Harlequin Historical May 2021--Box Set 1 of 2

by Sarah Mallory

  * * *

  That was the moment when Lucy knew that she would be his wife. She was in love with him—shamelessly, recklessly in love—and the knowledge left her strangely weak. She could hardly believe how deep her feelings were running and the joy coursing through her body melted the very core of her heart. The feeling was so strong there was no room for anything else. She could not resist these new emotions that were compelling and held her in thrall and moved her towards her destiny, for she was destined to love this man and she knew it would be futile to resist.

  They left Greenwich and started back up river, slowly. Tired and happy, Lucy and Amelia were quiet, content to let the river ripple by. Lucy didn’t care how long it took. She was with Christopher and the knowledge that she had decided to marry him after all was light and lovely inside her, a wonderful effervescent feeling as though she had imbibed the finest champagne.

  * * *

  On reaching the house, after saying farewell to Amelia with the promise to call on her very soon, accompanied by Christopher she walked to the door where she paused.

  ‘I will call on you shortly, Lucy, for your answer, ahead of the throng of suitors who will soon be queuing up at your door—although you will probably accuse me of arrogance to assume you might prefer me to any of your other suitors.’

  ‘You don’t have to do that,’ she said, her expression serious as she looked up at him. Her feelings for him could no longer be denied.

  One dark eyebrow rose as he gave her a sceptical look. ‘I don’t? Are you going to tell me you reject my suit after all the...?’

  She laid her fingers gently over his lips, silencing him. ‘No, I am not. Quite the opposite, in fact. I love you, Christopher,’ she said softly. ‘I want you to know. And if your offer still stands...’ she hesitated, hopeful as she peered into his eyes ‘...I would be most honoured to become your wife.’

  He stared at her with astonishment. ‘You love me?’

  She nodded, a gentle flush mantling her cheeks.

  ‘And you will marry me, Lucy? You’re sure?’

  ‘I won’t change my mind. I know exactly what I want. I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life. There has never been anyone else for me, Christopher, and there never will be. When I give my heart away I do it only once. Please take care of it.’

  With a deep sigh of relief and absolute joy, he gathered her into his arms and held her close. ‘I promise and thank you,’ he murmured, his lips against her hair. ‘Thank the Lord you have decided to wed me at last. I cannot believe this is happening. I hoped and prayed...’ Holding her away from him, he tilted her face to his, looking deep into her eyes, searching for proof of her words and seeing the truth. ‘You are sure about this, aren’t you, Lucy? You will promise to love...’

  ‘And honour.’

  ‘And obey?’

  She laughed, wrapping her arms about his waist and kissing his lips. ‘We’ll discuss that at a later date.’

  ‘As we will our wedding. Now before I leave we will seal our bond with a kiss.’

  ‘What? On the doorstep?’

  ‘On the doorstep where everyone can see and be either scandalised or share in our joy.’ Taking her face between his hands, he looked into her eyes. ‘I love you, Lucy Walsh, and there is nothing that I want more than to make you my wife.’

  ‘You do?’ Her heart soared.

  His smile was filled with tenderness. ‘If you don’t believe anything else I’ve ever said to you, at least believe that.’

  So saying he swept her in his arms and placed his lips on the soft curve of her cheek, before moving gently, exquisitely to her lips and assaulting her senses before raising his head and releasing her. ‘Now go inside and give Lady Sutton the good news. It is my hope that we will be married soon.’

  Lucy let herself into the house in a happy state of euphoria. She could not believe what was happening to her. When he kissed her he made his feelings known, leaving her in no doubt that he was sincere when he said he loved her.

  * * *

  Everyone was delighted at the way things had turned out. When the betrothal was officially announced in the Post, it was received with considerable surprise, although, since Viscount Rockley’s attentiveness towards Miss Lucy Walsh had been duly noted, word was already getting out that she had won the heart of London’s most eligible bachelor.

