Touched By Danger (A Sinclair & Raven Novel Book 3) Read online

  Table of Contents

  TITLE PAGE

  DEDICATION

  PROLOGUE

  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

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY- EIGHT

  THANK YOU!

  SNEAK PEEK

  OTHER BOOKS BY WENDY VELLA

  TOUCHED BY DANGER

  by Wendy Vella

  Spicy regency romance, with a touch of paranormal, makes for an intriguing series* that will have readers enthralled!

  Healer, Essex Sinclair understands her family’s heightened senses are a result of a long-ago pact between the Sinclairs and the powerful Raven family, but has always struggled to feel worthy of bearing the legendary Sinclair name. Unlucky in love, Essie has resolved to live a quiet, solitary life as a healer and leave passion to the young and foolish.

  When Max Huntington falls into her herb garden, a bullet hole in his side, her only intention is to heal him quickly and send him on his way. Then she touches him, and from that moment on, fate steps in with dangerous consequences for them both.

  Someone wants Max dead. It was only the actions of his beautiful healer, that saved him. Miss Sinclair is sweet, determined and makes him yearn for things he’d long left in the past. His deliberate fabrication has her believing him a penniless nobody, his caress has her yielding, but Max must lie, and leave, for Essie's own good.

  When broken-hearted Essie returns to London, she once again encounters Max, and discovers his true identity. Horrified and angry that yet another man has played her for a fool, she vows to have nothing more to do with him, but destiny won’t be denied and soon they are embroiled in a desperate chase to find his would-be killer before he finds them first.

  *All books in this series are standalone stories with an HEA.

  Would you like to know when my next book is available? Sign up for my new release

  mailing list at www.wendyvella.com or visit me on Facebook.

  Touched By Danger is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  TOUCHED BY DANGER

  ISBN: 978-0-9941388-6-6

  Copyright © 2017 Wendy Vella

  Cover by Ebook Indie Covers

  DEDICATION

  I want to thank my SPA girls’ friends, Shar, Cher and Trudils.

  Friends, critique partners, you are the absolute best buddies a girl could ask for.

  You inspire and challenge me constantly, and long may our journey continue.

  Alone we can do so little; together we can do so much

  -Helen Keller

  PROLOGUE

  It is said that when lowly Baron Sinclair saved the powerful Duke of Raven from certain death in 1335 by single-handedly killing the three men who attacked his carriage, King Edward III was grateful. Raven was a wise and sage counsel he had no wish to lose, therefore, he rewarded Sinclair with the land that sat at the base of Raven Mountain. Having shown himself capable of the duty, Baron Sinclair was now, in the eye of the King, to be the official protector of the Ravens.

  Over the years the tale has changed and grown as many do. There were rumors of strange occurrences when a Sinclair saved a Raven in the years that followed. Unexplained occurrences that caused many to wonder what it was that the Sinclairs were hiding, but one thing that never changed was their unwavering duty in the task King Edward III had bestowed upon them.

  To honor and protect the Raven family was the Sinclair family creed.

  CHAPTER ONE

  The sour taste in her mouth was so sudden, Essex Sinclair had no time to brace for the trouble that was about to descend.

  “Forgive the inconvenience, madam, but I am about to die in your garden.”

  Essie leapt to her feet as a large body crashed face-first into her recently planted herbs.

  “Cam, Bertie!” she screamed, dropping to her knees beside the man. Pushing her hands beneath his body, she struggled to turn him over. “Come quickly!”

  She heard the thud of feet, then several curses rent the air.

  “God’s blood, Essie, this had better be good!” her brother roared as he approached. “Your scream had me hurling the entire contents of my mug over Myrtle’s head. She is not pleased!”

  “Help me, Cam!”

  He dropped to his knees at her side.

  “Christ, is he dead?”

  “He fell”—turning, Essie noted a horse now eating the heads of her carrots—“off his horse.” Grunting, she used all her force while Cam pulled from the opposite side. The man rolled and resettled on more of her rosemary, sending a waft of spicy scent into the air.

  “He’s a big brute,” Cam muttered. “And considering the oaks we already have in this family, that is saying a great deal.”

  He was a big brute, Essie thought, reaching for his head to begin examining. Parting the thick, tawny locks, she searched his scalp for bumps or wounds.

  “Miss Essex?”

  “‘I am all right, Bertie, but we have an injured man.”

  “Myrtle came into the kitchen with such haste, she collided with the wall, so I feared something was not right.”

  Bertie and his brother Josiah Hemple worked for the Sinclair family. He appeared beside the man’s feet, his usually smiling face lined with worry.

  “It’s his side, Essie.”

  Cam had opened the man’s jacket, and she saw the white of his shirt was stained red to the left of his stomach.

  Ripping the shirt open, Essie saw the bullet hole, blood pouring from the wound.

