest in being saved and even less interest in being married.
Dash it.
Oh, and there is the small matter that he is one of England's most lethal government-sanctioned assassins.
But really, what does that have to do with her? She has far too many things to worry about to concern herself with all that, including winning her surly patient's heart.
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Death and Sebastian Avery were old friends. They had faced each other many times over his long and bloody career but Death had never come to claim him, even on those days when Sebastian had begged for the sweet release from this world where he simply existed. Some days Sebastian mused that Death was fond of him because of all the souls Sebastian sent to the afterlife. Perhaps that was why Death refused to claim him.
As he lay bleeding out from a stab wound inflicted by the man he had been chasing for nearly two years, Sebastian felt relief. It was finally time to stop existing in the ever-present numbness that his life was, taking risky job after risky job in the hopes of dying at last.
Try and deny me now, you arsehole, Sebastian told Death with a great deal of smugness. I'm in the middle of nowhere in Scotland, the last town was at least half an hour by horse, and judging by the way these clouds are thundering, we are in for a storm.
Bleeding out was a slow death, and not one Sebastian would have chosen for himself, his preference veered heavily toward a quick, painless gunshot to the brain. A pain in the ass to clean after, but that wouldn't exactly be his problem, would it?
Sebastian closed his eyes, his mouth turned upward in a grin as he felt his life force drain from the gash in his torso. It was finally over for him. He closed his eyes as the last few days of exhaustion overtook him.
Yes. Sleep would be nice. It would be like resting without ever having to wake up.
And he was so very weary of it all.
He anticipated the darkness, anticipated the lack of consciousness. Floating away into his final rest was as easy as he had suspected it would be; a homecoming, comfortable and welcome. He'd had enough of the mortal world. He'd lost everyone he had ever loved, he had avenged himself upon his enemies, there was nothing that was tethering him to the mortal plane. He was more than ready to leave it behind.
What he did not anticipate was the shock of cold water being poured over him. His eyes sprung open in shock as feminine hands shook him awake.
"Sir! Oh, dear heavens! Sir, please wake up!"
Oh? Was there an afterlife, after all? Who was this golden angel in front of him, peering at him with such concern in her eyes?
"Hello, Angel. Take me home, please. I want to rest now," he told her dreamily as her face colored with relief.
"Yes, you're right!" The Angel responded as she bounded up and then ripped a piece of cloth out of her hem. She gestured to a masculine figure that was dismounting as she spoke, "Doctor Burton and I will take you to my home. But first, we must stop the bleeding as much as possible! Oh, you poor man."
Doctor? Bleeding?
No.
No, no, no. This foolish woman was attempting to save his life! But before he could tell her that he had no wish to live, she touched his wound and he blacked out from the pain.
Water splashed on him again. "No, no, sir! You mustn't sleep. I need your help to get you to your feet. Can you do that for me?"
"No, Angel. I don't want to get up. I want to sleep," he tried to tell her, but it came out as a mumble as he felt the doctor slip his hands under his shoulder and try to hoist him to his feet.
