My Lord Savage. Elizabeth Lane

      Rowena gasped as the savage caught her close.

      Her heart hammered her ribs as she stared up into his smoldering black eyes. She knew better than to show fear, but her racing pulse would not obey the command to be still. Swallowing her terror, she took refuge once more in words.

      “I’m not afraid of you,” she declared, meeting his stony gaze. “You didn’t hurt me when you had the chance. You won’t hurt me now. You need me too much for that.”

      Boldly spoken, but her fluttering heart belied her bravado. She could feel the rise and fall of his chest through her bodice. Her own breath came in shallow gasps, as if she’d been running uphill. Every nerve in her body was taut and tingling, but a strange fascination had taken the place of fear. He was so large and wild and so…beautiful, like an unbroken stallion…!

      Praise for Elizabeth Lane’s recent releases

      Shawnee Bride

      “A fascinating, realistic story.”

      —Rendezvous

      Apache Fire

      “Enemies, lovers, raw passion, taut sexual tension, murder and revenge—Indian romance fans are in for a treat with Elizabeth Lane’s sizzling tale of forbidden love that will hook you until the last moment.”

      —Romantic Times Magazine

      MY LORD SAVAGE

      Harlequin Historical #569

      #567 THE PROPER WIFE

      Julia Justiss

      #568 MAGIC AND MIST

      Theresa Michaels

      #570 THE COLORADO BRIDE

      Mary Burton

      My Lord Savage

      Elizabeth Lane

      

www.millsandboon.co.uk

      Available from Harlequin Historicals and

      ELIZABETH LANE

      Wind River #28

      Birds of Passage #92

      Moonfire #150

      MacKenna’s Promise #216

      Lydia #302

      Apache Fire #436

      Shawnee Bride #492

      Bride on the Run #546

      My Lord Savage #569

      Other works include:

      Silhouette Romance

      Hometown Wedding #1194

      The Tycoon and the Townie #1250

      Silhouette Special Edition

      Wild Wings, Wild Heart #936

      For PowderPuff

      Contents

       Prologue

       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

       Epilogue

      Prologue

      Virginia

      February 19, 1573

      Black Otter lay in the stinking darkness of the hold where the white men had flung him. Slimed with blood, his wrists and ankles twisted against the iron manacles that held him prisoner. Although he had been viciously beaten, his ribs cracked and purpled, his eyes swollen shut, he felt no pain. He was beyond pain, beyond fear, even beyond grief. The only emotion left to him now was white-hot rage.

      A whisper of reason told him that he’d been taken prisoner in the attack on the village, that he’d been knocked unconscious by a blow to the head and carried onto the great, winged canoe where the white men lived.

      Reason, darkened by despair, reminded him also that Morning Cloud, the wife of his heart, was dead. His arms had caught her as she fell, her chest shattered by a blast from the mouth of a white man’s firestick. In the space of a single breath her life had slipped away. Too stunned to react, he had been cradling her limp body when the sharp blow had struck his head from behind. He had awakened in shackles.

      Morning Cloud, at least, was beyond danger. But what of his children? Black Otter writhed in his bonds, yanking at his chains in impotent fury as he thought of his son Swift Arrow, a stalwart lad of nine winters, and his shy young daughter, Singing Bird, budding with the promise of womanhood. They had been in the village that morning, but he had not seen either of them since the beginning of the attack. Had they escaped into the forest or were they lying dead somewhere, the boy’s skull shattered, the beautiful girl-child spread-eagled and bloodstained where the white men had slaked their lust?

      Black Otter clenched his teeth to keep from screaming out loud. He could not let the white men hear his torment. He could not let them know how close they had come to driving him mad.

      Willing himself to be calm, he filled his lungs with the foul, dark air and forced his rage-numbed mind to think. There was nothing he could do for his wife. But if his children were alive, he had to get free and find them. He had to get them to a safe place before it was too late.

      A rat scurried across his outstretched leg, triggering a jerk of revulsion. The great boat’s belly was overrun with the filthy creatures. The smell of their droppings mingled with the rank odors of seawater, rotting fish, urine and mold.

      Black Otter could hear the rats squealing and rustling in the darkness around him. He could hear the creak of the massive timbers, the steady lap of waves