What a Hero Dares

The Secrets of the Heart

The Passion of an Angel

Everything’s Coming Up Rosie

Stuck in Shangri-La

Shall We Dance?

The Butler Did It

What a Hero

Dares

Kasey Michaels

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

Dear Reader,

I’ve spent three books listening to Maximilien Redgrave’s siblings talk about him, drop snippets about him here and there for me to pick up on—for readers to pick up on. Now it’s time to see what all the fuss has been about.

He’s a handsome fellow, this Max Redgrave, not to mention cocky. Bright, outwardly confident, determined, daring. But he isn’t perfect. He’s been betrayed, had his heart badly broken and his trust in his own judgement shaken by one Zoé Charbonneau, the French beauty who made him the man he is today: deadly dangerous.

Now Zoé’s back, just as Max is up to his neck in intrigue. She’s got a score of her own to settle and doesn’t care if she’s in his way—not as long as he stays out of hers. Which isn’t as easy as it sounds, not when they can’t seem to keep their hands off each other, enemies or not.

All I have to do now is sit here at my computer and let Max lead me where he wants to go … everywhere a hero dares!

Please visit me online on Facebook or my website, www.kaseymichaels.com (http://www.kaseymichaels.com) to catch up on all my news.

Kasey Michaels

To Mike, with all my love.

In good times and bad these past fifty years,

you’ve always been there for me.

‘Lord, I wonder what fool it was that first invented kissing!’

—Jonathan Swift

Contents

PROLOGUE (#u30b1ee99-dae6-5d46-9f71-9d7a3e411873)

CHAPTER ONE (#u70c45b13-9917-5c2f-9eeb-fea76c60b2f6)

CHAPTER TWO (#ue868d32b-06ad-50bd-9a60-adb3e305c38e)

CHAPTER THREE (#ue384dc57-28d6-54ff-9c4e-e902121b858c)

CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)

EXTRACT (#litres_trial_promo)

PROLOGUE

SOMETIME IN THE mid-1700s, Charles Redgrave, sixteenth earl of Saltwood, took it into his head that the amount of royal Stuart blood in his veins trumped that flowing in the Hanovers now (erroneously, obviously) occupying the English throne.

Charles did not like sharing what he perceived as his power, but realized he did need a few reasonably intelligent aides, inferiors who would obey his every command and help secure those goals (no matter their own petty motives).

And thus the Society, a most unique hellfire club, was born.

Charles handpicked his inner circle, the Devil’s Thirteen as they were then dubbed, offering them, if not the sun and the moon, a secret world of more earthly delights, along with wealth and power such as they’d never dreamed could be theirs. Once he had his chosen ones, like-minded traitors all, they sought out their minions, as all the best courts had minions, sycophants, useful, loyal, yet expendable.

He outfitted a hidden pleasure palace on Saltwood land geared to satisfying every desire, indulging every carnal pleasure, encouraging every vice, from women (always a grand draw, Charles knew), to heady opium pipes. There was also the promise of intellectual discourse in there somewhere, and the lofty goal of a more justly ruled England, but mostly the more minor members were there for the silly costumes and the diddling.

It was only after their desires were met, even exceeded, and the first demands were voiced that they truly realized this particular hellfire club, this Society, now owned them—them and their reputations, with Charles’s every wish suddenly their command.

Charles knew he needed one thing more: an army. For that he turned to France, and struck yet another devil’s bargain, truly believing he was about to embark on the path that would lead him to the throne.

Instead, Charles turned up quite dead one morning (a plate of bad fish, so sad), before the French army could be launched, its destination the welcoming shores of Redgrave Manor. The Devil’s Thirteen and the minions melted back into a more humdrum society, hopeful the masks they’d worn during ceremonies, the code names they’d used, would protect their identities.

Whispers of debauchery and perhaps sedition to one side, the Society might have been forgotten, if not for one thing. Charles had decreed every member keep a journal. Those journals were yearly turned over to the Keeper to update the bible, the key to everything about the Society.

When the time was considered ripe, the Keeper had dutifully turned over the journals and bible to Charles’s only son. Barry Redgrave, as hoped, had oohed and aahed in sincere appreciation, and apparently decided his late sire had been nothing less than a bloody genius. Along with an almost eerie resemblance, Barry had inherited an attraction to the more perverse delights life had to offer. Although Barry believed himself to be more handsome than his father, and most definitely smarter.