Regency Masquerades: A Limited Edition Boxed Set of Six Traditional Regency Romance Novels of Secrets and Disguises

by Brenda Hiatt

  Doggedly, he resisted the impulse to pull her into his arms and cover her with kisses. To force her affections would destroy the fragile trust that had grown between them, so he continually reminded himself that patience had its rewards. Still, it was a sweet torture, watching her try to hide her blushes and her agitated breathing while he called her his darling, and told her how desperately he desired her.

  On the third day after the wedding, he was obliged to go out early to resolve a dispute between his tenants. He left a note for Juliana, apologizing for not breakfasting with her. On his return, he sought throughout the house for her, and finally found her in the library, curled up with a book in a window seat, her hair lit by the sun shining in behind her. Two slippers sat on the floor before her. When she saw him, she quickly set her book aside and tucked her feet back into them, but not before he caught a brief, tantalizing glimpse of her shapely limbs.

  “Good morning, Marcus,” she said, straightening up and smoothing her skirt back down over her ankles.

  “Good morning, love,” he said, smiling at her. “Do you know you have the loveliest legs in Christendom? I thought so the first time I saw them. So cruel of you to hide them from me!”

  She said nothing, but colored delightfully, just as he had hoped.

  “What are you reading?” he asked. “Anything of interest?”

  “No,” she said, looking self-conscious as he picked up her book.

  Glancing down, he was surprised to see, not a lurid novel, as he had half-expected, but a guidebook on France.

  “Juliana, is this what you have been longing to do? Travel? Is that why you ran away from your grandfather?”

  She nodded, looking wary.

  “My darling, I never wished to stand in the way of anything that would make you happy. You should have told me. Did you think I would not understand?”

  “Do you?” she asked, doubt and hope reflected in her eyes, and he sensed how important his answer would be.

  “As a boy, I read my grandfather’s accounts of his Grand Tour,” he said. “I’ve always wished to make one myself. I just never thought that circumstances would allow me to do so. I’ll always have a responsibility to my people here, and to take my place in Parliament, but once the improvements I plan for the estate are in train, and I have hired a proper steward, there’s no reason we cannot take an occasional trip to the Continent. What do you think?”

  She looked dazed, almost as if she could not quite believe what he offered. Much as he longed to press his point, he knew it might ruin everything.

  “You don’t need to answer me just now. We have plenty of time to discuss such things. Meanwhile I must apologize for leaving you alone this morning. I thought that perhaps, since it is a fine day, I could wheedle a basket from Cook, and we could enjoy a picnic.”

  After she had agreed to meet him in an hour’s time, he left her, feeling well-satisfied with their interchange. He’d gained an important insight into her character today, though it might still be weeks, or even months, before she learned to trust him completely. Still, as he strode down the hall to make preparations for their picnic, he found himself whistling.

  Juliana sat for a few minutes in the sunny nook, her initial surprise at Marcus’s words giving way to a sense of new possibilities. She remembered how she’d dreamt of traveling with Lord Dare, had imagined what it would be like to explore the world’s wonders with such a charming and attentive companion. Now, Marcus offered to make that dream real for her, and with every indication that he wished for it as well.

  A deeper joy stirred within her, as she remembered what he’d said about not wanting to stand in the way of her happiness. Was this the proof she had been seeking, that they might have a marriage of equals, such as Pen had talked of?

  Perhaps she had been wrong to wish for complete independence. Perhaps it would be an even greater joy to share decisions with a kindred spirit. Marcus loved her. She believed him now. Was there any reason to resist the happiness he offered?

  She jumped up from the seat, feeling light, eager, restless. In an hour’s time she would be alone with him again. How should she tell him of her change of heart? How would he look? He would be surprised, at first, but then, perhaps, that slow, roguish smile would spread over his face. He would kiss her…

  She hurried out of the library and ran lightly up the stairs. It took far too little time to button a deep blue spencer over her sprigged gown, and tie a matching bonnet over her locks. A mere half-hour had passed when she took a seat at the meeting spot he suggested, a bench overlooking the stream that flowed through the grounds.

  Finally, Marcus arrived, a basket in one hand, a carriage blanket draped over the other shoulder, looking so handsome that her heart nearly stopped at the sight of him.

  “I hope Cook has packed what you would like,” he said as they set off across the lawn.

  “I am sure it will be lovely,” she said, feeling suddenly shy. A few minutes ago it had seemed so easy to declare her feelings. Now she wondered what he would think of her.

  She looked up at her husband, and realized that he too seemed ill-at-ease.

  “Is something the matter, Marcus?” she ventured.

  “No, not at all,” he replied, but his voice sounded strained. He turned left, taking her along the stream. She had walked this way before, but he led her farther than she had previously ventured. They stopped in a small glade next to the stream, surrounded on all sides by willows and other trees she did not yet recognize.

  “A pleasant spot, is it not?” he asked, spreading the blanket down on the turf.

