Caught in Scandal's Storm. Helen Dickson

      A shameful past

      Alice Frobisher fled Paris to escape a scandalous secret. But when she’s trapped with dark and dangerous Ewen Tremain on his snowbound estate, Alice finds herself the subject of rumors once again…

      Ewen is immediately drawn to this dark-haired beauty, and would do anything—even marry her—to save her from ruin.

      But can Alice truly shake off her past and accept the happiness Ewen promises, or will she be forever caught in scandal’s tempestuous storm?

      “A fun, entertaining read.” —RT Book Reviews on Beauty in Breeches

       Placing his finger beneath her chin, Ewen tipped her face up to his.

      ‘Would you care to tell me what the Countess was referring to when she said you were already skating on thin ice? You told me you were betrothed and that when you walked away it caused a scandal. Is there anything else you want to tell me?’

      Shrugging his finger away, she shook her head. ‘No.’

      ‘There must have been something in your past to warrant her remark.’

      ‘There’s nothing, I tell you—except that suddenly and painfully I learned that when one breaks with convention one can never crawl back to its comforting shell again. I became cut off from the past and all its connections. At the time the realisation was both chilling and daunting, but I will not—cannot—go back.’

       AUTHOR NOTE

      CAUGHT IN SCANDAL’S STORM is the sequel to A TRAITOR’S TOUCH. Characters that appeared in A TRAITOR’S TOUCH are mentioned, and appear in the final pages of CAUGHT IN SCANDAL’S STORM, which can be read as a stand-alone book.

      Ewen Tremain is the younger brother of Simon Tremain, the hero of A TRAITOR’S TOUCH, who, as a fugitive, was forced to flee Scotland following the Battle of Culloden. CAUGHT IN SCANDAL’S STORM picks up twenty years after the battle.

      After eight years as a slave in North Africa, Ewen Tremain returns to civilisation to forge a new life for himself—but he is haunted by the betrayal of a beautiful woman and the terrible sufferings he endured at the hands of his captors. Only when he meets Alice Frobisher does he begin to feel that happiness is within his reach. But Alice, who is trying to come to terms with a disastrous betrothal which forced her to leave Paris to avoid further scandal, has issues of her own to deal with.

      Both Ewen and Alice are beset with emotional conflicts that must be resolved before they can emerge victorious in the battle for their love.

      Caught in Scandal’s Storm

      Helen Dickson

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      HELEN DICKSON was born and lives in South Yorkshire, with her retired farm manager husband. Having moved out of the busy farmhouse where she raised their two sons, she has more time to indulge in her favourite pastimes. She enjoys being outdoors, travelling, reading and music. An incurable romantic, she writes for pleasure. It was a love of history that drove her to writing historical fiction.

      Contents

       Cover

       Back Cover Text

       Introduction

       Author Note

       Title Page

       About the Author

      Prologue

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

       Chapter Three

       Chapter Four

       Chapter Five

       Chapter Six

       Chapter Seven

       Chapter Eight

       Chapter Nine

       Chapter Ten

       Copyright

       Prologue

      1746—after the Battle of Culloden

      Prince Charles Edward Stuart had come to Scotland to reclaim his father’s throne and restore the Stuart monarchy. This handsome young man’s head was full of great revolutionary ideas, ideas that had driven him to associate with those who would turn a revolution into a bloodbath on Culloden Field.

      He had defeated the Government army at Prestonpans, but the Jacobite troops were cut to pieces on Culloden Moor. Prince Charles had become a fugitive fleeing for his life, leaving those who had supported him to face the brutal retribution of his enemies.

      Government repression was brutal. Homes were raided in the search for Jacobites. Some were driven into the hills and those captured were swiftly put either to the bayonet, the hangman’s rope, or burnt alive in their homes. Women, children and the old were no exception. No quarter was given.

      At Rosslea, the ancestral home of Iain Frobisher in the borderlands, the servants, fearing for their families and their lives, fled. Mary Frobisher was left alone with her twelve-year-old son, William, and her month-old baby daughter, Alice. Two of her sons had been killed on Culloden Field; her husband, Iain Frobisher, was a prisoner of the English.

      The house stood high upon a promontory overlooking the village below. When dusk came there was a stirring in the valley. Scarlet-coated men moved among the cottages. They came with their torches to burn and to kill. Mary heard musket fire, then screams. They would soon set their sights on Rosslea.

      Mary was prepared. Gathering what was left of her family and the few possessions she could carry, her money and jewels sewn into the seams of her cloak and gown, she was quickly away to the cover of the trees.

      When darkness shrouded the land, the glow of fire from Rosslea lit up the sky. It was a blazing inferno, feeding greedily on the precious treasures it housed, the flames penetrating high into the night sky. Biting back her tears, Mary turned away. Now was not the time to show weakness.

      Numb with shock and driven by fear, carrying Alice wrapped in a plaid and urging William on, familiar with the terrain having lived in these parts all of her life, she followed the drovers’ roads over the border. She managed to reach the west coast and cross to Ireland. From there she took ship for France, joining others who had fled persecution after Culloden.

      It was in Paris where she learned of the death of her husband. Mourning three members of her beloved family, Mary managed to make a life for those who were left.

      Ten years later—

      somewhere off the coast of North Africa

      Lieutenant Ewen Tremain could not be sure whether it was the scratching of a rat—a faint, irregular rasping, made audible only by the intense,