Once a Soldier
Rogues Redeemed, #1
Rogues Redeemed, #1
by Mary Jo Putney
Releasing
June 28th 2016
Zebra
Zebra
From The Book Junkie Reads . . . Once
a Soldier (Rogues Redeemed, #1) . . .
This was a two fold story, well three fold if you take into account a secondary romance (Justine & Sophia). Now back to what I was say. I found this a two fold story for the reasons that we learn of the group of men that form the so called 'Rogues Redeemed'. Each of them have a reason for why and how. Then there was the romance of Will and Athena.
Athena was my kind of woman. She was a real woman. Not meek. Not obedience driven. Not traditional of her time. Not jump upon command. She was headstrong. High spirited. Independent. Oh yes, let me mention the illegitimate daughter of a peer of the realm. She knew and valued her worth. She let no one, not even Will to take that away from her. The character written her was truly worthy of the name give her.
Will was set to inherit, but chose to go to war for his country. Never guessing that doing one more mission would turn out bad for him. But in some ways turning out very good for him. I found him interested and very much your male of the historical era. I just did not fall head over heals for him.
Athena stole this story for me all the way. If you are looking for that strong, independent, woman with a mission in life of her own and some romance on the side set in historical times. Then I suggest that you pick up a copy of Once a Soldier. Thank you Mary Jo Putney. I look forward to more form the Rogues Redeemed series.
**This ARC was provided via NetGalley
in exchange for an honest review.**
BLURB
ROGUES REDEEMED
ROGUES REDEEMED
As
heir to a title and great wealth, Will Masterson should have stayed home and
tended his responsibilities. Instead he went to war. Now, after perilous years
fighting the French, he intends his current mission to be his last. But all his
plans are forgotten when he arrives in the small mountain stronghold of San
Gabriel and meets her.
Knowing
herself to be too tall, strong, and unconventional to appeal to a man, Athena
Markham has always gloried in her independence. But for the first time in her
life, she finds a man who might be her match.
Two
of a kind, too brave for their own good, Athena and Will vow to do whatever it
takes to vanquish San Gabriel’s enemies. For neither will back down from death,
and only together can they find happiness and a love deeper than any they'd
dared imagine...
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Portugal, 1809
Chaos, the screams of women and children floundering
desperately in the water. An absurdly tall nun with
a rifle slung over her back as she tried to save a
gaggle
of schoolgirls. Brutal French soldiers closing in. .
. .
“Is he
dead?”
Hard
fingers pressed into Will’s throat. He tried to shake them off, and was
rewarded with stabbing agony in his head. The pain cleared his wits a little
and he realized that someone was checking his pulse.
“Not
yet,” a vaguely familiar voice responded. The fingers disappeared. “Bashed on
the head. Not sure how serious it is. I recognize him, though. The name’s
Masterson.”
“Let
him sleep,” another voice said gruffly. “If he’s not awake, he won’t want a
share of this deplorable brandy.”
Thinking
he had a fierce-enough headache without drinking bad brandy, Will opened his
eyes to find that he was in a damp, dark place, a cellar maybe, with cluttered
racks covering most of the stone walls. A lantern hanging from a ceiling beam
cast enough light to show the face of the man leaning over him. Tangled blond
hair and a scruffy beard several shades darker. Shabbily dressed, but alert,
wary eyes.
Will
squinted at him. “I know you, don’t I?”
“The
name’s Gordon. We went to the same school long, long ago. How is your head? You
took quite a blow.”
Will
touched his aching temple, wincing at the pain. There was sticky blood, too.
But his brain seemed to be working. He now recognized Gordon, though that
wasn’t the name the fellow had used when they were students at the Westerfield
Academy. Given his bad behavior then, it wasn’t surprising if he’d decided to
change identities.
“Where
am I?” Will’s voice was rusty.
Gordon
sat back on his heels. “Vila Nova de Gaia, in the cellar of a house overlooking
the Douro River,” he replied. “Do you remember the bridge of boats? People
drowning as they tried to escape from Porto to Gaia and the improvised bridge
breaking up under them?” His voice turned dry. “You were very heroic. Led the
charge to rescue a group of nuns and schoolgirls from being raped and possibly
murdered.”
The
tall nun. Frantic, wide-eyed girls. Remembering
now, Will asked, “Did they escape?”
“Yes,
at least for the moment.” The reply came from a dark-haired, hard-featured man
who leaned wearily against the opposite wall, his arms crossed over his chest.
“No idea what happened once they were out of sight.”
Hoping
that at least one group of innocents had managed to survive the carnage, Will
shakily tried to push himself up. Wordlessly Gordon helped him sit against the
damp stone wall. Every inch of Will’s body ached, but he didn’t seem to have
any major injuries.
No
uniform. He was dressed like a Portuguese man of modest means. Since he was
fluent in Portuguese, Spanish, and French and he’d spent time in Porto, his
commanding officer had sent him to learn what was going on in the city. Nothing
good, he’d discovered.
