Innocence Afire - Sorcha MacMurrough

Randall Avenel the Earl of Hazelmere and Isolde Drake have married in haste to save her from scandal, but a happy future together is far from certain as Isolde discovers the shocking truth about Randall's past.

Secrets which have lain hidden for decades are brought to light at last, bringing with them the most stunning consequences. As Randall seeks redemption for his sins, Isolde's innocence is set afire by the passionate love they share.

But has Isolde really succeeding in reforming a rake? Or is Randall living a double life despite the torrid desire they share?

Only though trusting each other and the miracle of love they share, can Randall and Isolde vanquish their enemies and the demons of their past....

Isolde decided to celebrate the autumn equinox by taking a picnic lunch out to Millcote Forest for Randall as a romantic surprise.

She got to the low wall of the monastery, and still mounted on her mare, was able to peer over the crumbling walls easily.

To her horror, Isolde saw a petite woman with long dark hair walking away from Randall. They had been standing very close. Too close. She immediately saw red.

She swung down from the saddle fuming. Leaving the food in her panniers, she stalked over to where her husband had set up his easel, and glared at him.

"Just what sort of game do you think you're playing with our lives, Randall?" she demanded furiously.

Randall, having just exchanged pleasantries with Eswara Jerome, who lived down the road and occasionally went for a stroll passed him as he painted, was confused at his wife's sudden arrival and her accusatory words. "Game? What game?"

"I don't know, you tell me! You tell me why you've been so distant, moody, changeable recently, ever since you resumed your trips to London. I've tried to be a good wife to you-"

"You are! You don't even have to try!'

"Then why? What in the name of all the gods are you looking for? What is it that you want?" Isolde demanded tearfully, at her wits' end.

Something sparked within him. "What I want?" He laughed bitterly. "You have no idea what you're asking, Isolde! You would run in terror if you knew."

"But I do want to know! I need to know. I hold you in my arms, Randall, even within my body, and yet I still can't get close enough to you. I want to make all your hopes and dreams and fantasies come true, be truly one with you.

"But there's this, this wall between us that I simply can't seem to breach no matter how hard I try. So I keep battering against it, and end up bloody, bruised and torn."

He stared at her in horror, never suspecting his attempts to keep her safe from their enemies, as well as be unselfish, not indulge his passions so often, protect her from his rampaging lusts, might make her feel so left out and unimportant in his life.

"Oh, darling, I didn't mean to-"

"Tell me your fantasies, Randall. Let me be your everything," she pleaded, starting to strip off her day gown and rubbing against him, not caring that it was broad daylight and anyone might come along.

He gazed down at her unseeingly, lost in his own confusion. "But there isn't anything you can do, don't you see?"

"I can try, if you'll let me. I know I'm not a practiced courtesan like most of your other women, but-"

"No, don't you see? I don't want that, darling. This hasn't been about lovemaking! That's never been the problem between us. The problem has always been me!"

"Then tell me, please. For pity's sake, Randall, tell me the truth, before it's too late, without holding back because you think I'm going to leave you!"

He heaved a ragged sigh. "I don't understand love and intimacy. I fear it. I ruin and destroy everything I've ever touched. I want you unspoiled and innocent, happy and loved and safe, not damaged by being married to a man like me!"

"But-"

"You ask me what my dreams are? What I fantasize about? I'll tell you! Impossible though it all is, I'll tell you," he rasped. "I would give anything to have a lifetime in your arms, with never any unhappiness, mistrust or want. I long to hear you say you love me no matter what, and finally be able to believe the words. Not just in here," he said, pointing to his head, "but here." He pointed to his heart.

She placed her hand on his, over his heaving chest. "Done. You have it, Randall. I do love you, no matter what. Please, darling-"

He silenced her with a blistering kiss, and the dam blocking his passion finally burst. He could hear the blood roaring in his ears as she stretched up against him, stroking her hands down the length of his back until they reached his buttocks. She pulled hard, grinding herself against him, and then both their pairs of hands hurriedly stripped him bare....

Innocence Afire
Sorcha MacMurrough
Setting: Regency London, 1819
Rating: Extremely sensual
Word Count: 66,300 words; approx 200 8 x 11" pages
Format: Instant PDF download

Prologue

London, 3 February 1819

Parkins looked out at Howell from his watery blue eyes, hardly daring to tell him the news he had just heard at the club.

