A Rake for All Seasons: A Regency and Victorian Romance Boxset

by Samantha Holt

  Nicholas kissed her deeply with long, luxurious strokes that left her in no doubt this was real. When he pulled away, she felt wanting and empty.

  “Changed your mind yet?”

  His smug smile made her want to smack his shoulder or kiss him again. Kissing was probably the best idea. She grinned. “Very well then.”

  “Very well then what?”

  “I shall marry you.”

  His smile grew triumphant. “You will not regret it, Amelia, I swear. I will spend the rest of my years making up for being so blind.”

  “You could start now.” She toyed with the fabric of his cravat.

  “I could,” he agreed.

  His hand slid up her neck, cupping just under the curls. She tilted her head into the touch. Nicholas used the movement to his advantage and pressed his lips to her exposed skin. Shivers trailed their fingers up and down her spine. He put a hand to her waist and pulled her closer still. Their thighs touched. She was aware of every part of her body and yet she was utterly lost to him.

  “I read about the adventures of Anna and Nathaniel,” he said against her skin, leaving lingering words against her neck and down to the crook of her shoulder and collarbone. “Lots of kissing in shadowing corners.” He skimmed the hand on her waist up and brushed the edge of her breast. Her nipples ached in response. Even through the layers of her stays and gown, she could feel every little thing he did. “You have quite the imagination, Amelia.”

  “Mmm hmm,” she agreed and twined her fingers into his hair to coax him where she needed him most.

  He must have taken it as his permission as he palmed one breast and coaxed it up and out of her stays. The cool air against her nipple made her gasp but not as much as when he put his warm mouth about it. He drew her nipple between his teeth and nibbled and sucked on it. Amelia arched into him and he pressed a hand to her back to hold her against him.

  “Were there things you did not write about? Things that would scandalize even the most open-minded of readers?”

  She smiled to the night air. He really did know her so well. “Of course.”

  Not even her sisters realized how vivid and naughty her imagination could be. They might have read her books but they saw it as a romance story and nothing more. But to her mind, there had always been more to Anna and Nathaniel’s tale.

  So much more.

  He looked up at her. “Were there ever moments like this?”

  She shook her head.

  Any eyebrow arched. “No?”

  “No. Even my imagination is not this bold.”

  “But are you, Amelia?” He hauled her close and kissed the corner of her mouth. “Now I have you, I do not want to let you go. I want you fully and completely.”

  It was her turn to cup his face and lean back to look in his eyes. “I’ve waited a long time for you, Nicholas. I do not want to wait any longer.”

  “Good.” He kissed her until her limbs were like oil.

  Her breaths were heated and frantic. Strains of a country dance whispered over them as he coaxed her to lie on the cushion. Her curls crushed under her head and her skirts had ridden up to reveal her stockings. Anyone could come across them at any moment. The thought made her stomach flutter with exhilaration.

  Nicholas shucked off his jacket and flung it aside somewhere. She laughed at his careless manner. He popped the buttons of his waistcoat and leaned over her. Nibbling at her earlobe, he let his breath tickle the shell of her ear. She gripped his shoulders.

  “Beautiful, naughty, scandalous, Amelia. Wait until I have you in our marriage bed. We shall live out all your fantasies and more.”

  “Oh Lord,” she said to the roof of the gazebo.

  He pushed down the shoulder of her gown and bit her there, suckling until it left a mark. A mark that would be hidden under her dress but they would both know it was there.

  Then he pressed up her skirts until she was bared to him. His fingers found her sex and the first touch made her jolt. She forced herself to take a breath and he watched her face while he toyed with her there. His fingers worked a magic she had not even known was possible. Her own explorations were like her writing. Fun and exciting but nothing like the real thing.

  “That’s it,” he encouraged as she gave herself up to him.

  Pleasure flowed over her in waves, increasing in tempo until the storm crashed through her. She gripped his arm, closed her eyes, and cried out. Whether anyone could hear her, she did not care. It only added to the thrill.

  As reality slipped in in fragments—the music, the lantern light, the touch of air on her heated skin—she smiled. Nicholas opened his breeches and she glanced at him. A pulse of desire ran through her. She wanted nothing more than to be filled by him, to be wholly his once and for all.

  He pushed apart her legs and settled between them. “Hook your legs around me.”

  She did as he bid and felt his erection touch her folds. “Oh Lord, Lord, Lord.”

  “You can call me Nicholas,” he said with a grin.

  Amelia had no witty response. Staring into her eyes, he inched into her bit by bit until they were fully joined. He gave her a few moments to get used to him inside her. It has no comparison. The swelling of love inside her now that they were connected as close as any two humans could connect made her want to burst.

  “You and me, Amelia. Always. I will never be blind again.”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “And you will never keep your feelings secret from me.” He gave her a serious look. “I mean it. No more secrets.” He smiled. “Though you may write me letters. As long as they are scandalous in content.”

  “You have my word, my lord,” she said saucily. “They shall always be scandalous.”

  “Excellent.” He slid back and pressed into her.

  Her breath caught. “Always scandalous,” she promised again.

