Beyond the Night
India Ashton has traveled the world with her adventuring father searching for Pagoria, a city so ancient only legend gives it life. After a period of captivity by a band of rebels and the death of her father, she returns to England, only wanting a place to heal and call home.
Thomas Hadley, Viscount Ridgewood or “Ridge” as he is better known, 
is a restless spirit who longs for adventure. When he comes across the journal of a famed explorer, he believes he has the key to finding the lost city of Pagoria, only he needs India Ashton’s help to decipher it, and she’s unwilling to delve back into a life she’s forsaken.
A letter from the father she believed dead forces India to make a difficult decision. In order to save her father, she must abandon her sanctuary and join forces with the viscount, a man she feels too much of a kinship with, and a man she must betray if she is to be successful in her quest.
Within the journal lies the unbelievable. Proof that the city still lives, a civilization still thrives within its walls, and it has a connection to the viscount he never imagined.
Together, India and Ridge unlock the pieces of the puzzle and embark on a journey that will change their lives forever. India’s betrayal threatens the ever growing bond between them, and in the end, India must choose between the man she loves, a city as old as time itself, and the security she craves.
Excerpt:
Ridge stepped quietly out of his cabin, a blanket in his hand. He knew he’d find her above deck. Staring out into the dark like she did every night.
Her back was to him, the breeze lifting the small curls at the nape of her neck and rustling them ever so softly. He moved so he could see her profile, yet hung back, not wanting her to know he was there yet.
She gazed mournfully at the sky, her chin upturned, exposing the smooth skin of her neck. He almost reached out a hand so great was his desire to trace a finger down the gentle curve.
He could no longer go on as they were. Each ignoring the attraction between them, ignoring the fact that if they had reached Brighton even ten minutes later, they would have made love in the carriage. He wouldn’t pretend it didn’t happen. And he wouldn’t allow her to either.
He looked down at the blanket in his hand when he saw her shiver. Closing the distance between them, he slipped the blanket around her shoulders and pulled her back firmly against his chest.
She jumped at the contact and whipped her head around to see who it was. Caution radiated from her, but she relaxed when she saw him and turned her gaze back to the sea.
Her hair brushed against his face, and he inhaled her exotic scent. He should release her, but he liked the feel of her in his arms, and she made no move to escape.
“It won’t work, India. Ignoring what happened between us won’t make me forget it. Or want it to happen any less.”
She sucked in her breath and tensed against him.
“I know,” she said quietly.
He sensed surrender in her voice, and acknowledgement that she was fighting for control as much as he. For a moment, he was tempted to sweep her into his arms and finish what they had started in the carriage, but her stance was fragile, vulnerable, as if she could break into a hundred tiny pieces if he pushed too hard.
Now wasn’t the time.
Instead he focused on the reason she stood out here every night, refusing to sleep in her cabin.
“Why do you fear the night?” he murmured, keeping his voice low, non threatening.
She seemed to shrink, melding further into his embrace. He tightened his arms around her, lending her strength.
“I don’t fear the night. I fear the dark.”
Her honest admission struck a chord within him. At the same time, anticipation seized him. Would she confide in him? Let loose the demons that tormented her?
He squeezed her shoulders, massaging them with his hands. Unable to resist the temptation of her skin, he slid a finger to where the collar of her shirt met the skin of her neck. It felt velvety, enticed him to keep touching, stroking. He rubbed and massaged, wanting to relax her, offer comfort.
She emitted a small sigh. Of pleasure?
“And why do you fear the dark?”
She became still. Silent. As if struggling with her decision. She looked down, her shoulders slumping as she was folding inward on herself.
“They locked me in the darkest, deepest hole they could find,” she whispered.
His chest tightened. “Who?”
She trembled against him and he tightened his hold on her. He pressed his lips to the back of her head, kissing her soft hair. If only he could take away her hurt.
“We were in India. We had just returned from the mountains of Nepal when we were set upon by a group rebels who supported Nepal against the British in the war. The war has just ended, and tension was still high in the area. My father and I were British, and so they intended to hold us for ransom.”
She sucked in another shaky breath.
“Their demands were absurd, and we were nobodies. We hadn’t set foot in England in years. The British High Command had no interest in us.
“I assumed my father had been captured as I was. It wasn’t until my own escape that I realized he must have left with Kavi and Udaya.”
Ridge frowned and pulled his head away from her hair. With gentle hands, he turned her to face him. He smoothed a knuckle under her chin and tugged until she was looking at him.
“What happened, India? You were prisoner for three months. I remember you saying so.”