  “We have to stop the blood flow, Cam. He’ll likely die if not. And that’s if the shock doesn’t take him. We must get him into the surgery now. Lift under his arms, Bertie and I will take his legs.”

  They soon had him off the ground.

  “Move, Myrtle!” Cam roared at the shaggy dog that barred his way. “I’m sorry for your soaking, but perhaps your glower would be better aimed at my sister, as it was her fault.”

  Essie shot the animal a look. Her usually fluffy hair was smashed flat on her head, and she did not look pleased.

  “We shall clean you soon, Myrtle,” Essie said gently, which earned her a tail wag.

  It was slow going, and even with three of them they labored with the man’s big body. Finally they staggered through the doors of the home she had been born in, and down the hallway where paintings of her family hung in wooden frames, and marks bore proof of the seven children who had lived there.

  The treatment room had been set up for her patients and would have everything she needed to help the man. Laying their burden on the table, they all drew in several deep breaths.

  “L-lord, I thought your brothers were big men,” Bertie rasped.

  “He’s got a few pounds on us,” Cam said.

  “I know, look at his feet, they hang over the end,” Essi
e added, looking at the large leather boots. “Go and boil water now please, Bertie, and tell Josiah when he returns to make up Dev’s bed. None of the patient beds will be big enough.”

  “Tell me what to do, sister,” Cam said, stepping to the other side of the treatment table as Essie studied the injury. The bullet hole was on the left side under the ribs, and a steady stream of blood still trickled from the wound. Even if the bullet had hit nothing vital, there was still the risk of infection. She would need to clean the area quickly, and if needed remove the bullet.

  “Lift him, Cam, and I will see if the bullet has gone through.”

  Cam did as she asked, and Essie saw no exit wound. However, what she did see made her sick to her stomach.

  “Dear Lord.”

  Lash marks crisscrossed his back from left to right, top to bottom.

  “There are so many,” Essie whispered in horror.

  Her brother studied the marks. “He’s either a very bad man, or been sorely mistreated.”

  “No man has a right to do this to another, Cam. No matter their crimes.”

  “Some punishments befit the crime.”

  “Not this.” She traced a finger over a welt. “They are old, and it’s my guess happened when he was but a child.”

  “Now that is a crime,” Cam said, and she heard the anger in his words. “No child deserves that.”

  “The bullet will need to be removed.”

  “Oh joy.” Her brother lowered the man back to the table. “Just my luck I was the sibling present when you required a nurse. ’Tis my fondest wish that he stays unconscious until you’ve finished, because restraining this hulking man will not be easy.”

  Gathering what she needed from her supplies, Essie was ready when Bertie returned with a pot of steaming water.

  “We need to wash the area now, Cam, and remove the blood, then douse the injury in alcohol.”

  “Must we? It seems such a waste.” Cam took the bottle from her hands and took a large, fortifying swig.

  Together they set about cleaning the man and stripping off his remaining clothes. Pulling the sheet to his waist, Essie studied the small bullet hole. She would need to make it bigger. She picked up her scalpel and made a small incision. Cam made gagging noises.

  “Surely by now you have been exposed to enough blood and various other body fluids to be able to cope with a few more.”

  “Certain body fluids I am more than happy to share, others I am not.”

  “I cannot believe you just said that to me,” Essie said, concentrating on the incision. “You are a vulgar man.”

  “I have no idea what you were thinking, sister, and if it is what I think, then shame on you.”

  Essie snuffled. She and her sibling were not the type to cosset each other, nor hide their feelings. In fact, they spoke exactly what they wanted, when they wanted to.

  “Mop up the blood with a clean pad, Cam.”

  His large hand did so gently.

  “If Lord Sinclair was here, he’d bang both your heads together,” Bertie said from the foot of the bed.

  “Ah, but he is not, therefore we are at liberty to speak as we wish, Bertie,” Cam said.

  “Now I need to find the bullet.”

  “Have you done this before, Ess?”

  “Yes, four times, and it’s never pleasant. Hand me those forceps.”

  “Yes, doctor.”

  It was not an easy task digging around for a small piece of lead. It could have gone anywhere, and done considerable damage. Blood started pumping, and Cam staunched it as best he could. Bertie stood in readiness to hand them whatever was required.

  “It’s like eeling in the pond,” Essie muttered.

  “You have no idea what’s beneath you?”

  “Yes.” Relief made her knees weak as she located the bullet and eased it from his body, but as it pulled free, the blood started flowing fast.

  “I need your strength now, Cam. Hurry! I’m not sure this man will live the night if I do not succeed in staunching the blood flow.”

  Cam came to her side. His hand slipped beneath her hair and touched the back of her neck. She felt the shiver of power that came when her siblings touched her. They were stronger together, and had proved it many times.

  She applied pressure, and several tense minutes later the blood flow eased.

