Her Wicked Sin

By Sarah Ballance

Salem, MA 1692

When dashing stranger Henry Dunham comes to Salem on a mysterious errand, he ends up thrown from his horse in the dead of night and rescued by the local midwife, Lydia Colson. Beautiful and tempting, she’s also completely off-limits.

Haunted by her past, Lydia is running from her own dark secrets, avoiding intrusive questions by pretending her dead husband is simply...away. But when she and Henry are caught in a compromising situation, one punishable by Puritan law, he saves her from scandal by claiming to be her errant spouse...

Each book in the Sins of Salem series is STANDALONE:
* Her Wicked Sin
* An Unexpected Sin
* The Sins of a Few

• Language: English
• Publisher: Macmillan Publishers
• Release date: Sep 9, 2013
• ISBN: 9781622662494

Book preview

Table of Contents

Dedication

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

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Get Scandalous with these historical reads…

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Vanquishing the Viscount

The Marquess and the Maiden

Duchess by Day, Mistress by Night

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright © 2013 by Sarah Ballance. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

Entangled Publishing, LLC

2614 South Timberline Road

Suite 105, PMB 159

Fort Collins, CO 80525

[e-mail]

Scandalous is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.

Edited by Erin Molta

Cover design by Erin Dameron-Hill

Cover photography from HotDamnStock, 123rf, and Deposit Photos

ISBN 978-1-62266-249-4

Manufactured in the United States of America

First Edition September 2013

Dear Reader,

Thank you for supporting a small publisher! Entangled prides itself on bringing you the highest quality romance you’ve come to expect, and we couldn’t do it without your continued support. We love romance, and we hope this book leaves you with a smile on your face and joy in your heart.

xoxo

Liz Pelletier, Publisher

For my mom, who spent weeks hauling Salem books

in and out of the library for me.

Chapter One

Murder.

Lydia Colson’s nightmare lived and breathed on these moonless nights. When the world was at its darkest, remnants of her haunted past seemed to lurk in every shadow, denying her again and again the chance to start anew. No matter how justified the actions of her past, the peace she had hoped to find in Salem Village escaped her. It was her burden to bear.

The cruelly twisted body in her path was not.

Though stationary, the sight had crept upon her with silent ease, an aberration on a cold, lonely stretch of road with nothing but the woods to keep her company. Lydia purposefully avoided night travels here, but babies did not keep time, and Goody Louder’s child had chosen to make entry in the witching hour. As a physician and midwife, it was Lydia’s purpose to see to the birth, and what a child he was. Healthy and rowdy, the stout babe named John had a roar not to be ignored. The first instance of life never failed to bring joy, to make Lydia forget. But now an unsavory reminder of her past misdeed rested in the dirt, nearly buried in forest litter.

And he was not alone. A stallion, the same pitch as the night, danced and pawed the earth. Its capsized rider jerked, his long frame shuddering when the hooves clipped his torso. Might he be alive?

Easy, Lydia said, fighting for her own control as she edged closer. She placed her hand on the animal’s rump, her fingers tingling alongside the quivering flesh. The contact revealed tightly bunched muscles alongside a tension made visible in the rolling whites of the beast’s eyes. Easy, boy.

At the more intimate distance, she could see the man’s leg caught in the stirrup and bent unnaturally to his position on the ground. He’d fallen from his mount. Had he been dragged? What bit of the path visible in the night showed little sign of disturbance, though the wind might easily have stirred the leaves to hide remnants of a struggle.

A smell of sweat mingled with a distant trace of smoke, hinting danger. The horse snorted and hopped, the strain on the stirrup eliciting a groan from the prone man. Would he lash out from his pain?

Lydia bundled her nerves against the perceived threat and scoffed at her insecurities. This stranger was in no position to cause her harm, but should he try, the mistake would be his.

She had killed before, and she would gather within herself to do it again.

Lydia offered her hand to the stallion. The animal stilled with its inspection, offering the chance for her to grasp the leathers.

Easy there.

She repeated the refrain in prayer, for any illusion of control she could own over the horse would be just that. She was a mere wisp of a woman, no match for the power of the steed.

The leathers were supple in her hand. Buttery soft, they spoke of riches. Whoever the rider, he was either a man of means or a common thief. But no, something of him spoke of wealth—even in this state of disarray, he was too clean and well-groomed to be a beggar.

