The Letter
Page 1
Reformed Rakes 1
The Letter
Jared Warren is a wealthy duke, a peer of the realm, and he cannot have his young wife recklessly embarking on one escapade after another--no matter how charming or passionate she might be. However, trying to rein in his beautiful bride proves to be both a challenge...and a pleasure.
Patricia is madly in love with her handsome, autocratic husband, but somehow can't seem to stay in his good graces. Behind closed doors, they find erotic fulfillment in each other's arms and Jared is a wonderful, inventive lover, but he is also a stickler for propriety in all other situations...
Publisher’s Note: The Letter is a revised and re-edited version of a previously released story by the same name. This version includes several new scenes.
Sensuality Rating: SIZZLING
Genre: Historical / Regency
Length: Novel (23,500 words)
THE LETTER
Reformed Rakes 1
Emma Wildes
EROTIC ROMANCE
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
ABOUT THIS E-BOOK: Your non-refundable purchase of this e-book allows you to one LEGAL copy for your own personal use. It is ILLEGAL to send your copy to someone who did not pay for it. Distribution of this e-book, in whole or in part, online, offline, in print or in any way or any other method currently known or yet to be invented, is forbidden without the prior written permission of both the publisher and the copyright owner of this book.
THE LETTER
Copyright © 2007 by Emma Wildes
ISBN: 1-933563-79-6
First E-book Publication: July 2007
Cover design by Jinger Heaston
All cover art and logo copyright © 2007 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
PUBLISHER
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
THE LETTER
Reformed Rakes 1
EMMA WILDES
Copyright © 2007
Chapter 1
The carriage lurched through a puddle of icy, dirty water as it rounded the corner. Inside, Jared Warden tapped his fingers on one knee, a tight grim smile playing on his mouth.
This time his willful young wife had gone too far.
In a word, his patience had vanished.
When the vehicle lurched to a halt, he stepped down and alighted, his scathing glance taking in the façade of the dingy building in front of him. Something in his expression—or perhaps it was the way he stalked to the entrance and the ducal crest on his carriage—made the ticket attendant simply step back wordlessly and allow him into the theater. Inside it was gloomy and he stopped for a moment to let his eyes adjust. On the stage, the players bowed and the sound of enthusiastic applause filled the air.
Despite the crowd, he spotted Patricia at once, her gleaming golden hair unmistakable. Since the play was obviously over, she was half-turned and smiling, about a third of the way down the aisles of seats. Sure enough, his informant had been correct, for next to her stood the equally errant Lady Lockwood clapping with vigor, and he could also see Margaret Adair in their little group.
His friends could worry about their own wayward wives. At the moment, all he wanted to do was get a hold of his infuriating bride.
Ignoring the horde of people talking and clapping, and the actors on the stage taking a second bow as the curtain lowered, he made his way forward with a long determined stride. Something, an instinct perhaps that told her of her imminent danger, made Patricia suddenly turn and look straight at him. For a second, her smile became even more brilliant as if she was happy to see him, but then her lovely eyes widened and she went very still as he shouldered his way through the throng.
Had he been in the mood for mirth, it would have been a bit comical to see the expressions on the faces of all three women as he reached them. Not bothering with as much as a polite greeting, he scooped Patricia into his arms in a flurry of soft skirts, hearing her outraged gasp with satisfaction. Lady Lockwood murmured, “Oh dear,” and he was pleased to see Mrs. Adair looked a little faint.
“Ladies,” he said grimly with a nod, and whirled away, carrying his wife back toward the door. The crowd parted and stared in unabashed curiosity to see a man in tailored, expensive evening clothes apparently abducting a young woman from their midst.
“Jared,” Patricia said with obvious mortification, clutching his jacket. “Please put me down.”
“Not on your life, which at the moment hangs in the balance because I want to wring your pretty neck, my dear. Now, be quiet.”
The menace in his tone must have gotten through because she didn’t say another word as he crossed the icy sidewalk and practically tossed her into the carriage. Twin spots of color stained her cheekbones but otherwise she looked a little pale, he noticed with dark satisfaction when he climbed in and settled across from her. He rapped on the roof and they began to move.
Stretching out his legs, he gazed at her. She looked like a child caught in a naughty act—which was close to being true—only she wasn’t a child. She was an extremely beautiful woman and the glimmer of defiance in her lovely aquamarine eyes made her even more so. Her slender body quivered slightly as he stared at her, and the smooth, soft curves of her firm breasts above the bodice of her evening gown lifted quickly with each breath she took. Tonight she wore rose silk, which complimented her soft blond beauty and flawless ivory skin.
He said coolly, “Did you enjoy the play I expressly forbade you to attend?”
“Jared—”
“Madame, answer my question.”
The color in her face deepened at his acerbic order. “Yes, I did, as a matter of fact. It was both witty and well-acted.”
“It is, as I understand it, about a man juggling a wife, a mistress, and a bevy of parlor maids he is also having indiscretions with, am I correct? A bawdy salute to the infidelity of men and the promiscuity of women.”
