Books by Fern Michaels
Sweet Vengeance
Holly and Ivy
Fancy Dancer
No Safe Secret
Wishes for Christmas
About Face
Perfect Match
A Family Affair
Forget Me Not
The Blossom Sisters
Balancing Act
Tuesday’s Child
Betrayal
Southern Comfort
To Taste the Wine
Sins of the Flesh
Sins of Omission
Return to Sender
Mr. and Miss Anonymous
Up Close and Personal
Fool Me Once
Picture Perfect
The Future Scrolls
Kentucky Sunrise
Kentucky Heat
Kentucky Rich
Plain Jane
Charming Lily
What You Wish For
The Guest List
Listen to Your Heart
Celebration
Yesterday
Finders Keepers
Annie’s Rainbow
Sara’s Song
Vegas Sunrise
Vegas Heat
Vegas Rich
Whitefire
Wish List
Dear Emily
Christmas at Timberwoods
Fate & Fortune
The Sisterhood Novels
Need to Know
Crash and Burn
Point Blank
In Plain Sight
Eyes Only
Kiss and Tell
Blindsided
Gotcha!
Home Free
Déjà Vu
Cross Roads
Game Over
Deadly Deals
Vanishing Act
Razor Sharp
Under the Radar
Final Justice
Collateral Damage
Fast Track
Hokus Pokus
Hide and Seek
Free Fall
Lethal Justice
Sweet Revenge
The Jury
Vendetta
Payback
Weekend Warriors
The Men of the Sisterhood Novels
Truth or Dare
High Stakes
Fast and Loose
Double Down
The Godmothers Series
Getaway (E-Novella
Exclusive)
Spirited Away
(E-Novella Exclusive)
Hideaway (E-Novella
Exclusive)
Classified
Breaking News
Deadline
Late Edition
Exclusive
The Scoop
E-Book Exclusives
Desperate Measures
Seasons of Her Life
To Have and to Hold
Serendipity
Captive Innocence
Captive Embraces
Captive Passions
Captive Secrets
Captive Splendors
Cinders to Satin
For All Their Lives
Texas Heat
Texas Rich
Texas Fury
Texas Sunrise
Anthologies
Mistletoe Magic
Winter Wishes
The Most Wonderful Time
When the Snow Falls
Secret Santa
A Winter Wonderland
I’ll Be Home for
Christmas
Making Spirits Bright
Holiday Magic
Snow Angels
Silver Bells
Comfort and Joy
Sugar and Spice
Let It Snow
A Gift of Joy
Five Golden Rings
Deck the Halls
Jingle All the Way
Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation
FERN MICHAELS
Fate & Fortune
ZEBRA BOOKS
KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.
http:/www.kensingtonbooks.com
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
ZEBRA BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Compilation copyright © 2018 by Kensington Publishing Corporation Vixen in Velvet copyright © 1976 by Roberta Anderson & Mary Kuczkir Whitefire copyright © 1978 by First Draft, Inc.; copyright © 2011 by MRK Productions
Vixen in Velvet was originally published in September 1976 by Ballantine Books, a division of Random House, Inc.
Fern Michaels is a registered trademark of KAP 5, Inc.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.
If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the Publisher and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”
Zebra and the Z logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
ISBN: 978-1-4201-1155-2
eISBN-13: 978-1-4201-4853-4
eISBN-10: 1-4201-4853-2
Table of Contents
Also by
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Vixen in Velvet
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
Whitefire
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
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
To
Tom Carpini—with Scarblade’s thanks
Vixen in Velvet
Chapter One
A myriad of golds and oranges was fast fading into the gray that precedes nightfall. With the setting sun, the warm summer air was taking on the chill of early autumn. Dusk was growing deeper as the ornate coach drew to a halt long enough for the liveried footman to jump down from his seat nex
t to the driver and light the pewter-sconced lanterns alongside the doors.
Lord Nelson Rawlings, distracted from his thoughts, sat uneasily in the plush interior and gazed into the pool of yellow light the lanterns spilled onto the hard, rutted road.
When the coach started again, Lord Rawlings tried in vain to settle himself comfortably in his jouncing seat.
“These roads are a horror,” he complained to his three companions. “If we aren’t killed before we get home it won’t be any fault of the driver. I daresay he has yet to miss one rut in this—” He stumbled over the curses which caught in his throat in deference to his wife and daughter and completed his statement in a garbled voice, “—road!”
