Lady Thorn

Table of Contents

Cover Page

Excerpt

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Copyright

God, Jed thought, but she was so beautiful,

with her dark hair tumbling wildly down her back and curling about her face. He reached up to gently wipe the tear away with the back of his forefinger. “It’s all right to cry,” he told her softly.

Victoria shook her head stubbornly. “No, it isn’t. I haven’t cried since the day my parents were buried. Tears are not to be shed for little things.”

He could only stare down at her, his heart slamming against his chest in reaction to the pain revealed by her statement. “You are so brave. So beautiful,” he whispered.

She caught her breath, those gray eyes growing dark with an emotion he did not want to acknowledge, even as he felt an answering reaction stir in himself.

He could no longer pretend to deny the desire she felt for him. That he felt for her…

Dear Reader,

The heroine in Catherine Archer’s Lady Thorn, Victoria Thorn, is a descendant of the characters from Catherine’s first book for Harlequin, Rose Among Thorns. It’s the story of a Victorian heiress who is being pressured to find a suitable husband. Instead, she falls in love with a sea captain who promises her protection in exchange for her help in locating his son. Don’t miss this touching story from this gifted author whose tale we hope you’ll find, as Affaire de Coeur did, “impossible to put down.”

Josh Colter and Alexandria Gibson discover they are both looking for the same man in Susan Amarillas’s new Western, Wyoming Renegade. Susan’s last two books have won her 5

USA Today bestselling and multiaward-winning author Ruth Langan’s new series, THE JEWELS OF TEXAS, moves into full swing with this month’s Jade, the story of a smalltown preacher who surrenders his soul to the town madam. And in Kate Kingsley’s new Western, The Scout’s Bride, a determined young widow decides to accept the help of a rugged army scout who has made himself her unwanted protector.

Whatever your taste in reading, we hope you’ll keep an eye out for all four titles wherever Harlequin Historicals are sold.

Sincerely,

Tracy Farrell

Senior Editor

Please address questions and book requests to: Harlequin Reader Service

U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269 Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3

Lady Thorn

Catherine Archer

CATHERINE ARCHER

has been hooked on historical romance since reading Jane Eyre at the age of twelve. She has an avid interest in history, particularly the medieval period. A homemaker and mother, Catherine lives with her husband, three children and dog in Alberta, Canada, where the long winters give this American transplant plenty of time to write.

This book is dedicated to my brothers, Russell, Michael and David, who are heroes in the rough, as most interesting heroes are.

I must thank my daughter Katie for her inspiration for Jedidiah McBride. She loved him before I did.

Lastly I wish to thank Dave at the Soft Shoppe, for the help he has given me with my PC, and all things related.

Chapter One

England, 1855

Jedidiah McBride traveled slowly over the road from Westacre. He held the reins firmly, feeling their smooth leather against his palm, as he tried not to acknowledge the unaccustomed feelings of despondency that were prodding at the back of his mind, ready to overtake him.

Not since he was a boy had Jed allowed anything to affect him this much. Not since his mother’s death, some few months after Nina’s desertion. It had been an untimely death that he knew had been hastened by Nina and her high-and-mighty family’s cruel treatment of him.

An owl hooted in the trees to his right, and Jed shifted around in his saddle, his sea-green eyes searching the inky darkness for a glimpse of the night bird that sounded so alone. As alone as he would feel if he allowed himself that luxury, which he would not.

Nothing stirred in the cluster of young oaks that grew behind the hedge of hawthorn. Yet he had no doubt that the creature was there, among the dense growth of late spring, watching him. If he was capable of reason, would he think Jed was a fool to have come all this way from America with only the content of one vague and confused letter to go on? Then, even as Jed watched, he saw the dark spread of the owl’s wings as it swooped from the highest treetop, across the greening open field, in search of small prey.

If only his own life were so simple. He would like to be able to swoop down on Nina, take what was his and go. But even though twelve years had passed since the last time he’d seen her, she could still manipulate him by saying only what she wanted him to know and nothing more.

His gaze flicked across the sky, where the half-moon was partially obscured by gauzy iron clouds. Find her he would, no matter what the cost. He must succeed in what he had come to England to do. There was no reasonable alternative.

Over the course of the past twelve years, he had faced worse odds and won. Jed had started his nautical career as a cabin boy at the age of seventeen. He was now co-owner of a thriving shipbuilding firm, master of his own ship, and master of his own life.

Or so he had thought until he received the letter from Nina some two months ago. It was then that he had learned she’d left Bar Harbor with his unborn child inside her. Pain sliced through him, and his knees gripped the horse more tightly, causing it to prance beneath him. Deliberately, calling on the strength and determination that had sustained him all these years, he forced himself to relax those muscles and the ones in his shoulders and prodded the animal on.

