Scandals of Lustful Ladies: A Historical Regency Romance Collection

by Meghan Sloan

  She took a deep breath. “I am ready.”

  ***

  He undressed her slowly, peeling off her clothes, layer by layer. Her gown fell to the ground, and then her undergarments until she was standing there naked before him, illuminated by a single ray of moonlight shining through the crack in the curtain.

  She shivered, repressing the instinctual urge to cover herself. And then a fierce blush rose up over her body, flooding her face. What would he think of her?

  He didn’t say a thing. He just kept gazing at her intently, his eyes taking their fill. They started at her face, and then slowly swept down, taking in her breasts, the dip of her waist, the spread of her hips, to the dark triangle of hair between her legs. He let out a strangled moan.

  “You are far more beautiful than I even imagined,” he whispered in a voice thickened by desire. “The most beautiful of women …”

  She shuddered with pure delight at his words. He walked slowly around her body so that he was behind her. She jumped slightly at the feel of his hands on her hair. Slowly, gently, he undid it, taking out the pins, so that it fell, undulating in waves around her shoulders, and down her back.

  She could barely breathe, feeling his breath on her neck. And then, his arms snaked around her, taking her breasts in both hands. She moaned, closing her eyes, leaning back into him as he kneaded them, tweaking the nipples until they grew hard and swollen beneath his touch.

  She did not open her eyes as his hands slowly dipped lower, skimming her waist and her hips, stopping at her buttocks. She heard his strangled breath as he caressed them, firmly, his touch strong and sure. She was in an agony of desire, feeling sensations sparking through her as if her skin was on fire.

  Without warning, he suddenly scooped her up in his arms, carrying her to the bed. He laid her gently upon the quilt, his eyes never leaving hers as he quickly undressed. Suddenly, he was as naked as she was. Her eyes widened in shock. She had never seen a naked man before.

  He was beautiful, built like Adonis. His shoulders were broad, and his chest, with its smattering of dark hair, wide. Her eyes travelled down over his stomach to the nest of dark hair, and the evidence of his manhood standing proudly to attention. Her eyes widened further. It was hard and long. So very big. She simply had no idea that a man could swell to such proportions. How on earth was it going to fit within her? A flickering of alarm swept through her.

  But before it could blossom into full blown fright, he was upon her, caressing her again, murmuring words of love into her ear. His lips found hers, and they kissed, long and deep. She relaxed again, beneath the onslaught. The heat was growing between them, once again, to a fire that was threatening to consume her, entirely.

  His lips found a nipple, suckling fiercely. She arched her back instinctively, seeking to draw him closer, filled with a wild, urgent need. Tentatively, her hands caressed him, as he nipped and sucked, sweeping over the broad expanse of his back. His skin felt like velvet beneath her touch. She had never imagined that the skin of a man could be so soft.

  His lips journeyed down her body, hot, brief kisses, over her stomach, until they arrived at her centre. She strangled a moan as he gently pulled her legs apart. And then, he was kissing her again, burying his face deep within her moist folds, his tongue like a darting flame, within the depths.

  A hot wetness flooded out of her as he continued licking and sucking, bringing her to the brink of ecstasy. Waves of it crashed over her, again and again, each one stronger than the last. She felt a sweat break out over her entire body, her body consumed by this agonising fever. She heard herself moaning as if from far away.

  But suddenly, he broke the contact. She could barely open her eyes. In her delirium, she watched him, kneeling between her legs, gazing down in hunger at her centre point. She didn’t have the strength to move a muscle as he positioned himself. And then, there was a hot, searing pain, as she felt him enter her for the very first time.

  He was still, for a moment, gazing at her. She felt the strange fullness, within her, expanding, second by second. And then, ever so gently, he started to rock against her, his pelvis thrusting, bit by bit. She cried out in bewilderment. It felt so good. She wanted him to keep doing it, never to stop.

  His movements quickened to the point that he was slamming against her, widening her legs with every thrust. For a moment, she thought that it was impossible, that she would split in two, that he could not go any deeper than he had been. But every time, her body seemed to accommodate him, flowering open beneath him until she thought that he was about to climb inside her, entirely.

  Those wild sensations were blossoming to life, once more. The brief pain was gone, replaced with this delirious pleasure. With every thrust, it intensified. She started moaning again, tossing her head, from side to side. He looked like a dark angel, raging above her, delivering her in shackles to the foot of heaven itself.

  Surely, it couldn’t build to any greater height. And yet, it did. Suddenly, she hovered on the brink, in a frenzy of sensation, before it crashed over her, again and again. She cried out, twisting beneath him, almost unable to endure such ecstasy. Feeling that she would surely die or melt clean away.

