Excerpt: The Duke's Blade

The Duke’s Blade (The Duke’s Guard, Boko 16)
©C.H. Admirand February 2026
Excerpt from Chapter One

Thunder rumbled and lightning flashed as the clouds opened up and a cold, hard rain pelted his head and shoulders. Fenton Flaherty could not believe the black-haired, blue-eyed temptress with the figure of a goddess was so stubborn. Not only did she ignore his warning about Judson’s men, but then she turned her back on him when he offered to watch over her. He did not offer his protection lightly. But her father was one of the local smugglers that had helped create the diversion months ago when they rescued O’Malley, and Flaherty felt it was his duty to offer protection to Doonan’s daughter.

Since then, there had been a shift in the power struggle between the wreckers and smugglers that plied their trade along the coast of Cornwall. Now that the crooked excise official was gone, both groups had agreed to abandon the caves they had been using beneath Penwith Tower. The shoreline was riddled with caves, so finding another to store their illegal goods would not be a problem. Apparently, the caves on the Duke of Wyndmere’s property had been convenient to use during the previous duke’s tenure, until his untimely death. It had been off-limits since the current duke accepted the title.

Flaherty had sworn an oath to protect the duke and his family from harm—physical, or the more insidious, and just as effective, societal slander. As the last of the sixteen men in the duke’s personal guard unmarried, he observed, and realized, that it was possible to have sworn an oath to the duke and another to the woman who held the other half of one’s heart.

Even as he thought it, he snorted with derision. His cousins and older brothers had fallen in love (like lemmings) one at a time, with women they had rescued. But it didn’t mean he would fall.

His thoughts returned to the buxom angel who’d captured his eye from the night he walked into the Mermaid’s Glass nearly a year ago.

Lightning streaked across the sky and thunder rumbled closer this time. He’d best keep his mind on his duties. Foul weather was the perfect time to move the most recent cargo the local smugglers had offloaded from Ruan’s ship. The Frenchman had made a fortune delivering goods to the coast of Cornwall and beyond. It wasn’t Flaherty’s duty to go after smugglers—unless it was on the duke’s property or somehow impacted His Grace or his family. There were more than a few members of the House of Lords who were strongly opposed to His Grace’s reforms to aid those who had been injured while fighting for the Crown. Any hint of scandal—or smuggling—would be a detriment to the duke’s goal of seeing that the brave men in England’s military received the recompense he was striving to achieve for them. Recompense they greatly deserved.

Flaherty and O’Malley—and the rest of the men in the duke’s guard—had not been hired to enforce the law of the land. They’d vowed to protect the duke and his family. Therefore, they were in the unusual position of keeping an eye on the smuggling in and around the village of St. Ives, but not actively interfering. The last excise official, Buxton, had tried to frame Flaherty and O’Malley, claiming that they received a cut from the smuggling and wrecking, when it was the king’s man himself who was pocketing coin to look the other way!

Thankfully, the French smuggler had had a hand in saving his cousin by helping to unmask the crooked excise official, with the aid of Captain Coventry’s elite force of retired military men. The battle-scarred Tremayne, Bayfield, Hennessey, and Masterson had been strategically placed to rescue O’Malley from the hangman’s noose. Otherwise Buxton would have succeeded in his dastardly goal to hang his cousin, as O’Malley’s pregnant wife was forced to watch.

Flaherty’s gut roiled as he remembered their race against time to save Finn. Each man had had an integral part to play. The most crucial had been Tremayne, who jumped off the platform and lifted O’Malley from below. Next was Garahan, who leapt onto the platform and wrapped his arms around O’Malley’s waist to help bear Finn’s weight and slacken the rope. Hennessey would finish the job, rushing forward to slice through the rope. But the most startling part of that memory was that the duke himself had driven the carriage that carried Finn and Mollie to safety at the duke’s manor house.

Flaherty shook his head to clear the memory, and his frustration with the feisty siren who’d been casting her wiles while luring him closer to his doom. The Celtic Sea churned below him as the storm moved closer—it was almost overhead now.

A sensible man would seek shelter. Flaherty had never been accused of being sensible.

He shook his head, swiping at the water that blurred his vision. There was movement near the mouth of the caves below him, as the sound of hooves and wagon wheels approached the path leading down to the beach. Finally! He would have the proof he needed to—

A shout, and the unmistakable click of a pistol being cocked behind him, had his blood running cold. He had seconds to react and dove to the side. He felt his flesh burn as a lead ball tore through the meat of his shoulder. Damn the woman! He needed a clear head—not a brain muddled with memories of the past brought on by the sharp-tongued lass with midnight curls and luscious curves.

Ignoring the pain, he scrambled to his feet and raced toward the edge of the cliff he’d been patrolling. There was no other way to escape certain death. He’d have to take a running leap and hope he hit the water below the sharp drop-off, and not the jagged rocks. With a curse on the siren’s head, and a prayer in his heart, Flaherty pumped his legs faster, racing toward the edge of the cliff. He took a flying leap, windmilled his arms, and plummeted through the darkness.

He plunged into the sea and immediately fought not to sink any farther. He surged upward, breaking the surface, gasping for air. A wave carried him toward shore as he used his flagging strength to swim to the beach. Fighting to stay conscious against the white-hot pain in his shoulder, he didn’t see the jagged rock until the next wave tossed him against it. His head hit the rock and warmth poured from a gash above his eye.

Flaherty struggled as the tide receded and tried to drag him with it. “Bloody fecking hell!” He fought with all he had against the strong undertow. He surfaced again and heard someone shout. Just his luck to survive being shot, jumping off a cliff, and nearly drowning, only to be captured by the very men he was spying on!

His injuries coalesced simultaneously as he slammed into another grouping of rocks. His head and body felt light, as if he were floating. Was he dead, then? Why was it so dark?

“God forgive me for me sins. Sorry ye didn’t pray hard enough for me, Ma, for sure and I’m going to Hell!”

Hands grabbed hold of him. “I’ll send you there myself if you give up now, you pain-in-the-arse, red-headed devil!”

The darkness slowly receded and a beacon of light shone in the distance. He turned his face toward the light. Sensing peace, he followed it.

“Flaherty!”

He glanced over his shoulder, but the peace washing over him pulled at him.

“Don’t you dare die on me, Flaherty!” Full, sumptuous lips pressed against his, demanding attention. Manna from Heaven.

Surprised that the beacon of light was fading, he squinted up at the blurry image above him. “Never thought an angel would kiss like that.”

“Stay with me, you big eedjit!”

Flaherty slowly closed his eyes, murmuring, “Faith, ye sound like the black-haired lass who has me by the bollocks. Sure and it must be the devil himself playing with me heart and me mind.”

“You’ve called me a siren and a temptress,” the voice grumbled, “but never a devil. For that, I should leave you here!”

“You’ve dragged him this far out of the water without help. Hang on to him while we pull him farther up onto shore.”

“But Da—”

“Not buts, lass. You’ve done your father proud. Risking life and limb to pull a drowning man out the sea, when clearly the sea wants him back.”

 

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