He would find Nina, and his son. Nothing, not even her cruel theft of the boy’s childhood, would prevent him being a better father than his had been to him.

The night closed in around him as his mind centered on that one most important need, using it to block out any thought of possible failure. Again he went over the minimal clues he had to help him locate her. He knew that Nina’s name was now Fairfield and that she had borne him a son. Little else had been said, other than that she was finally telling him about the child out of a need to salve her own conscience. It didn’t even enter his mind that the claim might be false. Some inner sense, the same one that forewarned him of a squall before it came, told him she was telling the truth.

Jed’s lips tightened. How very like Nina to say she was telling him in order to salve her conscience. She had always acted to preserve her own pretty hide. His chest tightened as he remembered the ache her rejection had brought. It hurt all the more because of the fact that he had actually believed she loved him. Why else would a girl from one of the foremost families in Maine show an interest in him? He’d lived in a hovel not far from the docks. After his father left them, he and his mother had subsisted on the meager income she earned from doing laundry and mending, and whatever he might bring in from laboring on the local fishing boats.

Only fate could have brought Jed into contact with the fragile and darkly lovely Nina. One day when the housekeeper had fallen ill, Nina had gone to the market with her maid. The handle of her basket had broken, and Jed had stopped to help her retrieve her purchases. Their hands had inadvertently brushed. Their eyes met. After that, there had been no holding back the force of their youthful desire. He’d actually believed she loved him, until there came a time when he went to their meeting place night after night, with no sign of Nina. In desperation, he had finally gone to her home. The harried housekeeper had given him an impatient look and informed him that Miss Nina had been married the previous day and was at that moment making ready to board a ship that would take her to the estates of her husband, Squire Fairfield, in England. So shocked had he been that Jed could only back down the steps in disbelief when she closed the door in his face. Clearly Nina had cared nothing for him, for never had she even hinted at any of this. In a short time, his devastation had turned to rage, and he’d vowed never again to allow himself to look to any woman for anything other than physical release, and never to one of Nina’s social class. They cared for nothing beyond their own comfort and position.

His devastation had come to the point of near madness when his mother died, some few weeks later. That had been when he signed on as cabin boy for a voyage that was to take him from Bar Harbor and the pain of his life.

During the ensuing years, he’d learned much about the world, including the fact that the only person he needed was himself. It was a lesson he would not soon forget.

Yet Jed knew that in this instance there was one great obstacle in his path, despite his self-reliance and determination to find his son. He had no access to the very society he scorned. His confidence in himself and his abilities would not gain him entry to the salons and morning rooms of London society. And that was where he must certainly begin his quest. But how?

He pushed aside this core of doubt, prodding his horse to a faster pace. He had no intention of returning to his ship at Westacre, where its cargo of cotton was being unloaded, without his son. He’d not told his first mate, David Orsby, the details of his quest, but he had informed him that he might be gone for some time. David had shrugged, saying he would do whatever Jed asked of him, and that the crew would wait, because they were well paid.

Jed turned his attention to the road ahead. He had just rounded a sharp bend when he took note of the vague shape of a coach up ahead. He shifted his mount to the far side of the lane, which was wide enough for both his horse and the vehicle. As the clouds passed away from the moon, casting more light down upon the scene, he paused.

The halted carriage swayed wildly ahead of him, and the four matched black horses danced in the harness. Atop the conveyance, two men struggled violently. Surely one of them must be the driver, Jed thought as he dug his heels into the bay’s flanks and it started forward. At that moment, from inside the carriage, he heard the sound of a woman’s scream.

Jed rose in the saddle and slapped the reins against the horse’s rump. His urgency was immediately transferred to his mount, for it reared up and ahead at the same time. They were near to traveling at a gallop when he drew the horse alongside the swaying coach and pulled himself up onto the platform.

For a moment, he hesitated, as he studied the grappling men. Then one of them cried out, “Please, help me, sir!” That was all Jed needed to help him decide which was defender and which attacker. The taller of the two turned, as if meaning to jump from the vehicle, just as the other finished calling out to Jed. But he had acted too slowly to protect himself, for Jed grabbed him by the back of his coat and spun him fully around. The man swung wildly, and Jed ducked. He countered the blow with one of his own and sent the thug reeling over the side of the coach.

The other man, whom Jed was now certain was the coachman, flinched as another scream sounded from inside the carriage. He looked to Jed with eyes rounded in panic. “We must help my lady.”