With an eye on the man, Lydia soothed the horseflesh with long strokes and eased to the ground, the grip of the reins a small comfort. Verily, she would be trampled alongside the stranger should the steed take mind to part ways.

Goodman? She addressed the rider as an equal, though certainly his station was above hers. His breeches showed little wear, save for their current run in the dirt. A fine leather boot with a silver buckle that shone in the dark was positioned near her head, wedged in the iron. Her hands shook as she set to releasing his leg, and as she watched him for a reaction she studied him further. A richly tailored topcoat was askew over a crisp, white, linen shirt that she noted beneath his thick wool greatcoat. He wore not a wig, which seemed to contradict his apparent status, though it was just as well, as his balance had already proven insufficient without the added weight.

Be still, she said to man and horse, in hopes both would heed. She turned the stirrup leather, working it over the man’s boot. With the new angle he freed so suddenly she didn’t catch the limb before it hit the ground with an unwelcome thump.

The horse shied—gratefully in the away direction—but settled as soon as the reins grew taut. After a moment the animal stepped closer, lowering his head to nudge the stranger with a soft nicker.

Willard, you beast. A round of profanity followed the utterance. Though the stranger’s words were foul, they offered for his equine companion both comfort and reassurance. Their soothing cadence eased the alarm from the horse’s eyes, leading his ears to relax from their pinned state.

Lydia found herself enchanted by the man’s tones and by his obvious affection for the horse.

He shifted in the leaves, still facing away, and he had yet to acknowledge her. She should flee. She had freed him from his quandary, and his voice tinged itself not with pain, but with humor. She would feel no remorse for moving past, yet her feet did not budge.

If she remained silent, would he not know her there? No, eventually he would wonder what held the reins aloft. She watched, waiting for that moment. Through the profound darkness, she noticed his hair was a nutty brown and longer than that of a Puritan man, though its richness showed no trace of the powder worn by many wealthy travelers. He was a study of contrasts, this man. For all of his finery, he seemed to shun the ways of society, and his roguish nature appealed to those innermost desires she had thought long lost. Her husband, as he were, had ruined her womanhood.

This stranger, in the most insignificant ways, had roused it.

I owe a debt of gratitude, Good Puritan, he said.

Those melodic tones, this time addressed to her. And he thought her a Puritan! A twinge of relief eased through her. She had thoroughly escaped the past. She need not fear every stranger for his intention. I am a physician. Are you well enough?

Aside this daft horse, I am. He shifted then and groaned fiercely, but the pain did not alter the kindness of his features.

Where is the hurt? she asked.

I am afraid there is no explanation within the confines of propriety, he said, his grin sheepish.

She tried not to match his smile, for she found his demeanor appealing but her trust lacking. I assure I have heard worse.

He looked her up and down again until she felt in a state of undress. Well, then, he said after a long study. I shall say it is my seat that is the trouble.

Willard chose that moment to nod his head, jerking the reins from her distracted grip.

You old fool. The man chided, reaching easily to take the fallen leathers.

He stayed faithful, Lydia said in the horse’s defense. Had he taken down the path, your injuries would number more.

I am afraid they already do. I cannot feel my leg, though from damage or cold I am unsure.

Lydia hesitated. From the angle of his body upon discovery, she had thought the man perished. Of course, it was expected his injuries numbered more than his seat.

I will compensate you for your services, he said.

She nearly laughed. He was far from having escaped his compromising position, yet seemed ready to close business and move on. Think nothing of it, she said. I have merely assisted as would any passerby.

In that case, I am grateful our travels allowed our paths to cross. He turned his attention to Willard, tugging until the horse stepped close and dutifully lowered his head. The stranger wrapped his arms around the neck and, with a number of grunts, leveraged himself upward to one knee. The second leg—the one she’d rescued—appeared not to cooperate.

You are badly hurt.

Yes. More than my seat, it seems.

Let me help you. The words were automatic, as was the accompanying flush of heat when she thought of touching him. The night was far too cold for such a rise, but she dared not take credit of her awareness from the handsome stranger. Without waiting for an answer, she moved close and grasped his forearm.

