A Curse of the Heart Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Books by Adele Clee

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Thank you

  What You Desire

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Lost to the Night

  A Curse of the Heart

  Adele Clee

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. All characters are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be copied or reproduced in any manner without the author’s permission.

  Copyright © 2015 Adele Clee

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN-13: 978-0-9932832-2-2

  What You Desire (excerpt)

  Copyright © 2015 Adele Clee

  All rights reserved.

  Cover designed by Jay Aheer

  Also by Adele Clee

  To Save a Sinner

  A Curse of the Heart

  Anything for Love Series

  What You Desire

  What You Propose

  The Brotherhood Series

  Lost to the Night

  Slave to the Night

  Abandoned to the Night

  To Rose,

  My wonderful mother and friend.

  Our journey together is eternal.

  With love always.

  x

  Chapter 1

  If Rebecca Linwood knew of a spell to turn a man into a mule, she would have used it on Gabriel Stone and then kicked his braying behind all the way around Hanover Square.

  A gentleman was supposed to come to the aid of a damsel in distress, not slam the door in her face or threaten to drown her in the Thames.

  Well, she was not going to give up so easily.

  With a clenched fist, she hammered on the front door again.

  When the loud thud failed to rouse his butler, Rebecca decided she would have to find another way to get Mr. Stone’s attention. So, with a curtsy and a friendly wave to the ogling groups of morning strollers, she plonked herself down on his front steps and contemplated her next move.

  Perhaps she could scream at the top of her voice or dance an Irish jig; that would certainly attract attention. Perhaps she could accost the milkmaid and sneak in through the servants’ quarters or mug a footman. His livery and powdered wig would provide an excellent disguise.

  What would it take to get the gentleman to notice her?

  What would it take to drag the grumpy old bear out of his cave?

  Nothing apparently.

  From the corner of her eye, she noticed movement in the front window and turned to find her gaze locked with the gentleman in question.

  He was much younger than she imagined. A scholar of the ancient world should surely have tufts of white hair sprouting out of every orifice, not the silky black locks of a Greek god. A scholar who spends most of his time huddled over his books should have pasty white skin, not the bronzed glow of an Italian Lothario. His eyes should be beady and black from hours spent reading in the dark, not wide and soulful, not the sort of warm brown that reminded her of horse chestnuts.

  Of course, she expected him to be thin and scrawny as it was common knowledge scholars were often so engrossed in their studies they forgot to eat for days.

  Whereas, this man’s bulging shoulders filled the width of the window.

  In fact, if Gabriel Stone wasn’t so rude and ungentlemanly, she might have gone as far as to say he was handsome, in a classically rugged sort of way. In a way that may have appealed to her, had he possessed good manners.

  Well, at least she had his attention.

  The thought caused her chest to fill with pride, as not everyone had her level of purpose and determination. That was until he gave her a disapproving glare and, with what she imagined was a loud swish, promptly closed the drapes.

  With a disgruntled huff, she folded her arms across her chest. It was better to feel affronted than to let the tears fall.

  But she could not bear another night like last night.

  Her teeth began to chatter at the thought.

  The noises started an hour after she had gone to bed, forcing her to sit up, her terrified gaze flitting around the room, looking for the source of the mysterious sound. When she saw the shadow of a figure forming, she knew her mind was playing its tricks — as the key to the door still hung on its black ribbon around her neck, the metal pressed flat against her skin as a comforting reminder.

  The thought had not stopped her heart from racing, as this thing she feared was not bound by the usual laws of nature. A curse was not a physical being; it was not something that could be touched or reasoned with. It was nothing more than a whisper carried on a gentle breeze. A warning to those foolish enough to question its power and doubt its credibility.

  Even with all her knowledge and experience, she had been foolish. She had read from the ancient Egyptian scroll as though reciting an ode while lounging in her bathtub, and now she was paying the price.

  Gabriel Stone was the only person with the knowledge needed to break the evil curse. All she needed were a few mystical words of wisdom to revoke the incantation. It was not as though she wanted him to spill blood, or to dance under the moonlight wearing nothing more than a pair of deer antlers.

  The sound of the front door opening interrupted her reverie, and she shot to her feet, relief coursing through her veins. Perhaps he wasn’t so cold-hearted after all.

  But as Rebecca swung around she was met with the butler’s solemn face. “I have been told to remind you that the maid will be washing the steps. That if you do not move, you will find yourself swimming in a river of suds all the way down to the Thames.”

  Did he think her a buffoon?

  Did he think her someone who knocked on a stranger’s door for the fun of it?

  She was not deaf and had heard his warning the first time. Surely, the fact she was still standing there was proof that her cause was urgent, dire.

  “I just need five minutes of his time, nothing more. Five minutes and then I’ll be gone.”

  A look of pity flashed in the servant’s eyes, and with a quick blink it was gone. “You are wasting both time and energy. He will not see you, Miss Linwood. Good day.”

