“Be still my love—there’s nothing to fear. There may be a little pain, but it’s natural and will soon pass.” He reassured her with a kiss, deep, wanton, overpowering—and then he was inside her.
Her body tensed like a bowstring. Pain gnawed at her, but then the barrier was defeated, and her lust-filled body greedily accepted his. He filled her, gently but inexorably, and she learned the true meaning of two becoming one.
When he pulled out, she mewed her disappointment, but he grinned mischievously and drove back in again. The jolt unleashed a burst of feeling, and as he withdrew once more, she clenched her muscles to increase the delectable friction. He repeated the same action, increasing in speed, breathing more heavily as he penetrated deeper with each push, driving his essence to the very core of her being. She lost all rhythm, and rocked back and forth on the sea of his loving, writhing, squeezing, opening, revelling in his hot breath on her face and the rapid rate of his breathing.
She was a castaway in time, tossed about in a tumult of ecstasy—and just as she feared she was about to shatter, he joined her, groaning out his pleasure, then shuddering as he let himself go, and she sailed with him into a mutual rapture beyond her wildest imaginings. The nymph had been enslaved by the river god, now and for always.
He relaxed against her, letting her feel his weight for just a moment, powerful, protective. Then he eased out and lay beside her, pulling her into the curve of his body, wrapping himself around her like a glove.
A sigh juddered out of her. There was so much to think about, so much to explore and to feel. But there was something she needed to say as well. Something that couldn’t wait.
“I think I might be falling in love with you.”
“I sincerely hope you are,” was the reply.
Epilogue
Robert roused from a night of unbridled lovemaking, yawned, stretched, and slid his fingers over the shoulder of his sleeping wife. As he had done every day since the wedding, he needed to touch her, to feel the soft brush of her hair against his skin, to make sure the dream was no dream. Yes, she was still here, embodiment of beauty, living proof of his change in fortune. She roused at his touch, sighed contentedly, and rolled over and into his arms. He crushed her to him, tangled his toes with hers, and sighed against her cheek.
“Let’s not get up, sweet wife. We can order breakfast in bed. Later.”
“No!” She squirmed away from him. “What’s the time?”
He leaned across and flipped open his fob watch, but it was too dim to see, so he slipped out of bed and padded across to open the shutters.
There was a soft huff of irritation behind him. “I do wish you wouldn’t do that when you’re naked. Anyone might see.”
He grinned. “They’ll just put it down to the Earl of Marchmont’s eccentricity. He had a troubled youth, you understand.” It was fun to tease her. But not for too long. “Half-past eight. It’s early still—I’m coming back to bed.”
“No, you’re not.” Her tone was decisive. “You’re going to put on your smartest clothes, and so am I. Breakfast will be a grand affair. I’ve already ordered it to be served at nine o’clock.”
“If I’d known you were going to be such a termagant, I’d never have married you,” he lied, then chuckled. He’d had no expectation of marriage at all when he returned to England, but then, neither had he expected to meet a goddess in human form. He must surely be the most fortunate man alive.
Phoebe was already hastening into her dressing gown, ready to seek her own chamber and ring for Cecily, the young woman who’d been her maid at Blacklands. He’d hunted Cecily down at his wife’s request, and paid her employer a handsome sum to release her from her obligations. It was a mere nothing. He would try everything under the sun to bring a smile to his beloved’s lips.
He rang for Guido, who was currently playing the role of valet, and they settled on something to wear both considered suitable for an earl. When he arrived for breakfast in Donhead’s spacious dining room, he could tell his wife was impressed with his clothing choice. Her eyes widened and heated, and that special blush appeared at the base of her throat. He knew what it meant, and he cursed the fact they were both fully clothed.
His lips twisted in a smirk of masculine pride as he seated himself opposite her. There was no sign of Phoebe’s Aunt Molly, currently residing with them while preparations for repairing the roof of Blacklands were being made. He’d sunk half his savings into the project—the other half being reserved for Aurora’s planned passage home—and the glow of joy on Phoebe’s face was worth every penny. She’d fought with him over it, of course, worrying about his sister, but he’d reassured her that when the rents started coming in from his earldom, he should be able to afford everything, including good care for Aurora.
“I hope Molly is not unwell.” How commonplace that sounded, compared with the seething mass of thoughts and desires charging through him.
Phoebe flicked a look at him and blushed again. Not the flush of lust this time—something else. “She has gone to meet a person I’ve invited to visit us,” she replied.
“Indeed? Who is this person? You mean to surprise me, I can tell, so it must be someone exceedingly important to you.”
She sucked in a breath, and the flesh prickled on the back of his neck, a presentiment of something hugely significant.
“It is,” she gulped, her eyes becoming moist. “It is my father.”
“What?” He leapt from his chair and strode to her side of the table, kneeling by her feet. “Is this true? He’s alive?” He took her hands and clasped them tightly.
Of course, it was true. She’d never behave like this if it weren’t. He produced a handkerchief, and she pressed it to her eyes, half laughing, half crying.
