Oh My Laird!: A Risqué Regency Romance

by Sahara Kelly

“For what, love?”

  “For fainting away like some heroine in a terrible novel.”

  “Well after the last few days you’ve had, and then seeing this lot staring at you like a gaggle of mesmerized geese, it’s not surprising.”

  She laughed and took his hand. “I love you.” The whisper made him smile.

  “Right, everyone.” Lucius quieted the murmurs. “It’s time for a bit of thinking about what’s going on. Now that Amelia is back with us.”

  He glanced at her. “Pardon. Now that Mrs. McPherson is awake.”

  She nodded back. “Thank you. Yes. I’m awake. And I want to know who the hell is behind all this chaos.”

  “As do we all.” Dev assumed his usual position, leaning against the fireplace mantle with Léonie beside him. “Ian, what do you know?”

  “More than you, I’ll be bound.” The irrepressible Hannah sneaked in a little dig.

  “Quiet, Countess.” Dev glared at her.

  “Sorry.” She didn’t sound too penitent.

  “If I may,” Ian raised an eyebrow patiently. “We believe that the theft of Amelia’s ruby, the case that first brought us together, is unrelated to this current charge of theft. We simply cannot make any connection between the two events. None that make sense, anyway.”

  “And the ruby?” Lucius asked.

  “I bought it from a very shady character, but he’s not the thief. He’s a receiver of stolen goods and will be apprehended shortly. I think there will be quite a bit of news forthcoming at that time, because his house was packed to the rafters with very nice things. Things I seriously doubt were his.”

  “Aha. Nice job, Mr. McPherson, Bow Street Runner.” Charles grinned.

  “I rather think so.” Ian preened. “Lots of stolen items will be returned to a lot of happy bosoms.”

  Dev opened his mouth, and shut it again as his wife elbowed him in the ribs.

  “Don’t,” warned Léonie.

  He sighed. “Go on, Ian.”

  “Working on my theory, I’ve asked some of my associates to keep an eye out for large sums of money appearing in places where they shouldn’t. Or certain people spending lavishly, paying off large debts, that sort of thing.” He glanced at his wife. “These are people associated with Amelia, of course. People who might wish her ill.”

  Charles huffed. “Must be a long list.”

  Ian flashed him an angry glance, but Amelia stopped him with her chuckle. “You’re probably right, Charles. My past is indeed returning to haunt me. But I suppose I deserve it. I’m just very glad that you’re not on that list.” She smiled. “And for that I believe I have Hannah to thank.”

  Hannah nodded and grinned. “I keep him too busy holding me to hold grudges against anyone else.”

  “Oh good Lord.” Charles, to the amazement of everyone there, rolled his eyes and blushed.

  “Moving forward,” said Ian firmly, “as of this moment, there hasn’t been anything to report, according to my sources. I had hoped by now, the influx of my purchasing the ruby would have made itself felt. So we wait on that, difficult though it is.”

  “We can certainly keep our ears to the ground as well,” added Dev. “Ask around at the clubs and so on.”

  “Good idea.” Lucius nodded. “Between us we might be able to cover a different section of the Ton.”

  “That would be excellent.” Ian endorsed the notion. “Thank you. A great help.”

  “That leaves this theft business,” said Julia.

  Amelia sighed. “I do not know where on earth it all came from. The man, the brooch—and now this charge fiasco.”

  “Does anyone know anything about the Springer family? The piece was a miniature of Lady Mabel Springer.” Ian looked around at the assembled group, realizing that they did indeed have a greater entrée into the higher levels of Society than he, a humble Scottish Laird, could ever presume to attain.

  Fortunately, attaining that level of acceptance wasn’t on his list of lifetime goals, so he promptly forgot about it and turned his mind back to their current dilemma.

  “I’m going to check with Aunt Bertie,” said Dev. “She knows everyone and everything. I sent her a message so I should hear back soon. She joined a shooting party in the country, and has been away for a week or so, but she’s due back in a couple of days, I think.”

  “Very good.” Ian observed. “Another angle to pursue and I’m glad of it.”