  Suddenly, he gripped her, his face contorted. With a long groan, she felt him release himself within her. The sensations that had just been starting to taper off within her gathered again, in one mighty burst of light.

  It was done. With one final cry, one last twist, he fell upon her, his body bathed in sweat. Her heart slowed down as she gathered him in her arms. A delicious lethargy was consuming her, now. Little aftershocks of pleasure, slowly diminishing, second by second.

  So, that is what it is all about, she thought, in sheer wonder. I am a maiden no more. I could never have guessed, in a hundred years, that it could be so beautiful.

  His breath was slowing down. He looked at her, his green eyes glowing in the darkness.

  “My dearest love,” he whispered in a strangled voice. “It was worth the wait. I feel that I am reborn in your arms …”

  “As I am, in yours,” she whispered back, a lump forming in her throat. “I never imagined that it could be so glorious. That you could do those things to me, make me feel so alive in a way that I have never felt before …”

  He smiled. “I told you we were meant to be together, Hetty. It just took an awfully long time for us to finally be with each other.” He paused, looking like he was struggling for words. “I will never forget this. I will never forget the first time that you came to me. That you became mine for eternity. My one, and only, love.”

  The next moment, he was abruptly asleep, his eyes closed, still hugging her tightly.

  She smiled. It had been an awfully long day. Weariness was sweeping over her, too, dragging her away. But she fought it for just a little while longer, staring at the window, beyond the bed, and the thin sliver of moonlight shining through it.

  She was a married woman once more, and a duchess, this time. She raised her left hand, staring at the new circle of gold on her finger, replacing the one that she had thrown away. The one that lay abandoned in a field at her parents’ home, just like her first marriage had been discarded. As if it had never existed at all.

  It had all been worth it, every agonising second of it. The journey to get here. The journey that had led her here, to be laying in this man’s arms, replete with love. She couldn’t imagine now, being locked away in a convent somewhere, bitter and despairing of life itself.

  She couldn’t imagine how she had ever thought it a possibility. Nor could she imagine still being married to her first husband. The stranger, who had betrayed her and could never have given her the pleasure that she had just felt, nor be the husband that the man who lay so sweetly in her arms was going to be.

  She was exactly where she was meant to be. As her thoughts started to scatter, and she closed her eyes on her second wedding day, she knew without a shadow of a doubt that she would be awakening tomorrow far differently to how she had awoken aft
er her last wedding night.

  It would be a new day. A new life. And with this man by her side, it could only get better.

  Epilogue

  Hetty threw the ball far into the distance, watching as the little boy toddled after it, laughing. The three dogs that were their constant companions set off after it, too, barking with delight.

  She laughed, picking up the hem of her gown and running after them. If she weren’t careful, one of the dogs would pick up the ball and spirit it away. She had already played tug of war with them several times this morning. And Ben so enjoyed being the victor, in any case.

  She was panting slightly by the time she got to them.

  “Down,” she commanded the dogs. They looked at her a bit grumpily, but they obeyed. Ben laughed with delight, picking up the ball and flinging it. It bounced for a moment before settling a short distance away. Ben still couldn’t throw very far, but he was always determined to try.

  “Well done,” she said, smiling down at the golden-haired child. “You are getting better every day.”

  He smiled, pleased with himself, basking in her praise.

  “Shall we return to the house?” she asked. “I think that Cook has made your favourite for luncheon.”

  His eyes lit up. He started clapping. “Yes!”

  She scooped him up, settling him on one hip for the short walk back to the manor, the three Scottish terrier dogs trotting at her feet. Ben snuggled against her, putting his thumb into his mouth. Her heart surged with love for the boy, and she leaned down, kissing the top of his head. She had never imagined that she could feel such love as she felt for this child.

  It was different from the way that she felt about his father, though no less strong. It was a deeply maternal, protective love. If he fell and hurt himself, howling, her heart would lurch. If there were only a second where he was out of her sight while they played hide and seek, her mouth would go dry in sheer panic.

  In the five months that had passed since she and Louis had married, and she had become the mistress of Warwick Manor, her feelings for his illegitimate son had grown, day by day. At first, she had been nervous, wondering what kind of stepmother she would be to this child. She had no experience with children at all. Would she fail, make some terrible mistake that could not be rectified?

  But Louis had laughed at her fears, taking her hand. “You will be wonderful,” he had said, confidently. “All you need to do is love him, and the rest will take care of itself.”

