Godric St. Laurent, the twelfth
Duke of Essex, leaned back in his saddle watching the abduction he’d orchestrated
unfold. Covering his mouth with a gloved hand, he stifled a yawn. Things were
going smoothly. In fact, this entire kidnapping bordered on the point of
tedious. They’d intercepted the coach ten minutes before it reached Chessley
House. No one witnessed the escort of riders or the driver changing his route.
Oddly enough, the young woman hadn’t shown any signs of resistance or concern
from inside the coach. Wouldn’t she have made some protestations when she
realized what was happening? A thought stopped him dead. Had she somehow
slipped out of the coach when they’d slowed on a corner before they’d left
town? Surely not, they would have seen her. Most likely she was too terrified
to do anything, hence the silence from inside. Not that she had anything to fear,
she would not be harmed.
He nodded to his friend Charles who
was perched next to the driver. A bag of coins jingled as Charles dropped it
into the jarvey’s waiting hands.
They had reached halfway point
between London and Godric’s ancestral estate. They would go the rest of the way
on horseback, with the girl sharing a horse with either him or one of his
friends. The driver would return to London with a message for Albert Parr and a
wild story that exonerated himself from blame.
“Ashton, stay here with me.” Godric
waved his friend over while the others rode the horses a good distance away to
wait for his signal. Abductions were tricky things, and having only himself and
one other man take hold of the girl would be better. She might have a fit of
hysterics if she saw the other three men too close.
He rode up to the coach, curious to
see whether the woman inside matched his memory. He’d seen her once before from
a window overlooking the gardens when he’d visited her uncle. She’d been
kneeling in the flowerbeds, her dress soiled as she weeded. A job more suited
to a servant than a lady of quality. He’d been ready to dismiss her from his
mind when she’d turned and glanced about the garden, a smudge of dirt on the
tip of her upturned nose. A butterfly from a nearby flower had fluttered above
her head. She hadn’t noticed it, even as it settled on her long, coiling auburn
hair. Something in his chest gave a funny little flip, and his body had stirred
with desire. Any other woman so innocent would not have caught his interest,
but he’d glimpsed a keenness in her eyes, a hidden intelligence as she dug into
the soil. Miss Emily Parr was different. And different was intriguing.
Ashton handed the driver the ransom
letter for Parr and took up a position near the front of the coach. Taking hold
of the door, Godric opened it up, waiting for the screaming to start.
None came.
“My deepest apologies, Miss Parr—”
Still no screaming. “Miss Parr?” Godric thrust his head into the coach.
It was empty. Not even a
fire-breathing dragon of a chaperone, not that he’d expected one. His sources
had assured him she would be alone tonight.
Godric looked over his shoulder.
“Ash? You’re sure this is Parr’s coach?”
“Of course. Why?” Ashton jumped off
his horse, marched over and thrust his head into the empty coach. He was silent
a long moment before he withdrew. Ashton put his finger against his lips and
motioned to the inside. A tuft of pink muslin peeped out from the wooden seat.
He gestured for Godric to step away from the coach.
Ashton lowered his voice. “It seems
that our little rabbit chase has turned into a fox hunt. She’s hidden in the
hollow space of the seat, clever girl.”
“Hiding under the seat?” Godric
shook his head, bewildered. He didn’t know one woman of his acquaintance who
would do something so clever. Perhaps Evangeline, but then if anything could be
said of that woman, it was that she was far from ordinary. A prickling of
excitement coursed through his veins, into his chest. He loved a challenge.
“Let’s wait a few minutes and see
if she emerges.”
Godric looked back at the coach,
impatience prickling inside him. “I don’t want to wait here all night.”
“She’ll come out soon enough. Allow
me.” Ashton walked back to the coach and called out to Godric in a carrying
voice. “Blast and damnation! She must have slipped out before we took charge of
the coach. Just leave it. We’ll take the driver back to London tomorrow.”
Ashton shut the door with a loud slam and motioned for Godric to join him.
