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  Lords of Hawksfell Manor 14

  Caine’s Curse

  Caine Hawk accepts his Hawk curse as part of his life and indulges his driving sexual need to appease it. He longs for more than those empty conquests though and, at Hawksfell Manor, he finds passion and friendship with first footman Peter Tillman.

  When lady’s maid Iris Hanlon falls for Caine and Peter, and they for her, the three of them begin a tender and exciting liaison that exceeds anything Caine has known before. The Earl tells him there is a way to break his curse, as other Hawks have done before him, but Caine is afraid to hope for a real future. For real love. He sets Peter and Iris aside, for the sake of their happiness if not his own.

  They love him, though. And each other. Can they break through to him and find happiness for all three of them? Or will his resistance break their hearts?

  Genre: Historical, Ménage a Trois/Quatre, Regency

  Length: 22,237 words

  CAINE'S CURSE

  Lords of Hawksfell Manor 14

  Josie Dennis

  

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  CAINE'S CURSE

  Copyright © 2018 by Josie Dennis

  ISBN: 978-1-64010-130-2

  First Publication: February 2018

  Cover design by Harris Channing

  All art and logo copyright © 2018 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

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  PUBLISHER

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Josie Dennis writes erotic romances for the discerning reader. Her characters find love in the most amazing places, and the happily ever after is a guarantee. Readers who like their romances hot and their heroes and heroines open to ideas they’ve only explored in their fantasies will find her erotic romances quite satisfying.

  For all titles by Josie Dennis, please visit

  www.bookstrand.com/josie-dennis

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Landmarks

  Cover

  CAINE'S CURSE

  Lords of Hawksfell Manor 14

  JOSIE DENNIS

  Copyright © 2018

  Chapter One

  Yorkshire England, 1913

  Caine Hawk stretched out on the coverlet, his lust at last sated. He concentrated on nothing more than breathing as his beast all but growled in relief. Sometimes he was grateful for the damned thing, but last night his drive had been more demanding than usual.

  The three women he’d sent on their way thirty minutes ago had left his mind as soon as the chamber door closed behind them. He’d been very generous when he’d paid for their service at the little pub in village. The Cock’s Roost might not have the best food in town, but they poured the best ale and had the most accommodating serving girls.

  There was little light in the chamber, despite the electricity he’d had installed at considerable expense last year. Not that he couldn’t afford such progressive luxuries. He was blessed with money, both in making it and when he’d inherited the estate and a considerable fortune from his late mother decades earlier. It was all part of his Hawk legacy, according to his venerable long-time butler, Reeves. That and the curse Caine had inherited from his unknown Hawk father.

  Over the past one hundred years or so, according to Reeves, the Hawks had populated half of Yorkshire with their bastard sons. Caine was one of those, though he’d been legitimatized through blind legal channels soon after birth. Caine had known no other Hawks in the whole of his life though, giving him at least a touch of suspicion regarding that “half of Yorkshire” legend. As for his mother? He had no memories of her whatsoever. Tonight was not the night for such maudlin thoughts. He never indulged such as a rule, and he wasn’t going to with his beast silent and his mind besotted.

  He roused himself just enough to grab the brandy from the table to his right. Not bothering with a glass, he drank deeply from the bottle. He ignored the liquor trickling down his chin and over his chest and belly, and then set the bottle back down. He couldn’t raise his eyelids, so he just pushed aside any possible regrets as darkness wrapped him in uneasy sleep.

  Icy cold water splashed over him as he woke with a start. Sputtering, he pushed his soaking hair out of his face and struggled to a seated position.

  “What…” His throat was tight and his mouth as dry as his head was wet. “What the devil?”

  “Good afternoon, Lord Burnley.”

  That was Reeves, unless Caine was mistaken. There was hardly any mistaking that imperious tone of voice of his.

  Caine’s head pounded in time to his heart as he pried open his eyes. He managed to swallow and turned his head to see a blurry image of his bedchamber. “Reeves, what is going on?”

  “This ends today, my lord.”

  He turned his head swiftly in the butler’s direction, immediately regretting that action. The room swam and his belly clenched tight. Closing his eyes again, he concentrated on breathing in and out until everything settled once more.

  “What are you talking about, Reeves?”

  “The endless debauchery, my lord.”

  Caine grumbled and rose, wrapping the loose linens around his waist as he stumbled into his dressing room. “Of all the impertinence.”

  “What was that, my lord?” Reeves asked.

  Caine ignored the butler’s entreaty, choosing instead to focus on the red-eyed reflection staring back at him above the basin in the dressing room. A few splashes of cool water and he felt a bit better. He walked out to find two maids swiftly putting his room to rights as Reeves stood there with his arms crossed. He saw that one of the maids was holding the trousers he’d shed last evening, and grabbed them out of her hands.