His stomach flipped and curled into knots as tears brimmed in her eyes. He felt sick over what she had endured, and he didn’t even know the extent of it. Yet.
Her fingers went self consciously to her shorn hair. “They cut my hair. Then they took my--clothes,” she managed to choke out. “There was a hole in the ground. A small, dark hole, deep enough that I couldn’t climb out, but not long enough that I could lie down. They covered it with heavy boards so that it shut out the light and piled rocks on top so I couldn’t move them. I squatted most of the time, huddled against the cold dirt.”
Tears streamed down her cheeks, and the fires of remembrance burned brightly in her eyes. He stood frozen, afraid to move, speak until she finished.
“Once a day they would toss down stale bread or a cold piece of meat and a dipper of water.”
She turned from him and returned to the railing, her hands gripping the wood tightly. She looked down at the sea, her tears falling to mingle in the depths.
He leaned against the rail and placed a hand to her back, rubbing up and down as the rage built within him. That anyone could treat a woman worse than an animal was beyond comprehension.
“I lost all sense of time. My days were spent digging hand holes in the walls of the pit. I did what exercises I could to maintain what strength I had. One day after they gave me food, they didn’t replace the rocks over the boards. Maybe they thought I was too weak to escape. Maybe they just forgot.
“I waited until I was sure it was night, and then I climbed to the top using the footholes I had carved. I was weak. I barely managed to shove one of the boards over enough that I could see out. It took every ounce of strength I possessed to haul myself out of the pit, but I did it.
“I stumbled naked out of the encampment. I don’t know how long I wandered. I was half unconscious when I realized I was just outside Calcutta. I walked to the High Command five miles outside the city and announced I was British and in need of assistance.”
She turned her head to him and smiled crookedly. “The rest, as they say, is history. They clothed me and put me on a ship to England.”
Soft moonlight bathed her face in its pale glow, glistened off her wet cheeks. He cupped her face in his hand and dipped his head to hers.
Her lips lay a mere inch under his. She nervously ran her tongue over her bottom lip, leaving a sheen of moisture in its wake. He captured a sigh as it escaped her mouth and pressed his lips to hers. Soft, tender, with exquisite care, he kissed her then broke away.
He rested his forehead against hers, their eyes impossibly close. “I cannot imagine what you went through,” he murmured. “That you survived is a miracle. You are a strong woman. I don’t know of many men who could have accomplished what you did.”
“Kiss me again,” she whispered.
He kissed her once. Twice. On the third time, she curled her arms around his neck and held him to her. Her mouth began a slow exploration of his. He allowed her control, reveling in the feel of her skin against his.
His body heated, desire swirling like liquid smoke. Every nerve ending tightened until he could barely stand still. He groaned deep in his throat, and abandoned his stance.
He grasped her face between his hands and plundered her lips, his tongue darting forward, seeking entrance. Her mouth opened with a contented sigh, and her tongue met his in a wicked temptress’ dance.
His heart thundered in his chest. Never had he felt so utterly wrapped up in a woman before. He couldn’t get enough of her.
He broke away from her, sucking in great mouthfuls of air as he sought to control his raging need. “India, if I am honest with you, right now there is nothing more I want than to take you back to my cabin and make love to you the entire night.”
Her eyes flared first in surprise. Then answering desire warmed their depths. Panic followed quickly behind, and as she looked away he could swear he saw guilt.
His brows furrowed as he studied her stiff posture. Slowly, she turned back to the rail and stared over the gentle swells of the water.
“And there is nothing I’d like better,” she whispered, her words hard to hear as they were carried away on the waves.
The unspoken but hovered between them as surely as if she had said it. He wrapped his arms around her once more, content for the meantime to enjoy holding her.
She nestled into his embrace, a sigh of contentment rushing from her chest.
It was enough, this closeness between them. For now. It was hard for him to explain the true depths of his feelings for her. To call it love didn’t quite do it justice. It went far beyond the mere four letter word.
No, words didn’t accurately portray the way he felt around her. He had fancied himself in love with Lucinda, and it embarrassed him to even use the same word to describe his bond with India.
He would find a way around the barriers of India’s heart. Gently unfold the hurt and fear that trapped her in their embrace. Somehow he would find a way to make her feel the same way about him as he did about her.
They stood there, locked in the intimate embrace. Only when the eastern sky began to lighten to hues of purple and pink did she shift in his arms. Together, they watched the sun rise, and Ridge couldn’t help but marvel at the promise of a new day.
A day to win India’s heart.