A Baron in Her Bed

by Maggi Andersen

  “What concerns us most is a new threat to the regent’s life. We have prevented one attempt already. Despite the fact that he is unpopular, such an event would be disastrous for England.” Parnham held out his hands, palms up. “Your life has been badly affected by revolution, has it not? You do understand why England needs you to do your duty, Lord Fortescue?”

  Guy nodded. “I’m quite prepared to do as you wish, but only if I can see Horatia and she is told the truth. I know she can be trusted.”

  Lord Parnham’s clever brown eyes assessed him. “On reflection, it might seem odd if you failed to continue to see Miss Cavendish. You may tell her about your brother and continue on as you were, but she must not learn of your mission. Otherwise it might prove dangerous for her. Do I have your word?”

  “Oui…yes.”

  Lord Parnham rose, came around the desk, and shook Guy’s hand. “Then it is done. You are to infiltrate this group and learn of their plans. Best you don’t come here again. I expect to learn something from you in the coming days. We’ll keep in touch through Lord Strathairn.”

  “And the scar?” Guy said, tracing a line down his cheek.

  “We could give you a fake one, but the count has already seen you so that won’t serve.” Parnham tapped the desk with a quill. “We shall have to trust no one has met Vincent, as I said.”

  Guy and John crossed Whitehall to the carriage. “Horatia and I shall marry as soon as my sister arrives in London to identify me,” Guy said. “Should I die, I want Horatia to inherit all my property not entailed.”

  John frowned. “You French never look on the bright side, do you?”

  Guy shrugged. “It would be foolish to do so now, n’est-ce pas?”

  Horatia beat the maid to the door. She threw it open and all but fell into Guy’s arms, breathing in his manly scent. He looked so weary and sad she stilled. When she saw the bruise on his cheek and the cut to his lip, her words dried up.

  He greeted her and her aunt in a sober voice then sank onto the sofa while tea was prepared.

  Horatia sat beside him. “Where have you…”

  Guy held up a hand. “I shall tell you.”

  She swallowed, not knowing what to expect and fearful of what he might say. She was sure it wasn’t good.

  Guy’s voice was strained as he related the happenings of the last week.

  Horatia took a slow breath at the complete shock she felt. Never in her born days would she have guessed that Guy’s twin brother, a veritable monster, had tried to kill him to take over the barony.

  “I had no idea Vincent survived the fire.” He sounded so bitter it made her yearn to try and soothe him. “I feel that fate has cheated me of a brother.”

  After Guy’s voice faded away on the last of it, her aunt offered her heartfelt sympathy and excused herself.

  Horatia moved closer to Guy on the sofa. She put a hand to his cheek. “My poor love.”

  Guy gathered her into his arms and held her close. His shoulders shuddered, and her tears blinded her.

  He cradled her face in his hands and wiped the tears from her cheeks with a thumb. “I’ve missed you,” he said softly, and kissed her.

  Horatia stroked his hair and discovered a lump. She pulled away. “You’ve been hurt.”

  Guy shrugged with a rueful smile. “I’m lucky to have a hard head and still have my wits.”

  She leant her head against his shoulder. “It’s all over now.” She sighed with relief.

  His arm tightened around her.

  Horatia sat up. “Guy!”

  His eyes widened. “Quoi?”

  “Your sister Geneviève has arrived in London. We went together to Hampstead to look for you. She has taken a house in Portland Place.”

  Guy smiled. “Geneviève is here?”

  “As soon as I received your note, I sent a servant to tell her you were safe.”

  “You traveled to Hampstead together?”

  Horatia giggled, wishing to lighten the mood. “Yes, in an opulent turquoise carriage lined with fine parquetry, paisley silk curtains, velvet upholstery, and gold carriage lamps. I’ve never seen the like!”

  Guy laughed. “Geneviève is never without her comforts.”

  “She was determined to find you.”

  “I must go to her.”

  “Of course you must. I like her very much so please tell her I hope to see her very soon.”

  “Tomorrow, I’d like to show you the Mayfair house I found before all this happened,” Guy said. “Then I’ll see the solicitor. We can be wed as soon as I have the special license and your father’s written consent. Reverend Dewhurst at St. Georges will advise us of a suitable date.”

  “Oh, Guy.” Horatia gazed at him with longing. “I do so want to be with you.” He swung her into his arms and took her mouth in a kiss.

  “Tomorrow,” he promised drawing away.

  She touched his cheek. “But is everything all right now?”

