On Wings of Devotion (The Codebreakers Book #2) , livre ebook

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212 pages

English

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All of England thinks Phillip Camden a monster--a man who deliberately caused the deaths of his squadron. But as nurse Arabelle Denler watches the so-dubbed "Black Heart" every day, she sees something far different: a hurting man desperate for mercy. And when their paths twist together and he declares himself her new protector, she realizes she has her own role to play in his healing.Phillip Camden would have preferred to die that day with his squadron rather than be recruited to the Admiralty's codebreaking division. The threats he receives daily are no great surprise and, in his opinion, well deserved. What comes as a shock is the reborn desire to truly live that Arabelle inspires in him.But when an old acquaintance shows up and seems set on using him in a plot that has the codebreakers of Room 40 in a frenzy, new affections are put to the test.

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Historical romance

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Publié par	Baker Publishing Group
Date de parution	07 janvier 2020
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781493422784
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	3 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0461€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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Table of Contents Cover Books by Roseanna M. White Title Page Copyright Page Dedication Epigraph Contents 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 Author’s Note Discussion Questions About the Author Back Ads Back Cover
List of Pages 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157 158 159 160 161 162 163 164 165 166 167 168 169 170 171 172 173 174 175 176 177 178 179 180 181 182 183 184 185 186 187 188 189 190 191 192 193 194 195 196 197 198 199 200 201 202 203 204 205 206 207 208 209 210 211 212 213 214 215 216 217 218 219 220 221 222 223 224 225 226 227 228 229 230 231 232 233 234 235 236 237 238 239 240 241 242 243 244 245 246 247 248 249 250 251 252 253 254 255 256 257 258 259 260 261 262 263 264 265 266 267 268 269 270 271 272 273 274 275 276 277 278 279 280 281 282 283 284 285 286 287 288 289 290 291 292 293 294 295 296 297 298 299 300 301 302 303 304 305 306 307 308 309 310 311 312 313 314 315 316 317 318 319 320 321 322 323 324 325 326 327 328 329 330 331 332 333 334 335 336 337 338 339 340 341 342 343 344 345 346 347 348 349 350 351 352 353 354 355 356 357 358 359 360 361 362 363 364 365 366 367 368 369 370 371 372 373 374 375 376 377 378 379 380 381 383 384 385 387 388 389 391 393 394

Landmarks Cover Books by Roseanna M. White Title Page Copyright Page Dedication Epigraph Table of Contents Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Author's Note Discussion Questions About the Author Back Ads Back Cover
Books by Roseanna M. White
L ADIES OF THE M ANOR
The Lost Heiress
The Reluctant Duchess
A Lady Unrivaled
S HADOWS O VER E NGLAND
A Name Unknown
A Song Unheard
An Hour Unspent
T HE C ODEBREAKERS
The Number of Love
On Wings of Devotion
Title Page
Copyright Page
© 2020 by Roseanna M. White
Published by Bethany House Publishers
11400 Hampshire Avenue South
Bloomington, Minnesota 55438
www.bethanyhouse.com
Bethany House Publishers is a division of
Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan
www.bakerpublishinggroup.com
Ebook edition created 2020
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.
ISBN 978-1-4934-2278-4
Scripture quotations are from the King James Version of the Bible.
This is a work of historical reconstruction; the appearances of certain historical figures are therefore inevitable. All other characters, however, are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Cover design by LOOK Design Studio
Cover Photography by Mike Habermann Photography, LLC
Author is represented by The Steve Laube Agency.
Dedication