“It was wicked of me to keep it a secret from you, I know. But I wasn’t sure I believed it myself until I got a reply to the letter I sent him in London, which came last month. He has survived a French prison, where he never revealed his true identity, and a serious bout of gaol fever.”
“He replied to you last month? Before we were married? So you knew—” He was struggling to understand the significance of this fact. The timing. It was the timing that was important. She nodded and gave him a mischievous smile.
The pieces were coming together in his head. The picture they made stole his breath. “So, you knew before our wedding that he was alive. There was no necessity for you to marry me. But you went through with it all the same. Why?”
“Can’t you guess?” Her voice was soft, her gaze caressing.
He scarcely dared hope, waiting for her to continue.
“I married you because I wanted to. Because I love you. What better proof could I give than to marry you when I was no longer constrained to do so?”
“I… We… I mean, I don’t know what to say. Only that I am not just the luckiest man alive, but also the happiest.”
He swept her out of her chair and swung her around, his joy increasing with every heartbeat. Even when the door opened to admit a beaming Aunt Molly and a somewhat surprised older gentleman with the same dark hair and hazel eyes as Phoebe, he couldn’t bear to put his wife down.
“Unhand my daughter, sir,” her father said in mock severity. “I have not seen her these past three years and have much catching up to do. You, however, have the rest of your life in which to enjoy her company.”
“And enjoy it I shall, sir, enjoy it I shall.” Robert kissed Phoebe and released her into the arms of her father, then thanked whichever deity it was that had protected him.
He stood back and watched the tearful reunion between father and daughter, and vowed to remember this day until he drew his last breath. And swore to love his wife, and cherish her with every ounce of his being.
Because it wasn’t often a goddess stepped into the world in human form, and one must always honour the will of the gods, mustn’t one?
Acknowledgments
I’m eternally grateful to my long-suffering partner, Tim
Robey, and the two very special author friends I met early on in my writing journey, Anna Albo and Shelley Iñón. Thank you so much for having faith in me! Thanks are due also to fellow author Eve Pendle for giving me a nudge when I needed it, and helping me tighten up the story. I wouldn’t be doing this if it weren’t for your support, ladies!
About the Author
Bestselling author Elizabeth Keysian adores history and archaeology, and writes romances that give the reader an experience of travelling back in time.
She feels very British-despite her Viking ancestry-and loves creating rich backdrops for her stories based on real places and actual experiences. She used to be a re-enactor, so has sampled the living conditions, clothing, and smells of the past. She’s also sampled the food, which was actually pretty good.
Her characters battle their problems with both tears and laughter, but she always guarantees them a Happily Ever After, no matter what she’s put them through.
Subscribers to Elizabeth’s Key to Romance newsletter have access to exclusive content, contests and advance notice of bargains and freebie books: http://eepurl.com/cxe369
Elizabeth is a founder member of A Touch of Intrigue – a Gathering of Authors and Readers of Historical Romance. They have the best Facebook parties EVER. Please join up: https://www.facebook.com/groups/ATouchOfIntrigue
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Seduction, Scandal & Spies- heart-pounding, captivating historical romances from Elizabeth Keysian- there are plenty more on the way!
Also by Elizabeth Keysian
Book #1 in the Marry in Haste series
I Love to Hate You
Never get caught in a trap of your own making. Miss Athene Hartville must marry quickly, before her inheritance runs out. When her flirtatious chaperone secures an invitation to spend the week with an eccentric duke and his guests, Athene’s hopes of finding a rich husband soar. Until, that is, her childhood nemesis Viscount Rushbourne, arrives. He threatens to trample her ambitions into the dust. Struggling to manage his ailing father, a maverick younger brother, and an unwieldy earldom, Rushbourne’s reunion with the fiery Athene is a welcome distraction. Then he uncovers a conspiracy against him that could lead to his total ruin. His only hope is to win Athene’s heart…but can he pay the price and accept her bitter revenge?
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Beguiling the Baron
Beware reclusive barons. They are more hot-blooded than you’d expect . . .
A man who lurks day and night in an eerie tower must have something to hide. So thinks Galatea Wyndham, governess to Lord Ansford’s love-starved young daughter. Galatea’s new employer is objectionable, stubborn, great-hearted, handsome and, curse it, well worth saving from himself.
He proves her right with some shocking physical encounters, adding tinder to the blaze of her growing love for him. But just as the barriers between them are crumbling away, the tower crashes down.
With Lord Ansford inside it.
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The Wayward in Wessex Series
Distracting the Duke
Devonshire, England, 1820
Determined to avoid the strife-filled marriage of his parents, Marcus, the Duke of Ulvercombe, wants an amenable, biddable wife, and has set his cap for a certain pretty miss. Unfortunately, her vastly opinionated, frustrating, and lamentably beautiful guardian, Lady Clara Tinniswood, keeps distracting him, tempting him to consider a far more tempestuous—and passionate—union.