  Amelia shivered in his arms. “I have never asked where we are, Ian…and where we are to go tonight?”

  “You’re at Deverell House, Amelia.” Léonie said gently. “And you will go nowhere but upstairs to the rooms I’ve had prepared for you. I’m thinking you’re both exhausted, and would rather eat alone and rest, than talk through half the night, which I know would certainly happen.” She cast a glance at the others.

  “You’re so kind.” Amelia’s eyes filled once more.

  “And you’re right.” Ian rose. “My wife is showing all the signs of being at the end of her rope right now. If you’ll forgive us, we’ll take advantage of your kind offer, Léonie. And we thank ye.”

  “Least we can do, old chap.” Deverell punched Ian on the arm lightly. “You’re one of our extended family now, so go away, eat and rest. Tomorrow we will start again.”

  “Does this mean I have to buy you all gifts at Christmas then?” Ian’s face expressed a great deal of apprehension.

  “You could send us all a haggis…” Hannah looked hopeful. “I’ve never tried one, but always wanted to.”

  “How about some of our best Scotch whisky instead?”

  “That’ll do the trick quite nicely, thank you.” Julia grinned. “I’m quite partial to a drop now and again. When this babe arrives, I’ll be celebrating, you can be sure. It’s hard going without that lovely little sip of sunshine for so long.”

  “There’s a lass that appreciates the finer things in life.” Ian helped Amelia to her feet and put an arm around her waist. “Bring her up to Kilmalochan, Lucius. Your children can play with the sheep.”

  “Charles is quite good at that, as well.” Hannah’s face was innocence personified.

  Once again, the Earl of Penvale blushed.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Amelia couldn’t wait to slip out of the clothes she’d worn for far too long. Ian played lady’s maid and helped her shed them, even going so far as to wash her gently with the warm water the servants had thoughtfully left for them.

  Once wrapped into a warm robe—probably one of Léonie’s since it was short on Amelia—Ian tended to his own needs while Amelia picked at some of the food.

  “Are ye not hungry, lass?” He put a plate together for himself.

  She shook her head. “No, not really. I don’t seem to be able to stop shivering.”

  “’T’is reaction, I’m thinking. After everything you’ve been through, you’re safe now. And your body’s finally letting go. Relaxing.”

  “Safe?” She gave a bitter laugh. “I don’t know if that’s true. What if I have to be tried, Ian? What if I’m found guilty?”

  She knew it was foolish, and that he would never let that happen. But it haunted her. The fear of jail, of bringing shame to Kilmalochan. All because of a stupid Scottish tradition.

  “Hush now.” He put his plate aside. “Come, lass. Lie beside me and I’ll warm ye.”

  Amelia found herself naked in bed, enfolded in her husband’s heat, almost before she knew it. And it felt so wonderful to be there at last.

  “Ian,” she said, rubbing her chilled hands over his toasty skin. “I am so sorry.”

  “For what?” He pulled her even closer.

  “For creating such a mess. For involving you in my sordid affairs. For all the things I did in the past. I’m so sorry.”

  “Oh hush now, darlin’. The past is over. We have a future and we’re going to enjoy the hell out of it—together. You and I can get past anything. And you know why?”

  She shook her head.

 
“Because we love each other.” His hands slid over her in a soft caress.

  “I…don’t deserve you…” Her hands did their own caressing.

  “That’s true of course, but you’ve got me anyway.”

  She chuckled, then gasped as he found her breasts and played with them in that gentle way she loved.

  Her body responded, turning liquid inside, a fierce yearning billowing up within her heart as she moved to take his cock into her hands.

  “Ah, Ian.” She stroked him, loving the way his breath hitched as she paid particular attention to a spot beneath the swelling head.

  “Yes, Amelia,” he groaned.

  She slithered down, her hands keeping a tight grip on him, finally positioning herself just where she wanted to be.

  She took him into her mouth, knowing now how much he enjoyed the sensation of her lips enveloping his length with their warm wetness.

  It was a pleasure for her to sense his delight; his muscles tensed and twitched, and his little sounds were music to her ears.