To Kim,
for all your enthusiasm and encouragement over the years.
I’m so blessed to count you as a friend.
Epigraph
Be merciful unto me, O God, be merciful unto me: for my soul trusteth in thee: yea, in the shadow of thy wings will I make my refuge, until these calamities be overpast.
Psalm 57:1
Contents
Cover
Books by Roseanna M. White
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Epigraph
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
Author’s Note
Discussion Questions
About the Author
Back Ads
Back Cover
1
C HARING C ROSS H OSPITAL L ONDON , E NGLAND 1 F EBRUARY 1918
A stranger stalking down the street shouldn’t make her hands tremble in anticipation. Arabelle Denler forced her breathing to calm, forced an easy smile to her lips for the soldier whose bandage she’d just changed, and stood with the old bandage balled up in her bowl. “Is there anything else you need, Captain?”
The thrashing of his head from side to side may have been the answer to her question. Or it may have been simple agony. Poor chap. He’d just arrived in Charing Cross Hospital yesterday after ordnance had stolen his entire left leg.
“Ara!” The stage whisper came from the hallway, where Eliza, one of the volunteer nurses, motioned her frantically.
He’d be stomping down the street any moment. Brooding and aloof and mysterious and so handsome that just looking at him could make one’s heart crack a bit.
She resisted the urge to dart out. Black Heart, as the papers had dubbed him, was of no concern to her. She had a fiancé. And more, she had a purpose. Right here, right now. Resting a hand on the captain’s shoulder, she closed her eyes and whispered a quiet prayer. Only after her amen did she move away, her pace no faster than it ever was. The fact that she didn’t stop at any other cots in the ward had nothing to do with the view out the window and everything to do with the fact that her shift was over and she needed to deliver these bloodied bandages to the laundry on her way out.
If the window facing Agar Street happened to be on the way to said laundry, that was pure coincidence.
And if she went into the little room where the nurses and volunteers took their brief breaks rather than directly to her destination, she could blame it on Eliza, who seized her by the arm and tugged her into the cupboard of a room with a giggle. “Hurry.”
Arabelle rolled her eyes, even as she knew it was more to cover the thumping of her own pulse than because she found their daily ritual silly. She slid the bowl of sullied bandages onto a table and quickly washed her hands before golden-haired Eliza pulled her over to the window.
“There!” Susan, a pretty girl of perhaps eighteen who had been volunteering here for only a half year, leaned into the windowsill until her cheek was pressed to the pane.
Arabelle tugged her back an inch. Gracious, but sometimes these girls made her feel ancient. She was only twenty-five, but she couldn’t recall ever acting so giddy simply because a man was walking down the street. “A bit of propriety, if you please, Sue. He could look up again, and you don’t want him to catch you staring.”
The girls had about fainted dead away last week when he’d glanced directly up at their window and sent them all a devil-may-care grin. As if he knew exactly what they were doing and the effect he had.
“What are you three doing?”
Arabelle turned to smile at another volunteer—who was usually gone long before this hour of the day. “Lily! What are you still doing here?”
Lilian Blackwell, her red-gold brows lifted, sauntered into the room. “I had to swap my hours today so I could help my mother with something this morning.” She drew even with them and peered out the window. “What’s going on out there?”
Eliza bumped Susan companionably on the shoulder. “She has no idea what she misses every day. He walks by, Lil. The fellow the papers have dubbed Black Heart. I declare, he must be the handsomest man in all England.”
Something odd flashed in Lily’s eyes. Recognition, perhaps. Ara tilted her head. “Do you know him? He’s working at Whitehall now it seems. With your father?”
Lily’s smile was vague. She backed away from the window. “I couldn’t say. Daddy works with so many chaps, you know. Though I can certainly assure you he isn’t one my mother has invited over to dine with us.”
Eliza and Susan’s laughter turned to playful shoving as they each jockeyed for prime position at the window.
“Need I separate you two?” Arabelle made a show of putting a hand on each of their arms and pushing them a few inches apart, positioning herself between them as a barrier.
Not so she had a better view out the window.
Oh, fiddlesticks. Who did she think she was fooling?
Lily had retreated to the door. “Well, I’d best hurry along. This odd schedule today has me all sorts of discombobulated. I’ll see you in the morning, Ara. Eliza, Sue, it was nice to actually work beside you today.”
A chime of farewells soon turned into excited exclamations of “There he is! He’s coming!”
Arabelle drew in a deep breath even as her eyes sought the familiar stride of Black Heart. He was stomping at a faster clip than usual down the street. No teasing grin would be shot up at them today—that was clear from the angry set of his jaw and the hands clenched into fists at his side.
His nickname was no great mystery. One had only to watch him for a few moments to see the resentment—some would call it hatred—that held him in its teeth. Arabelle’s fingers settled on the windowsill. She’d never met the man. But she knew him. Knew how the bitterness could eat at one, gnawing away until there was nothing left but sinew and bone, no heart to speak of.
Just looking at him took her back to those dark days. The days before Aunt Hettie, before the Braxtons, before the Lord had shown her how He’d always been by her side. When it was just her and a dead mother and a missing father and a village rector who hadn’t a clue what to do with a seething ten-year-old girl.
Father God, he wears his pain like a uniform. She watched Black Heart pound the pavement ever nearer to their window. But you can