“Well, yes, but put that way it sounds terrible, when in truth it was merely quite funny—”
“But not a subject matter I deem suitable for my wife.”
“For heaven sakes, I am not naïve. I’ve read books that—”
He once again interrupted her, something he would normally never do. “I am not your father, who allowed you an exorbitant amount of freedom. The day you became the Duchess of Tellbourne, Patricia, you agreed to obey me. I am obviously tolerant because I have overlooked your escapades so far, but open defiance…public defiance, in fact, irritates me. We have been married only a few months and already you have been dubbed ‘the daring duchess’. I think most of my acquaintances are beginning to believe I cannot control my wife.”
The slightly guilty expression on her delicate, fine-boned face told him she knew of the nickname. She bit her soft, pink lower lip and her lush lashes, much darker than her pale gold hair, lowered a fraction. “I don’t feel I have had any escapades,” she said finally, a stubborn note in her tone. “I don’t know why you are so angry. It isn’t like I’ve broken any laws or caused a sordid scandal.”
“What about coaxing your maid—who is lucky to still be in my employ, by the way—to take you to see a gypsy soothsayer so you could have your fortune told? Or, I think accepting a wager from young Lord Winston, who is openly besotted with you, to climb a tree in a public park smacks of scandalous, my dear.” It still irritated him that Winston had been quoted saying it was worth every coin t
o have gotten a glimpse of the duchess’s shapely ankles.
“It was a friendly bet,” she argued, her chin lifting. “Since when is climbing a tree scandalous? Children do it every day.”
“But you are not a child, though I am tempted to treat you like one.” It was true, her independent spirit was normally delightful, but she needed to realize she was someone people noticed, and most certainly lately, talked about. Her radiant beauty alone drew the eye, he could attest to that, but being married to a peer of the realm made her the target for gossip and scrutiny.
With icy hauteur, she said, “Don’t worry, you already are treating me like a child. I cannot remember the last time I was scolded like this. Perhaps you should have told me you were a narrow-minded ogre before we were wed.”
Considering his mood, it was the wrong thing to say. He moved so quickly she gasped, reaching across the width of the carriage and hauling her onto his lap, turning her swiftly so she was face down across his thighs. She squirmed furiously as he pulled up her long silken skirts, but he held her easily.
“Jared, what are you doing? Are you mad?”
His wife wore no corset, as it was not necessary due to her natural graceful slenderness. Under her gown she had on only a chemise, and he lifted that lacy garment along with her skirts, exposing her smooth bottom and long legs. The contrast of those two bare, firm mounds above her garters and silk stockings was erotic, as was the intriguing darkness of her female cleft, quite visible with her lovely posterior up in the air.
Lifting his arm, he said calmly, “This is for the Winston incident.” His hand came down, not hard, but enough to maybe sting a little. “And this for the gypsy camp, which was damned foolish, as you could have been snatched and sold or ransomed.”
She made a sound of pure female outrage as he spanked her again.
“This one is for tonight.” He was enjoying himself now, no doubt about it. The sight of her luscious half-naked body across his lap was having a predictable effect on his libido. If she was not so furious, she would undoubtedly have noticed his growing erection. “I hope you realize that my main concern, not just the content of the play, was the unsavory neighborhood of the theater. The thought of anything happening to you is very disturbing to me, Madame.”
He smacked her beautiful buttocks, noticing a slightly pink tint to that mounded flesh now. Patricia fairly panted with fury and he could only imagine her expression. Her glorious blond hair had come partially loose from the confining pins with her squirming resistance and hung down in long waves, brushing the floor of the conveyance as they clattered over the cobbled streets. With a faint sardonic smile, he spanked her once more, and she said in a strangled tone, “What was that for?”
“Whatever I haven’t heard about,” he explained with a hint of humor. His hand then smoothed over her bottom, caressing and slowly slipping down to touch her slim thighs, and then exploring in between. He heard her quick intake of breath as he found her sex, brushing her labia lightly, probing the entrance to her vaginal passage with one finger. He slid it inside her and she jerked slightly, breathing out, “What on earth are you doing now, my lord?”
“I love your body, my dear. I am indulging my wish to touch it.”
“I don’t want you to touch me. Let me go.”
“No.”
“But we are not in bed,” she objected, her voice changing slightly.
“True.” He pushed in farther, testing the satin give of her inner walls. The warm heat made him rock-hard. His rigid cock tightly filled his confining breeches. “And that is something else that is going to change. As a new bride, your reticent sensibilities were to be expected and I agreed to keep the room shrouded for your modesty, making love to you only in the dark, properly under the blankets, knowing you needed to be initiated. That’s over now. Sex is a wide, varied world. We are going to explore it together, starting tonight.”