  It was arranged that they would be married at St George’s Church in Hanover Square four weeks hence. In a flap, Lady Sutton declared that it was too soon, that there was so much to be done to arrange a wedding on a scale that befit the heir of the Duke of Rockwood in a month. A guest list had to be drawn up before wedding invitations could be sent out, there were florists to be consulted and the bride’s dress to be made. But all her protestations fell on deaf ears. Both Christopher and Lucy were adamant that they did not want a lavish affair with a grand banquet and reception and that a long delay seemed pointless. There were to be few guests and one bridesmaid—Amelia, who was so happy by the whole affair that anyone who didn’t know would think she was the bride.

  * * *

  The Duke of Rockwood could not have been more delighted about the wedding and knew Lucy would make his grandson an excellent wife. He also made no secret of his immense pride in his grandson. He had made a rare visit to town for the wedding and when Lucy walked down the aisle wearing an ivory silk gown of incredible beauty and extravagant expense on his arm in the church bearing a spray of orchids picked from the hothouses at Rockwood Park, all the radiance in the world was shining from her large eyes, which were drawn irresistibly to the man who was waiting for her at the front of the church.

  As the wedding ceremony progressed and Lucy had just repeated the vicar’s words—for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health—from the corner of her eye she exchanged a fond look with her godmother and smiled as she watched her wipe a tear from her eye. And then the ceremony was over, they were pronounced man and wife and Christopher could kiss the bride.

  With a wicked glow in his eyes, but behaving with admirable restraint, taking her hand he drew her close and placed a somewhat brief but heartfelt kiss to her lips. After signing the documents that made their union legal in the eyes of the law as well as God, with broad smiles and the sound of congratulations ringing in their ears, Christopher led his bride down the aisle and out of the church.

  As Lucy was about to climb into the coach, raising her eyes to the crowd of people who had congregated in the street—weddings always attracted interest, especially society weddings—her attention was caught by a solitary man standing on the corner of the street. A coldness crept over her for she was almost certain it was Mr Barrington. She took her eyes off him for a moment and when she was seated inside the coach and looked again, he had gone. The mere thought that it had been Mr Barrington she had seen alarmed her.

  Alone with her in his shiny black carriage, Christopher took her hand and raised it to his lips and kissed her fingertips lingeringly, one by one.

  ‘At last I have you to myself—if just for a few minutes.’ Seeing her sudden pallor, he looked at her with concern. ‘What is it, my love? You look as if someone has just walked over your grave.’

  She laughed, striving to keep her unease to herself, determined to let nothing, not even Mark Barrington, spoil this day. ‘Nothing—nothing at all. I’m merely overwhelmed with everything and so very happy.’

  ‘You look beautiful,’ he uttered quietly, continuing to hold her hand in a firm clasp. His tone held an odd note of pride, and perhaps awe, that made her turn her head to him. With the dappled shade of light playing across her creamy skin and wisps of hair escaping from their pins caressing her cheek, she was the most beautiful woman Christopher had ever laid eyes on. He could not believe his good fortune that she as his wife at last. Whether due to the gently curving bosom beneath the confines of her gown, the satin softness of her skin, or
the rosy blush that infused her cheeks, brightening her eyes until they seemed to glow with a brilliance of their own behind the thick, sooty lashes, or the way her lips were softly parted, his attention was firmly ensnared, such enticements being too much for any man to ignore.

  * * *

  Returning to Curzon Street, Lady Sutton served them a splendid meal. Course after course of exquisite, mouth-watering dishes were served, followed by a magnificent bride cake. They drank champagne and toasts were made, and as Lucy raised her glass she was acutely aware of the gold band on her finger that bound her to Christopher for ever. There was only one thing that marred the day and that was Mr Barrington’s threatening form which hovered on the perimeter of her mind like the spectre at the feast.

  * * *

  As the afternoon drew to a close giving way to the evening shadows heralding the night, the guests began to leave. To give the newly-weds some time alone, Lady Sutton had taken the Duke up on his invitation to spend the night at his town house with Amelia. Christopher and Lucy were to join them for luncheon the following day.

