The Rakehell Regency Romance Series Boxed Set 4 (The Rakehell Regency Romance Series Boxed Sets)

by Sorcha MacMurrough

  Then he let her legs slide down him until they dangled several inches off the floor, turned so that her back was flattened against the panelling, and began all over again.

  Downstairs, Hopkins checked the pavement and coach for a few stray packages, and then smiled and shut the door. He would go tell Cook to serve supper at nine, and inform his guests that they were to make themselves at home and the master would see them later. Much later.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Isolde eventually got her special supper, but not until many hours later when she and Randall had both surfeited on each other. They had got up to check on his mother briefly, and had found her cheerful and eager to help with the wedding arrangements, ordering the servants around like a general.

  They had made sure she had everything she needed, then scurried back to their room like two naughty children before her family could corner them.

  They sat together in the huge black marble tub with gold fittings, nibbling at a tray of delicacies and sipping champagne Hopkins had been so kind as to leave by the door.

  Occasionally Isolde had seen Randall's deep inner sadness surge up to take hold of him during the many long hours they had kissed, caressed and explored. She had held Randall tenderly, and he had clutched her to him as though he would never let her go until his bleak mood subsided, and the red and black aura began to thin, and finally vanish.

  Other than these grim streaks of darkness, he seemed boyishly happy, laughing and smiling, talking about the wedding, her new gowns, the food and his various estates dotted around England, and about the children he cared for as though they were his own.

  He seemed to have not a worry in the world as he chatted about his life, but she felt that there was some huge gap in what he was telling her.

  Isolde could understand that. His career as a rake was undoubtedly not something he wanted to bring up to his new bride. He also spoke little of his mother, or the no doubt enormous number of duties being an earl entailed.

  She resolved that once they were married, she would be the best helpmeet he could ever hope for. After all, he was sacrificing so much in marrying her. Protecting her from Howell, offering to help her brother and the rest of her now penurious family, well, it was the least she could do.

  But all practical thoughts fled as Randall lathered her breasts and then sat him on top of her to join them as one in the hot soapy water.

  As she gave in to the passion, she decided that he might be keeping things from her, but she simply had to trust him. Not all of her questions or his contradictions were going to be resolved in the less than one day since they had first met.

  He urged her to hold back, prolong their lovemaking. "We have all the time in the world. Forever."

  "Yes, forever," she sighed, longing to believe it. She shoved aside all her recollections of the women she had seen in the dressmakers' shop.

  Her orgasm, when it did arrive, was so powerful that it sent the water splashing all over the marble floor. She frowned and tried to mop some of it up with a spare towel once she had wafted back down to earth, but Randall simply laughed with delight at her joy and said it didn't matter in the least.

  Much later, when they were laying in their damp bed, Stephen tapped on the door and declared, "Supper in ten minutes, and I won't take no for an answer, you two."

  They both groaned, but forced themselves to rise and dress.

  Isolde's Mama gazed at Randall wide-eyed, and for a moment she was terrified that she would raise some protest at her shy, humble daughter marrying someone so... So larger than life. Then Lady Linley gave her a broad wink, and grinned.

  "So pleased to meet you, your Lordship," she said with a curtsey.

  "Randall, please, or Son, if you prefer," he said gallantly, bowing over her hand.

  Then Isolde introduced the Clarence family. He was particularly kind to little Fanny, a complete country mouse in comparison with Isolde. Damn Chauncey, what had he been thinking, seeking to despoil two decent women for the sake of his lust and greed?

  If he had not already been sure of his course of action, meeting Isolde's family, and seeing the tender devotion they shared, was enough to convince him that though the circumstances of their meeting had been most irregular, she was the wife from him. He was even more certain as Stephen attempted to match Randall as the debonair lover, covering Fanny in confusion, not unmixed with avid curiosity.

  Young though she might be, she was definitely more than ripe for being swept off her feet. Isolde and Randall smiled at each other knowingly.

  "Were we ever that young, do you think?" Isolde asked of them when they were back in their chamber preparing for bed at the end of a happy evening despite the strange suddenness of them all being brought together.

  Randall knew what she was speaking of at once. "I'm sorry to say it was a long time ago in my case, but yes, I was once that full of hope, and romantically inclined."

  "As was I."

  "I'm sorry."

  "Nothing for you to apologize for," she said with a smile. "It was a long time ago, as you say, and I would rather go into my marriage with my eyes open, than have my head filled with fustian nonsense."

  He bent to kiss her cheek. "Still, what Howell did to you--"

  "Tried to do," she corrected him, "but failed. So please, let's not waste our time talking about him when we have so many better things to do with our tongues."

  His lapis blue eyes sparked with unalloyed delight. "Oh? What did you have mind mind?"