“Now we wait,” Ashton whispered. He
indicated that he would guard the left coach door while Godric stationed
himself at the right.
Emily listened to the drum of
retreating hooves and silently counted to one hundred. Her heart jolted in her
chest as she considered what the men would do if they caught her. Highwaymen
could be cruel and murderous, especially if their quarry offered little. She
had no access to her father’s fortune, which left only her body.
Icy dread gripped Emily’s spine,
paralyzing her limbs. She drew a breath as anxiety spiraled through her.
I
must be brave. Fight them until I can
fight no more. With trembling hands, she pushed at the roof of the seat,
wincing as it popped open. Once she climbed out, she brushed dirt from her
gown, noticing some tears from the rough wood on the inside of the seat. But
the tears held no importance. All that mattered was survival.
Emily looked out the coach window.
Nothing stood out in the darkness. Only the faint glimmer of moonlight touched
the road with milky tendrils. Stars winked and flickered overhead, pale lights,
distant and cold. A shudder wracked her frame, and Emily hugged herself,
wanting so much to be at home. She missed her warm bed and her parents’ murmurs
from down the hall. It was a comfort she’d taken for granted. But she couldn’t
afford to think about them, not when she was in danger.
Were
the men truly gone? Could it really be this easy?
She opened the coach door, and
stepped down onto the dirt road. Strong arms locked about her waist and yanked
her backward. The collision with a hard body knocked the breath from her lungs.
Terror spiked her blood as she struggled against the arms that held her.
“Good evening, my darling,” a low
voice murmured.
Emily screamed once, before she bit
down on the hand that covered her mouth. She tasted the smooth leather of fine
riding gloves.
The man roared and nearly dropped
her. “Damn!”
Emily rammed an elbow backwards
into her attacker’s stomach and began to wrestle free until he grabbed her arm.
She swung about, striking him across the face with a balled fist. The man
staggered back, leaving her free to dive inside the coach.
If she could get to the other side
and run, she might stand a chance. She scrabbled towards the door, but never
made it. The devil surged into the coach after her. Turning to face him, she
was knocked flat onto her back.
She screamed again as his body
settled over hers.
The dim moonlight revealed his
bright eyes and strong features.
He caught her flailing wrists,
pinning them above her head. “Quiet!”
Emily wanted to rake his eyes out,
but the man was relentless. His hips ground against hers and panic drove her to
a new level of terror. Her fears of being forcibly taken surfaced as his warm
breath fanned over her face and neck. She shrieked, and he reared back away
from her, as though the sound confused him.
“I’m not going to hurt you.” His
voice vibrated with a low growl, ruining any promise his words might carry.
“You’re hurting me now!” She yanked
her arms uselessly against his hold.
The man eased off her somewhat, and
Emily took her chance. She tucked her knees up, and with all the power she
could summon, she kicked. Her attacker stumbled out the open door and fell onto
his back. Emily barely registered that he was winded before she turned and
exited the other side of the coach.
The moment she emerged, another man
lunged for her. To escape him, Emily fell back against the side of the coach.
Rather than grab her, he held his arms wide to keep her from slipping by him,
like he was corralling livestock.
“Easy, easy,” he purred.
Emily whipped her head to the left
and pleaded with her mind to think, but the man she’d bitten rounded the corner
and pounced, pinning her against the coach, his arms caging her in. His solid
muscular body towered over her. His jaw clenched as though one move from her
would trigger something dark and wild. Emily’s breath caught, and her heart
pounded violently against her ribs.
The man was panting and angry. The
intensity of his eyes mesmerized her, but the second he blinked, the spell
broke and she fought with every bit of strength she could muster.
Alexa: What’s your favorite fairy tale?
Lauren: Sleeping Beauty. I normally don’t like passive heroines, but there’s
something about a young woman being raised away from home, living a simple life
and never knowing she’s doomed to fall into eternal sleep on her 16th
birthday. I think I love the drama behind knowing that no matter what, she’s
going to touch the spindle. Then it’s up to a prince to fight through hell to
save her, and he’s going off just a chance encounter in the woods. That says a
lot about a man who’s willing to do that for a woman he just met. I love that
whole idea.