"Well, out with it, man. You've been staring at me like a hare faced with a stoat for the past five minutes. It's puttin' me off my drink."

Parkins slid to the edge of the rickety wooden bench, ready to flee if Chauncey cut up rough. "It's just that, well-"

"If you don't want to me my second when I duel that bastard Randall Avenel, just say so now, you little weed."

Parkins' Adam's apple bobbed. "It's not that, Chauncey. Well, not entirely."

"Then what? Your parents found out you're in the River Tick?" He put down his ale tankard long enough to search the sagging pockets of his brown worsted wool jacket and frayed linen waistcoat.

At length he managed to come up with a few coppers. "That should tide you over. But I swear, once Avenel is dead, the world is our oyster-"

Parkins pounced on the pennies his companion had clinked down on the scarred table, and shook his head. "But that's just it, you see. There's no need for a duel now."

Howell glared, his normally bulging eyes looking as though they might come right out of their sockets. "There's every need. I never thought that cold bitch Isolde would actually get futtered when I sent her there to ruin her reputation and put her and her family completely at my mercy. I'm certainly going to make her pay for it for the rest of her life.

"But now that I think about it, it couldn't have worked out better. There was more than one witness to her ravishment now besides me, including that harpy who attacked me, and the butler. Randall can't cover up the fact that he's defiled an innocent aristocratic girl. So all you have to do is not mix up the pistols, and we're home free."

Parkins blinked owlishly. "Mix up the-"

Howell gave a dark frown, realising he had said too much to the unsuspecting Parkins already. He never should have admitted planning to ruin Isolde, let alone....."Misload them, I mean," he said hastily.

"Chauncey, I'm trying to tell you, there are to be no pistols. None at all. There's no need. Randall's made good on what he did to the poor girl."

His thin lips curled into a sneer. "Made good? How? By setting her up in a little cottage near town as his latest doxy?" He took a hefty swig of ale and wiped his mouth on his sleeve in a clear gesture of dismissal.

"She's a Viscount's daughter. He can't get away with making a whore of her so openly. And I'll never believe it anyway. Randall must hate the bloody sight of Isolde. Her father ruined his, and everyone knows it. Completely disgraced the old Earl, who died of shock. Or maybe even topped himself, I shouldn't wonder. Mistress? Hah. Murderer, more like."

Parkins shook his head. "Wife."

"Whaddye say, man, speak up?" He cocked one already jutting ear forward. "Shut that bloody singing, you poxy-faced curs!" he bellowed at the table to the left of their corner, earning himself a stream of colorful curses from the carousing sailors in the dockside tavern who were belting out a shanty so lewd it was making Parkins blush.

"I said, wife. It's all over the club. The most eligible bachelor in Town, the Earl of Hazelmere, was married this very day. "

Chauncey thunked the tankard down. "Hell and damnation! No! No!"

Parkins nodded. "It's true. So the girl's honor is no longer at issue, and you don't have to duel-"

"No, damn it, no!" Howell shouted, turning puce. "I won't let that bugger take what's mine."

"She must have married him of her own free will," Parkins said mildly.

"She was tricked, duped just like he fooled her into bedding him. The marriage is a sham, a lie, I tell you, " Howell insisted, before draining his tankard to the lees and rising from the bench.

"Her whole family was there, including her brother-"

"Who didn't even try to duel for her honor, obviously," he gritted out, furious that another part of his clever plan had been foiled.

Parkins shook his head. "You know how they view duelling in the Town now. It's not like the olden days. Now it's just as much a matter of public scandal as an affair, and more often than not deemed murder to boot.

"Look, Chauncey, I'm sorry your little dove flew the coop, but it's not like she had any money or anything after her father died-"

Howell bit his tongue as his mind raced. Married. Married.... What the hell was he going to do now? His creditors, the whole district back home, would be agog. And even wedding the plain Clarence girl was not going to get him all he needed-

"And that's the other thing. Her brother Stephen has married Fanny Clarence, the woman you threw Isolde over for-"

"Damn and blast! What the hell am I supposed to do now?" he fumed, storming out of the tavern and into the street.

