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    The Blacksmith's Son
    The Blacksmith's Son
    The Blacksmith's Son
    Ebook99 pages1 hour

    The Blacksmith's Son

    By Rebecca Thomas

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    About this ebook

    The Blacksmith's Son by Rebecca Thomas

    Captain Quentin Drake returns home after his Naval commission ends to find a young groom being beaten in the village stables. Weary from his travels, Quentin only wants a good night's sleep, but refuses to turn a blind eye to the lad's mistreatment. He intervenes, taking the lad to his room, only to discover a woman masquerading as a boy.

    After Ally Lockwood's family dies, she supports herself by assisting the local blacksmith with his horses. She's not allowed to do the work as a woman, so she dresses as a boy, but her ruse is up when, due to injury, she's disrobed by a handsome stranger. What starts as a shared supper, leads to so much more...

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherMacmillan Publishers
    Release dateNov 25, 2013
    ISBN9781622663798
    The Blacksmith's Son
    Author

    Rebecca Thomas

    Rebecca Thomas is a Welsh author and mother who bases her work on the cheeky charming world she sees around her. With a passion to make her children smile, she writes everything with them in mind, driven by what they would like to read and listen to.

    Read more from Rebecca Thomas

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      Book preview

      The Blacksmith's Son - Rebecca Thomas

      The Blacksmith’s Son

      Rebecca Thomas

      This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

      Copyright © 2013 by Rebecca Thomas. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

      Entangled Publishing, LLC

      2614 South Timberline Road

      Suite 109

      Fort Collins, CO 80525

      Visit our website at www.entangledpublishing.com.

      Edited by Robin Haseltine and Kerri-Leigh Grady

      Cover design by Heidi Stryker

      Ebook ISBN 978-1-62266-379-8

      Manufactured in the United States of America

      First Edition November 2013

      Table of Contents

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Acknowledgments

      About the Author

      To Melinda B. Pierce, this journey wouldn’t be any fun

      without you.

      Chapter One

      1842, Liverpool, England

      Ally’s steps slowed and she glanced between buildings. Lightning flashed in the distance, temporarily rendering her blind against the black of night. She peered down the street, seeking any signs of movement. Carefully, she set the rifle down to tighten the belt holding up her trousers. She double-checked her cap, making sure no strands of hair fell loose.

      After she was positive no one followed her, she picked up her rifle and crept along the stable’s back entrance. An ominous boom of thunder rumbled, and a drizzle of rain spit across her cheeks. She paused, lingering in the shadows of the stable, waiting for any sign of people.

      She leaned her shoulder against the door, gripping her rifle in one hand and a lantern in the other, and stepped inside. Wariness grazed her spine as she studied each hinged gate along the dirt walkway. Licking the rainwater from her lips, she gazed into the last stall on the right at the colt.

      The young sorrel lay on his side, his body thrashing. Terror blazed in his dark brown eyes. He struggled to stand. His back leg was splinted and wrapped and unable to support his weight. Ally set the lantern down beside the colt with trembling hands. A wave of nausea overcame her. She clutched her stomach and willed her nerves to settle.

      A spattering of rain sounded on the roof in a low, steady hum. She pressed the cool base of the rifle stock against her cheek and hardened her resolve to do what must be done. The metal from the trigger burned into her finger. Gently, she placed the tip of the barrel against the colt’s temple. The colt’s dark eyes widened.

      Time stopped.

      I’m so sorry, she whispered in a raspy puff of breath.

      She steadied her hold on the rifle.

      The colt looked at her as though he understood, as though he’d already forgiven her.

      I can’t do it. The rifle slipped from her hands. She fell to her knees and retched.

      Defeated, she dropped her chin to her chest and cried. How could anyone let an animal suffer so? She had to take him out of his misery. She had to.

      A loud crash at the front stable door jolted Ally from her despair. Footsteps followed the screech of gate hinges.

      You there, boy— The man pointed a slim finger at her. What do you think you’re doing?

      Her blood turned cold in a jolt of recognition. She knew that face. Harrison Cross, the Earl of Linford. M—Milord, I was just attending to this colt.

      You. A murderous rage flashed in the depths of his ice blue eyes.

      She knew those eyes, and she prayed he didn’t recognize her. Still crouched on her knees, she reached for the cool metal of the rifle like a lifeline.

      He stomped toward her. You had words with my squire. He told me about you. Just because you overheard what the blacksmith said about my animal doesn’t mean you know what’s best for it.

      She couldn’t have dreamed this colt belonged to the one man she never wanted to see again. I—

      The back of his hand struck the side of Ally’s head, sending her careening across the stall. Pain shot through her shoulder as she slammed against the wall. Before she could speak, he slapped her again. Her head snapped to the side.

      The colt is suffering, she said through gritted teeth. Her cheek burned, and blood dribbled down her chin. She tasted its coppery trace. Any worries about her identity being discovered fled, and only thoughts of the colt remained. ’Tis best to take him out of his misery.

      Ally struggled to her feet, still gripping the rifle. His leg is broke. He’ll never walk again.

      You think I don’t know his leg is broke, you insolent lad? The earl took a step, grabbed the rifle out of her hands, and threw it to the ground.

      Through the pocket of her baggy trousers, her pistol weighed against her leg. She reached for it, but the earl shoved her backward.

      This colt was bred from the best bloodlines in all of England. The spray of saliva pelted her face, and the stench of liquor assaulted her. As long as he can mount a mare, he’s worth keeping alive.

      The touch of his hands coiled around her shoulders and seared her skin. Milord, the fracture is compound.

      You dare to speak to me in such a manner? His eyes bulged. Where is your father? He spat each word. For if he’ll not beat you, I’ll do it myself.

      He raised his hand high in the air.

      Unhand the lad, a deep voice reverberated from within the stable.

      The earl swung around.

      Taking advantage of the chance for escape, she pulled away from his grasp and dashed around him. His meaty hand locked around her arm and yanked her back. She never saw the blow coming. His fist connected with her jaw and sent her headlong into the wall.

      Blackness enveloped her.

      …

      After years at sea, Quentin had docked in Liverpool with nothing but sleet and rain to welcome him back to his homeland. The wound in his left thigh ached worse than ever. He purchased a horse and had meant to tuck him into the stable tonight. He’d sleep, then ride two days to Manchester before arriving to his family’s estate at last.

      Over the last month, he’d lost track of the days as he sailed from China. Britain’s victory at the Battle of Amoy served England’s purposes, but his leg took a bullet in the fray. His life as a captain in the British Royal Navy had been arduous, but finally, after ten godforsaken years and his commission completed, he was almost home. All he needed now was rest and time to heal.

      Inside the stable’s blessed dryness, a harsh voice resounded in anger. Quentin’s eyes adjusted to the lantern light, and he strained to hear the words being said. He handed off his

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