  He carried her on the tide then, moving in and out, one, two, three, and more until she did not know if she was begging for more or for the peak.

  The tempest broke. Nicholas groaned. She cried his name. He sagged against her, his weight a gentle reminder of all that was hers.

  “I love you, my naughty Amelia.”

  “I love you, Nicholas.”

  Epilogue

  “I knew you still loved him.” Catherine handed over Amelia’s bouquet of flowers and smiled smugly.

  Julia rolled her eyes. “Well, everyone does now. It’s hardly a great secret. After all, they are getting married in front of over one hundred people.”

  Catherine put hands to her hips. “Yes, but I knew it before everyone else. I was the one who caught them kissing.”

  Amelia managed to control her blush at the thought of the many secretive kisses she and Nicholas had enjoyed since the announcement of their engagement. To be finally properly allowed to be affectionate with him would be wonderful.

  “Shh about the kiss,” Emma hissed. “We do not need anyone to think we Chadwick girls are any more scandalous than we already are.”

  Of course, Amelia’s sisters knew all about the kiss and some of the details of the proposal. Once their engagement had been announced at the ball, her sisters had pressed her for every tiny detail until her head spun with it all. It had been hard enough to believe it was actually happening without having to convey it all to them.

  “Do you think Amelia’s marriage will make us a little more respectable?” Emma asked.

  Catherine snorted. “Not likely. The old bats of the ton have long memories.” She thrust up her chin. “Besides, I have no intentions of bowing and scraping before them, do you?”

  Julia laughed. “Old bats. Do not let mother hear you say that.”

  “Well they are.” Catherine crossed her arms.

  “You might not care for their opinion,” Amelia said, “but do try to be on your best behavior today. Nicholas has quite a few important friends here today.”

  “Oh he won’t care.” Catherine waved a hand. “He will only have eyes f
or you.”

  Emma gave a dreamy sigh. “I did not think love was that interesting but seeing how Nicholas looks as you, Amelia...well, perhaps love is not all that mad.”

  Amelia smiled, her chest warm with love for her wonderful, silly sisters, and overflowing with it for her husband-to-be. All those years of waiting and hoping had come to fruition, and only Nicholas truly knew her. For most people, they would only ever know her through her books but behind closed doors, she could finally be something more than the sensible older sister.

  “Love suits Amelia,” Julia agreed.

  “Won’t find me falling in love,” Catherine stated. “Never, ever.”

  “Ha, who would want to love you anyway?” Emma scoffed. “You are every man’s worst nightmare.”

  “Emma,” Amelia scolded. “That was cruel.”

  Catherine shrugged. “She’s only being truthful. No man wants a woman like me—or any of us. And I do not care a fig.”

  Amelia shook her head. Catherine did not care for men but she was only young. Once she turned twenty, she’d wager Catherine would care a lot more for men. As for her other sisters, Julia was too busy digging in the dirt or chasing animals to care about love. Emma was perhaps keener but then she was the second oldest. However, if Emma could not settle on a hobby, how could she expect to settle on a man?

  “Nicholas wants Amelia,” Julia pointed out. “So much so that he procured a special license for them to wed.”

  “Amelia is the exception, and far more deserving of love than any of us,” Emma said.

  “That’s true,” Catherine agreed. “All those years of looking after us, you deserve happiness.”

  Tears swelled in Amelia’s eyes. She had spent so many days worrying for her sisters, it was hard to believe she would not see them every day.

  Emma darted forward with a handkerchief and dabbed Amelia’s eyes. “Now don’t you cry. You’ll set the rest of us off.”

  Julia nodded and sniffed. All three of her sisters looked a little teary, even Catherine who kept her head slightly turned away so no one could see.

  As Amelia opened her arms to her sisters, the vestry door pushed open. Amelia nearly dropped her flowers. “Lavinia!”

  Lavinia swept into the room and embraced Amelia quickly. “I’m sorry I’m a mess.” She motioned up and down her spotless gown and perfect hair. “We travelled all night and I had no chance to change.”

  “You look perfect,” Amelia said. “But we did not expect you to be able to come.”

  “And miss out on my big sister’s wedding? Never.” Lavinia patted her hair. “I insisted we must come at once, even if I could not make the wedding, I had to see you all. It feels like it has been too long already.”

  “It has,” Amelia agreed.

  “I always knew he was destined for someone better, you know.” A twinkle appeared in Lavinia’s eyes.

  Amelia scowled. “Better?”

  “Oh yes, I would have bored Nicholas to death. Thank goodness he came to his senses. As soon as I heard of your engagement, I just knew you’d be perfect together. With your imagination and his adventurous spirit.”

  Amelia knew that. She had known it for a while she supposed. But to hear her sister say as much, filled her with gratitude. Her vision grew misty again.

  “Stop it.” Julia thrust the handkerchief back at her.

  “I shall only be a few miles away,” Amelia reminded them all, sniffing. “You can see me every day.”

  “Try and stop us,” Catherine declared.

  Amelia opened her arms and her sisters flung themselves at her. The five of them laughed as Amelia nearly toppled backward from the weight of them all.

  “Whatever the future holds,” she assured them. “We will always have each other.”