Using Lydia as a post, he rose with an agony well-versed in a string of unspeakable words, for which he quickly uttered apology. I assure it is only the pain that hath relieved me of my manners. Perhaps if I can get another four legs beneath me, he said, gesturing to the horse, I may be on my way.

She opened her mouth, then closed it without speaking. He expected no more from her, but her sensibilities tugged. Were he a woman, Lydia would insist on extending aid. What was it about this man that lent her such pause? Could it be his appeal, or was she fearful of something unnamed? It mattered not. She was duty bound. She found her tongue. The nearest place of public shelter is a long ride. I suspect you are in no condition to find trouble a second time.

That much is true, Goodwife.

Lydia, she said. No man’s wife, but as long as he thought her attached, perhaps she could offer him shelter for the night. My house is just up the path. You are welcome to shelter there.

Well, then. Lydia. He tried her name with such curiosity she felt she heard it anew. Please call me Henry, and know I do not wish to return your kindness with scandal.

Fear it not. I have cared for others, and by morn you will be on your way.

Your generosity is a blessing. He looked to Willard, then to his injured leg.

Lydia smiled in spite of her lingering doubts. May I help you aloft?

Asking for help must have been under his station, for he seemed to blush a bit within himself, or as much as the dark revealed. But he did position himself near Willard, who had tired of the excitement and now stood dozing with his nose to the ground. It appears I am in need of a leg, he said.

Even in the dark, his eyes sparkled with humor.

That you are, she said, boosting him with some effort into the saddle.

He lay awkwardly across Willard’s back for a moment before clumsily swinging his leg over to straddle the horse. I feel I should offer the mount to the lady, he commented. His words were terse, presumably with pain. What brings you out alone this late night? Does your husband not fear for your safety?

Lydia did not tell him how very far from the truth his words had proven. A neighbor Goodwife was with child. Her pains began, and with her husband gone to trade she sent her young son for help. Once the babe was born, she had only the child to watch over them. Though he was quite the gentleman offering to accompany my return, he is but a boy of only four. His mother needed him far more than I.

Quite the honorable lad indeed. Your husband did not come for you?

He is… detained with his business. It is not the first I’ve been summoned for a late night birth. Babes keep their own time.

True enough. As does a four-footed sod. He favored a weak laugh and patted Willard’s neck with undisguised affection.

Glad for the change of subject, she asked, Do you remember your fall?

I remember the oaf jumping sideways due to the sound of the wind. He unseated me, but not before my boot took to my stirrup.

Some might call that poor rider position, she said with a smile. His good nature charmed her.

He made a sound like a chuckle, but quickly stifled it. His trunk had taken a blow from Willard’s hooves, so his pain concerned her and she took note.

This is true, he said, but not as poor as lying on the ground with such a weighty creature overhead.

He is a good boy. He stood quite loyally as I approached.

I am quite sure he was too lazy to drag me far, he said with another weary laugh.

The night’s rest will serve you well, she said. It is just ahead.

The remainder of the short trek to Lydia’s modest home passed in companionable silence, but for the quiet cacophony of dead leaves jostling underfoot. Once they arrived, Lydia helped to steer Willard to the rear porch so her guest would have a shorter dismount.

Lydia looked from her guest to the small paddock and modest lean-to behind the house, unsure whether she should see first to horse or man. Does he ground tie, she asked, or is that only when anchored?

Rich brown eyes grazed her. You are a woman of good humor, he replied. Have you a companion for him?

She thought with sadness of the favored mare she’d had to leave behind when she had fled Cambridge a winter ago. I have not. Will he mind?

It is for the better. He can be quite the bully.

Lydia had seen no such evidence from the well-mannered equine, but kept her opinion to herself. I will check the fence and see to him, then. Please feel free to help yourself inside.

Let me wait here, lest another stranger happen by in hopes of your company.

His words drew from her a shiver having nothing to do with the cold. Was it his reminder of the ever-present promise of harm in the shadows? Or was it the genuine concern in his voice? She was well-used to caring for others, but to have a man—aside from the drunken louts tarrying alongside taverns in neighboring Salem Town—center his attention on her was another matter. For the briefest of moments, she regretted that he thought her married. Though she knew nothing of him, he well enchanted her and was quite easy on the eyes.