  Sucking him, tasting him, licking that special spot and then detecting the salty tang of a tiny bead of his come—such joy. Being able to give that to a man who had given her more than her fair share of the same exquisite delights. He’d given her more than she deserved, she knew.

  And she had made a promise that, if the Fates allowed, she’d give it all back to him and more.

  He was moving now, shuddering a little, and she knew he was close. But then he pulled away from her lips and pulled her up, reversing their positions so that his mouth was now between her thighs.

  His tongue drove her upward like a lightning bolt. He had learned so quickly what ignited her fires, how to lick and suck and when to move this way and that.

  She adored the sensation of his lips as he found new and ingenious ways to arouse her and it took no time at all for her to approach her peak.

  Again, and as always, Ian’s timing was beyond reproach.

  He turned her onto her back, rose up between her legs and lifted her hips. “Now, my love. Now.”

  He plunged deep, his entry stretching her and providing the last stroke necessary to drive her over the edge. She erupted around him, crying out, a hoarse sound of ultimate ecstasy.

  He followed her and she became aware of the throbbing sensation deep inside as he released his seed within her slick silk. She spasmed around him, and he groaned, pushing against her as she wrapped her legs around him and held him tight.

  She wished the moment could last, for this was the instant in time that took her away from everything but Ian.

  However, it had to end and they tumbled together, sated and limp, relaxed and content to be in each other’s arms.

  “I love you more each day, husband.” She mumbled the words into his shoulder.

  “And I you, wife.”

  His words were a distant whisper as sleep claimed her.

  Ian smiled, knowing she was resting at last.

  He wasn’t smiling when he awoke toward dawn, only to find his wife was ice cold and shivering so hard her teeth were chattering.

  *~~*~~*

  “I believe it’s nothing more than the ague, gentlemen.”

  Dr. Pennyhaven pulled the covers back over Amelia’s chest and turned to Ian and Dev where they stood at the bottom of the bed. Dev had summoned the physician as soon as Ian had come downstairs seeking help.

  “The ague? That’s dangerous, isn’t it?” Ian looked around, helpless, trying to grasp something in the words that would give him facts, not assumptions.

  “Not at all. Not here in Deverell House, anyway.” He nodded at Dev. “She’ll get good care, a little of this tincture I’m going to leave for her, and good broth if she’s hungry.” He stood and put his instruments back in his bag. “For now, she needs rest. Keep her warm and calm, and give her plenty to drink if the fever heats up, which it may. Cool cloths won’t hurt, and I’ll be back this afternoon to check on her.”

  “You’re a miracle, Doctor.” Dev shook his hand. “Thank you.”

  “Those would be ma words too, sir, if I could shape ‘em. Ye’ve eased ma mind a little about ma wife, and for that I thank ye.” Ian’s slide into his Scottish burr betrayed his concern, he knew. But it was beyond him to control it at this moment.

  “She’s strong. Maybe tired, from what you’ve told me, and yes it’s possible she picked this up on her travels south. It usually takes a day or so to show symptoms such as hers.”

  “We’ll take good care of her.” Dev touched Ian’s shoulder. “Between us we’ll make sure she recovers fully.”

  “I’m sure your good ladies will be managing everything. I’m going to give this to Mrs. Deverell.” He held up a small bottle. “This is willow bark extract and it will reduce her fever.”

  “Thank you,” Ian eyed the vial. “Léonie will know how to administer it, will she?”

  “Yes, because I’m going to tell her.” The doctor glanced at Dev. “You need to take your friend here downstairs and feed him. He’s going to need some friendly support over the next day or so, I’m thinking.”

  With a smile and a nod, Dr. Pennyhaven left the room.

  There was silence for a moment as Dev and Ian looked at Amelia, sleeping fitfully on the pillows.

  “Right then.” Dev turned to his friend. “Doctor’s orders. We are going to go and break our fast, inform the ladies and then have a war council with Charles and Lucius.”

