The Wild Passion of an Eccentric Lady: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Emily Honeyfield

  “You’re an excellent subject,” Simon said.

  “I’m merely trying to help you,” Emilia teased.

  “You have no idea how much you are helping me,” Simon said, unable to conceal his grin.

  “‘And you are helping me,” Emilia replied.

  “How am I helping you?” Simon asked.

  “Every time that you look upon me in this vulnerable state, I feel a tremendous sense of happiness.”

  Simon looked up at her, and his expression had changed. He was no longer an artist focused on his work; he was a husband looking at his wife, and his gaze was rather intent. Something about Emilia’s words had truly stirred him, and Simon put down his paintbrush. His body became more relaxed. His shoulders softened. Perhaps he only realized just then how pointed his focus had been.

  Whatever caused the change, Simon the artist dissolved into Simon the husband. Simon the lover. He stood from his stool, and Emilia could see that her husband had been stimulated. Was it from her lying naked before him? Or because she remarked upon being devoted to his happiness?

  Emilia knew not the cause, but it sent warmth throughout her body. How could it be that each time they made love, it felt like the first time? Emilia felt her heart pounding in her chest, and the dampness increased between her thighs.

  Simon returned to his work. Emilia could see him trying to focus, but often he would waver, putting down his paintbrush and smiling to himself.

  “You’re making this impossible,” he said.

  “I’m not even trying!” Emilia protested.

  “That’s the treachery of it all. You make it effortless.”

  “I like to see you at work.”

  “I begin to work, and then I find that my mind is spinning. You have this effect on me.”

  “Continue with your work,” Emilia said with a smile, sensing that there was no way that her husband could possibly do it.

  “Very well,” he said, picking up his paintbrush and returning to the canvas. Then, the smile returned to his lips again, and he put down the paintbrush once more. “Woman, you vex me,” he said.

  “If it’s so unendurable, then come and join me on this couch,” Emilia said.

  Simon’s gaze turned serious. The business at hand was apparent. Simon did not pick up his paintbrush again but instead, walked towards her, his manhood now at full hardness. “Will you allow me to pleasure you, wife?” Simon asked.

  “That I will.”

  “Then I shall.”

  Simon’s first aim was between Emilia’s thighs. He kissed along her leg from knee to the apex of her thighs, meeting the moist folds there. His mouth was completely upon her, and Emilia moaned in exquisite pleasure and threw back her head. As he pleasured her in this way, Simon reached up to grasp one of Emilia’s breasts, and she placed her hand atop his.

  Her hips writhed with his motions, and the feeling of warmth and rapture was complete. Just as Emilia felt as though she were about to lose her senses, Simon began to kiss up from the special spot to her belly bottom, and from there, he continued kissing until he was at her mouth. He kissed her mouth greedily, as though he were pleading with her.

  The sensation of pleasure was overpowering, and Emilia felt herself crying out for more. Her husband was ready and willing and gently directed his manhood between her legs, entering her in no uncertain terms. The thrust was powerful, and Emilia felt herself calling out his name.

  Simon’s rhythm was slow and focused at first, and Emilia grasped his back, which was her favourite place to hold onto during their lovemaking. He felt so deep and hard inside of her, and Emilia remarked upon it, wishing her husband to hear the kind of pleasure that he was providing her. These words only made Simon bolder, and she felt him harden even further within her.

  It was at this time that Emilia’s mind went completely numb. She was in a state of utter disorientation. There was no one else in the world and no other activities that she wished to be engaged in. Her legs wrapped around her husband as he thrust into her, and Emilia felt as though she was a complete woman. Had anyone else ever known such happiness and pleasure as she was feeling at that moment? Emilia sincerely doubted it.

  Then, sensing that he was close to climax, Emilia lifted her hips up to him and felt Simon go even deeper; a sensation that she did not think was possible. Her body began to shake and explode, and just as this happened, Emilia felt Simon’s body give out, just at the same time. He released himself within her in a way that she had not felt before.

  It was as though Simon was pouring his soul into her, and Emilia took him in; accepting the power and force of him. After exploding together, Simon collapsed upon Emilia’s chest, and he gently kissed her breasts, one after the other. She could feel her husband’s sweat mingling with her own. The sensation was not only intoxicating, it also felt like home.

  They laid there for some time. Now that they were married, there was no need to conceal themselves any longer. There was no need to quickly depart. They could take as much or as little time as they chose with their lovemaking. The world was theirs to share, and share it they did. Every moment of it.

  “You have made me the happiest man in the world,” Simon said.

  “And I’m the happiest woman.”

  “I sincerely doubt that you’re as happy as I am,” Simon quipped.