  He took her hand in his big one and kissed it. “Yes, mon amour, everything is all right now.”

  After he had gone, Horatia went to tell her aunt about the house. Aunt Emily hesitated. “But I don’t see how I can go with you. I have an engagement with the poetry society.”

  “That’s all right, Aunt. We are betrothed after all.”

  Aunt Emily eyed her skeptically. “We plan to discuss Coleridge’s poem ‘Kubla Khan’. He wrote it in 1797, but he reserved it for private readings until this year when Lord Byron persuaded him to publish it. What a pity you’ll miss it.” She paused for breath and turned her focus to the important issue at hand. “I trust you to act with decorum, Horatia. I expect there will be someone there to show you around the house.”

  “I daresay, Aunt.” Horatia hoped there wasn’t. She still felt uneasy and needed time alone with Guy.

  “I look forward to hearing all about the house when you return,” her aunt said, and returned to her book of poems.

  Despite the joy of an emotional reunion with his sister, Guy felt drained when he walked through the door of his temporary home at Berkley Square. They had reminisced about their childhood memories with Vincent. Geneviève was appalled at what Vincent had done but still regretted not being there to see him laid in the ground. She had expressed her approval of Guy’s choice of bride. “You could not do better than Horatia, Gee,” she said.

  Guy could only agree and hope he would live to enjoy what promised to be a wonderful life.

  Strathairn’s butler approached him at the door. “My lord, a parcel arrived for you today.”

  Mystified, Guy tore off the paper. Inside were his evening coat, hat, and cane. A letter written in Lord Taylor’s bold strokes explained that Guy’s coat and hat had been left in a cupboard and overlooked by the maids until recently. He and Lady Taylor hoped all was well with him and that next time he visited them he would come to say goodbye before departing into the night and worrying all those who cared for him.

  Guy shook his head and went to join John in the library.

  His friend spun the bronze tiepin in his fingers. “It would be smart for you to wear this eagle pin when you meet with Count Forney.”

  Guy looked at it with distaste.

  “The secret code they use is the word, Longwood,” John said. “That is the name of the house where Napoleon resides on Saint Helena. You need to place it in a sentence.”

  Guy raised his brows. “So, I just call to see him?”

  “Yes, and declare yourself one of them, as soon as you can. Once you are drawn into his group, we will strike.”

  “He may not admit me to his home.”

  “I believe he will. If he refuses, send the tie pin to him.”

  The door opened, and Georgina entered. “You wished to see me, John?”

  Guy stood, ready to excuse himself.

  “No, stay, Guy,” John said. “We shall need to speak further.” He beckoned Georgina into the room. She came to stand in front of him, unusually meek with her hands clasped toge
ther and eyes downcast.

  “Georgina, as you know, I had a visit from the Duke of Broadstairs today. He has asked for your hand in marriage.”

  Georgina gave a confident smile. “And what did you tell him?”

  “That at seventeen, you are too young.”

  Her face fell. “No! You didn’t,” she said breathily. “You wouldn’t! I am eighteen in three months’ time.”

  John grinned. “Everything you wish for falls into your lap, does it not? I’m sure it is not good for your character.”

  Georgina rolled her eyes. “Pooh! See how he teases me, Guy?”

  John smiled. “I told him the marriage can take place when you turn eighteen.”

  “Then I am betrothed?”

  “It would seem so. He will call to see you tomorrow, no doubt with a handsome betrothal ring.”

  Georgina squealed with delight. She kissed her brother on both cheeks. “You are a beast. I shall be glad to leave home.”

  She turned to Guy. “I shall kiss you too, Guy. I am so happy!”

  Before her brother could protest, she had kissed Guy’s cheeks and flounced towards the door.

  When it closed, John shook his head. “I’m fond of my sister, Guy. But I’ll be relieved to hand her to the duke.”

  Guy laughed.

  “Now…” John turned serious. “Any questions?”

  “You’ve jogged my memory. It was something Forney said that I thought odd at the time. His said he enjoyed England when the shadows in the wood grow long.”

  John’s eyes gleamed. “We have the wolf by the ears! We’ll get him and the whole pack along with him.”

  “Preferably before they get me,” Guy said with a grimace.

  Guy led Horatia up to the front door of an impressive house in South Audley Street. The glossy black door with a pretty fan-shaped window above it was flanked by two Doric marble columns. “You like it, no?”

  “It’s most imposing.”

