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A Wish For Nicholas
Jackie Manning
She Was Of The Land; He, Of The Sea… Still, Becky Forester sang her own kind of siren song of home, family and forever - and Captain Nick Sinclair, though wedded to the ocean's adventure, found himself succumbing to its lure… !Newly knighted naval hero Nicholas Sinclair had taken command of her beloved Thornwood Hall, and Becky Forester vowed to end his interference. But the longer he stayed, the more the reason appeared to be the capture of her very heart and soul… !
Table of Contents
Cover Page (#u8d560909-c0d4-537c-aeee-6cae8beb12b4)
Praise (#uded2644b-59a7-5f4f-b460-4ed95c49ac9b)
Excerpt (#uf3ed3136-b704-5d22-9efa-b92ce482a389)
Dear Reader (#u23ba51ae-26b4-5104-83a7-27cdaf6dc91c)
Title Page (#u7009a7fc-0b70-5e59-bd19-0d53392a1458)
About the Author (#ua0e485b7-35f1-50b0-aaca-cc2028b816ee)
Dedication (#uc936272c-7d75-503d-ba6b-5712cddf45c6)
Prologue (#ue33a3177-1a95-55f4-a950-bf1dda792bdf)
Chapter One (#u53e8c73a-4153-5e6e-ab44-ec8c06f83870)
Chapter Two (#u04309db7-1b01-5a59-aece-b3cfcb8d572c)
Chapter Three (#u773de969-ce6e-5130-9d85-7dd147f489e4)
Chapter Four (#u94acc771-ff9c-52ff-9345-7c62093e30e6)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Praise for Jackie Manning’s first book, Embrace the Dawn, written as Jackie Summers
“…delightful, fast-paced romance…a facsinating debut novel.”
—Romantic Times
“This fast-paced, captivating novel makes for an incredible and enjoyable reading experience.”
—Affaire de Coeur
“…great, scintillating, five-star reading!”
—Rendezvous
“…a stunning debut…will live on in the reader’s heart long after the book is finished.”
—GEnie Romance Exchange
“I think we should shake on it,” Nick called after her.
The thought of touching him caused a fluttery sensation deep inside Becky. “Of course,” she said.
When his large, warm hand captured her small one, she almost gasped. A charge like summer lightning ripped through her. He studied her, his brilliant gray eyes staring through her. His straight black lashes shadowed his cheeks—or was it the trick of sunlight on this glorious day?
Becky stood, lost in the smoky depths of his eyes. She felt as though she was peering at an ancient rock wall. Light and dark sparkles glittered from the depths of his soul.
“Agreed.” He released her hand.
Her mouth felt as dry as hay. She nodded, afraid to trust her voice. She wiped her hand on her skirt, then strode back to her horse, forcing herself not to run like the devil…
Dear Reader,
In A Wish for Nicholas by Jackie Manning, a young widow who has been draining the income from her profitable land to improve the lives of the crofters is dismayed to learn that the crown has given away her estate as a prize to a handsome young naval hero, a man determined to uncover her secrets and win her heart. Don’t miss this delightful tale.
Margaret Moore’s popular WARRIOR SERIES is still going strong, as you will discover with A Warrior’s Bride, the wonderful tale of a peace-loving knight and a fiery noblewoman who make an unlikely match in a stormy marriage of convenience. And we are very pleased to have USA Today bestselling author Merline Lovelace back in our midst with her new Western, Countess in Buckskin, the passionate story of a Russian countess who falls in love with the rough-hewn American lieutenant who has been forced to escort her through the untamed mountains of California.
Cassandra Austin also returns this month with a ranch story, Hero of the Flint Hills, about a woman who is engaged to an aspiring politician, but finds herself drawn to his rugged half brother.
Whatever your tastes in reading, we hope you enjoy all four books.
Sincerely,
Tracy Farrell
Senior Editor
A Wish for Nicholas
Jackie Manning
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
JACKIE MANNING
believes in love at first sight. She and her husband, Tom, were married six weeks to the day after they first met and he proposed, many happy years ago. Home is a one-hundred-and-fifty-year-old colonial in Maine, where they live with their two dogs, a Shih Tzu and an Aussie Terrier. When Jackie isn’t writing romances, she’s researching and visiting interesting places to write about. She loves to hear from her readers. You can write to her at P.O. Box 1739, Waterville, ME 04963.
A Wish for Nicholas is dedicated to a true hero—a man whose love, gentle strength and quiet wisdom mean more to me each day. Bear, you’re truly the wind beneath my wings.
My special thanks for the love and support from my writer’s group. Mechele Cooper, Terri Hibbard, Carole Lambert, Prudy McMann, John Wells and Meg Wickes. Thanks for making Monday and Thursday nights so marvelous.
And to my three guardian angels, Vicki Hinze Barrett, Elizabeth Sinclair and my special sister, Kim Kowzlowski. Love ya, guys.