  Hetty thought about Louis’s words to her as they walked into the house, now. He had been right, as he had been right about everything. It was one of the reasons she loved him so much – that quiet confidence, that firm will, that everything would sort itself out in its own time. It had been that confidence that had broken down her defences and made her love him. She was sure of it.

  Her heart leapt as she saw him waiting for them at the side door to the manor. It never changed, the way that her heart leapt when she saw her husband again, even if it had only been an hour since they had last been in one another’s company.

  “He looks tuckered out,” Louis said, smiling, as they approached him. “It looks like he has been enjoying himself.”

  Hetty nodded. “He has been running for over half an hour,” she said. “He has been chasing the ball.” She looked down at the dogs, milling around her feet. “It was a wonder he could get to it at all with these three in hot pursuit.”

  Louis leaned over to take the child. “He must be getting heavy,” he said. “Let me take him.”

  But as Hetty went to pass Ben to her husband, the child suddenly clung to her, vigorously shaking his head. “No,” he wailed. “Want Mama.”

  Hetty stilled. So did Louis. They both looked at each other, tears welling in their eyes. Hetty stared down at the golden head of the child, her heart lurching again. It was all she could do to keep composed.

  Mama. He called me Mama.

  It was the very first time that the word had passed his lips.

  When they had returned to Warwick Manor after their short honeymoon in Scotland, Louis had gently asked her what she wanted Ben to call her. He preferred if she was referred to as Ben’s mother, right from the start, but he would not force it upon her if she did not feel comfortable with the title.

  She had agreed that she would like the boy to think of her as his mother and refer to her as such. But no matter how many times they asked him to call her Mama, not Hetty, he stubbornly refused. She had tried not to show how hurt she was. She knew that it would take time for him to accept her, even though he had no memory of his real mother and had never called anyone by the title.

  Until now.

  There was a silence, thickened by emotion. Ben was the only one who seemed unaware of the importance of the moment. He buried his face into her shoulder, rubbing his eyes. She could see that he was almost ready for his afternoon nap.

  Louis took a deep breath. “Of course you can stay with Mama,” he said, his voice shaking only slightly. “But I think that your luncheon is ready, in the nursery, now. We should go there.”

  They started walking slowly, not looking at each other. But Hetty knew that her husband realised how profound the moment was, as well.

  He put an arm around her shoulder. She gazed up at him. And so, they kept walking with the child in her arms towards the nursery. She knew, at that moment, that they had finally become the family that they both had longed for.

  ***

  Later that evening after dinner was over and Ben was fast asleep, tucked up in his small bed, they wandered together across the lawn of the gardens. It had become a habit of theirs to walk of an evening before they retired indoors to the flaming fire of the drawing room. Winter was upon them, now, and it became very cold at this time of night.

  Louis carried a small lantern in his right hand, and intriguingly, a bag, in his other. He had refused to tell her what was inside it, only smiling and saying that all would be revealed. She glanced at the bag, now, curious. But she knew better than to ask him. He would only smile slyly, refusing to answer until he was ready.

  “Brrrr.” He stomped his feet. “I do not think we will be able to do this of a night for much longer. The snow will be too thick, and I do not have a toboggan to lead you back to our home, my love.”

  She laughed, watching the frigid breath emerging like smoke from her mouth. “I think you are right,” she said. “But think, Louis. All that we can do in the dead of winter.” She paused, warming to the idea. “We can make snowmen, with Ben. We can have snowball fights …”

  “Do not forget snow angels,” he interrupted, smiling. “I always enjoyed making them, when the snow was heavy enough, when I was a lad. My sister Catherine and I used to compete to see who could spread their arms the widest and make the largest wings.”

  Hetty smiled ruefully. “The pleasures of having a sibling,” she said slowly. “As an only child, I had to make my own amusement. I should have loved to have a companion to trawl the fields when it snowed.”

  They kept walking, both lost in their memories. A full moon hung above them, illuminating their path. Hetty gazed up at it, remembering that night at Hillsworth House when Louis had been courting her, and they had sat outside, watching a moon, just like this one.

  She had been so cautious of him, then, still so very hurt by all that had happened. Distrustful of him, and of everyone. It still sometimes amazed her that she was here, in his home, and that they were man and wife. That he had managed to break down her defences in the sweetest of ways. It had been a big job. Most men would have buckled beneath the weight of it.

  She glanced at her husband. He was made of sterner stuff than that. Louis was tenacious, and he was patient. Besides, she hadn’t known at that point when they had sat side by side beneath the moonlight, that he had always been in love with her. That the memory of their one brief encounter had fuelled his life ever since.