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  THEY SOUGHT LOVE

  Before she could reply he tightened his arms, so that she was pulled against him in a crushing embrace. His mouth was hard on hers, kissing her fiercely, ruthlessly.

  She knew all about his reputation that he was an expert lover, skilled at bringing women under his spell.

  Now she found that it was true.

  There was devilment in his lips. They knew how to move over a woman’s mouth, coaxing a response from her, inciting fires of pleasure that threatened to overwhelm her.

  She could feel herself melting, wanting only him, ready to set the world at nothing if only she could be held in his arms. The warmth was spreading through her body, terrifying her with its power to undermine her will.

  She would not give in, she would not –

  THEY SOUGHT LOVE

  BARBARA CARTLAND

  Copyright © 2006 by Cartland Promotions

  First published on the internet in September 2006 by Barbaracartland.com

  The characters and situations in this book are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happening.

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronically or mechanically, including photocopying, recording or any information storage or retrieval, without the prior permission in writing from the publisher.

  eBook conversion by M-Y Books

  THE BARBARA CARTLAND PINK COLLECTION

  Barbara Cartland was the most prolific bestselling author in the history of the world. She was frequently in the Guinness Book of Records for writing more books in a year than any other living author. In fact her most amazing literary feat was when her publishers asked for more Barbara Cartland romances, she doubled her output from 10 books a year to over 20 books a year, when she was 77.

  She went on writing continuously at this rate for 20 years and wrote her last book at the age of 97, thus completing 400 books between the ages of 77 and 97.

  Her publishers finally could not keep up with this phenomenal output, so at her death she left 160 unpublished manuscripts, something again that no other author has ever achieved.

  Now the exciting news is that these 160 original unpublished Barbara Cartland books are ready for publication and they will be published by Barbaracartland.com exclusively on the internet, as the web is the best possible way to reach so many Barbara Cartland readers around the world.

  The 160 books will be published monthly and will be numbered in sequence.

  The series is called the Pink Collection as a tribute to Barbara Cartland whose favourite colour was pink and it became very much her trademark over the years.

  The Barbara Cartland Pink Collection is published only on the internet. Log on to www.barbaracartland.com to find out how you can purchase the books monthly as they are published, and take out a subscription that will ensure that all subsequent editions are delivered to you by mail order to your home.

  If you do not have access to a computer you can write for information about the Pink Collection to the following address :

  Barbara Cartland.com Ltd.

  Camfield Place,

  Hatfield,

  Hertfordshire

  AL9 6JE

  United Kingdom.

  Telephone : +44 (0)1707 642629

  Fax : +44 (0)1707 663041

  Titles in this series

  The Cross of Love

  Love in the Highlands

  Love Finds the Way

  The Castle of Love

  Love is Triumphant

  Stars in the Sky

  The ship of love

  A Dangerous Disguise

  Love became theirs

  Love drives in

  Sailing to Love

  The Star of Love

  Music is the soul of Love

  Love in the East

  Theirs to Eternity

  A Paradise on Earth

  Love Wins in Berlin

  In Search of Love

  Love Rescues Rosanna

  The House of Happiness

  Royalty Defeated by Love

  The White Witch

  They Sought Love

  THE LATE DAME BARBARA CARTLAND

  Barbara Cartland, who sadly died in May 2000 at the grand age of ninety eight, remains one of the world’s most famous romantic novelists. With worldwide sales of over one billion, her outstanding 723 books have been translated into thirty six different languages, to be enjoyed by readers of romance globally.

  Writing her first book ‘Jigsaw’ at the age of 21, Barbara became an immediate bestseller. Building upon this initial success, she wrote continuously throughout her life, producing bestsellers for an astonishing 76 years. In addition to Barbara Cartland’s legion of fans in the UK and across Europe, her books have always been immensely popular in the USA. In 1976 she achieved the unprecedented feat of having books at numbers 1 & 2 in the prestigious B. Dalton Bookseller bestsellers list.

  Although she is often referred to as the ‘Queen of Romance’, Barbara Cartland also wrote several historical biographies, six autobiographies and numerous theatrical plays as well as books on life, love, health and cookery. Becoming one of Britain's most popular media personalities and dressed in her trademark pink, Barbara spoke on radio and television about social and political issues, as well as making many public appearances.

  In 1991 she became a Dame of the Order of the British Empire for her contribution to literature and her work for humanitarian and charitable causes.

  Known for her glamour, style, and vitality Barbara Cartland became a legend in her own lifetime. Best remembered for her wonderful romantic novels and loved by millions of readers worldwide, her books remain treasured for their heroic heroes, plucky heroines and traditional values. But above all, it was Barbara Cartland’s overriding belief in the positive power of love to help, heal and improve the quality of life for everyone that made her truly unique.

  “Those who sincerely seek true love will always be rewarded.”

