Earl of Exile

  Copyright © 2020 by Tammy Andresen

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Epilogue

  Viscount of Vice

  About the Author

  Other Titles by Tammy

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  Hugs!

  Chapter One

  Lord Callum Exmouth stood on the edge of the large ballroom, strategically near one of the open garden doors. The spring breeze kept the air around him fresh and made him feel less trapped by the crowd. Large social gatherings made him uncomfortable. Not that he couldn’t participate in them, he just didn’t like them.

  He rolled his neck from side to side, causing it to crack. Hell, he hated parties and balls. Unlike the other men in his circle, he hadn’t grown up knowing he was part of the peerage. His friends called him Exile, and the name suited him. He was an outcast, especially among his own family.

  A gentleman bumped him and Exile let out a deep rumble of dissatisfaction. The man looked over at him, his brow scrunched until he caught Exile’s gaze then his own eyes widened in surprise. “I beg your pardon.” The man shuffled off quickly giving several worried glances backward.

  He cracked two of his knuckles as if to underscore his point. Exile had that effect on people. His sheer size was intimidating.

  Exile’s cousin, Ewan, was supposed to be the next Earl of Exmouth. Ewan had been born and raised for the position of a Scottish earl and had taken to the role naturally. Fair and decent, Ewan would have made an excellent leader of his people. Exile thought back to his larger-than-life cousin. Though, physically speaking, they’d been the same size, even as kids, Ewan had always known what to do. One summer, Exile had stayed with his aunt and uncle on their estate north of Glasgow. While playing with a group of boys, one of them had fallen from a tree and broken his arm. At twelve years of age, Ewan had taken charge. He’d sent one child for help, another was to hold the boy’s hand, a third was to go directly to the doctor. At ten, Exile had wondered if he’d ever be as capable as Ewan. Now at eight and twenty he was still asking himself that same question.

  Two ladies passed by him, gossiping loudly. “Did you see the cut of her dress? Awful.”

  “I know,” the other replied, snapping open her fan and giving him a long stare over the top.

  Exile looked away, not interested. His mind was elsewhere in the past. More and more he thought of his cousin rather than less. Ewan should be the earl now. Instead, Ewan had died five years prior. The worst part was his cousin had left this world attempting, as usual, to do the right thing. Exile’s gut clenched. Bloody unfair. So now, his family, his people, were stuck with Exile as their earl. No one was happy about it. Certainly not his aunt. Definitely not the farmers who grumbled about how much time he spent in England and most certainly not himself.

  Exile had never wanted the responsibility. Of course, he still tried to do the best he could. Hell, he’d even gone into business running a gaming hell to make sure his people remained fed. Not that anyone would appreciate his efforts if they knew the truth. They’d likely call him morally corrupt. On several occasions his aunt had outright told him he wasn’t the man Ewan had been. She wasn’t wrong. In fact, Exile mostly agreed.

  He shifted, uncomfortable with where his thoughts had dragged him. A woman with a large feathered hat stepped in front of him, the plumes reaching several feet in the air and blocking his view. As he moved, he caught sight of the door. His friend and fellow club owner walked into the room. The Duke of Darlington, being a full head taller than everyone else, was easy to spot. Next to him was his wife, Minnie. Her bright red hair also standing out in the crowd. He searched just behind her and saw the woman he’d originally come to see: Lady Diana Chase.

  His insides tightened. He hadn’t meant to react like that. He’d gone to the ball to see her, yes, but not to be with her. In fact, he already had an intended, though he hadn’t chosen that woman either. Fiona was Ewan’s fiancée and his aunt was convinced that Exile should honor the commitment. If he recalled, her exact words were to the effect of, “It’s the least you could do.”

  His chest puffed out as he drew in a long breath. Marry a woman he’d never even met? Then again, after all the losses his aunt had endured, he wasn’t certain how he could refuse.

  He gazed across the room at Diana, his body clenching with awareness. He’d met her a month ago when she and her sisters had arrived at the illicit club in the middle of the night. Diana’s sister, Emily, had been in search of her fiancé. But the ladies had put both their reputations and the club’s secret nature at risk by going there. Even worse, one of Darlington’s enemies knew the ladies had been there.

  As a result, Exile and his friends had agreed to keep watch over the Chase women. Make sure they didn’t expose their secret or run into trouble themselves. A promise Exile couldn’t regret more. Every time he looked at Diana, his breath froze in his chest like a bloody schoolboy with his first crush.

  Darlington caught sight of Exile and headed straight for him. Inside Exile swore a string of curses. He should have refused to come here tonight. He should have stayed home. But he’d made a promise and the stakes of that promise had gotten more serious the past few days.

  “You came,” Darlington rumbled as he reached out his hand to shake Exile’s.

  Exile gave a single nod, making certain not to look at Diana. “Aye. I came.”