  No sooner were they alone, in moments Christopher and Lucy were on the threshold of her room. The bed, where Lucy would lose her virtue, was hung with lustrous panels in lush green velvet. It was a welcome sight to them both. Without more ado, grinning broadly, Christopher swept his bride of a few hours off her feet and carried her inside, closing the door behind him with his foot. Giving her a long, lazy kiss, making her prey to all those delicious sensations that had never been so sweet, he placed her on her feet and did not let go of her until he had released her lips.

  ‘I’ve waited a long time for this,’ Christopher murmured, caressing her throat, his fingers exploring the softness. ‘What are you thinking?’ he asked, beginning to remove the pins from her hair himself, having dismissed her maid earlier.

  She sighed and looked at him. ‘Oh—about our wedding and what a handsome husband I have. I never believed it possible that this could happen.’ A cloud crossed her eyes and a note of sadness and regret entered her voice. ‘My only regret is that my father is not with us.’

  Christopher embraced her comfortingly. ‘He will not be far away. I am certain that he is watching you from the mysterious place where we all go to one day.’

  ‘I would like to think so.’

  ‘Me, too,’ he said softly, his eyes gleaming into hers, lazy and seductive, feeling a driving surge of desire at the sultriness of her soft mouth and the liquid depths of her eyes.

  She stood quite still while he continued to unpin her hair, towering over her, his physical presence rendering her weak. In the soft glow of the candlelight her eyes were huge, like those of a wide-eyed kitten, luminous and infinitely lovely. Removing the last of the hairpins, he spread the gleaming raven mass over her shoulders. She ran her tongue over her lip, unconsciously teasing.

  ‘This,’ Christopher said, glorying in the tender passion in her eyes, feeling the heat flame in his belly as he drew aside her curtain of hair and placed a kiss on the warm, sweet-scented nape of her neck, ‘is the moment I’ve been thinking of ever since you entered the church.’

  As his lips trailed over her flesh, with a gasp of exquisite pleasure Lucy threw her head back and closed her eyes. ‘I cannot believe this is happening to me,’ she breathed softly. ‘I feel that I am heading for something I cannot possibly know how to handle.’

  ‘Then I think it’s about time you learnt,’ he replied softly, seductively.

  He touched her cheek in soft reassurance—then his gaze travelled down over her body. She followed his stare, glancing down at herself, still clad in her wedding finery. Smoothing her skirts, she looked at him again in rather helpless uncertainty.

  Christopher gave her a gentle smile. ‘You look wonderful,’ he soothed, reading her thoughts, ‘but I would like you better without your wedding gown. I want to see you wearing nothing at all.’

  Grinning lazily, he turned away, taking off his jacket.

  ‘You would?’ The smile still on her lips, she kicked off her shoes and, sitting in a chair, proceeded to remove her ribbon garters and then the stockings without taking her eyes from his as he removed his neckcloth and began to unbutton his shirt. ‘I think you are going to have to assist me in removing my finery,’ she said, getting up and going to him, turning her back to give him access to the fastenings of her dress.

  ‘It will be my pleasure.’ Sweeping her long hair forward over her shoulder, he made short work of the fastenings down the back of her gown. ‘I’ve waited so long for this moment,’ he whispered as he slipped the bodice down off her shoulders, kissing the nape of her neck.

  Lucy’s heart pounded as she stepped out of her gown. He continued to undress her slowly and with reverence, occasionally bending to kiss an exposed inch of flesh as her petticoats fluttered to the floor. When they were both naked, magnificent in their nudity, Lucy’s breath caught in her throat, fascinated by the play of light over his lean-muscled body. Happiness, joy and delight were welling inside her, filling her because this handsome, vital man belonged to her, every glorious inch of him. They almost fell on to the bed. Skin to skin, their chests pressed together, their hearts beating in unison, Christopher’s lips claimed hers. It was as she’d always dreamed of, this wild, sweet abandonment in his arms.

  He aroused her slowly, with a skill that left her trembling. His kiss overwhelmed her while his hands beguiled her, running over her body, caressing and touching. She lay on her back while his lips explored every delectable inch of her, taking his time as he kissed her breasts and his hand ventured between her thighs. Trembling with pleasure, she reached for him, her fingers light and tentative, unsure. Staying her hand, his eyes flickering over her with desire, he covered her body with his own. His lips hovered inches from her own.