  "Well, I don't think I had quite got around to-"

  A low feral growl in his throat was the only response to her caress.

  It wasn't long before they were languidly making love, and as he completed himself within her, each was sure they had never felt anything so tender and moving. Isolde wondered how she had ever lived without him by his side.

  Randall wondered the same, for only in Isolde could he lose himself, his past. She was a balm for his soul, the only woman who had seen his darkness, and yet was not frightened of him.

  Perhaps other women might not have been, but there was a radiance about Isolde that chased all of his grim shadows away. Or at least he hoped so.

  He knew he ought to tell her the truth about himself, but the timing was not ideal. They had already spent so much time in the bedroom ever since Stephen had arrived. His new in-laws were going to think him the worst degenerate if they kept that up, and he felt guilty for neglecting his mother so terribly, leaving most of the wedding arrangements to her, though he had to admit, this was the most perky she had ever been since his father had died.

  In any event he dare not tell Isolde everything, not straight away, he decided as he heaved himself onto his back with a pleasured sigh, and tucked her snugly against his side.

  He was sure he would lose her if she knew about Clarissa and Francis, what he had done. He swallowed the bile that bubbled at the back of his throat at the thought of his crimes, and of losing Isolde, and forced a smile onto his face.

  "I need to look in on Mother once more."

  "I'll come with you."

  "Oh, no, you can stay and keep the bed warm-"

  "I don't mind. I really do want to help."

  Wrapped in their robes, they visited for a short while, and Randall was thrilled to see his mother looking much more like her old self.

  "Your sisters are a delight, my dear, and your mother must be so proud of you. Such an accomplished daughter, and now here you are marrying well too."

  "Thank you," she said with a blush. "Though that's not why-"

  "Tush, of course not." The dowager waved her protest away. "I merely mention it because you made such a lucky escape from your previous beau, if I understand correctly."

  "Er, yes, lucky indeed," she said, looking shyly at Randall.

  "Imagine putting money above love," she said with a shake of her head. "Utter nonsense."

  "And yet many do it every day," Randall pointed out mildly.

  "Society encourages them
to do it, but then don't want to face the consequences, such as affairs, unwanted children, crimes of passion, duels, all because of false expectations and dishonesty."

  Randall paled at her words, causing Isolde to stare.

  "I know marriage isn't a bed of roses," she said to cover up his appalled silence. "We will just have to take it one day and night at a time. And speaking of, Randall looks as though he's done in. So if you don't mind, we'll tuck you up and say goodnight."

  "Mind? Of course not. It was good of you to look in before you er, go to sleep," his mother replied with a knowing smile. "So off you go, and I shall see you both in the morning."

  Isolde took the hand of the pensive Randall and led him from the room. Once back in the privacy of her own chamber, she asked, "What is it? What set you off?"

  "The talk of dishonesty and crimes of passion. I, well-" His mouth became a grim line as he struggled to find the right words.

  The darkness swirled all around him, so that in the end she shook her head and hugged him to her. "It doesn't matter, love. Not now. You're safe, and it's all fine."

  "I just, well, I want to do it right with you. Trust you, love you, as you deserve. Then I think of Howell anywhere near you and my lust and fury make my head spin. Even with all we've enjoyed each other, I still can't get enough of you."

  "Oh?" she said with a pert look.

  He parted his robe. "So as long as we are discussing honesty, here it is. Look at me."

  "Oh my!" she breathed, wetting her lips with the tiny tip of her tongue.

  "I promise to never say anything I don't mean. You see how gathered they all are? That's me just on the edge of completion."

  She stared at his magnificent manly attributes and grinned. "I've never see you at rest then."

  "Nor likely ever shall, until I'm about one hundred, and even then, only after we've just finished making love," he rasped.

  "I can't bear to see you in such dire distress," she said, opening her arms to him.

  He shook his head. "I don't want you sore."

  "It will be fine. I just want to please you."

  "You do, so very much."

  "Am I doing this right," she said, her nimble little fingers caressing the globes avidly.

  "Indeed. And I shall take great delight in teaching you even more, so long as you know that I shall never ever consider the thought of you being with any other man."

  Her eyes regarded him steadily as she stroked the hard slashes of his cheekbones, softening their tautness. "No danger of that, for surely you are Adonis, Narcissus and the entire Greek and Roman pantheon of sensual deities all rolled into one. Certainly Priapus anyway," she said with a delighted laugh as his quiescent member began to bobbed up and down most suggestively.

  "I give you my word, treasure, I don't usually walk around the streets like this. It's worse than having taken cantharides."

  At her puzzled look he explained, "Some men use it to maintain their erections. It's also cause Spanish fly. But it's very dangerous, can cause the kidneys to stop working."