Alexa: What sound or noise do you love?
Lauren: There a wind chime that the house behind me has
hanging on their porch and it’s a large metal shape. When it swings in the
wind, it doesn’t actually chime, but rings like a bell. It sounds like those
old brass bells that were on ships that sailors used to ring every hour during
their watches. I loved reading Horatio Hornblower books in high school and when
the movies came out on A&E, they always had those bells ringing on the
ships and I adore that sound. It takes me back in the past every time I hear
it.
Alexa: What was the first story you remember writing?
Lauren: I was 11 when the movie Titanic came out and when Leo DiCaprio’s
character died it just killed my 11 year old crush so I decided to re-write the
entire story to have a better ending. I watched the VHS tape until it broke and
then I handwrote the entire story just like it happened in the movie except at
the very end, where of course Leo doesn’t die, but manages to get back upon the
wooden door with Rose and they lived happily ever after in New York.
Alexa: What’s something you’d like to tell your fans?
Lauren: I believe the best stories are about people with flaws, and people that
have to change from the first page to the last. If you want to see heroes who
aren’t perfect, who may in fact come off as arrogant jerks but who truly change
by the end of the book due to falling in love with the heroine, then my stories
are for you!
Alexa: What’s the first thing you do when you finish
writing a book?
Lauren: I drink a glass of wine, and feel a little sad that such a fun story
was over, and then about an hour later, I’m so excited about the next book that
I’m flipping to a crisp white page in my notebook and starting a new book!
Alexa: What is your favorite tradition from your
childhood that you would love to pass on or did pass on to your children?
Lauren: Reading out loud. My mother and father read me stories from the time I
was little, so I have a good appreciation for listening to stories and also for
teaching children to read aloud and gain good oratory skills.
Alexa: Which of your characters would you most/least to
invite to dinner, and why?
Lauren: I’d invite the entire league of rogues which is made up of six rich,
influential men from Regency London. They are all rakishly handsome, incredibly
charming, funny as heck, and their sense of friendship is so familial that I’d
feel right at home hanging out with them.
Alexa: What does it mean to love someone?
Lauren: It means to love everything about them, even their flaws, knowing that
they might never change but you want them anyway. It also means to sacrifice
things that matter to you, to make them happy, or to let them go if that’s what
it takes. You must care about them and their needs above your own.
Alexa: What is your hero’s “kryptonite” – in other words,
what will bring him instantly to his knees?
Lauren: For Godric, the hero of Wicked Designs, it’s Emily, the heroine’s
tears. When she cries, it wounds him to his very soul because he wants more
than anything to make her happy. Which considering that he’s a Regency era bad
boy, is both charming and cute.
Alexa: What will always make you smile, even on a bad
day?
Lauren: My brother sends me funny video .gifs of animals doing silly things and
for some reason, animals being funny ALWAYS makes me laugh.
Alexa: What drew you to write in the genre(s) you do?
Lauren: I have been writing love stories for as long as I can remember. I think
because my parents have such a strong love and that all of my family member
have strong love based relationships, that love is important to me. I was
writing romance before I even knew what it was. I started writing fantasy and
young adult, but a friend pointed out to me, that I was really actually writing
romances because everything always came back to the two people falling in love.
Each story I write tries to approach problems couples may have and how they
overcome those obstacles to be together. I think love is what gives life true
meaning and I couldn’t imagine writing anything else.
Alexa: What has been your most rewarding publishing
moment?
Lauren: When readers email me and tell me that they read the book in one
sitting and have to know which rogue in the league is next in the series. This
are complete strangers who email me and it means everything to me to see my
characters have touched people deeply. I
love knowing that the story resonated with them. I even had two people tell me
they dreamed about the book that night when they were reading it, which was an
absolute joy to hear!
WHO IS ALANNA LUCAS?
Alexa: If you couldn’t be a writer anymore, what
profession would you take up?