  She looked about. It was not just pleasant. It was beautiful, all of it: the willows, shimmering silvery-green as light breeze ruffled their long leaves, the rippling pools where trout could be seen rising, a plump duck with a brood of ducklings paddling along behind her. And her handsome husband, the sun bringing out burnished hues in his rich brown hair, mysterious lights in his hazel eyes…

  Embarrassed, she sat down on the blanket to unpack the basket. She unfolded several parcels wrapped with napkins, revealing wineglasses, several joints of herbed, roasted chicken, a bunch of hothouse grapes and several small cheesecakes. Marcus retrieved a bottle of wine from the bottom of the basket. It was a fine hock, a white wine from Germany that was one of her favorites. Had he noticed how much she liked it?

  It was a delightful meal, but she couldn’t help being distracted, with Marcus sitting just a tantalizing few inches away. She took a few sips of her wine, and tried to eat some chicken. She began to relax after Marcus asked her how she had become interested in travel, and she told him all about Grandpapa’s sea captains and their stories, and all she had heard and read about Lady Hester Stanhope.

  “Do you hope to follow in her footsteps, and see Palmyra?”

  She leaned back a little, feeling more relaxed now, and replied, “It would be exciting, would it not, to see some of the things she has? But in truth, I do not wish for the life she leads now.”

  He chuckled. “So you do not wish to embroil yourself in Eastern politics?”

  “Not at all. It sounds dangerous, and futile.”

  Seeing that he had finished eating as well, she began to gather everything up to put it back into the basket.

  “Well, I am glad,” he said. “I think Paris would be a much more pleasant destination, at least for our first trip. What do you think?”

  She swallowed nervously, realizing the moment for truth had arrived.

  “Yes, I think Paris would be lovely,” she replied.

  He gazed at her, unblinking, for a long moment, then shifted, moving as close as he could without quite touching her.

  “Juliana, tell me what you want. It doesn’t really matter to me whether we go to Paris, or Rome, or the Antipodes. So long as we are together, as man and wife.”

  Her heart began to pound furiously.

  “Darling, will you release me from the promise I gave you?” His breath caressed her cheek as he whispered the
words he had said so many times these past few days.

  “Yes,” she replied, too overcome to say more.

  “What did you say?” He looked stunned, as if he had all but given up hope that she would give in to him.

  A sudden gurgle of laughter caught in her throat, and her embarrassment vanished.

  “My dear husband, if you cannot do me the courtesy of listening to my words, I certainly shall not repeat myself,” she replied, giving in to a wicked impulse. He was not the only one who could tease.

  He looked at her hungrily, then leaned over to kiss her cheek. She shivered at the feather-light touch.

  “Please, Juliana, I want to hear you say it. Tell me you will give me back my promise,” he repeated, even more softly.

  He put one arm around her and drew her closer, turning her to face him. For a moment she looked up at him, her chest pressed against his, his powerful thigh against her leg, her heart beating a mad rhythm. He untied the ribbon under her chin and removed her bonnet, then kissed her, slowly and deeply. Eagerly, she kissed him back, nearly sobbing as she gave way to the passion that she’d been resisting all these weeks. She drew a shaky breath as he leaned back and looked down at her, her own joy echoed in his expression.

  “Give me back my promise,” he begged, his voice husky with desire.

  She pursed her lips, finding an impish pleasure in making him plead. But he had his revenge. He raised a hand to caress her through the layers of her morning gown and spencer, and a little moan escaped from her lips as the fabric rubbed against her skin. He kissed her again, under her ear, then down her neck, his lips soft and teasing.

  “Say yes, Juliana. I long to hear it again,” he said. Still she remained silent, half-afraid to break the spell. Soon they would have to return to the Hall. Would he wait until the evening, or take her to a bedchamber immediately? She did not know how she could bear the anticipation.

  To distract him, she put one arm around him, and raised her other hand to his face, cupping his chin. She kissed him, savoring the warmth, the wine-laced taste of his lips, the powerful ebb and flow of his breathing. Then, somehow, she found herself lying beside him on the blanket, clasped in his arms. He relaxed his hold, so that she lay on her back, then raised himself up on one elbow.

  She gasped as he unbuttoned the top button of her spencer.

  “Marcus—”

  “Hush, darling. No one will disturb us.”

  She knew it was true. She’d realized several days ago that the servants were under orders to leave them alone. But this was scandalous!

  Thoughts of the servants fled as Marcus continued to unfasten her tiny jacket, his fingers tickling her as he struggled with the small buttons. When he had undone the last one, he raised her slightly and pushed the spencer down off her shoulders. He trailed kisses around the opening of her low, square neckline, pushed down first one sleeve, then the other, then inched her bodice down with his fingers, following with his lips. Then he sat up, to look at her, and she blushed and tingled with the coolness of the air and the heat of his gaze.

  “Say you will release me from my promise, Juliana,” he murmured, lowering himself down beside her again, warming her with his hands and his mouth.

  She wondered how he could keep playing this game, and if one really could one die of desire, as the poets said. She licked her lips, not sure she could stand much more, but daring herself to try. He gave her another full-mouthed kiss, harder this time, his hands roving up and down her back, tracing the curve of her waist and hip, until she moved restlessly beneath him, almost delirious with longing. He reached down to the hem of her skirt, and began to draw it up, stroking the inside of her leg through her stocking as he did so.