  “I suppose you’re both worried after the incident with Cordelia….” Diana spoke from his left.

  He still didn’t look at her but that didn’t stop her voice from vibrating through him. It was stronger and more confident than many women but beautifully musical with high, rich tones. The sound struck a chord deep inside him.

  He turned toward her then, his heart stopping as he looked into those deep, dark brown eyes, fringed with long, black lashes. She was tall for a woman, allowing him to really drink in the details of her face as he himself was well over six feet. Her straight nose was punctuated by the tiniest upturn at the end, her full lips begged to be kissed, her high cheekbones only accentuating that fact.

  Diana’s dark hair was piled atop her head in a soft coif that made him long to touch the strands and he gripped his thigh to keep his hand in place. “Can’t be too careful,” he murmured, still drinking in every detail. Her dress came well off the shoulder, exposing her delicate skin and showing her cleavage. He’d like to kiss a path down her neck and over her shoulder, cutting across her chest and—

  “With the Countess of Abernath loose about London, we must be very careful when we’re out in public,” Darlington spoke in a low voice, bending his head so as not to be overheard. He likely needn’t have bothered, the room was so loud, Exile could barely hear himself think.

  “Let’s step outside. We’ll be able to hear each other out there.” Minnie wrapped her arm thr
ough her husband’s and they both moved toward the open doors.

  Exile had no choice but to hold out his elbow to Diana. As her delicate fingers slipped into his elbow, he flexed the muscles in his arm attempting to curb his reaction to her touch. “Did Cordelia and Malice successfully leave for Dover?”

  Diana nodded. “They did. Cordelia seemed very relieved to have left London after what the countess did.”

  Exile grimaced. Darlington’s former fiancée, the Countess of Abernath, had stolen Cordelia from her own home. She’d been attempting to blackmail Cordelia into exposing the club and Darlington’s involvement. “Can’t say that I blame her. I’m surprised ye’ve come out at all.”

  Diana shrugged. “Ada and Grace are at home. But we need to make public appearances or society will begin to wonder what’s happened to us and I’m most suited to stand in for the family.”

  His shoulders straightened as he stared at her, admiration filling his chest. “Ye are a verra strong lass.”

  She looked up at him then, a small smile curving her lips. “I’ll take that as a compliment. Thank you.”

  “I meant it as a compliment. Ye’re welcome.” She was just the sort of woman a Scottish man would like to walk beside. Strong, beautiful, ready to speak her mind and fight for the ones she loved.

  And she could never be his.

  Diana gave the large Scot next to her a sidelong glance. The man was interesting, she’d give him that. He was large, not fat, but tall and thickly muscled. He had broad features that would never work for a woman but looked handsome on a man. His square jaw and heavily corded neck gave him an air of power and physical presence.

  He was the sort of man a weaker woman might want to hide behind. Diana didn’t hide from anything.

  “The question, now that we’ve decided I’m of strong stock, is what does a man do with such a dominant woman?” She wasn’t sure why she asked except that most men were a bit afraid of her. But not him. He looked right at her. In fact, his gaze was so strong, she often found herself shifting uncomfortably.

  Exile swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Then he mumbled so softly she almost didn’t hear him, “I can think of a thing or two.”

  She nearly tripped over her own feet. She’d known that he was attracted to her from their first meeting. When they were together, his eyes never left her. But men often were enamored with her beauty until they got to know her better.

  One man had made her believe he’d liked her just the way she was, but he turned out to be a liar on so many levels. She supposed she should give Exile a few points for honesty, but his innuendo reminded her that she wasn’t dealing with a gentleman. Exile, just like the cad in her past, Charles Crusher, was a rogue. And once a rogue, always a rogue.

  “Can you now?” she asked, stopping. Minnie and Darlington were just ahead. “Such a gentleman.”

  He grimaced, coming to a stop as well. “My apologies,” He turned toward her. “I didna mean to offend.”

  His brogue tickled her ears, sliding down her neck. “You’re not the first to make such insinuations and you won’t be the last.” She turned forward to begin walking again. “I don’t pay any of you any mind.”

  He held her in place, not moving. “I’m just like those other men, am I?” His voice had dropped deeper, lower, almost sinister. “Would those other men follow ye from ball to ball to keep you safe?”

  Diana raised her brows, giving him a long look. Why did part of her like this protective behavior? “Is that what you’re doing?”

  He shrugged. “Perhaps.”

  Diana gave her head a shake. “If that is, in fact, your real motive, I don’t need you to follow me about, Lord Exmouth. Continue with your life and leave me to mine.”

  “I can’t.” His other hand came to her waist. Tingling heat spread through her at the touch. “I’ve made a promise and though I’m not as good a man as I’d like to be, I do keep my word.”

  What did that mean? He wasn’t as good a man as he wanted to be? “I’m sure you do. I pride myself on needing no one’s help.”