  “Thank God,” Essie whispered. Now the imminent danger had passed, she felt fear grip her, as it always did when a patient’s life was in her hands.

  “I’m proud to have you as my sister, Essex Sinclair.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered, and the hand on her neck squeezed gently. He softly kissed her head.

  She cleaned the wound and doused it in spirits once more.

  “Such a small thing to cause so much pain and heartache.” Essie inspected the bullet.

  “A necessary evil I’m afraid, sister dear.”

  Essie quickly closed the hole with seven neat stitches, and then placed a clean pad over it while she got what she needed to bandage it.

  “I always get a jolt when I see you doing things like this,” Cam said. She glanced up at him. The Sinclair green eyes were studying her intently.

  Like all seven siblings, he had dark hair. Tall, he was not as large as their eldest brother, Dev, but still a considerable height and weight.

  “You’re the gentle sister. The one we go to when we need an ‘awww, there there, everything is all right,’ so when I see you extracting a bullet from an unconscious man, it throws me.”

  “Awww, there there, brother, everything will be all right.”

  Cam snorted. “But seriously, you’re amazing, Essie. I just wanted you to know.”

  “I’ll take that compliment, and I love you too, brother.”

  Now she needed to check for further injuries. Taking her first real look at him, Essie studied the still face. A thick mane of tawny hair would reach his shoulders when upright. His skin was tanned, suggesting hours spent in the sun. The sharp edges and lines of his cheekbones were more exposed with him lying down, and could have been carved from stone. His nose was crooked and large, dark lashes were thick. His chest was broad and defined with muscle; bending for a closer look, Essie noted several old scars on his torso. Some crisscrossed, others were straight. This man had lived a hard life, was her guess.

  “A seaman, perhaps?” Cam said. He turned over the man’s hands and saw they had callouses. “Some form of manual labor is my guess. The marks to his body suggest this man has seen some tough times in his life.”

  “Do you recognize him at all, Cam?”

  “No, never seen him before. But one thing I do know is that if he lives, it is solely due to you.”

  Had he deserved his fate? Shaking her head, Essie pushed that thought aside. No one deserved to be shot and die as a result. Or maybe some did. She thought back to one man who had deserved that and more.

  “Maybe you could get him something to wear, Cam?”

  “It’s not enough that I must help patch him up, I must now clothe him also?” he tutted. She watched him turn, then stop.

  “I said I was sorry, Myrtle. Have mercy and forgive me, sweetheart.”

  “Is she looking at you?”

  “With eyes that suggest I have taken her last bone,” Cam muttered. “I have to say her hair like that reminds me of Squire Fudge. You know he has it carefully arranged to cover the bald patches.”

  Essie rolled her eyes as her brother left the room, and returned to the man. She started with his head and then worked slowly down his body. He was a handsome devil, and for the first time in many months, a flutter in her pulse made her aware of just how handsome. But she no longer cared for that. Her first and only experience with a man had ended in disaster. He had been handsome, and she’d thought kind. Words had flowed from his mouth and hypnotized her.

  “And I will never again allow that to happen,” she whispered. “No man will make a fool of me a second time.”

  When she was sure the bullet wo
und was the only injury, she took a small bowl and began to walk down her rows of jars, selecting the ingredients for the tisane she would try and pour down his throat. She mixed them with a small amount of hot water, then set it on the rack to stay warm. Next she prepared something for the pain he was sure to wake with... if he woke.

  “Christ!”

  Essie hurried back to her patient at his gruff curse. His eyes were open, the tawny brown depths filled with pain. She’d seen eyes like that before, in a painting of a lion. The sun was lowering in the sky, but there was still enough light from the windows to pick up the flecks of amber in the iris. Essie was used to the unusual, being from a family that stood outside what was termed normal, yet she had never seen eyes like this on a human. In fact, this man was surely a lion in every way, big and strong. She could feel the power beneath her fingers as she touched the cords of muscle in his arms to soothe him.

  “I will give you something for the pain. Rest now,” Essie said in the gentle voice she reserved for her patients.

  “Who are you?” His fingers wrapped around her wrist and held her as she would have turned away. The grip was surprisingly strong, considering his injury.

  “Miss Sinclair, sir. Now do not move, as you will start the wound bleeding again. Release me please.”

  He did, and she placed an arm beneath his shoulders and helped him upright.

  “A few mouthfuls will help with the pain.”

  He drank and then wrinkled his nose.

  “More.”

  “It is foul.”

  “And yet good for you, so you will drink every drop.” Essie had three brothers and three sisters, and she had coaxed even the most reluctant of her siblings to take medicine when required.

  His eyes looked at her over the rim as he did what she asked. The tawny depths were intent as he studied her. Ignoring the flutter in her pulse, she lay him back on the bed.

  “Rest now,” Essie soothed, brushing the hair from his forehead in a gesture as natural as breathing to her.