Jed pointed to the fallen man, who lay still upon the ground. “Watch him. I will see to her.”

Without waiting to see if his order was obeyed, Jed leapt over the side of the vehicle and reached for the elaborately emblazoned door. As the woman cried out again, he reached into the belt of his breeches and withdrew his pistol. Then he was inside.

A man’s voice addressed him immediately. “Blazes, Lloyd, let’s be off, shall we?”

Both tone and inflection proclaimed this man a member of the upper class. At that moment, Jed had little time to wonder why a gentleman would be accosting a woman in her coach. He took in the fact that this man was so busy wrestling with the pile of blue silk skirts and other female apparel he held that he had not even bothered to see who he was addressing. Jed could only assume there was a woman beneath all that tangle. He was assured that this was true when an arm appeared from the mass, and her assailant grunted as a blow landed on the side of his head.

With a grunt of irritation, the man renewed his efforts to restrain her, nudging her hooped skirts so far forward that he unwittingly exposed a tantalizing section of female anatomy. The decidedly shapely bottom, encased in soft white bloomers, briefly caught and held Jed’s undivided attention. The fine fabric stretched taut as the muscles in the unknown woman’s buttocks flexed in her efforts to free herself.

Her attacker’s gasp of rage, as the woman’s heel connected with his chin, brought Jed to his senses. What kind of rescuer was he, to be leering at the poor woman’s backside? What would his mother say, especially when it was she who had taught him to offer help to those in need?

At that moment, the man cried out again in exasperation. “I say, Lloyd, can you hear me? What is the hold up?”

Self-directed amusement colored Jed’s voice as he spoke. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible. Lloyd is…well… resting.”

The man swung around, and his expression was astonished when he saw Jed. “What have you done with Lloyd?” The look in his light gray gaze changed from anxiety to haughtiness as he took in the sea captain’s attire. His expression said quite plainly that Jed’s snug black pants, white open-necked shirt and black overcoat proclaimed him to be other than a gentleman. Which Jed understood would certainly mark him an inferior in this fool’s opinion. He was dressed in a tight-fitting cutaway coat, brown trousers and a multihued brocade vest.

The dapper fellow frowned again as his eyes came to rest on the pistol in Jed’s hand. “Now see here, my good man. Just be on your way, and I will forget that you interfered in something that was not your concern.” His scowl deepened. “That is, if you have not been so foolish as to kill my friend.”

Jed merely smiled. This man was in for quite a surprise if he thought he could intimidate Jed with his superior manner. “I do not know, nor do I care, if your friend lives. And forgive me—” he glanced down at the pistol “—if I point out that, although I’m sure you believe you are being quite magnanimous in regards to myself, you are really in no position to do so.”

The blond man looked down his narrow nose, even as he renewed his grip on the woman, who had ceased to struggle when Jed spoke. She jerked away in response, and he spoke to Jed with irritation as he tried to draw her closer to him. “How dare you! Obviously no one has taught you how to treat your betters. I am a member of the English peerage, sir!”

Jed simply shrugged, raising the pistol and bringing the attacker’s attention fully to himself. “I think now that you will release this lady.”

With obvious reluctance, the man loosened his hold on her. Immediately she rolled away, pressing her back against the opposite door of the coach even as she raised her head to look at them.

As her face became visible beneath the rim of her slightly askew beribboned blue bonnet, time seemed to halt. Jed found himself forgetting for one heart-stopping moment that he was holding a pistol on a member of the British peerage in a strange coach in the middle of the night. He could think of nothing besides the strange, brave beauty of the woman before him.

Because it wasn’t just that she was beautiful that gave him pause. Though there was no denying that she was, with her aquiline features and haughty expression. It was the pure defiance in her gray eyes, the look of outrage and regal condemnation she turned upon the man who had dared accost her. Not even a hint of fear was evidenced in those heavily lashed eyes.

She spoke with open contempt, drawing Jed’s gaze to her mouth. And in its lushness he glimpsed an unexpected hint of womanly softness that stirred him more than he would have imagined possible. He forced himself to concentrate on her words. “What can have possibly come over you, Reginald Cox? Did you really believe you would succeed in abducting me?”

Jed settled back to watch as Cox shrugged, nodding to him. “I would have done quite well, if it had not been for this brave lothario here, interfering in things.” His face took on a petulant expression as he went on. “Though really, Victoria, must you refer to what I was trying to do as abducting you?”

“And what then would you prefer I call it?” She barely glanced toward Jed as the other indicated him, rising with surprising grace, considering the circumstances. She perched, ladylike, on the seat and righted her bonnet with unruffled aplomb, and he began to wonder at the sheer depth of her bravado. Did the woman have no understanding of what had nearly happened to her?