  ‘I love you, my darling,’ he whispered, ‘more than you will ever know.’

  Arching her body, she wrapped her arms about him, urging him on, clutching, clinging. She moaned softly as he cradled her to him, throwing her head back against the pillow as he entered her, and after a few moments he began to move, soothing away her fears, bringing her close to the oblivion of bliss. The beauty of it was almost beyond endurance, a shimmering and a shattering that lifted them both into a realm of sheer enchantment. Slowly he became part of her and she felt the joy and wonder of it in her heart. Nothing she felt was suppressed or hidden from him.

  As they twisted and rolled across the sheets, rocking together, locked as one for all time, she held him to her. There was exquisite joy in every plane and curve of her face. She was assailed by waves of lust and passion as he thrust her higher and higher to those dizzying heights that made her ache and burn with an ardour she had never felt before.

  Then they slept, waking again to more loving, lazy, leisurely, and all the while Christopher watched her flushed face, the way her breath quickened and her dazed eyes widened with startled desire. He had awakened his young bride into a tantalising creature who breathed passion and sensuality.

  There were times when words were unnecessary, when the body knew better, and neither of them was capable of holding back. Their lovemaking was stormy. Lucy had never experienced such intensity of feeling, nor such wanton abandonment to passion. They gave each other everything with their bodies, each possessing the other.

  They slept again, with nothing but a sheet to cover them.

  * * *

  When Lucy awoke she was content to lay still, content to savour Christopher’s hard-muscled body pressed next to hers. How well he had taught her and how well she had come to know his body. She was as familiar with it now as she was her own. She knew the touch, the taste and the feel of him—never had she realised such depths of passion and feeling existed. Neither had she thought a man’s body could be so beautiful until she had known his and admired the perfect symmetry of flesh and muscle. How could any woman not want such a man?

 
With her head against her husband’s chest and feeling the steady beat of his heart, satiated and drowsy still with sleep, she nestled closer to him. A glow warmed her as she remembered everything they had done together. She opened her eyes. Now that she had recovered from the shattering passion of the night, the memory of the man she had seen when she had emerged from the church after the ceremony returned like a dog worrying a bone.

  ‘Christopher?’

  ‘Mmm, what is it?’ His voice was low and sleep-laden.

  ‘There is something I have to say. I might be wrong—indeed, I hope I am, but you should know.’

  Christopher chuckled softly, tightening his arms about her and placing a kiss on the top of her head. ‘Whatever it is, can’t it wait? I have the urge to make love to you again now you are awake.’

  ‘You can still do that after I’ve told you what it is that’s bothering me.’

  ‘If you are going to tell me you regret marrying me, then it’s too late,’ he said sleepily. ‘This is for keeps, my love. There is no escape.’

  ‘I love you too much to leave you, Christopher. I think I proved that last night.’

  ‘Then what is it that is troubling you that is so important it takes precedence over my making love to you?’

  ‘Yesterday—when we left the church I—I saw someone watching us across the street.’

  ‘They were not alone, Lucy. I swear half of London came to witness our nuptials. What was so very different about the person you saw?’

  ‘I—I think it was Mr Barrington.’

  Christopher’s relaxed state quietly vanished. ‘Are you certain about this?’

  ‘In truth—no, I’m not, but it did look like him. I saw him as I was getting into the coach. When I looked again he had gone.’

  Christopher gave a heavy sigh. ‘Then if it was Barrington, if he means mischief we must wait for him to make his move.’ Wide awake now, he extricated himself from their tangled embrace.

  * * *

  It was Lucy who noticed Amelia’s absence. She thought little of it at first, but thought it strange that she had not been downstairs to welcome them along with Aunt Caroline and the Duke when they arrived for lunch. When Amelia failed to appear she went to her room, only to be told by one of the female servants that she had left the house with her maid one hour earlier on a private matter. Curious, she had looked out of the window and saw them get into a coach that was waiting across the road.