“Yes, Nelson, you must speak to the driver, this trip is unbearable! Every bone in my body aches,” Lady Rawlings said in a soft, high, childlike voice.
“We have but two hours to ride and we’ll be home, my dear,” the lord assured his wife in soothing tones. “We must be brave and put up with these inconvenient conditions. After all, we did enjoy the summer at our country home. Now it’s time to realize the hardships of travel.”
“You’re right, Nelson,” Lady Lydia Rawlings concurred, her small delicate face lighting up at the thought that soon they would be home in their London quarters.
Once more, Lord Rawlings leaned back on the heavily padded seat and closed his eyes. His stomach was punishing him cruelly for the greasy lunch he had bolted down. Way-station food! he complained silently, as the dull ache was fast becoming more insistent, cramping his innards into tight fists. He fumbled in his vest coat for his mints and withdrew a plain, shell box which held the small, white cubes.
“Stomach troubling you, dear?” Lady Lydia asked with concern.
“Nothing to worry about,” Lord Rawlings grumbled as he deftly hid the box within the palm of his hand. He didn’t want Lady Lydia to notice that his gold pill box had been replaced by one so inferior. Lord Rawlings emitted a sigh, and replaced the case in his vest coat. It seemed to him he had spent the entire summer concealing small items of value within the folds of his coat and driving to the money lenders and pawnbrokers to exact the pittance of cash the items would bring. Under no circumstances did Lord Rawlings want his treasured wife to know the hard straits which the family now faced.
What was he to do? Since he had lost favor with the Crown and his rental lands had been seized, he had been sinking deeper and deeper into debt. Rawlings knew that once he was again in London the creditors would be after him with a vengeance. There was nowhere to turn. He had exhausted every possibility before leaving the city.
He shook his head and opened his eyes and let them come to rest on the beautiful face of his daughter Victoria, who was seated across from him. His heart smiled as he gazed on her. A bonnet covered her golden hair but for a few wisps which escaped at her high forehead. Green eyes flecked with gold enhanced her pink and white complexion. Heavy, dark lashes fringed those strikingly colored eyes and concealed them from his view.
There was no other way, he debated with himself; he would have to sacrifice his daughter to Lord Fowler-Greene. As Rawlings thought of that portly gentleman who was older than himself, his stomach issued a sharp stab. He had wrestled with the problem throughout the summer. Victoria was twenty-two years old, much beyond the age when most girls married. Yet, he argued, this was the eighteenth century—modern times! It was foolish to consider as spirited a girl as Victoria an old maid, a spinster past her prime.
Still, he was getting on in years himself, he would be fifty-nine next birthday, and he wanted to see Victoria settled nicely. In case something should happen to him, he needn’t worry what would become of Lady Lydia. Victoria would see to her mother’s comforts and Victoria’s husband would see to Lady Lydia’s bills. And what person was more able than the wealthy Lord Fowler-Greene?
Although the general consensus held that Fowler-Greene was an overaged fop, Lord Rawlings had long ago decided that the guise of dandy covered a keen intelligence and a dedication to duty that very few were ever able to discern.
The lofty Lord Fowler-Greene had long had his eye on Victoria, and upon hearing of Lord Rawlings’ difficulties, had more or less offered to help the latter out of his enigmatical problems, provided of course, that Lord Fowler-Greene would win a place in the Rawlings family, preferably as a son-in-law. All Lord Nelson had to do was convince his daughter that Lord Fowler-Greene would make a most suitable husband.
After the first encounter with Victoria concerning Lord Fowler-Greene, in which she unleashed an incredible verbal attack on him, the girl had not said another word on the subject. But Lord Rawlings was not one to be fooled into letting down his defenses. If he knew anything of anyone, it was his own daughter, and he knew the worst was yet to come on the subject of this marriage.
She was a wild one, he would give her that. Lady Lydia had long ago thrown up her hands in despair at their daughter’s brazenness and unruly tongue. Nelson, too, had oft chosen to look the other way, but he also knew that if his circumstances were to come to her notice, she loved him enough to do anything for him, even marry a man she could hold no affection for. But he did not want it that way. He would have Victoria’s cooperation because she thought it best for herself, because he would convince her she needed a strong man. He would rather have her wild and screaming, kicking at the idea, than have her quiet and complacent, silently suffering.
