Ensnaring Lord Starsen

  Table of Contents

  ENSNARING LORD STARSEN

  Prologue

  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

  Epilogue

  ENSNARING LORD STARSEN

  Touched By Fire Series Book Three

  JENN LANGSTON

  SOUL MATE PUBLISHING

  New York

  ENSNARING LORD STARSEN

  Copyright©2017

  JENN LANGSTON

  Cover Design by Rae Monet, Inc.

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

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

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  Published in the United States of America by

  Soul Mate Publishing

  P.O. Box 24

  Macedon, New York, 14502

  ISBN: 978-1-68291-450-2

  www.SoulMatePublishing.com

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  To Janet,

  I can’t even begin to thank you

  enough for all your hard work.

  You believed in me before I got ‘the call’

  and your faith in me has never wavered.

  You push me and don’t let me get away with anything,

  and I adore you for it.

  Thank you!

  Prologue

  Marcus Hera, Earl of Starsen, pulled back his fist back a second time, ignoring the blood his friend had spat at his feet as a wave of familiar anger washed through him. “Insult me again and that fight will seem tame compared to what I’ll do to you.”

  Keeping his glare settled on Ian, Marcus puffed out his chest, attempting to look older than his fourteen years. Since his father had died a decade ago, he’d been the man in charge, and he never backed down from a fight.

  Their other friend, Gordon Ashford, groaned. “Will the both of you shut up before I knock you both out?”

  The glare coming from Ian could have withered a stone. “There’s no way you two are going to drag me into another one of those bloody schemes.”

  Tamping down his anger, Marcus tried to focus on the excitement ahead. He’d been staying with Ian’s family since they had returned from Eton three days ago, and Lord Knightly didn’t let them get away with much. Marcus loved nothing more than a good plan. After all, a hint of danger made life so much better. He wouldn’t allow anything to get in their way. Even Ian’s sense of right and wrong.

  “Quit whining. This is going to be one of my greatest ideas,” Marcus promised, suppressing a smile at how his friends followed suit as he mounted his horse.

  “This is just what we need.” The excitement in Gordon’s voice couldn’t be mistaken. “I’m growing bored. We’re men now, we need action in our lives.”

  Ian rolled his eyes. “Exactly, we’re men now. We have to start acting like it.”

  “Give me some credit, Ian. My idea will be an excellent way to prove you’re a real man.” Marcus grinned, knowing exactly what to say in order to get him to agree. “I heard the Duke of Demoon died two days ago. They have his body laying out in his hunting cabin.”

  Gordon laughed. “Of course, they do. I wouldn’t want the body of the devil laid out in my house, either.”

  “Anyway.” Marcus resisted the urge to punch Gordon. He still needed to get Ian to agree. “You want to be a man, Ian? Then, prove you’re not scared of the devil and go touch him.”

  As Ian’s horse jerked to the side, Marcus felt as though the wait would kill him. He knew Gordon would go along with whatever Ian said, and Marcus was going mad due to all the boredom.

  Marcus’s lips twitched as he forced back a smile when he saw determination lighting his friend’s face. This was it.

  “You’re on. Let’s see who gets there first,” Ian called out as he turned his horse toward the neighboring property and set him to a run.

  Giving Gordon a cocky wink, the two of them took off after their friend. The coveted rush of exhilaration ran through his veins at their upcoming adventure. He’d been four when his father had died, but he remembered, much too clearly, seeing him laying out in his room. This would be different. He grinned. And, dangerous.

  In front of them and nowhere near the cabin, Ian reined in his stallion. Had he changed his mind? Frowning, Marcus opened his mouth in question when the billowing black smoke caught his eye. Something was on fire. Considering the direction of the smoke, there wouldn’t be people nearby. Marcus straightened his back. It was up to them to put the fire out.

  Urging their mounts closer, it was obvious the fire was coming from the hunting cabin. The fires of Hell sure were anxious to claim that soul. They couldn’t even wait until he was laid in the ground.

  “What if the person sitting vigil is still inside?” Gordon’s nerves were clear as his voice shook.

  An image of Marcus’s mother as she spent hours sitting by his father’s body settled in his soul and a cold sweat covered his brow. He stared at Ian, willing him to understand. “We can’t just leave them.”

  To Marcus’s relief, Ian narrowed his eyes and set his jaw. “No. We can’t.”

  They set their horses back at a run until the mounts became difficult to control. Was this a warning? A premonition of what would happen? Marcus swallowed.

  “We can’t go any further on horseback.” Gordon’s voice barely reached them over the wild wind. “The beasts can’t handle the fire.”

  As if in a direct response, Marcus’s horse let out a loud neigh as he reared back on his hind legs. Holding on for dear life, Marcus pulled at the reins, attempting to regain control. He refused to endure the humiliation of falling off his horse.