She left Henry on the porch, as was his desire, and despite his opinion to the contrary, Willard remained a perfect gentleman when taken to his quarters. Lydia checked the fencing and, upon finding it satisfactory, removed his

Reviews for Her Wicked Sin

[avoraciousreader · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

4.5*Book source ~ Many thanks to Entangled for providing me with a review copy in exchange for an honest review.Lydia Colson is a physician/midwife in the town of Salem. One dark night after delivering a baby and she is on her way home she comes across a man thrown from his horse. Getting him to her home and examining him shows several injuries, but none severe. However, in the process of her examination a neighbor bursts in to request her services and sees Lydia in a compromising position with a half-naked strange man. In order to save Lydia from a charge of adultery, Henry Dunham declares himself her traveling husband. As no one has seen Lydia’s husband (since he’s actually dead) the story is plausible. However, malicious people are accusing neighbors of witchcraft and Lydia ends up in their sights. Will Henry be able to save Lydia before she is convicted of being a witch? A fan of historical romance this is the very first book I’ve read detailing the time of the Salem Witch Trials. I have to say I was fascinated by the way the Puritans lived and completely disgusted by their (some of them anyway) hypocrisy. The mob mentality and the fear of those who want to help the accused but can’t risk being accused themselves…rock meet hard place. I only had a passing lesson in the history of the time and that was a long long time ago. This story put me there, to experience what it was like to be accused and be helpless to disprove the allegation. If History in school could be parceled out in fascinating stories like this one then I might have been more interested in the subject during my school years. LOLHenry and Lydia are very likeable characters. I wanted them to succeed and I wanted the shitty people in Salem to get their just desserts. Ah, well…one out of two isn’t bad. The mystery surrounding Henry’s brother was a little too neat, but overall this is a wonderfully told story of a time in our history that has not much for us to be proud of.

[snarkymom · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I have to admit - I'm not usually one to go for the historical romances. It just smacks too much of having to "think" for me. But you know, many people LOVE historical romances - it gives you insight into another time and way of life, which like fantasy romances, can offer a true unknown escape. However, since I first learned about the Salem Witch Trials in elementary school, I have just found them fascinating. Just the concept that a society would allow bullies to hide behind religion in order to strike against people they may not like on a personal level - oh, wait - that's just a really good representation of how if we don't learn from the past, we'll find ourselves repeating the mistakes in the future, right?It took me a few pages to get into this book; after all, it's based in a Puritanical society, so it's "Goodwife" and formal speech, and it took me a bit to get into the rhythm of the book. "Her Wicked Sin" is just over 150 pages and was just really neat to read, on so many levels. First, there are many accurate historical facts and our characters interact with some of the well known participants in the Salem Witch Trials. Second, there's an edge to the book and while I won't provide any spoilers, I will say that this does skirt the suspense genre, too. It was also incredibly interesting to see how the accusations affected the people and community because the main character is accused and you have her thought processes.Overall, I was incredibly impressed with Sarah Ballance's immersion in the time period and mind set, and it came through in the text of "Her Wicked Sin". Oh, and yeah - there was a great love story, too. (Sorry for history-geeking out on you!)Please note: I received a copy of this book in exchange for an unbiased review. This review was previously published on Snarky Mom Reads.

[mybookaddiction_1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I loved HER WICKED SIN, a romantic story set in 1692 in Salem, MA. It was suspenseful at times and also had a few twists I didn’t see coming (I think it’s great when that happens!). I experienced a range of emotions as I read this story. Anger that children and adults could be so downright nasty and mean spirited. Distressed at the accusations directed at Lydia. I also felt Lydia’s anguish, her strength, and then her joy with Henry. That the author made me feel these emotions is a tribute to her writing ability.The characters the author created were well developed and the story flowed at a good pace. I thought the language to be appropriate for the time period which demonstrates, to me, that Ms. Ballance did her research. The intimate scene was extremely well-written and totally in keeping with the setting and story. It was very moving. HER WICKED SIN did not disappoint this reader’s expectations at all. I will be reading this book again and I am eagerly awaiting the next book in the series. I would recommend this book to fans of historical romance and readers who love a good story. I’ve followed Ms. Ballance’s career and I only see her star shining brighter with each book she writes.Rating: 5Heat Rating: MildReviewed by: Karen CReview Courtesy of My Book Addiction and More