Patricia had stopped fighting him and he could hear a swift exhale of breath as he slipped a second finger into her. In fact, he noticed with male appreciation that she spread her thighs slightly to allow him more access as he began a slow, deliberate pattern of arousal. Still face down across his knees, her gleaming hair streaming over her ivory shoulders, she lay quietly. The movement of his hand between her legs seemed to hold all her attention. Wetness began to coat his fingers and he found the nub between those moist folds, stimulating it with skillful precision, feeling it swell slightly. When she moaned and shifted restlessly, he increased the pace until she panted erratically, her bottom lifting in time with his hand. She climaxed moments later, her thighs squeezing together to trap his hand inside, the inner muscles of her passage clenching and rippling around his fingers.
The carriage began to slow just as she relaxed with a soft sigh. Withdrawing his hand, he lifted her up, pulled down her skirts, and said mildly, “I think we’re home, darling.”
* * * *
Patricia came to the conclusion her husband might just be the most autocratic, domineering, wildly attractive man on the face of the green earth.
Furious—and a little bewildered over what had just happened between them in the carriage, she allowed him to escort her up the steps of the elegant townhouse, knowing her face was still flushed, her body tingling in the aftermath of sexual release. Not to mention that her hair fell in loose waves down her back despite her hasty attempt to find the pins and put it back up. Jared was a talented lover, she guessed. Not only had he been tenderly gentle with her ever since they’d been married, but she liked the way he touched and used her body. A friend of hers had once described sex as an obligatory groping in the dark, and that sounded repulsive, so she had been relieved to find that Jared’s attentions were respectful and temperate, his lust obvious but not at the expense of her dignity.
Somehow, she had a sinking feeling that was going to change, just as he promised.
“The Duchess and I are going straight up to bed,” Jared announced to the servant hovering in the doorway, his meaning clear.
“Yes, your Grace.” The footman didn’t blink an eye, but Patricia repressed a small groan of embarrassment over her openly disheveled state.
It wasn’t what her husband had said, she realized, it was how he said it. The way he held her hand, too, was possessive, and he didn’t bother to hide the heavy look in his eyes as he gazed at her and escorted her down the hall and up the stairs. Dismissing his valet, he told the young man to inform her maid she wouldn’t need her services, as he would help her undress.
His valet, too, saw the way he pulled her into the room, obviously with no intention of her leaving. It was a world different than him using the door connecting their rooms after she was settled in her bed for the night. In fact, they had never made love in the more formal ducal bedroom, but he always came to her discreetly in her adjoining chamber.
The minute they were alone in his room, Patricia eyed her husband warily. His dark promise lingered in the air between them like a palatable presence. Tall, with thick chestnut hair and clean, sculpted features, he was built with lean grace, his wide shoulders impressive, and his legs long and muscular. He was considered to be extremely handsome and Patricia fervently agreed, though his reputation as a rake had made her mother uncomfortable when he first began to court her. His past affairs were not surprising considering his good looks, wealth, and position in society—but Patricia actually trusted him to honor his vows to her now that they were wed, something a little unusual among the aristocracy. Jared had integrity, took his title seriously, and was considerate, most of the time, she thought wryly, recalling the humiliating spanking he’d just given her. Perhaps it had been bad judgment to be so impulsive and arouse his ire. In retrospect, he was right; most of the things she’d done had been a little foolhardy.
“Here,” he said almost briskly. “Let me help you.”
He practically spun her around and she felt him brush her long hair aside and expertly unfasten her dress. He pushed it off her shoulders, tugging loose th
e tie to her chemise and pulling it over her head so she stood only in stockings and her slippers. His impatience made a slow, unexpected thrill uncurl in her stomach. Not used to being almost nude with him openly staring at her body, she flushed. “Jared, I know you are angry with me, but couldn’t we douse the lights? I am not comfortable with this.”
“No.” His dark gaze fastened pointedly on her bare breasts. “Take off the rest now, my love. Your stockings...hold on to those.”
That unusual request, coupled with the fact he disrobed at a record pace, made her a little uneasy, but Patricia complied, stepping out of her shoes and peeling off her garters and silk stockings. Not truly ever seeing his aroused body, she was startled at the sheer size of his erect penis, the swollen tip glistening in the lamplight. “Oh, my goodness.”
He laughed when he saw her fascinated stare and, sweeping her up suddenly into his arms, he carried her across the room. His body felt like it always did, hot, firm and large, but there was something different, and she realized it was his open and unconcealed desire and their visible mutual nakedness.
Pinning her down on the big bed, he deliberately took the stockings from her hand and without warning, pulled both her arms above her head. Before she knew what he was doing, he’d tied her wrists together with one silken bond, and then used the other to fasten her bound hands to the bedpost.
“Look at these glorious breasts,” he said with undisguised appreciation, lounging next her as she lay in shocked supine bondage. Palming her uplifted right breast, he squeezed it slightly, making the nipple rise. “So perfect, my beautiful Patricia. Do you have the slightest notion of your incomparable allure? Do not take this amiss, because I admire many things about you, but the first thing I noticed was your completely perfect bosom. I dislike overblown breasts and yours are the right size, so high and full but not overly large. Look at the sensuous shape and how pale and smooth they are. Can you blame me for wanting to touch them?”