  “But…”

  “No, Ian. You will not help Amelia get better if you stay up here watching her all day. I understand the urge. If it were Léonie there, I’d need wild horses to drag me away from her side. Well, I’m the wild horse for you. Doing something useful to take care of this theft business will be of more use to your wife than haunting her sickroom.”

  “But…”

  “You know I’m right. Come on.”

  Ian turned away at last. “I hate other people being more right than I am.”

  “I am now seriously concerned.”

  “Why?”

  “I understood what you just said.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The promised council of war took place over the remnants of a hearty breakfast.

  As predicted, Julia, Hannah and Léonie had risen to the occasion and hurried off to check on Amelia’s condition. They had their wits about them, a desire to help, and were armed with the bottle of willow bark, which both Julia and Hannah swore was the best medicine for their patient right now.

  Ian had to let them go, but it was hard to place his trust in them. Amelia was his wife and he’d die for her. But she hadn’t been a kind woman, and these three knew that better than most.

  “They will take care of her, Ian.” Charles looked at him as the door shut on their wives. “They’ve forgiven her.”

  “As have we,” added Lucius.

  “I wish she could forgive herself,” he answered quietly. “Her past tortures her sometimes, you know.”

  “I’m not surprised, but it will fade,” Lucius reassured. “Having a life with you, in Scotland, so far away from the pits of London Society—that’s all it will take, Ian. Trust me.”

  “Sometimes, Lucius my friend, you really do make a lot of sense,” approved Charles. “Surprises the hell out of me, of course, but there it is.”

  “Stop talking a bag of moonshine, and let’s get down to business.” Lucius grinned. “First on our agenda today is the mystery of the Springer family.”

  “I believe that’s my cue to enter with a dramatic flourish?”

  A woman stood at the door, posed theatrically with an arm on either side. Her hair was an improbable red mess of curls and her body swathed in shades of blue. Many varied shades of blue.

  “Aunt Bertie. Good God. Did you travel all night?” Dev jumped up to embrace her.

  “Not at all. I had just returned home early when your message arrived, so I had fresh horses put to and came here immediately.”

  “You hunt in that, Aunt Bertie
?” Charles came over and gave her a hug.

  “Of course, dear. But my wardrobe depends on the game…” She gave him a wicked grin and waved to Ian and Lucius. “Hello darlings. God I love being with four handsome men in the morning. Gives me energy to face the rest of the day.” She flowed across the room trailing blue swishing things, and took a seat at the table, pushing aside the salt. “Now. Where are we?”

  Ian shook his head. He’d experienced Aunt Bertie before, but had forgotten how vibrant a personality she was.

  “We’re looking into the Springer family, ma’am. My wife has been charged with stealing a Cosway miniature of Lady Mabel. Falsely of course.”

  “Of course. Never thought otherwise, lad.” Bertie nodded. “And none of you know the Springers? Your wife doesn’t?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Oh for God’s sake call me Aunt Bertie like everyone else. You make me feel seventy with all the ma’ams.”

  Chastened, Ian smiled an apology. “As you wish, ma’-er-Aunt Bertie.”

  “Good. Do you have an aunt? No? Well you do now. Back to the Springers.”

  Ian, who had three aunts all in good health up in Scotland, said nothing, but returned to the subject at hand.

  “Lady Mabel is deceased, we understand. The miniature was part of her estate.”

  “And a good part of it too, I should think,” added Dev. “There’s a lot of money tied up in those tiny little works of art. Lovely, but I’m not sure I understand the appeal myself.”

  “Right then.” Bertie spread her fingers on the table. “The Springers. Hmmm. I knew old Maurice Springer. Richer than Croesus, but a nasty bugger if ever there was one. In the truest sense of the word, I might add.”

  Ian gulped and fought against a blush, saying nothing. The other men seemed to be having the same difficulties.

  “Oh dear, children. I didn’t realize you were so missish. Well, never mind about Maurice. He did marry of course. One does, regardless of one’s preferences. “ She paused and thought for a moment. “That’s right. He married Winifred Peale. Lots of money to enlarge the Springer coffers and Winifred was on her third season. Not the most stunning of eligible misses, so I suppose it was a satisfactory match all around.”