  When the beast settled, he let out a laugh, trying to mask the terror that had torn through him. “Bloody hell! Nearly ripped my arms off.”

  “Might have done you some good to go through life as a cripple.” Ian’s tone of voice told Marcus he was still sore about agreeing to ride to the cabin.

  Attempting to lighten the seriousness of the situation, Marcus smirked. “You think so? Well, I think it’s you who needs that blow to his ego. Try getting a girl when you can’t grab her and make her stay.”

  “Gentlemen,” Gordon’s superior tone grated against Marcus’s nerves. “Quit your arguing. We need to settle the horses and get to that fire. There’s a perfect spot over there.”

  Grumbling, Ian jumped down and thrust the reins to Gordon. “Secure the horses, I’ll go check it out.”

  Not content to be left out, Marcus glared. “What abo
ut me? I’m not going to stay here.”

  “Come on,” Ian yelled over his shoulder as he made his way to the cabin, not waiting for Marcus to respond.

  As they hurried to the building, Marcus wrinkled his nose at the overwhelming stench of the black smoke. He shielded his eyes from the bright flames. And, the heat. His flesh tightened and stung as if rebelling against moving any closer to the threatening blaze.

  Apparently unfazed by the fire, Ian glanced around the burning structure. “Try the door, and I’ll check the windows.”

  Rushing off to do as bid, Marcus reached for the latch and tugged. When the heat seeped through his glove, he jerked his hand back. It was locked. Knowing they needed to find a way inside, he kicked at the door. Nothing.

  Frustrated, he moved back several paces, then ran toward the door, thrusting a high-kick upon impact. The door didn’t budge, instead a stinging vibration shot up his leg. He cursed under his breath. He couldn’t fail his friends.

  “Hello!” Ian yelled from the other side of the cabin. Marcus shook off a limp and rushed to meet up with his two friends.

  “Did you find something?” Gordon asked with a cough.

  “There’s a boy inside. We have to help him.” Alarm clouded Ian’s voice.

  “The door is locked, and I can’t kick it in,” Marcus spat, even more frustrated with his inadequacy.

  Ian glanced around then hurried to the edge of the woods and grabbed a large tree branch. “Help me break out the window.”

  As they charged the window, the sound of shattering glass could barely be heard over the roaring of the fire within. Smoke poured out of the open window. Coughing, they bent down to avoid it.

  Not wasting any time, Gordon punched at the glass with his gloved hand while Ian pulled off his riding coat and laid the garment over the jagged sill.

  “I’m going in,” Ian said.

  Marcus stood up straighter and narrowed his eyes. “Not alone. You might need help.”

  “Together,” Gordon agreed.

  Without wasting another second, Ian turned and disappeared through the opening and Gordon quickly followed him.

  “Damn it! Stupid curtain is on fire!” Gordon yelled.

  Taking extra caution, Marcus followed behind him and groaned to see the flames engulfing the room. Heat whipped at his face as the fire promised to consume them as well.

  Marcus bit down on his cheek as Ian moved to the bed and gently shook the unconscious form beside the duke.

  “I think he’s all right. Let’s just get him.” Gordon’s voice was filled with urgency.

  “I’ve got him,” Marcus braced his knees then hefted the young man in his arms without waiting for a discussion. He felt as urgent as Gordon. “Now, let’s get out of here.”

  Ian moved to the window, but quickly froze. The jacket was now on fire, the hot flames covering the opening. “What now?”

  The noxious fumes surrounded Marcus, swimming through his head and weakening his knees. He crouched lower as his friends had done, but it was difficult with the heavy load draped over his shoulder. Terror ripped through him. How were they supposed to get out of this alive?

  “The door.” Gordon crept toward the bedroom door.

  Hobbling after his friends, Marcus concentrated on keeping low and not dropping the young man who depended on him. Once in the main room he had to fight back tears. Gordon moved around the room, but their situation was hopeless. The room was consumed by the fire.

  “We need to go back!” Gordon cried, and moved past him.

  Turning back the way they had come, Marcus moved the boy further onto his shoulder to keep a hold of him.

  A deafening cracking echoed in his ears.

  Ian’s loud scream blocked out everything else as the brute-force of someone’s hands shoved Marcus forward. His foot caught on a loose floorboard and the boy slipped out of his arms as Marcus hit the floor. Pain exploded from his leg and he couldn’t contain his cries of agony.

  “Help!” Marcus screamed, and then realized there was no help for them.

  Ian lay to the side of him, pinned by his back under the same timber holding down Marcus’s leg. Fear ripped a sob from Marcus’s throat. Had Ian been the one to shove him out of the way? Guilt overwhelmed him.

  One simple dare and now Ian was dead. The moment felt surreal. If he survived this, he vowed to never attempt something this stupid again. He’d never prayed harder in his life.