"I don't know, but Chauncey, about the money-"

Though he was out in the open now, Howell felt the walls closing in on him. "In good time, Parkins, I promise. This isn't over yet. They may be married, but widows are made every day."

Parkins shot him a horrified look.

Howell once again bit his tongue before he said too much, and tried to give a false smile. "Accidents, natural causes, death comes to us all, as the good book says."

"What, The Eager Strumpet?"

Howell rolled his eyes. "Not that book, you fool, The Bible."

"Oh."

"Just look at how Randall became Earl if you don't believe me. He had four older brothers, yet he still inherited. Isolde may be a bride now, but that's not to say she'll stay that way."

Parkins slowed his pace now, looking at his companion with a growing sense of dismay. He had the feeling he was missing something in all this.... But what?

Howell was clever, that was for sure. Perhaps too clever...

"Where are you going?" he asked, watching his friend striding further and further away from him into the distance.

"To think things through and decide on my next move," Howell threw over his shoulder, before turning the corner and vanishing in a swirl of river mist.

Parkins paused and stared for a moment into the darkness. Then he glanced at the lights flickering on the murky waters of the Thames. The stench of decay became almost overwhelming as he stood there, and made his stomach churn.

He had felt sorry for Howell losing both Isolde and Fanny in that way, but now he was not so sure. And was it really fair to marry someone just for their money or status in society, or their good looks?

Isolde Drake had always been kind to him. Too good for the likes of Howell, to his mind. But then, the pair of them had been cousins, and pre-contracted from their youth.

Why had Howell thrown her over? If only because of the money, he was a damned fool. Isolde was a remarkable woman, worth ten of Fanny Clarence even without a tuppence to her name. And as for looks, well, who wouldn't want to possess her-

Parkins felt his cheeks heat, and began to hurry home to his family. He had wasted too much time with bad company, he could see that now.

Howell was out for no one but himself. Whatever plans he had to punish Randall and Isolde for marrying, he wanted no part of them.

He only prayed that the newlyweds knew what they were up against. Howell was certainly a vicious enemy when thwarted....

Not the kind of man you wanted to meet in a dark alley, as the phrase went.

At that thought, Parkins took better stock of his surroundings, Looking left and right, there was no sign of Howell, thank the Lord, but the plain fact was that he was all alone in one of the worst areas of dockside London, with the river fog closing in all around him.

The yowl of a tomcat made him start out of his skin. As he broke into a half-run, Parkins bundled up his collar against the cold, but all the same, the cold finger of dread stroked down his spine.

Howell would make them pay if he could. All of them. And even himself now that he knew too much about Howell's affairs. Perhaps he should consider taking his uncle up on his offer to go to India after all....

Innocence Afire
Sorcha MacMurrough
Setting: Regency London, 1819
Rating: Extremely sensual
Word Count: 66,300 words; approx 200 8 x 11" pages
Format: Instant PDF download

Reviews:

"Another lusty and exuberant novel full of marvelous heroes and villains, as the Rakehells in Brimley and Bath uncover a murder from nearly a decade before. Old friend are reunited, new friends made, and the hero and heroine share a luminous love that lights the pages." Evelyn Trimborn, Castles in the Air

"A superb steamy romance full of intrigue. I adored the terrific characters, especially the fallen Randall, sensual Isolde, and the raffish Rakehells. This is MacMurrough at her sultry best. You will love this series." Jacinta Carey, The Starbuck Saga

"Enthralling. The characters grab you from the first sentence and never let go. I adore the hero and heroine, and the mystery elements, which are first-rate. A sensual rollercoaster of steamy sex and suspense. Divine." Carolyn Stone, In From the Cold

"As always, Ms. MacMurrough has us eagerly following her characters as they traverse the rocky road to true love. Isolde is a wonderful heroine, feisty, brave, and sensual. Randall is all this and more. Every love scene scorches the pages, and the mystery which unfolds regarding Randall's past and family skeletons in the closet (literally!) keeps us eager to read to the end.

"Always welcome are appearances by our old friends the Rakehells, who as usual provide a marvelously well-drawn set of secondary characters. You don't have to read every book in the series to appreciate them, but they are all so gorgeous, why would you miss a single one?

"Endlessly fascinating, sexy and thrilling, this is yet another Rakehell romance novel that's a certain keeper." Annabelle Stevens, Love's Sweet Song