  “Always,” they agreed.

  THE END

  Wake Me With a Kiss

  A Regency Fairy Twist

  SAMANTHA HOLT

  Copyright © 2016 Samantha Holt

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover art by www.promoforauthors.com

  Published 6th September 2016

  Edited by Em Petrova

  Proofed by Destini Reece

  www.samanthaholtromance.com

  Once upon a time, in a land far, far away…well, Scotland…Rose lived tucked away from the world with her aunt. Orphaned as a baby and adopted by her aunt, she’s used to her eccentric ways—including her overprotectiveness. But Rose wants more from life. However, she never quite expected for Laird Hamish McTavish—complete with kilt—to change things. The brash, and admittedly braw, man is hardly like the charming men Rose has been dreaming of.

  Freshly returned from the battlefield with an unexpected inheritance, highlander Hamish is struggling enough to fit in at the sleepy lowland village. When he comes across a feisty young woman with wild hair and a bold tongue on his land, he doesn’t expect it to lead to more than a five-minute argument.

  But he cannot help himself. His curiosity is piqued. Who is this young woman surrounded by three slightly crazed elderly women seemingly intent on keeping her from the world? He must find out more.

  Unfortunately, there are several people more than willing to get in the way of that aim. Rose’s aunt for one—not to mention his late-cousin’s mistress who is determined to replace one cousin with the other. Not only must Hamish deal with his duties and find a way to get close to Rose, he must also find a way to get rid of this abhorrent woman…before she does anything truly evil.

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Epilogue

  Chapter One

  Dumfriesshire, Scotland 1812

  Rose giggled. This man really did have the tickliest of tongues. Considering she had never kissed a man before she had little with which to compare it, but it was unusual. She tried to suppress the laugh bubbling up inside her. However, it would not be held at bay. She laughed out loud.

  This only seemed to increase the man’s enthusiasm.

  She pushed him away, but he was heavy and persistent. Rose scowled. As much as she had wanted her first kiss, she did not want it badly enough to tolerate such behavior. Goodness, she’d rather die a spinster than tolerate one more moment of this kiss.

  Rose pushed again, feeling the rough texture of his coat under her hands. Odd. She had thought he was wearing a soft wool tailcoat, but it seemed he now had on a strange sort of fur coat.

  A screech made them both pause. The man vanished but the odd tickling tongue did not. She pushed against the weight on top of her and dragged open her eyes.

  One big, black wet nose. Two eager little eyes. A lot of matted fur and an incredibly enthusiastic tongue. Rose tried to put her hand across her face to prevent the keen attentions of the dog, but he was having none of it. His kisses found their way under her palm, and he continued to lick her cheek.

  Another screech drew her attention to Mrs. Shaw. Red-cheeked and out of breath, the cook must have dashed upstairs after the mutt as it had barreled into Rose’s bedroom.

  Forcing herself up, she managed to push the dog back but he seemed insistent on licking every available piece of skin he could find. He lapped eagerly at her fingers while she eased him down the bed. She blinked around the room, trying to clear the sleep from her eyes. Sun seeped between the floral yellow curtains. It was morning at least.

  “Where did you come from?” she asked the pup.

  He continued licking whilst Mrs. Shaw gave another frightening squeal, rather like that of a
battle cry, and darted forward with a broom held high. If Rose were not so concerned about the dog—or even her own safety for that matter—she would have laughed at the image of the petite Mrs. Shaw charging like a knight on horseback.

  Rose held her hands aloft in surrender and dragged the dog close, receiving another slurp up the cheek for her troubles.

  “Do not touch him, Miss Rose,” the cook warned. “You don’t know where he’s been.”

  She looked at the animal which, in spite of being horribly scruffy, appeared to be clean and healthy. “He looks loved.” She urged him onto his back for a belly rub. “And you are certainly a he.”

  “Rose!” the cook shrieked.

  The dog’s ears pricked and he bolted from the bed.

  “Mrs. Shaw, you’re scaring him.”

  Rose leapt out of bed and tried to grab the animal, but he darted between her legs and out her bedroom door. Mrs. Shaw gave yet another ear-piercing screech, liable to wake the whole of Scotland, before bustling out after the dog.

  Rose sighed. The dog could be running around for hours. Her aunt’s manor house was a maze of rooms. Some wooden paneled and some covered in ancient tapestries that were worn in many places. Rose’s room was freshly decorated in a lemon yellow and though the dark wood, uneven floorboards dated back to the sixteenth century, the décor kept it bright and airy.

  Shaking her head with a smile, Rose fumbled for her gown and pushed her feet into her slippers to protect them from the cool wooden floor. Though it was the height of summer and they had received some admirable weather for the lowlands of Scotland, the day had barely started and the house remained cool. She peeked at the clock before dashing out of the bedroom. Hopefully her aunt, whose hearing was deteriorating with age, had not heard a thing and slept on. Aunt May did not like to rise until well after nine in the morning.

  Miss Taylor, however, had awoken it seemed. As Rose dashed down the wooden stairs to the large entrance hall where wooden beams spanned a raised roof and beveled windows let in the morning light. She barreled into the housekeeper.