  Barbara Cartland

  PROLOGUE

  - PARIS 1865

  There was a buzz in the court as the handsome Earl of Torrington entered the witness box. Here, in Paris, he was well known for his free-spending ways and his love of beautiful women.

  The more the merrier, as a look at the body of the court would confirm.

  There they all sat, his current mistress, his past mistress and two hopeful women who were probably earmarked for the future.

  They were splendid, buxom and magnificently dressed. Two of them were married to government ministers.

  The accused was a huge, powerful man, sullen looking, in his thirties, with a slack mouth and a bitter look in his eyes. His name was Pierre Vallon.

  He had stolen jewels from his mistress. Unfortunately for him the jewels had been given to her by Lord Torrington, another of her admirers.

  When the jewels had been offered to his Lordship by a dealer, he recognised them and laid a trap for the thief.

  Without betraying his inner rage, he had shown interest and said that he would also like to purchase any other jewels that the man could bring him.

  Then he had lain in wait. The police were present as well, but it was Lord Torrington who had tackled the thief personally. Vallon had responded by drawing a knife and for a while the two men had fought.

  In the end Lord Torrington had prevailed. Although not as large as his opponent, he was fitter after spending many mornings in the gymnasium, practising martial arts.

  It was also whispered that the exercise he recei
ved in a multitude of different beds had left his body fine-tuned and powerful.

  The newspapers made a huge fuss, praising Lord Torrington for his courage and his devotion to justice.

  But the real reason, as everyone knew, was his jealous rage over the man who had dared to sleep with a woman the Earl regarded as his private property.

  A hum of approval went round the court as the onlookers considered the Earl’s appearance.

  Thirty, tall, broad shouldered, handsome, with dark looks and brooding eyes, he was a sight to draw any woman’s admiration.

  At last the verdict of guilty was pronounced and Vallon was sentenced to ten years in prison. He had stood impassive until then, but now he turned his venom on the man he blamed for his imprisonment.

  “Curse you!” he screamed. “Curse you!”

  The next moment he had leapt out of the dock and hurled himself at the Earl, his hands outstretched to his throat.

  It took three men to pull him off and even when they succeeded Vallon did not give up. He was still howling curses as they hauled him away.

  “I will come back,” he shrieked. “You haven’t heard the last of me. I’ll be a step behind you every moment, and one day I’ll make you regret what you’ve done. I’ll get my revenge and it will break your heart.”

  “Nonsense!” came a female voice. “He has no heart. Everyone knows that.”

  There was laughter as Vallon was dragged from the court. Lord Torrington felt his throat and gave a conspiratorial grin at the lady who had spoken.

  “How well you know me, my dear,” he called.

  “But of course! If you had a heart you would not be Lord Torrington and how disappointing that would be.”

  More laughter and the merry party left the court. Nobody gave another thought to Pierre Vallon.

  CHAPTER ONE

  - ENGLAND 1867

  “I think you are the most beautiful woman in the world, the most enchanting, the most bewitching – ”

  “Please!” Celina Storton tried to silence her admirer, although she found it hard not to laugh.

  The Marquis of Delaine was a well meaning young man, and there was no doubting his sincerity, but nature had created him the wrong shape for passionate declarations.

  He was large, wide and heavy. The most expensive clothes would never make him elegant, any more than the best tutors could made him clever.

  “Don’t say any more,” Celina begged. “We should return to the ballroom, lest people notice our absence and talk.”

  “But I haven’t finished,” he said determinedly. “And I want them to talk, let them all speak of our engagement.”

  “There is no engagement – ”

  “But there will be if you will allow me say what I am trying to say.”

  “Very well,” Celina agreed, resigned but also sorry for him. Of all her suitors he was the richest and the most highborn. It was such a pity that she could not fall in love with him.

  Taking a deep breath, the Marquis sank down on one knee. He was evidently determined to make his proposal properly, and even cast a surreptitious look at a scrap of paper hastily pulled from his pocket.

  “My dear Miss Storton, I offer you my hand and my heart. Only be mine and you will be the Mistress of Delaine Castle – ”

  Behind him the door of the little anteroom opened and Lady Keller, hostess of the ball they were attending, looked in. But as soon as she saw what was happening she retreated hastily.

  Celina sighed and braced herself to hear out the rest of the saga. Finally the Marquis took out a diamond ring with a huge stone and tried to put it on her finger, but she hastily clenched her hand.

  “Forgive me, my Lord, but I am unable to accept your flattering offer.”

  “You cannot mean that.”

  “But I do. I am not sufficiently highly born to be the wife of a Marquis. My father was merely the younger son of a baronet –

  “A fig for these quibbles!” he cried dramatically. “True love conquers all, and my Mama is quite reconciled – er, that is, she is overjoyed at my choice of bride.”

  Celina, who had met the Marquis’s redoubtable mother, choked back her laughter and replied in a quivering voice, “I am honoured by her Ladyship’s approval, sir, but it cannot change my decision.”