  “Is this becoming a competition?” Emilia asked with a laugh.

  “It could perhaps become one,” Simon said, challenging her.

  “I don’t engage in competition,” Emilia said warmly.

  They laid there in silence, the warmth of their bodies intermingling. Just then, a sudden rain began to fall, and Emilia smiled to herself. All her life, Emilia had associated rain with unhappiness. But considering all the rainy days that they had shared, Emilia now associated it with warmth, safety, and love.

  “We shall no longer take tea out in the garden,” Simon said, kissing her belly.

  “We’ll make do.”

  “I have aspirations that I wish to share with you,” Simon said, bringing his face in front of hers.

  “And what are those?”

  “I want to turn this studio into a school for young artists.”

  Emilia’s heart was instantly warmed. She truly did have the most generous husband in the world. “I think that that is a fine idea,” Emilia replied.

  “Just think. I’d be giving back for the generosity that Kingsley has shown me. We’ll teach a future generation all of his secrets and techniques.”

  “And perhaps one day, he’ll come to visit,” Emilia said with a smile, placing her fingers in her husband’s hair.

  “We shall go and see him,” Simon said. “I want you to see Italy. In fact, I want for you to see all of Europe.”

  “I would greatly enjoy that. But only in your company,” Emilia replied.

  “I hate to admit to it, my love,” Simon said, “but you’ll never be able to relieve yourself of my company.”

  They kissed each other tenderly, spent from their lovemaking. Emilia considered that it might need to become a new afternoon routine.

  THE END

  Can't get enough of Emilia and Simon? Then make sure to check out the Extended Epilogue to find out…

  In what way will Simon and Emilia’s relationship be developed after a couple of years?

  Who is the accomplished man, who will capture Rose’s attention?

  How will society deal with Lord Pendergast after accusing Gregory Kingsley of being a fake?

  Click the link or enter it into your browser

  http://emilyhoneyfield.com/emilia

  (After reading the Extended Epilogue, turn the page to read the first chapters from “A Seductive Lady Rescued From Flames”, my Amazon Best-Selling novel!)

  A Seductive Lady Rescued From Flames

  Introduction

  Lord Ernest Bannerman is soon to become the new Earl. On his father’s deathbed, he will find out that his dying wish is to marry the gossiping Lady Grace Bragg, e
xtend the family line, and honour his name. Ernest wants nothing more than to uphold his father’s legacy, therefore he accepts this fate, until one night he finds his significant other into the flames. He will fight his every instinct to love her, trying to stay true to his promise. Will he eventually break his vow and escape from this love triangle, or he will be forced to spend a miserable life, for the sake of honour—for the sake of the dead?

  Lady Diana Harrington is a woman of immense bravery, strong character, and stunning beauty. When she beholds the man who rescued her from the burning fire, she is fascinated, but soon the excitement fades when she finds out that he is to be married. Their attraction is strong like a magnet and the heroine cannot hide her desire for Ernest anymore. Will she find the strength to repress her feelings or will she surrender to their passionate love?

  A story filled with passion, intrigue, dilemmas and tension that the readers will be unable to put down. Will the heroes follow the social rules and expectations? Will they choose to listen to their heart, or their head and moral commitments?

  Chapter 1

  It had been just three months since the death of the late earl, Lord William Bannerman, who’d passed after a brief, horrific illness—one that had sent his son, Ernest Bannerman, into a strange state of solitude and sadness. He’d found himself—on the brink of his own earldom, poised to rule over his father’s people—unable to do basic things, like stand or eat.

  His younger sister, the 15-year-old Rose, had been devastated as well, yet had forced herself from the depths of inner turmoil to yank him up by his proverbial bootstraps and tell him, her eyes fierce, that it was up to Ernest to uphold their family’s title.

  “I would do it if I could,” she’d stammered. “But Father counted on you to be the man he raised.”

  It had been a whirlwind of chaos after their father’s death. Now, three months later, Ernest found himself in his finest suit, seated like a statue at the edge of the seat of his carriage (the one his father had traditionally taken to balls), directly beside his now-fiancée, the entirely glamorous Lady Grace Bragg. The woman seemed a foreign being to Ernest, with her long, glossy blonde curls and her doe-like eyes. She swept her thin fingers through those locks and blinked over at him, her mouth curved into an almost evil smile.

  “Why are you staring at me?” she demanded, in the style of a woman who wanted everyone to stare at her. “You’re looking quite stupid, you know.”

  Ernest forced his eyes away. He cleared his throat and said, “I really dislike balls.”

