The Hellfire Bride
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About this ebook
"The Hellfire Bride" is a thrilling historical romance novella set in 1827 Regency England.
James Remingsdale has dedicated his life to avenging the woman he loved and lost, Melissa McLoughlin spent most of hers in a convent until fate throws her bound and tied on a collision course with his revenge. Together, they strive to bring down some of the most scandalous & degenerate nobles in the ton, and discover that love can heal even the deepest of scars. Suspense, laughter, passion, and love fairly blaze off the page as their journey takes them from the darkest moments in their lives to the joy of finding the one who makes it whole.
Eryn Lockhart
I'm a Romance author who's been addicted to the genre ever since my mom busted me for raiding her special bookshelf when I was 12. I'm also an unrepentant chocoholic, bookworm, and movie-hound, with a weakness for all that glitters. I love travel, spicy food, music, and dancing, and adore any excuse to get dressed up to the nines or belt out tunes in karaoke. On nights when I stay in, I'm usually writing or reading.
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The Hellfire Bride - Eryn Lockhart
The Hellfire Bride
Eryn Lockhart
Copyright ©2011 Eryn Lockhart
Smashwords Edition
Smashwords License Statement
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
For anyone who’s ever gotten a second chance at a first impression; and for those who wish they had.
Chapter I
London, 1827
It took a moment to realize the ringing in her ears wasn’t bells tolling vespers…it was the lingering effects of ether.
Even if she hadn’t had the hazy memory of a square cloth being pressed against her nose and mouth as the world went dark, there were a few other clues that she hadn’t made it to the abbey after all.
Oh, the lawn shift that someone had put on her was modest enough, if distressingly sheer…but there was no way this sumptuous chamber belonged to a nun’s cloister. The sheets were satin, the coverlet was velvet, and the bed hangings were silk. There were beautiful, heavily gilded paintings on lavishly gilt-trimmed walls…paintings whose subject matter made her cheeks burn and eyes widen. She tried rolling away from a smug satyr bent on ravishing a surprisingly flexible nymph…and found she couldn’t move. Her hands were tied. A silk scarf was securely knotted around each of her wrists, shackling her to the posts of the massive bed.
Melissa tested the bindings again, shivering despite the fire blazing in the hearth. This wasn’t a convent. She’d stake her life on it. After all, she’d spent more than half her life in one--she should know how to recognize an abbey when she saw it. Surely English convents weren’t so terribly different from their Irish counterparts. Her gaze snapped to some of the other paintings, and she felt her cheeks heat again. No doubt about it. This chamber is more suited to the Whore of Babylon than a Bride of Christ. Unease backed by crawling fear began shaking off the dulling hold of ether. If she hadn’t made it to the convent, where was she?
As if in answer to her silent question, the door opened, and a beautiful lady swept in. "Ah, ma petite! You are awake. Her initial smile faded.
Pauvre fille, it might have gone better for you if you had remained asleep, no? She sighed, crossing the room to where Melissa lay bound and shrugged.
C’est la vie. Try not to struggle too hard, and maybe it won’t go too badly for you."
Melissa reconsidered her initial assessment of the woman as a lady. It wasn’t the newcomer’s voice that gave her away--she was clearly cultured, and the cut and color of her gown were exceptional. She knew from the fashion plates one of the other novitiates smuggled into Loreto House that the woman was garbed in the height of fashion---but there was something a little…off. While the plates spawned nervous giggles over the amount of skin showed, this woman’s garments were cut just a little bit deeper, hugged her curves a little more tightly; they turned what had been an amusingly daring evening gown into something blatantly risqué…something that seemed in eminent danger of falling off. She cleared her throat nervously, Where am I?
"Why, the Abbey de l'Amour, ma petite. Where else?"
I made it to the abbey?
She shook her head in confusion. Could I speak to the mother superior, please?
The woman’s sparkling blue eyes glowed with amusement, and she smoothly made the sign of the cross, before folding her hands in front of her in and assuming a pious expression that somehow mocked them both. I am she. How may I help you, my daughter?
"You‘re a nun? The woman started laughing, and Melissa felt her cheeks beginning to burn again.
I apologize, Mother. I’m not normally so rude, it’s just that--"
Of course I‘m not a nun!
The other woman giggled. "Except on very special--and very well paid--occasions. I’m well and truly out of