  He gave his head a shake. “Forgive me for stating the obvious but a lady doesn’t have much choice in the matter.”

  “I have choices,” she answered, notching up her chin. Unlike many women, she had money of her own that her mother and father had set aside for her. Perhaps she’d travel the world or open a bookstore. It didn’t matter as long she wasn’t subverted to someone else’s will. “Enough of them, anyhow.”

  “Do tell,” he answered. Darlington and Minnie had stopped just ahead and turned back to look at them.

  “You’re falling behind,” Minnie called. “Shall we stay here and chat or should we walk a bit? I find I don’t wish to go back to the party just yet.”

  “Let’s walk,” Exile answered.

  Diana prickled, her spine snapping straighter. She didn’t need him to talk for her. “I think—” She started but suddenly she lurched to the side as he gave her a push. Exile then grabbed her waist and righted her, but Minnie and Darlington had already begun walking. She stopped, stomping her slipper on the stone path. “You did that on purpose.”

  “Guilty,” he answered. “We’re not done talking.”

  “I say we are done,” she hissed back.

  “Do ye think ye’ll marry?” he asked, ignoring her completely.

  The man was thick. Not physically, well technically he was very well-muscled, but at this moment she meant mentally. And why was he prodding like this? It was a raw subject for her. “It’s none of your business, but I doubt it very much.”

  His hand at her waist tightened and he drew her closer. “Ye…unmarried?”

  Her breath caught as his heat began to seep in through her dress. She tsked, looking up at him. “You don’t know anything about me.”

  “I ken a few things,” he said, dropping his face closer to hers. “I ken yer blood sings with passion. I can feel it even now.”

  She opened her mouth to answer but no words came out. He was right, of course, and her passionate nature had gotten her into a fair bit of trouble already. “You’re wrong.”

  “I’m not.” His mouth dropped even closer to hers. “I can prove it too.”

  “How?” Had she just asked that out loud? Why had she done that? But she already knew. She was attracted to him, the rapid beat of her heart affirmed that fact with every thump. And part of her, the very bad part, wanted what he was about to do.

  By way of answer, he dropped his mouth to hers, his lips pressing hers closed. Fire and heat, and sweet, stinging passion shot through her veins, making her gasp in delight. He lifted his mouth again but only for a moment before he kissed her again and then a third time, each building the tension in her body until she wanted to crush herself against that large chest.

  What had she just done?

  Chapter Two

  Exile lifted his head, looking down into Diana’s dark, half-lidded eyes. Bloody Christ, there had been more passion in those small kisses than entire nights he’d spent with other women. He wasn’t comparing, there was no comparison. Something about her scent, like fresh snow, and her taste, a hint of peppermint, and the feel of her lips, so soft and so eager. His body vibrated with untapped passion.

  Then he cursed, silently at least. He wasn’t supposed to want this woman. Would resisting Diana be easier or harder if his fiancée wasn’t some faceless lady with only a name? Fiona MacFarland was some laird’s daughter who’d been promised to Ewan since childhood. All he could see right now was the woman in front of him, her plump lips parted as though she were waiting for another kiss.

  Damn, he wanted to give one to her.

  “So, have I proven my point?” The moment the words left his mouth, he wished he hadn’t said them.

  For a moment, her eyes clouded with confusion, then she snapped back and away from him. The loss of her soft body pressed against his filled him with regret and he longed to pull her close again. But he’d spoken those words for a reason. They needed
distance between them. He should have never kissed her in the first place. He just hadn’t been able to help himself.

  “You’ve made several points,” she said, her voice taking on a sharp edge that cut as deeply as any knife.

  He winced. “I’m sorry, lass. I should not have done it. A man better than myself would never take advantage of an innocent woman and I—”

  “Enough.” She let go of his arm and began walking away from him. Lifting her skirts, she picked up the pace, clearly intent upon catching Minnie. “You assume too much.”

  “What does that mean?” he asked starting after her. “What do I assume?”

  She huffed, lifting her skirts high enough that he got a view of her ankles, very slender, lovely little things that tapered off into silk slippers. “I don’t want or need your apology. I am a woman who made a choice to kiss you.”

  He reached her side and rather pointedly slipped an arm about her waist. “Did ye now?” The way he remembered it, she’d refused to acknowledge there was something between them and he’d been proving a point. Honestly, she was rather fixated on being in charge of her own destiny. Was she just the strong sister of the Chase girls?

  “I did,” she huffed, trying to slip from his embrace.

  “And if I stopped and tried to kiss you again?”

  She hit him with her hand square in the stomach. Clearly he had a soft spot. He let out a soft whoosh of breath. “Then I shall tell the Duke of Darlington.”

  His head snapped back and he arched a brow because she had him there. “But ye don’t want to marry me either. Ye’ve said so.”