He
surveyed the shadowy room, which contained three men besides himself and
Gordon. All looked as battered as he was.
Gordon
made a courtly gesture. “Allow me to introduce our fellow English spies. That’s
Chantry against the wall, Hawkins swigging from the bottle of brandy, and Duval
to the left.”
“I
dislike being grouped with you English spies,” Duval said in a languid voice
with a faint accent. “I’m a French royalist.”
“But a
spy?” Will asked.
“I
might be considered that by narrow-minded French officers,” the Frenchman
admitted. “In truth, I’m merely an irredeemable rogue.”
“Irredeemable?
This is a good time to talk about redemption,” Hawkins said thoughtfully. He
was the man with the gruff voice whose shaggy brown hair half obscured his
face. “If we weren’t going to die in the morning, would we attempt to make up
for our past sins? Or shrug and return to them?”
Gordon
frowned. “I think I’d try to be better. I’ve always assumed that there would be
time to become an honorable man. I didn’t expect to run out of time so soon.”
He took the brandy bottle from Hawkins and swallowed deeply, then passed it to
Will.
“I
don’t know how to be good,” Chantry said, his voice edged. “I’ll go to hell no
matter when I die. Which is going to be in a few hours.”
Will
wondered if he’d misheard. “What’s this about dying?”
“We’re
all to be shot at dawn,” Duval explained. “So say your prayers and hope that le bon Dieu is in
a merciful mood.” His mouth twisted. “I expect no such mercy. But given the
chill of this cellar, roasting in hell is not without appeal.”
Will
tasted the brandy warily. Wretched indeed, but he welcomed the throat-scorching
kick as he tried to absorb the knowledge that he was about to die in front of a
firing squad. He’d faced death in battle often enough, but the cold-bloodedness
of an execution was . . . disturbing.
After
a second swallow of brandy, he handed the bottle back to Gordon. “There’s no
way out of this cellar?”
“We
searched. At the least, we hoped to find more drink on one of the racks, but
there was nothing useful, and the only way out is that door.” Hawkins gestured.
“That very heavy door, which is locked and barred from the other side.”
“There
are also two armed guards out there,” Duval added. “Not such bad fellows. They
gave us two bottles of brandy because they thought a man shouldn’t go to his
death sober.” He smiled crookedly and reached for the bottle. “They apologized
for the quality of the brandy, but, in truth, I no longer care. We finished the
first bottle while you were unconscious, so we’re all ahead of you in
drunkenness.”
“‘In
vino veritas,’” Hawkins murmured. “As I look at the
rapidly diminishing moments of my life, I think of all the people I hurt being
careless or selfish.” He retrieved the brandy from Duval and took a swig. “If
by some miracle I survive this sentence of death, I vow to do better. To pay
more attention. To . . . to be more kind.”
“That’s
a good vow.” Gordon frowned. “If I survive, I swear not to sleep with any more
married women. They’re nothing but trouble. “
That
produced a couple of chuckles. “If you’re not going to sleep with married
women, you might as well be dead,” Chantry pronounced. After a few moments’
thought, he continued, saying slowly, “But if I chance to survive, I vow to
take up the responsibilities I’ve been avoiding. A safe promise that allows me
to greet the firing squad gladly.”
“What
about you, Masterson?” Gordon asked. “Unless you’ve changed greatly, your soul
shouldn’t be imperiled by death in the morning. At school, you were damnably
well behaved and good-natured.”
“Don’t
confuse good manners with blameless behavior,” Will said dryly. “I’ve been
working on redemption for my sins for years, and I’m nowhere near balancing the
scales in my favor.” He wasn’t sure if redemption was even possible.
Hawkins
sighed gustily. “Unfortunate that the guards didn’t give us more brandy. A
bottle each would have been welcome. Even with only two bottles, we’d have\ had
half a bottle each if you hadn’t woken up, Masterson.”
“Sorry
to deprive you,” Will said apologetically. Hawkins regarded the bottle
solemnly, then leaned over to give it to Will. “In fairness, you should finish
this bottle, since we all had a head start.”
Dreadful
though the brandy was, Will accepted the bottle and emptied it with one long
swallow. There was nowhere near enough to become drunk, alas.
He
hoped again that the nuns and schoolgirls had escaped to safety. That would
give some meaning to his death. God knew he’d seen enough meaningless deaths.
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Author Info
Mary Jo Putney is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author who has written over 60 novels and novellas. A ten-time finalist for the Romance Writers of America RITA, she has won the honor twice and is on the RWA Honor Roll for bestselling authors. In 2013 she was awarded the RWA Nora Roberts Lifetime Achievement Award. Though most of her books have been historical romance, she has also published contemporary romances, historical fantasy, and young adult paranormal historicals. She lives in Maryland with her nearest and dearest, both two and four footed.
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