  As tears streamed down his face, he tore his gaze away from Ian’s motionless form. A touch of relief caught him to see the boy he’d dropped was awake. Then, the boy turned his face and Marcus’s stomach churned. The flesh on his left cheek was boiling and smoldering from the fire, his hair singed short.

  Nausea rolled through Marcus. This was the end.

  Somewhere from the distance, Gordon’s guttural scream echoed in the room as his friend struggled to free them. The burning beam lifted, then cracked in half with a deafening boom as the pressure was relieved from Marcus’s legs. Unfortunately, the pain didn’t lessen, nor could he move.

  One prayer had been answered when Ian crawled forward, but then he collapsed again, his face flat on the floor. Glancing over toward Gordon, Marcus opened his mouth to ask for help, but immediately closed his lips. Gordon was on his knees, looking down at his swollen, fiery hands shaking in agony.

  “We have to get out of here,” the young man bellowed, anger darkening his smoldering face. “We can’t let the Devil win.”

  The words must have startled Ian back to present since he dragged himself up. As he and the older boy grabbed each of Marcus’s arms, guilt nearly choked him. He wanted to tell them to go on, to save themselves, but the words stuck in his throat.

  When they returned to the bedroom, Marcus ignored the fire as his eyes zeroed in on the duke’s body. In his mind’s eye, he could see the man laughing at him. The devil was definitely at work today, but so far, prayer was winning.

  “Give me your coat,” Ian demanded to the older boy as they settled Marcus on the floor.

  Holding himself up on his arms, Marcus watched as they replaced the coat over the window. To his everlasting embarrassment, both Ian and the older boy lifted him through the opening, the fire licking at his clothes.

  Marcus gulped in air as he blinked, trying to make his eyes adjust and determine how he was going to make it to the ground. Large hands appeared and lifted him from his friend’s grasp.

  “Dear God, there are children in here,” the man who’d rescued him said. “Quick! Help me!”

  Marcus lay in the grass, biting back his pain, as everyone was pulled from the fire. When all four of them had been freed from the fire, the man who had saved them approached.

  “We have to set that leg.”

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea right now?” another man asked. “He’s in a lot of pain.”

  The first man got down on one knee and looked Marcus in the eyes, his face sympathetic. “This has to hurt in order to make it better. Can you be a strong man for us?”

  Determination burned through Marcus, and he nodded, lips tight. As the man grabbed his leg a crack resonated through the air, then blackness overtook his vision.

  Chapter 1

  Lady Isabella Rossland dove into the cool water while doing her best to control her shivering. She had known the lake would be frigid this time of year, but her excitement overshadowed the temperature. Welcoming the first day of spring with a swim had always been her tradition, even if she ended up with chattering teeth and frozen lips.

  Having endured as much as she could take, she popped her head up out of the water, face raised to the sky, as she walked toward the bank. Her chemise hugged every inch of her body as the warming rays of the sun soaked into her cool flesh.

  A gasp from the shore alerted her that she wasn’t alone. Her eyes snapped open to find the Earl of Starsen standing there holding her gown. His shocked gaze zeroed in on her chest. Discomfited, she crossed her arms and then lifted a brow whe
n his attention moved to her face.

  Embarrassment stung her cheeks. She hadn’t expected to be caught during her yearly ritual, and certainly not by the earl. This would provide another strike against her in his estimation. Not that she really cared.

  He didn’t speak or move, and she wondered what was wrong with him. From the unkempt look of his normally meticulous hair, she suspected he’d been riding. The lack of his walking cane also helped to bring credence to her conclusion. That certainly explained his appearance, but not his lack of speech.

  “What are you doing?” he croaked out at last.

  Her mouth almost fell open. Catching herself, she resisted the urge to roll her eyes at his ridiculous question. “Stargazing, my lord.” She batted her eyes at him, exuding innocence. “I find the heat of the day awards me with a significant number of constellations to study.”

  She fought to repress her mirth at the sight of his jaw clenching. She couldn’t be sure if his irritation was with her or himself for asking such a preposterous question. Either way, she would take any opportunity to knock the disapproving, boorish man off balance.

  “My question was intended to inquire after your presence on Starsen land.”

  Narrowing her eyes, all amusement left her as she squared her shoulders. “Are you saying, now that your sister—my friend—has wed, I am no longer welcome?”

  He swallowed.

  Good. As far as she saw, the earl was always too put-together. It was fitting to see him squirm a little, even if only for a short time. The man definitely needed to be shaken up a bit.

  “As you know, you are always welcome. However, we normally prefer our visitors to be clothed.”

  “Is that why you are holding my gown hostage?” She indicated the dress he now clenched in his fist.

  His vision slowly moved to the garment as if only now realizing he still had it in his grasp. He released it quickly as if it were a snake. Pink tinged his cheeks, and if truth be told, she enjoyed his discomfort. It made him more real. More human.