  “You appear quite imperious,” Caine said. “Have you been elevated while I was unconscious?”

  Reeves didn’t flinch, but apparently thought it prudent to wait until the maids were finished with their duties before speaking again. He crossed to the door and shut it tight before turning back to Caine.

  “This has gone on long enough,” the butler said.

  “Be clearer, please.” Caine pulled on his trousers and gingerly brushed the hair back from his very tender scalp. “What, pray, do you believe has gone on long enough?”

  Reeves raised a brow, his narrow chest puffed and his thin frame taut with indignation. Caine bit back just where he wanted to tell the man to put his outrage.

  “You’ve been carrying on, my lord.” Reeves looked as if he would say more, but to Caine’s surprise he held out what looked to be a letter. “This arrived for you this morning, and I believe it would be in
your best interest to read it.”

  Caine grabbed the missive from the butler’s hands and sank down on the edge of the bed. He squinted at the seal. It bore a crest he thought he recognized. A bloodthirsty hawk with talons outstretched, its sharp eyes daring any and all to stay out of its way. Breaking the seal, he opened the envelope and his suspicions were confirmed in the first few written lines.

  “The Bloody Earl of Hawksfell,” he murmured.

  Opening it, he began to read.

  “Astounding.”

  “I take it you’ll go to Hawksfell Manor, then?” Reeves asked.

  “What’s this?” Caine peered up at the butler. “Never say you read my correspondence.”

  “Never have and never would, my lord.”

  “Then how the devil could you know that he’s invited me to his great manor?”

  A smile seemed to tease one corner of the man’s mouth, gone in an instance. “I might have heard something in the village about such doings, my lord. Of invitations extended to several of your Hawk relatives.” He shrugged. “It seems to me it was only a matter of time before you received a summons.”

  “A summons?”

  Caine read the earl’s words again, feeling a touch of deference for this relative he’d never met in the whole of his life. There was a warmth, too, however. A familial connection that he’d never experienced before. It caused a strange twist in his belly.

  “Am I to tell your valet to ready your things, my lord?”

  Caine blew out a breath. A maid appeared with a tray holding a steaming pot of coffee, and he lifted a cup to his lips. The girl was gone by the time he’d finished draining the cup. Facing Reeves once again, he studied him.

  “Yes, Reeves.” He squared his shoulders. “Please do.”

  The butler nodded and left, and Caine thought about this turn of events. First, he couldn’t bear any ill will toward Reeves. The man had been his sole caretaker for all of Caine’s life. He’d been the one to instruct him on the workings of the curse that had plagued Caine since he’d turned fifteen. He’d been the one to comfort him on the few occasions Caine had tried to satisfy himself and learned that blinding pain and nausea were the only things earned. In the thirteen years since? He’s apparently also been the one to take it upon himself to learn more fully of it.

  He’d surely known that the earl had invited any number of Hawks before Caine. Secondly, Caine felt a stirring of curiosity he’d believed he’d set aside years ago.

  Standing, he groaned. The memories of last night’s events faded, leaving regret and loneliness as they always seemed to do. He’d had three women in his bed, for God’s sake! What would it take to finally satisfy him? His body was sated, for the time being. It would likely be a fortnight before he felt that driving need again. At least he prayed that were so.

  “Prayer?” He snorted to himself. “When the devil had prayer ever been a friend of a Hawk?”

  Nevertheless, he would answer the earl’s invitation. He would travel over the moors to the manor and meet this Hawk. What harm could there be in making his acquaintance?

  Trepidation churned in his belly, but maybe that was just last night’s ale and brandy. And on this bleary morning, he would choose to believe that.

  * * * *

  Iris Hanlon settled down in the servants’ hall at Hawksfell Manor, a cup of tea in front of her. A few of Poppy’s treats sat on a plate, and she nibbled on a lemon biscuit. The former cook’s assistant was well and gone from the manor, but to please Hawksfell’s cook, Mrs. Padmont, she sent packages of her best baked goods to the manor now and again. Iris hadn’t known Poppy, but she knew that she’d married a Hawk several months ago and operated her own bakery of all things!

  Iris was employed as the maid to the countess herself and, as such, her work was mostly solitary. She kept different hours from the other maids in the household. Different sleeping accommodations in the attics above. She worked hard for her mistress, but the work itself wasn’t unpleasant. Lady Hawksfell was as kind as she was beautiful, and so close to her confinement that she didn’t stir out of the manor very often.

  The coming Hawk heir curtailed the countess’s previous penchant for driving into the nearby village of Helmsley with her third cousin, Mr. Crowley. The family still had guests to the manor, each and every month or so it seemed, but no great parties as the other servants had told Iris were quite frequent before her coming to work here. Dressing the countess for tea or for dinner was the extent of Iris’s duties of late.