He took another look at his beloved daughter as she rested her head against the back of the seat. Her expression was sweet in repose, like an angel. Lord Rawlings shuddered again as he thought of how her remarkable eyes could freeze someone in his tracks one moment and, then, flash and change to so beguiling an expression that a person wished to stay in her presence indefinitely.
“Are you taking a chill, dear?” Lady Lydia asked solicitously.
Shaken from his reverie, Lord Rawlings answered, “No!” more abruptly than he intended. More than likely his conscience was guilty over the slight matter of selling his daughter into bondage. Still, there was no other way, and he must provide for Lydia. Sweet Lydia. His gaze rested on his wife’s face as he ached to reach out and touch her. The same golden hair as her daughter’s, paler now, peeked out from under her bonnet. Chapeau, he corrected himself. Lydia always referred to her hats as chapeau. His eyes raked over her slim body as he thought she’d not gained an ounce since their wedding.
Lady Lydia, too, had married for convenience, yet Lord Rawlings believed that she had come to love him. Not as much, surely, as he loved her, but enough to make him secure, enough to care about him and worry about his welfare. Dear, sweet Lydia. Her loyalty was much to be admired, even in the face of her only child marrying a man who was so much her senior. She had stated simply to Victoria, “If your father wishes it, darling, then it must be so.” He imagined that when she and Victoria were alone, Lydia had spoken to Victoria of her own arranged marriage and tried to show the girl how well things worked out after all.
“Granger,” Victoria called softly to her cousin, the fourth member of their party, who was seated next to her father. “Are you asleep?”
“No, Tori. Damned if I can sleep with this carriage jostling about.” Granger cast an eye on his uncle, Lord Rawlings, and apologized. “Sorry, sir.”
Lord Rawlings muttered something under his breath and turned his head toward the window. Granger gave his cousin a bold wink. Tori, as she was known to her family, laughed lightly as she glanced toward her father. Granger was always blaspheming, much to Lord Rawlings’ annoyance, and Granger was constantly apologizing for it.
“Granger, please tell us of the highwaymen. The stories you tell are always so exciting, and we could all do with a bit of amusement. How do you know so much about highwaymen?” As an afterthought Tori added, “Gentleman that you are.”
Granger Lapid glanced at his uncle warily. Why did Tori insist on upsetting the applecart by reminding Lord Rawlings of his knowledge of the nefarious characters that plagued the roa
ds of England? The little minx, he thought, she likes nothing better than the bit of excitement that occurs whenever my presence is made known to Uncle Nelson.
Tori cast her green eyes on her cousin and did not fail to note his discomfiture. A smile played over her full lips and she lowered her heavy lashes to conceal her amusement. Poor Granger, she thought, so cowed by Father. Perhaps if he did not have to rely upon Father for his keep he would demonstrate more backbone. As she watched him it seemed as though she could see through his thin, wiry body directly to the spine which she was sure was absent from his anatomy. Granger nervously ruffled his light-brown hair, and a pinched expression played about his thin features.
“Go ahead, amuse the child,” growled Rawlings. “If she hasn’t the sense to see you’ve no knowledge of anything, much less the deeds and secrets of those scoundrels who plague our roads, then she hasn’t the sense to be affected by your tall tales.”
Granger looked questioningly at Tori, and she could see the hurt her father’s statement had caused him. She was sorry she was the instigator. Tori was well aware that Granger indeed knew criminals and highwaymen. But she could never defend him to Lord Rawlings; to do so would be to admit that Granger visited those dark cellars and disreputable inns those felonious scoundrels frequented. Granger, not having the heart for a rogue’s way of life, nevertheless sought his thrills by association with thieves and through those acqain-tances, however remote, gained for himself some measure of importance.
“My dear Tori,” Granger said in a nasal tone which he knew irritated her, “everyone knows about the highwaymen. They are a passel of thieving rogues. There is one in particular, Scarblade. They say he has a black heart, and,” he added ominously, “he does not care whether he robs women or men. He shows no favoritism.”
“How absolutely delightful. I should dearly love to be robbed by Scarblade.” Her eyes lit up and took on a sparkle that set Granger’s nerves on edge. He knew his cousin well. She would go out of her way to be robbed if it were possible.