  “Darling,” Grace said, splaying her hand across his knee, “you know it’s entirely necessary for us to appear together, the first time engaged. We must put forth a brave face to your earldom, regardless of how idiotic some of them appear.”

  Ernest arched his brow. “Idiotic?”

  Grace let out a little giggle. “How can I phrase it any other way? They’re simply not as smart as you are, my earl. How did I become so lucky to find myself as your fiancée?”

  The carriage yanked to a halt outside of the rural mansion. Grace coughed to herself, muttering, “I really detest the countryside,” before batting her eyelashes toward Ernest, seemingly waiting for him to remove himself from the carriage. On cue, the driver pulled the door open, bringing the whipping spring wind in from the moors.

  Ernest felt he was walking to his death. He marched from the carriage and then brought his elbow out, allowing Grace to stitch her own arm through it. He could almost feel the falseness of her smile beaming off of her as they walked toward the staircase. Around them, mutterings informed Ernest that they were noticed. “There he is. The new earl. How wretched, this is his first appearance since his father died.” “And yet, still so handsome!” “Yes, like his father was. Before.”

  Grace whispered under her breath, “Make sure you stand up straight, darling. I know how you’re apt to fall into your own head in these scenarios. Remember. Project a confidence. An idea that you know what you’re doing.”

  Ernest forced himself not to roll his eyes. Still, he did as he was told, yanking his shoulders back and bowing his head in greeting to several of the couples walking up the steps. They grinned back at him, clearly enamored with their new earl. Ernest felt entirely not up to the task. However, as his sister had said, he had to do his father’s bidding.

  Ernest and Grace stepped through the foyer and into the grandeur of the ballroom. Although it was a countryside estate, the finery was second to none. A glittering chandelier the size of a carriage hung from the ceiling; an orchestra flung their bows over their violins and cellos, sweat pooling from their foreheads.

  Women dressed in immaculate gowns of all colours whirled across the ballroom, their partners’ hands at their backs. Ernest had never appreciated social occasions like this, had always lurked in the background when his father had demanded he attend. Now, the brand-new earl at 28 years old, this was his world. How ill it would have been for him to deny it. And Grace, of course, wouldn’t hear of it.

  Lord Adam Garrison approached; a burly friend of Ernest’s father, with shaggy grey hair and an enormous scar down the side of his cheek, burst through the crowd to discover the young earl. He smacked together his palms, both of which were similarly scarred, and then shook Ernest’s hand as he blurted, “My boy—or should I say, my lord. Terribly sorry.”

  “Only understandable,” Ernest offered, genuinely pleased to see him. “You’ve known me since I was just a wee lad. I’m sure it’s quite strange to see me take this title.”

  “And this must be your new fiancée,” Lord Garrison went on, not seeming to hear Ernest fully. Perhaps it was due to Ernest’s fear, skating through his words. He felt it impossible to pretend that he wasn’t as anxious as he was.

  “May I introduce you to Lady Grace Bragg,” Ernest heard himself say, impressed that how firm his voice sounded.

  Grace did what she was meant to: she curtsied a bit and offered her hand, giving Lord Garrison a small grin. Everything she did, she did with unique style and—dare he think it—grace. Of course, she’d been fully educated to do just as such. It had essentially been her training to one day become a countess.

  “What a unique pleasure it is to finally meet you!” Lord Garrison enthused. “Lord Bannerman—the former, of course—was entirely pleased at the prospect of you and his son marrying. I know he spoke of it a great deal.” His eyes returned to Ernest as he allowed Grace’s hand to drop. “He would be terribly proud to see you with such a lovely woman on your arm.”

  Suddenly, Rose pushed through the crowd, all spunk and red curls and wild, green eyes. Ernest felt an immediate drop in anxiety. She tapped alongside Lord Garrison, beaming up at him. “How marvelous to see you again, Lord Garrison,” she cried, ever the loud, precocious one.

  “Rosie, darling. How beautiful you’re looking, as ever,” Lord Garrison. He bowed his head. “I was just complimenting your brother and his new fiancée. What good tidings, after such wretched news about your father.”

  Rose didn’t skip a beat. “I know it’s a real pleasure for me to see Ernest so happy,” she assured him, her words dribbling with sarcasm.

  Ernest reminded himself to reprimand her later. Thankfully, Lord Garrison didn’t seem to pick up on her tone, feeling her statement to be entirely truthful.

  The music shifted. Ernest swam with sudden panic, knowing it was up to him, now, to ask Grace to dance. Grace swept her little shoe against his foot, then pressed down hard upon his big toe. He cleared his throat and turned to her, bowing his head and saying in a firm, yet false voice, “My darling, will you do me the honour of dancing with me?”