  Sighing, she savored one last bite of biscuit before draining her tea cup.

  “It’s gone on three o’clock,” Mrs. Holmes said as she entered the room.

  Iris straightened in her seat, her shoulders back as she faced the venerable housekeeper of Hawksfell Manor.

  “Hello, Mrs. Holmes.”

  Mrs. Holmes, a pleasant-faced older woman with a compact body and graying hair, smiled. “Hello, Iris. I was just telling the maids to ready the drawing room.”

  Iris nodded. “I’m merely waiting for the countess to ring for me, Mrs. Holmes.”

  A smile played over the housekeeper’s face, affection in her eyes. “The babe does tire her out, doesn’t it?”

  Iris heard the anticipation in the woman’s voice and nodded. “Yes. Some days she doesn’t stir from her chambers.”

  “You do take excellent care of her, Iris. The earl told me how pleased the lady is with your service.”

  “The earl said as much?” Iris blinked. “That’s very gratifying.”

  Mrs. Holmes nodded. “You’re coming on three months in service.”

  Iris nodded. “Yes, and I’m very grateful for this position.”

  Mrs. Holmes folded her hands in front of her. “I know, dear. Please don’t think this is in anyway a reprimand. It’s just an observation.”

  “I didn’t.”

  “It’s just that we’ve gone through several lady’s maids over the past year.”

  Iris was aware of that, but she also suspected that Mrs. Holmes would never speak of just how many maids, and footmen for that matter, had left service at the manor due to the earl’s many Hawk relatives.

  “Please know you can talk to me if need be,” the housekeeper said. “My door is always open.”

  Iris’s eyes pricked, but she managed to simply nod. After the woman left her, she swiped away at the bothersome tear that slipped over the lashes of one eye. The warm condescension from the housekeeper served to remind Iris of all she’d lost since last year.

  When the small house just outside of London where she’d been raised went up in flames, she’d lost both her parents and her one brother. That was all of her family. She’d been in service far from them on the fashionable side of town, and the guilt still ate at her. In the six months since, she’d made her way to Hawksfell Manor on the recommendation of a compassionate housekeeper not very different from Mrs. Holmes. It was a shame that a more recent development made Iris feel more worry than she could bear at this moment.

  “Hello, Iris.”

  Her heart tripped at the sound of Peter’s deep voice. Swallowing, she looked up at the first footman of Hawksfell. Oh, he was so tall and handsome. Just as a footman in a great house should be. Chiseled features, strong and lean build, thick auburn hair only slightly unruly. And his eyes, a hazel that looked in turn brown and green.

  “Hello, Peter.”

  He sat down across from her, his gaze direct. “How is your day?”

  She nodded. “Very good, thank you. And yours?”

  His full lips curved slightly. “Busy, but isn’t that the usual in this house?”

  Biting her lower lip, she gave a short nod. “It is an active household.”

  “And it’s about to get busy again.”

  “Oh?”

  Peter ran a hand through his wavy hair. “Another Hawk will arrive on the morrow.”

  Iris sucked in a breath. The earl’s Hawk relatives were, without exception, handsome and commanding. Alluring
, as well. It was only a matter of time before she made a cake of herself in front of this new one. It was enough that her heart and body craved Peter’s attentions. However, would she withstand that sensual pull that all Hawks seemed to possess?

  “Do we know the relation of this gentleman, Peter?”

  Peter shook his head. “I don’t know, but I’m sure he’s a cousin at the very least.”

  Iris knew that the most recent Hawk to come to roost proved to be another half-brother to the earl himself. Due to the housekeeper’s disdain for gossip and Iris’s isolation from the other servants, not to mention that she’d been raised far from Yorkshire, she only knew a bit about the history of the Hawk family.

  “Peter, what do you know of the Hawks?”

  Peter’s beautiful eyes widened. “I cannot speak of the family, Iris.”

  She reached over and placed her hand over his. The touch sparked a heat that spread over her face, and she withdrew her hand. “Forgive me.”

  “For what?” He smiled widely now. “We may touch hands. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

  Friends? Iris wasn’t sure about that. He was the man she thought of at all hours, especially when she was in her lonely room up in the attics. Could she ever divulge that secret to him? Oh, she longed to do just that. That was her greatest worry at present however, save for the coming Hawk relative.

  “Yes, Peter.”

  He stood and straightened his impeccable uniform. “Duty calls.”

  And with that, he was gone. She was alone again, and suspected that would be her lot for the foreseeable future unless she found the courage to let Peter know of her feelings. Whatever would this new Hawk’s visit bring? Surely it had nothing whatsoever to do with her.