It was when she brushed the dark curls away from her face, even as she continued to eye Reginald Cox with disdain, that Jed noted a barely perceptible trembling in her slender, white-gloved fingers. Sympathy stabbed at his chest. Obviously she was more shaken by what had happened than she would have them know. Obviously she was acting out of true bravery, rather than because of a foolish sense of invulnerability, as some did. He felt a growing admiration that surprised him, since he would not have expected to feel that way about anyone of her class.

Surprise at his own reaction kept Jed silent as Cox shrugged again and said, “I did mean to make an honest woman of you, Victoria. I had nothing less than marriage in mind, and would still continue toward that end, if you would only come to your senses.”

The beauty’s arched brows rose with haughty contempt. “I wonder that you would not take my repeated refusals as reply enough to convince you to leave me be.”

Reginald pursed pouty lips. “Dash it, “Victoria, that was what drove me to compel you. I am at my wits’ end to have you.”

Neither Cox nor the lady took note of the fact that Jed leaned toward the other man. “To have me,” she sputtered. “More like to have my wealth and property.”

Her remark served to cause the man to flush with embarrassment, but it did not stop him from trying to convince her she was wrong. He reached toward her. “Victoria, you must know how I feel….”

He was halted by Jed’s firm grip on his shoulder. The sea captain could now feel the undivided attention of both centered wholly on him. He focused on the man. “That will be enough Mr…. Cox.”

Clearly, Reginald Cox was not going to give up on this easily. He made a move to pull away from the hold on his shoulder, but Jed’s grip held firm. Cox’s frustration was apparent even when he raised his nose and tried for a superior expression as he lifted his gaze to Jed’s. “Unhand me, you madman. This is really none of your concern. Be on your way, and I will forget that you intruded where you were not wanted.”

Jed made no effort to hold back the mocking smile that curved his lips. “How very good of you, but again I must decline to accept your generous offer.” His expression and voice then hardened as his grip became what must be painfully tight. “Get out of the carriage.”

Cox paled, as if finally understanding that he was completely in Jed’s power. Slowly, and with clear reluctance, he followed the larger man without another word.

Victoria Thorn found herself blinking in surprise as she realized that the two men had exited the carriage. She sat back on the seat with a groan of self-derision. What in heaven’s name had come over her?

She could not have said. All she did know was that she had not had a coherent thought since first looking into the face of her rescuer. Surely, she thought, pressing her hands to her heated cheeks, her odd sense of disorientation was nothing more than a strange reaction to nearly being kidnapped, then just as suddenly finding herself safe once more.

Again she envisioned those heavily lashed sea-green eyes, that mobile mouth, which had been thinned with dangerous intent as the man spoke to Reginald Cox. He had radiated a kind of hard strength that had nothing to do with the gun in his hand. Here was a man who knew how to attain what he desired, who knew how to command respect because of what was inside him. If he had no weapon at all, Reginald would still have been forced to heed him. It was equally obvious that he was a man of honor or he would not have come to her aid.

She did not want to think that her awareness had anything to do with the fact that he was incredibly handsome, a valiant liberator who had come dressed all in black except for his flowing white shirt, as a reckless buccaneer might. That kind of breathless fantasy was for chambermaids and debutantes. Not for mature women, women for whom the well-being of hundreds of people was a daily concern.

But it could not be denied that he was handsome, with his strongly cut features, the angles and hollows having been clearly outlined by the light from the carriage lantern. That same light had played on the pale golden streaks in his dark blond hair. His hard jaw and lean cheeks had not kept her gaze from drifting down to the strong, tanned column of his throat, which was exposed by the open neck of his white shirt.

A shiver rippled through Victoria, though she was not the least bit cold. Her gaze strayed to the now closed carriage door through which the men had passed, even as her ears picked up the sounds of their voices.

It was not difficult to differentiate between her rescuer’s tone and the other’s. His was rich and authoritative, even without being raised. It was apparent that he was accustomed to giving commands—and having them obeyed. She also noted as he continued to speak that the man’s English was strangely accented. Surely, she thought, he must be American.

American. Her own grandfather’s brother had gone across the sea to make his fortune there. It was said that he had been a great adventurer who could not be contained by the small islands of Britain. The Thorns had never again heard from him, nor from any family he might have. Would his descendants have the same intractable courage and confidence that this man had displayed thus far?

An angry retort from outside roused her from these thoughts, and Victoria sat up straighter, running her hands over her blue silk skirts. Taking note of the fact that they were trembling, she then clenched them tightly in her lap. She must get hold of herself.