The wolf inside Michael longs to protect his family, but will his longing for Elle be stronger?
Trying to escape the life of a slave, Elle realises that she might have a chance when she witnesses a man pull himself from Death's door. His secret just might be her way to freedom.
Michael Ashton is forced to leave his sea legs behind him and keep to shore in England with his brothers. He wants to settle the score once and for all and rid himself and his family of their enemy.
But one woman can make him change course when she pushes herself into his life and attempts to blackmail him.
General Release Date: 16th August 2010
“Two bottles...the strongest you’ve got.” A deep baritone voice brought Elle’s attention up from the mugs she’d been rinsing to the man who stood on the other side of the counter. He was drenched, black hair plastered across the broad planes of his face, droplets hanging from his heavy brow. His face was pale and dark circles stood out beneath his deep-set eyes. With one arm tucked beneath his heavy, damp coat, wrapped with some kind of blood stained cloth up to his elbow, the other hand brought out a water soaked purse where he emptied the contents with thick, trembling fingers.
“I’ll send for the physician,” Lewis murmured, a scowl creasing the already deep lines of the tavern owner’s face.
“No doctor,” that voice shook and Elle could tell the watered down stranger was in much pain by the strain on his words. “Just give me the bottles and a room.”
Elle watched Lewis eye the coins on the counter and knew he was considering if he wanted to take the hefty amount or send the stranger away. Portsmouth, being right on the water, brought in an abundance of criminal and unsavoury clientele. The small tavern did well but sometimes a bloodied customer also brought trouble.
When Lewis didn’t move, Elle stepped forward, wiping her soapy hands on her skirt. “I will tend to him.” She’d learned enough about tending wounds to save a few pirates and seamen over the years. “Room seven is empty.”
Lewis merely glanced at her, then looked back down at the coins, and finally reached forward to scrape them forward. “Don’t get blood everywhere.” He pointed at the man, “And you will owe me more in the morning for the room - if you live.”
Elle slipped around the counter to the stranger’s side and slipped an arm beneath his. “Come, I’ll take you to a room.” The man hesitated then allowed her some of his weight. He was big, hard as leather, and strong despite his condition, she realised when he grasped her shoulder. She guided him slowly to the stairs.
“One step at a time,” she coaxed. He made it to the top without even so much as a grunt of pain. The room was tiny but was one of the few that did have a small hearth. The seaman would need it because she could feel he was chilled to the bone. He blew out a breath when she helped him ease down onto the bed.
“Don’t move. Wait here,” she told him. His response was only a slight inclination of his dark head. She turned and left him there to collect two bottles of whisky, extra blankets, the small bag in which she kept all of her supplies for tending injuries, and clean water and linens. She instructed one of the men who worked for Lewis to start a fire in the room, and told the cook that she needed some warm broth for the stranger. When she returned, the fire had already been started and the seaman still sat on the edge of the bed just as she’d left him except he’d removed his coat and tossed it in a puddle at his feet.
Setting everything she’d brought on the small table, she dragged it closer to the bed, then uncorked one of the bottles and passed it to him. He lifted the rim to his trembling lips and drank deeply. She watched his throat work up and down and, when he finally lowered the bottle again, she saw he’d consumed nearly half the bottle.
“Let me tend to your arm. Have you any other injuries?” She sat beside him and reached for the bandaged limb he still had tucked against him. She could see now the large cloth was some kind of huge piece of linen wadded and wrapped around his arm. Carefully she began to pull it away. Her throat closed. His arm had been severed, just below the elbow. The sleeve of his expensive shirt was ragged around the wound. All she could do was cleanse the wound as best as she could, wrap it as tightly as possible, keep it clean, and pray that he lived.
Sable Grey resides in the deep south of the United States with her wonderful husband, three very spoiled dog, and three crazy cats. She spends her time writing, designing cover art, watching movies, and reading.
With favourite authors like Stephen King, Piers Anthony, and Iris Johansen, it's no mystery where the inspiration to write tales of love, adventure, and mystery come from. An avid reader and storyteller at a young age, Sable began writing small stories as a child for her mother. However, it wasn't until she was well in to her twenties that she realised that her calling was sharing her stories with a larger audience than just family members and friends.
Now, Sable is dedicated to her craft and to bringing her readers quality fiction with unforgettable characters. For her, writing a story means writing a story meant to touch the mind, body, heart, and soul.
Reviewed by Blackraven Reviews
His to Have is a good read for those who enjoy strong females with big hearts who overcome great difficulties to make their own HEA ending.
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