Prologue (#ulink_d6d622c1-d104-540a-9c0d-9ca4a54a9df0)
London, England
July 1666
“He looks dead,” said Barbara Villiers, the countess of Castlemaine, as she watched the royal physician remove the black leeches from Captain Nicholas Sinclair’s brawny chest.
“He should be dead for what he’s been through,” King Charles replied, leaning over the doctor’s shoulder and peering at the wounded man.
Handsome devil, Barbara mused. The loss of blood from the mortar wound hadn’t diminished his rugged good looks. When Sinclair recuperated, he’d make a decidedly fresh addition to the royal court.
If he lives.
The king’s dark brows knotted with worry. “England needs him alive, William. You mustn’t let him die.”
“Of course not, Your Majesty.” The court surgeon choked on the words.
Barbara smiled. If the doctor thought differently, she knew he’d not dare speak his mind in the monarch’s presence. Her attention returned to King Charles, the man she had known intimately for more than six years. Why had he insisted Sinclair be brought to a suite in the palace when the other wounded officers had been sent to hospital? And why had the king personally kept a vigil over him? Never had she seen His Majesty so concerned, except when his own children were ill.
Feeling ignored, Barbara moved to the other side of the canopied bed to stand beside the king. She teasingly brushed her breast against his velvet sleeve. “Come, Your Majesty. Why don’t you retire to your bedchamber? You must get your rest, too.” She winked, then gave him her most inviting smile, charged with anticipation.
Charles never glanced up from the patient. “You go, my dear. I want to stay with him.”
Barbara bit back her irritation. She forced a sweet face. “If you want to stay, then I’ll keep you company,” she replied, her voice silken.
The king rewarded her with an appreciative smile. She exchanged an intimate glance with him, then took a seat beside the bed.
The patient moaned. The king held his breath.
Barbara studied the young man who drew such royal attention. His thick black eyebrows and black hair contrasted sharply with the cream satin pillows behind his head. An appreciative glint brightened her blue eyes as her gaze lingered over the man’s sun-bronzed face. Were his eyes brown or blue? The thought struck her that she might never find out.
“I think he’s coming round,” cried the physician, his voice openly relieved.
The king clapped his hands. “Sinclair, can you hear me?”
His eyes opened, and Barbara noticed they were gray as the Thames on a January morning. And just as cold.
“My, God, where…where am I?” The baritone voice caused a flutter of feminine response in her.
“You’re with His Majesty, King Charles, at the royal apartments in Whitehall Palace.” The physician drew in a loud sigh. “You’re a very lucky man, Captain.”
Nicholas Sinclair sat up, and the silk sheet slid from his bare chest, pooling in soft folds at his waist. “My men! Where are my men?”
A breath caught in Barbara’s throat She had noticed his broad shoulders before, but until he sat up, she hadn’t been aware of how perfectly molded his body was. She felt the king’s gaze upon her, and she averted her glance to the floor.
“We’ll talk of your crew later,” the king said finally. “Now, you must rest—”
“No. I—I’ve got to…my men.” Sinclair grimaced as he pushed the physician aside with surprising strength. As his bare feet touched the floor, the gray eyes locked with Barbara’s for the first time. He stopped, as though suddenly aware of his nakedness. He groped for the sheet that almost slid from his lap.
Barbara smiled, aware from his expression that he recognized her as the king’s mistress. He met her bold stare, making no embarrassed move to glance away.
As if Sinclair realized that Barbara wasn’t offended by his state of undress, he pulled the sheet around him and tried to stand. He staggered back, and when the physician helped ease him against the pillows, Sinclair didn’t resist.
“You’ve cheated the devil this time, Sinclair,” the king said. “I wouldn’t tempt him again too soon.”
“Aye, you may not be so lucky next time,” the doctor added.
Sinclair clenched his jaw against the pain. Then he shouted, “Where are my men?” The veins in his neck distended when he yelled.
The physician paled at Sinclair’s insubordinate tone in the king’s presence.
The king ignored the outburst, his swarthy face solemn as he studied the man. “Very well, Sinclair,” he said finally. “I fear you’ll not rest until you know.”
Sinclair winced as he drew a breath and waited. “They’re dead, aren’t they?”
The king closed his eyelids and nodded. “Most of the lads.” When his hooded eyes opened, they were bright with moisture. “Your ship took a direct mortar. You were knocked unconscious, and the few men left brought you to safety. The physicians believe your leg can be saved.”
“My leg!” Sinclair’s bandaged fingers clenched at his sides. “I don’t give a damn about my leg.” He thumped his fists on the bed, his biceps bulged with the effort. “I should be dead with my crew.” He writhed back and forth against the pillows. “Damn it to hell! Damn! Damn! Damn!”
The king took a fortifying breath, then straightened his shoulders in reluctant resignation. After a moment, he stared back at the officer. “The Dutch have beaten us bloody, Sinclair. England needs a hero, and you’re that man.