  “There is another man!” he screamed at once. “But he does not love you as I do.”

  “There is no other man,” she said firmly. “But I am unable to return your feelings. And now, sir, I insist on returning to the ballroom, as I do not wish to be the object of gossip.”

  But that was a faint hope she realised as she escaped him. Lady Keller was a kind woman and a good friend, but she was incapable of keeping what she had seen to herself.

  Her return caused a stir, for of all the young ladies who danced and flirted their way through the London season, she was the most in demand.

  This caused much heart burning amongst her rivals, for she was certainly not the best looking, nor the most highly born, nor the wealthiest, nor the youngest.

  By what right, they asked, did Miss Celina Storton deserve a Marquis at her feet, eager to shower his wealth on her, despite her own comparative lack of fortune? For she was twenty-five years old, well past her best, worth a mere twenty thousand pounds and should call herself lucky to ensnare even a baronet.

  She was not precisely plain, but her features lacked that certain something that was real beauty. Nature had given her intelligence and her face reflected it. Her chin was neat and firm, her nose dainty and decided.

  Her eyes were certainly lovely, being large and deep blue, but it was what lay hidden in the depths of those eyes that enchanted her admirers.

  A sharp wit and a roguish charm lurked there, making men seek her company while other lovelier damsels remained wall-flowers.

  In addition she carried herself with an ‘air’ that had nothing to do with looks.

  Tonight she was at her best with her shiny fair hair arranged becomingly in curls. Her dress was blue satin with flounces of lace, tiny roses at the waist and pearls adorning her neck and ears.

  And there were many men who admired or even adored her, but she had eyes for none of them. Lord Delaine had said that there must be another man and she had denied it, but only because this was a subject she could not bear to speak about.

  She would die rather than admit that she had given her love to a man who did not return it.

  With a sinking heart she saw Lady Keller advancing towards her.

  “Well!” her hostess exclaimed excitedly. “What did I see? My dear, I am so sorry for bursting in. I do hope I didn’t interrupt at an inopportune moment.”

  “Not at all,” Celina said.

  “He did propose, didn’t he?”

  “He did propose.”

  “Oh, how wonderful! You will be a Marchioness and have all the money in the world. He will load you down with diamonds and rubies and you will constantly attend Court.”

  As Lady Keller had three unmarried daughters this was really very generous of her, but Celina was unable to join in her ecstasies.

  “I rejected him,” she admitted flatly.

  Lady Keller greeted this incredible news with a little scream.

  “You did what? My dear, what are you thinking of?

  Nobody rejects a Marquis.”

  “I do not love him.”

  “What has that to do with it?”

  “A good deal. When I marry it must be to a man that I am in love with.”

  “And are you in love with any man?”

  “No,” Celina said untruthfully.

  “Then, marry Delaine now and if you fall in love later, well – these things arrange themselves.”

  “You mean – take lovers?” Celina asked, horrified.

  “Well, of course you must do your duty first. I believe two sons is the bare minimum that is required before a wife may please herself, but – ”

  “Stop, stop!” Celina cried, aghast.

  Of course s
he had known that many women in high Society amused themselves with affairs of the heart, and their husbands pretended not to notice, because they too were enjoying their extramarital interests.

  Nor was it considered beyond the pale if she passed off a love child as her husband’s progeny, always assuming that she had first performed her duty in the matter of an heir.

  Many a husband had accepted an infant that looked nothing like him in return for his wife’s silence about his own activities outside the marriage bed.

  But this was not the kind of marriage Celina wanted. She would wed the man she loved or nobody. And they would love each other so deeply that neither would look at anybody else.

  If only –

  “My dear,” Lady Keller persisted, “I am only being realistic. You have been the success of the Season. No young lady could ask for more. But the time is coming when you must choose a husband. Every eligible young gentleman in London has laid himself at your feet – metaphorically speaking, of course – ”

  “Not always metaphorically,” Celina could not resist parrying mischievously.

  “Yes, I have heard those stories. They say young Viscount Buckley had difficulty getting to his feet, being so fat!”

  “I begged him not to kneel,” Celina pointed out. “But he insisted.”

  “He was so madly in love with you. And still he didn’t win your hand.”

  “Well, I cannot marry a man simply because he will not listen to wise advice and is too fat to stand up,” Celina replied, unarguably.

  “Never mind him. You cannot seriously mean to reject poor Delaine.”

  “I am afraid I do.”

  “Then who do you mean to accept?”

  “None of them,” Celina replied with a little sigh. “I know it is very ungrateful of me when you were kind enough to invite me to stay with you in London and sponsor me for the Season.”

  “Well, one of your friends had to do something. You should have been a debutante years ago, and you would have done if your Uncle James had not been such a selfish stick-in-the-mud. What was he thinking about to allow so much time to pass?”