  "Oh, yes, my cousin told me some of the women he treated a few years ago had been swived to death by someone using that on them."

  He shook his head, his lips a thin disapproving line. "I never would, on myself or any woman. But I'm told Howell does use it."

  "You don't appear to need to use it," she said, her blue eyes gazing at him avidly.

  "You're more than enough stimulation, oh-"

  She had sucked him into her mouth and with one breathy sigh he gave himself up to the sheer pleasure. When he grew too heated, he had her raise herself onto him, and gathered her breasts with both huge hands as she brought them both to completion.

  "Darling, much as I hate to end this, we're supposed to be getting married tomorrow morning. We still need to get some sleep and face everyone in the morning."

  "Mmm," she said, drowsing with her head on his shoulder, their breaths mingling tenderly. "Whatever you say, darling."

  Never had Randall felt so moved. She was such an enticing combination of innocence and wantonness he couldn't imagine why he had ever thought he could be satisfied with hard, grasping worldly women who only wanted him for his money or his skills as a lover.

  Oddly, it was her innocence which set him off more, her wide-eyed wonder and her evident desire to please him. To make him happy. Now she was looking up at him so tenderly, he felt himself stirring anew, but told himself to wait. Just a bit longer anyway...

  Chapter Fifteen

  The birds outside the window and the unclosed shutters allowing the sunshine to stream in awakened Randall and Isolde bright and early the next morning. It was a fine crisp winter day, and he had her stay under the covers to keep the bed warm while he restoked the embers of the fire and got a blaze going.

  "Can you stoke me too?" she asked mischievously as he returned to the bed, dusting his hands off and then blowing on them with a mildly complaining, "Brr."

  "I would love to, my dear, but your bath and bride's toilette await. I dare say your Mama will want to have some last minute words with you, while the girls will want to show off their finery and bedeck you in yours. So I'll just help you with the things we bought yesterday, the servants were kind enough to unwrap while we were at supper this evening. Ah, here's the gown," he said, opening one of the walnut wardrobes. "Just give me a moment. Then I shall select something for myself and get out of your way."

  "Oh, there's no need--"

  "I shall look in on my mother, and send yours in."

  "Thank you."

  She wondered at his aplomb regarding their marriage. It had all been so sudden, yet never once had he betrayed any indication of any second thoughts. It reassured her more than all the argument he had framed as to why they should wed. Now, if only the ceremony could go off without any complications....

  "Trust me, it will all be wonderful, I promise," he vowed, as if sensing her unease.

  "It's just that it's such a big step."

  He gripped her hand hard. "One we will make together. As partners, lovers, companions, and perhaps one day mother and father," he said, his lapis eyes glowing.

  "Sooner than we think if you keep looking at me like THAT, darling," she teased.

  "Indeed. I'd better behave myself." He bent to kiss her, then headed off into the other room. While he ran the bath, he gathered his clothes, and disappeared into the bathing chamber. Then his head popped out.

  "I would ask you to join me, but we don't want to get too carried away."

  "Not before the wedding, at any rate," she said with a wink.

  He came out a short time after with most of his clothes on, and promised her he would seek his valet so as not to show her up in front of everyone.

  "No danger of that. You are most remarkable-looking. Especially out of your clothes," she added impishly.

  He rolled his eyes heaverward. "That's it. I'm leaving. One more minute and I am going to dive back into that bed and not come up for air until some time next year. So up out of that bed, wench," he urged, taking her hand to lead her to the bathing chamber. "In you go, saucy wench," he said with a grin, before thwacking her on the rump. "And hurry. The sooner we marry, the sooner I can take advantage of your sauciness."

  She smiled up into his face. With one last kiss, he headed out the door.

  As promised, her mother and sisters soon arrived to help her into what was to be her wedding gown, a lovely sprigged muslin with green ribbon at the sleeves and bodice, with leaf-detailed embroidery and a fabulous train about four feet long completely covered in green, gold and black embroidery.

  As she donned all of her new garments, then something old and blue according to tradition, she realised that Randall had chosen an emerald waistcoat and cravat to try to match her outfit. She recalled his slightly rumpled look as he had dashed out to get on with the wedding preparations, and thought he was perfection personified in his black suit. Then she recalled one addition to his garments that she had not thought of in
all her excited preparations, and sighed.

  "What is it, my dear?" her mother asked, taking her to one side.

  "I just thinking of poor Papa, that's all. This isn't really decent--"

  Her mother patter her on the shoulder soothingly. "I know how you mourn in your heart, my dear, and given all that's happened, I would have to say your father would be pleased and happy for you, despite the er, irregularities of the situation. Which of course never would have happened had he not died intestate."