Recently widowed Lady Clara Tinniswood wants only to organize a quiet new life for herself, beyond the control of any man. But one shockingly unguarded moment while confronted by Marcus’s gloriously naked body catapults her headlong into a forbidden passion and threatens to undermine all her well-laid plans.
Even if Marcus abandons his sweet ideal and surrenders to his growing desire for Clara, there's still one thing that could destroy their hopes forever...
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Unmasking the Earl
Devastated by the disappearance of his sister, the Earl of Stranraer has gone to extraordinary lengths to find the notorious rake responsible, and enters his household incognito to wreak his vengeance. But his enemy has an unexpected protector—the innocent but headstrong Miss Cassandra Blythe.
Cassie is determined to learn the art of seduction. But she is blindsided by her body's thrilling response to the wrong man—a mysterious servant who shows up at the most inauspicious moments to spoil her lessons in love with warnings of her imminent ruin. When she learns the handsome servant's identity and the reason for his deception, she resolves to help Stranraer, but only if he abandons his vow to destroy his enemy.
The earl is sorely tempted give the meddlesome beauty a lesson in seduction she’ll never forget. But she turns the tables, and he gets his own lesson in forgiveness…and love.
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Vanquishing the Viscount
Emma Hibbert will never again trust a good-looking man. They offer nothing but heartbreak and humiliation. But her conscience won't let her abandon a sinfully handsome stranger needing help—even if he ignites an unwelcome passion in her. She soon realizes she should have left him in the mud where she found him, for he has the power to ruin everything...
Viscount Tidworth is anything but grateful for being rescued after a tumble from his horse. His pretty savior may be well-meaning, but forcing him to delay his journey completely wrecks his engagement plans. And Tidworth cannot let that stand. But when he discovers Emma's true identity, he must choose between his desire for revenge...and his baffling attraction to her.
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The Wanton in Wessex Series
A Perilous Passion
Miss Charlotte Allston's curious nature has always led her to trouble. This time, she's tangled in a web of traitors and spies and quite literally swept off her feet by a handsome stranger. But all is not what it seems with the Earl of Beckport.
The earl is living incognito, hunting a band of smugglers at the center of a plot for the French to invade England. The enigmatic Miss Allston becomes a person of interest...and not just in the smuggling case. Passion flares swift and hot between the two. But when her attempts to help with his secret mission only endanger it, he must question where her loyalty truly lies.
When Charlotte is captured by the very traitor he's after, the earl must decide between redemption...and love.
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A Potion for Passion
When Miss Flora Hartington bumps into a handsome traveling apothecary, she sees her chance at adventure, a brief escape from the shackles of propriety, and she jumps at the opportunity. It doesn’t hurt that he’s incredibly attractive, and kind in his own way. But it’s a temporary solution to her very big problem––namely her family trying to control her entire future.
Kidnapped by traveling folk as a child, Lawrence Campion yearns to be a real doctor, which means earning passage to America. The last thing he needs is to be saddled with the beautiful and feisty Flora. However, he’ll do whatever it takes to protect her, and then be off to fulfill his dreams. But Lawrence has a past that is quickly catching up with him. And he carries a secret that could destroy both their plans.
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Timeless Christmas Romance: novella collection
Seven heart-warming stories by award-winning and bestselling historical romance authors. Featuring Catherine Kean, Elizabeth Rose, Elizabeth Keysian, Laurel O’Donnell, Barbara Monajem, Amanda McCabe, and Lana Williams.
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Preview of I Love to Hate You
/> Chapter 1
Hedenham House, Suffolk, 1811
Miss Athene Hartville, her mind too busy for sleep, was admiring the crisp full moon through the window when a sudden draught plucked at and extinguished her candle.
As the entire passageway went dark, she heard footsteps approaching. No rustle of skirts – it had to be a man. But which one of the many currently residing at the Duke of Burlington’s Hallowe’en house party?
The man was striding directly toward her. Of course, she must be outlined against the moonlit window. Why didn’t he speak?
Firm hands grasped her waist, and before she could utter a sound, his lips were on hers. Then, as quickly as he had appeared, he was gone, leaving her hot-faced, shaky, and shocked.
What had happened to her candle? She fumbled along the cobwebby sill for the tinderbox, then reignited her light. Shadows fled from the passageway but revealed nothing more than a gallery of closed doors and a plinth at the end featuring a bust of the emperor Marcus Aurelius. Holding her candle high, she hurried down to the end of the landing, but a single flame did nothing to illuminate the stairway and the great, dark hall beneath.
He must have come from the opposite landing where the single gentlemen and married couples were accommodated. She paused, surprised at how breathless she was after traversing so short a distance. It was chilly now—the fires in the reception rooms below had been put under curfew a good hour ago. Should she seek the warmth of her bed, or continue across the gulf lying between the East and West wings of Hedenham House? Because if a gentleman had thought her worthy of a kiss, that gentleman required further acquaintance.
A Treacherous Engagement Page 12