  “Please, wait.”

  Rebecca stared at the closed door, all hope lost to her, her faith in humanity shattered. She was going to have to find some other way to speak to Mr. Stone.

  Dragging her feet as she ambled down the street, her thoughts were drawn to the accident at her Egyptian museum, to Mr. Dempsey, the unfortunate gentleman who had dived out of the way of the flying bust of Nefertiti.

  By way of an apology, she had confided in him and told him all about the ancient curse. He probably thought she was a candidate for Bedlam. But he had been polite and offered to introduce her to Mr. Stone, whom he assured her would be attending Lord Banbury’s ball. All she needed to do was don h
er best gown, and he would secure an invitation.

  The idea left her in fits of laughter.

  Thankfully, Mr. Dempsey was not offended when she explained she’d never been to a ball before and had no intention of ever doing so. She didn’t even own a gown.

  Now, it looked as though she had no other choice. She would have to rummage through her mother’s things in the hope of finding something appropriate. She would have to wait for the bear to leave his cave and then she would pounce.

  Chapter 2

  There was only one thing on Gabriel Stone’s mind when he entered Lord Banbury’s house. Only one thing could rouse his passion and cause the blood to pump rapidly through his veins — his studies.

  “I think we all know why you’re here,” Banbury chuckled as Gabriel came to greet him. “I think we know what’s dragged you out from the shadows.”

  Gabriel could not recall the last time he’d been out formally and felt like a stuffed partridge all trussed up in his evening attire. Even so, he managed to force a weak smile. “Well, it’s not for the wine, whist or women.”

  It was for something far more exciting.

  “Good,” Banbury said, his gaze surveying the breadth of Gabriel’s shoulders, as though the vast vision before him was most certainly a mirage. “Because the gentlemen outnumber the ladies tonight, and you are just too much of a distraction.”

  “Have no fear. The only thing I shall be surveying this evening is Bacanus’ parchment,” Gabriel replied in an attempt to show some interest in the conversation. He did not have time for idle chatter but refrained from being rude to his host. “Perhaps you should point me in the right direction, in case I get distracted along the way. As you say, that is the only reason I’m here.”

  Banbury laughed. “Oh, I don’t want to spoil the thrill of the hunt, Stone,” he said patting Gabriel on the back. “It wouldn’t do to have you miss out on all the fun. You’ll have to go off and search for it yourself.”

  Gabriel suppressed a sigh. “If I’d known that, I would have brought the hounds.”

  If Banbury had lured him to the ball under a false pretext, he would drag him by his coattails all the way to London Bridge and dangle him headfirst from one of the arches.

  Pushing his way through the crowded rooms, Gabriel recalled why he despised going about in Society. The feigned shrieks of laughter, the ostentatious dress, and the exaggerated mannerisms were all merely masks of deception, an illusion to lure and entice the weak and feeble-minded.

  Thankfully, he was not one of them.

  He understood the game but chose not to play.

  Deciding the study was the most obvious place to look and discovering the door unlocked, he peered inside. He knew Banbury kept the parchment stored in a display case. If it belonged to Gabriel, he would have it locked in a vault a hundred feet below ground, surrounded by a moat of lava. But after scanning the room for the third time, he could not locate it.

  Continuing down the hallway, he noticed another open door; the walls lined from floor to ceiling with leather-bound books and so he thought to try there.

  There were numerous groups of people milling about, none of them interested in the wooden lectern with the glass lid. He ignored them all, his eyes fixed on his target, his heart beating louder with every step, as he had waited years for this opportunity.

  Like a fine wine, he drank in those first few lines slowly and let Becanus’ words flow through him. He tried to banish every other thought from his mind, but the sound of laughter and raised voices cut through his concentration, so he could do nothing other than gaze upon its magnificence.

  He was not sure how long he’d stood there, lost in a dream-like state, when he heard someone approach from behind and felt a light tap on the shoulder.

  “I see you still have a morbid fascination with the dead.”

  Gabriel straightened and turned to see the familiar face of Lucas Dempsey. “And you’re still creeping up on people,” he replied as he removed his spectacles and brushed his hair from his brow. “As you’re so light on your feet, perhaps you could use your talent to help me steal this. It is almost impossible to study it with all this noise and disruption, and I cannot persuade Banbury to part with it.”

  Lucas Dempsey shook his head. “This is a ball, Gabriel. There must be fifty ladies eager to get their hands on such a virile specimen. You should be dancing, not hunched over some ancient scroll.”

  “You know I’m not the sort to waste my time on such frivolities.”

  Gabriel examined Dempsey’s countenance: his puffed out chest, his chin held high and his determined gaze. This was not a chance meeting of old friends. Lucas Dempsey wanted something, and it was only a matter of time before he asked for it.

  “What if I could persuade Banbury to give you more time to study the parchment? What if I could arrange for you to spend a whole day locked away in here?”