  “Say yes, my darling,” he commanded, cruelly stilling his hand just as she willed him to touch her more intimately.

  “Yes,” she breathed, unable to play this game any longer.

  “Oh, Juliana,” he said hoarsely. “How I’ve longed for this.”

  Then he took mercy on her, plying those clever, wicked hands just as she remembered, except that it was even more wonderful. Soon she was lost in pleasure, twisting and rolling on the blanket, letting her cries ring out to mingle with the sounds of birds and the sighing of the wind.

  In a daze, she realized that Marcus had shifted his position, saw anticipation and a hint of anxiety in his eyes. She put her arms around him and opened herself to him, so he would see she was unafraid. Slowly, he began to enter her, and after a moment, she felt a slight pang.

  Though brief, the pain brought her back to a sense of what she had just done. She closed her eyes, trying to adjust to the feeling of her husband inside her, while a disturbing inner voice reminded her that she had taken an irrevocable step.

  “Did I hurt you?”

  She opened her eyes and saw her husband, looking adorably distressed. With a rush of warmth, she remembered that he loved her. No, this could not be a mistake.

  She shook her head in response to his question, and pulled him down to kiss him. For a moment, they lay still, bodies intimately joined, then he began to move slowly inside her. Shyly, she tried to match his movements, and her doubts receded as she followed him to new and different heights of pleasure.

  Chapter Fifteen

  That night, Marcus came to Juliana’s bedchamber and made ardent love to her once more. The next morning he awoke to find her sleeping peacefully beside him. He lay very still, fearing she would be startled to see him when she awoke. Instead, she turned, stretched like a cat, and smiled at him in a way that clearly showed that she did not regret anything that had passed between them the previous day.

  Her smile led to a kiss, which led to another, which led to their coming down to breakfast at a scandalously late hour. Critchley smiled at them indulgently, making his wife blush delightfully, then left them to their meal. Looking ravenous, Juliana devoured eggs and toast while Marcus talked to her of his plans for the coming months.

  “We will not be able to go to the Continent for a few months, darling,” he said, hoping she would not be disappointed. “There are still too many things that still need doing regarding the estate. I hope you won’t find it too slow here during the summer months.”

  “Well then, you must make certain I am well entertained, my lord,” she said demurely.

  “You are insatiable, my lady,” he said, grinning across the table at her. “But seriously, the Plumbrooks will return by the end of June, and they often host parties throughout the summer. Just informal dinners, with some cards and conversation afterwards, and sometimes a little dancing. I think you will enjoy them. I’m also thinking about Lucy. Though there are still a few years before we must think of taking her to London for the Season, it might do her good to attend a few small, private parties before then. What do you think?”

  “I think you are right about Lucy, and I am sure I shall enjoy the Plumbrooks’ parties very much. I should love to dance again. With you.”

  “That won’t be possible,” he said, stiffly. She could not have meant to hurt him, but how could she talk so?

  “What, do you think I know nothing but the ballet? Let me tell you I am equally proficient at waltzes and country dances.”

  He smiled, knowing she was teasing him, but shook his head. “You know I cannot dance. I never really had the chance to learn properly, then after the accident… Don’t mock me with such suggestions, darling.”

  “I don’t mean to mock you,” she said. “I have been watching you, and I’ve noticed how your limp becomes much better after you have walked some time. Is that not true?”

  “It is true,” he said, wondering what she was getting at.

  “Don’t you see what that means? If your leg had truly healed badly, so it was a different length from the other, you would always limp.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “You are very right to keep exercising your leg, but there are other things that might help, too. One of the dancers at the King’s Theatre
had sustained a similar injury. He did special limbering exercises, which you might try. And his wife used to rub his leg in a special way. She called it massage. It certainly seemed to help him. I could try it, if you wish.”

  Her desire to help warmed his heart, though after three years of limping, he did not hold much hope.

  “I am sure there is no way you could touch me that I would not enjoy, my dear.”

  “You have taught me to ride,” she said, her sunny smile a noble reward for his compliance. “Now I shall teach you to dance.”

  After breakfast, eager to begin the course of treatment she had described, she all but dragged him to the library where, she said, the soft carpet would provide a good surface for what she planned. She ordered him to lie down, then knelt beside him and began tentatively to rub her hands over his hip and thigh. At first he was distracted by her closeness, her womanly scent, but as she began to touch him more firmly, he began to notice new sensations in his hip.

  “How does it feel?” she asked, anxiously.

  “Good.” He sighed. It hurt, and yet as she continued to work his muscles, he welcomed the pain. It felt as if her gentle kneading somehow brought the ache to the surface and dispersed it. Just a few minutes later, he noticed a new sensation. Or rather, the absence of one.

  “The pain… it is nearly gone,” he said, in wonder, realizing he had not felt so well in nearly three years. And now that the pain was gone, he was even more acutely aware of his beautiful wife kneeling just inches away from him.

  “I am glad. The pain may return, but if we keep up this course of treatment, you may feel a more lasting improvement. Perhaps we should try some exercises now?”

  He glanced over to the door. It was shut.

  “Yes,” he said, and pulled her down on the floor beside him.