  Gabriel’s heart skipped a beat at the prospect, but he narrowed his gaze. “And why would you do that? What would you have me do in return?”

  As expected, Lucas Dempsey came straight to the point. “I would have you speak with Miss Linwood. She has a problem at her museum and believes you are the only person who can help.”

  Were there no depths to how low Miss Linwood would stoop?

  “I do not have time for fakes and frauds.”

  The fact she had thrown herself on his front steps conveyed a complete disregard for appropriate modes of conduct. It seemed anyone could open a museum and claim to have ancient relics. It took years of study to gain the knowledge needed to identify forgeries. No doubt the lady had been duped into purchasing crates of old junk.

  “Everyone knows the lady is a charlatan,” Gabriel continued.

  Dempsey was too busy looking at his pocket watch to show any interest in his opinion of Miss Linwood.

  “That is a shame,” he said. “Well, as much as I enjoy discussing your interest in antiquities, I have an urgent desire to stroll around the garden. I’m afraid it cannot wait.”

  When Dempsey excused himself and walked towards the door, Gabriel’s palms began to itch, and his fingers throbbed. Dempsey only wanted him to talk to the lady. A brief conversation was the only thing required to gain more time to study Becanus’ theory on hieroglyphics. It would also give him an opportunity to confirm his suspicions, a chance to prove that Miss Linwood knew as much about ancient Egypt as he knew about petticoats and pins.

  “Very well. I’ll speak to your Miss Linwood, but nothing more. In return, I want two whole days with no disruptions.”

  “Done,” Dempsey said and then gave a little chuckle. “Well, there’s no time like the present. I believe you’ll find the lady in the ballroom.”

  Gabriel did not want to leave the parchment, the voice in his head telling him it would only take one more glance to commit it to memory. Like an addict in need of opium, he scoured the images: the eye, the vulture, the snake, and then another thought struck him, forcing him to straighten.

  What if Lucas Dempsey changed his mind?

  Perhaps he should go and find Miss Linwood, hear what she had to say and be done with it. As a gentleman, Dempsey would have no choice but to fulfill his part of the bargain.

  The lure of having two days to study in peace dragged him from the room towards the sound of music and laughter. It was not difficult to find her. He had watched her sitting on his front steps and had no problem picking her out.

  Miss Linwood shone like a bright beacon in the crowded ballroom. Her figure was tall and lithe, her narrow waist curving up into a generous bosom. Her emerald-green gown highlighted the stark contrast of her fiery copper curls. There was something regal about her countenance, something proud and noble — and he groaned inwardly. He would need to be firm with her. He would listen to her plea, feign interest and then make his apology.

  Of course, she would have no choice but to accept it, once he had shamed her with his little test.

  She turned to her companion a
nd laughed, her mouth curling into a tempting smile, her eyes shining with amusement. The brilliance of it all hit him so hard in the chest, he was forced to take a breath.

  Damn it.

  He did not need this sort of distraction.

  Thank God the lady was a charlatan and a fraud.

  Rebecca noticed him standing in the doorway, his broad shoulders filling the space. She had seen the same disapproving stare this morning, the same irritated glare. Only now, it appeared he was trying to attract her attention. The gentleman confirmed her suspicion when he raised his hand and beckoned her to follow him.

  “What is the matter, Miss Linwood?” Miss Ecclestone asked. Her companion was betrothed to Lucas Dempsey and had also escaped being hit by the flying bust of Nefertiti.

  “The gentleman standing in the doorway is Mr. Stone.”

  Miss Ecclestone turned and followed her gaze. “Good heavens. He is waving his hand at you like a master summoning a disobedient dog. I suggest you stay here, Miss Linwood, and wait for him to find his manners.”

  If an hour sitting on a cold step was anything to go by, Mr. Stone did not have any manners.

  Rebecca met his hard, assessing gaze, her instincts telling her that if she missed this opportunity, he would not make the offer again.

  “It is imperative I speak with him,” she said, the sense of urgency in her voice unmistakable, as she imagined being woken again by the torturous groans and rattling bed. “I would not expect you to understand, Miss Ecclestone, but I have no choice. I must go to him.”

  Ignoring her companion’s wide eyes, Rebecca pushed her way through the crowd, pulled along by an invisible rope, her mind oblivious to any noise or distraction. Her steps only faltered when she was within a foot of Mr. Stone.

  If there was a man in the world whose name perfectly portrayed his character, it was Gabriel Stone. He was tall and broad, his body as strong and as hard as granite, his muscular arms carved to perfection, his jaw rigid and unrelenting. Her gaze swept over him from head to toe, but he did not yield under such scrutiny. With a whip-like flick of the wrist, he brushed his black hair from his brow as an act of defiance. As she stared into those sinful brown eyes, she bit down on her bottom lip — and then she saw the veil fall, saw his gaze soften, if only for a moment.