  He held up a key. “We can view the house by ourselves.”

  Horatia took a deep breath as she looked at the handsome man beside her. An hour alone with him was enticing and fitted into her plans.

  Guy unlocked the door and led her into the marble hall, where stairs curved up to the second floor.

  “It’s very grand.” Horatia’s hushed voice echoed around the lofty space.

  Guy took her hand and led her through the empty rooms. Then they mounted the stairs to the upper stories.

  “This is the drawing room.” He threw open a door.

  Horatia stared at the twenty foot painted ceiling, the crimson silk walls, and the Adam fireplace of white marble. Tall windows gave a view of the garden. She crossed the bare boards to inspect the magnificent carved fireplace. “The room will look wonderful when furnished.”

  “It shall be your domain,” Guy said, gazing down at her. “You look very pretty in lilac. It suits your hair.”

  She smiled. “I’m glad you didn’t say red hair.”

  “I have learnt my lesson.”

  She reached up and touched the cleft in his chin. “The first of many.”

  He pulled her against him. “That sounds menacing.”

  She laughed. “It’s only fair to warn you.”

  He tilted up her chin. “Ce n’est pas juste?”

  “What isn’t fair?”

  “How you look at me when I want you so.”

  She pulled his head down and pressed her lips to his.

  “Horatia,” he murmured when they parted. “Don’t torture me. Come and see the rest of the house.”

  She smiled and took his arm. “Very well.”

  Guy threw open another white and gold paneled door. “This, I believe, will be our bedchamber.”

  “It’s a large room.” Horatia found it difficult to breathe. The room was empty of furniture, but a carpet the color of a rosy dawn patterned with flowers lay on the floor. At the far end was another handsome fireplace, and she could imagine the flames crackling cozily as they lay in bed together. Warmth spread through her at the thought.

  Horatia was determined to learn more of lovemaking today. It sent a thrill pulsing through her as she walked to the window. “The view is nice from here.” She pulled off her lilac pelisse and kid gloves and began to untie her bonnet strings.

  Guy’s eyes widened. “What are you up to?”

  “I’m a little warm.”

  Aunt Emily had told her she must act with decorum, but her aunt was filled with regret for what she hadn’t experienced in her past. It seemed to Horatia that Aunt Emily compensated for a life not lived by writing poetry.

  So much had happened; Horatia had grown afraid her future could be snatched away before she experienced true passion. Guy was tense, and she wondered why. The change in him made her fearful and determined to experience everything while she could, most particularly love in its physical form expressed between a man and a woman.

  When he came close enough for her to smell the soap he used, she took his hand and tried to pull him down with her onto the lush soft carpet.

  “What are you up to, Horatia?” Guy said, tugging from her grasp. He held her by her arms, then pulled away as if he’d been burned.

  She sank down and looked up at him. “Lie with me.”

  He didn’t obey, merely watched her, doubt in his eyes. “Don’t you think we should wait?”

  Afraid he might not desire her after all, she tucked her legs under her, feeling foolish.

  Guy laughed and sat down beside her. “I swear I never know what you’ll do next.”

  Horatia hesitated. She wasn’t entirely sure how to proceed but determined they would not leave there today without making love. She trusted Guy to keep her from harm and scandal. Now that she’d made up her mind, her senses were on fire. A twist of desire curled deep inside her.

  Guy eyed her cautiously but kept distance between them. She reached out to him. “Kiss me.”

  He leant over and gave her a gentle kiss, pulled away, then with a soft moan moved closer, and kissed her again. One kiss turned into many, and his tongue thrust against hers, teasing, taking. Desire built to a heavy throb low in her belly. Her nipples tingled.

  He drew away. “You are playing a dangerous game, mon amour.”

  Something odd had happened to her breath, she was gasping, her heart pounding. “I know.” She ran a finger along his bottom lip.

  He kissed her throat and untied the strings at the back of her gown to lower it, kissing the swell of her breast. A delicious ache spread over her breasts, and her nipples tightened into rigid buds.

  She shivered with expectation at his deliberate movements. He almost seemed a different person as he pulled down her shift to expose her breasts. She put an arm across her breasts.

  “Tu es belle,” he said huskily, removing her hand. He lowered his head and took a nipple in his mouth.

  Horatia gasped and clutched his head, holding him to her.

  Guy couldn’t resist kissing her perfect breasts. Lust slammed into his body as he cupped the firm white globe and teased the taut, dark pink nipple with his tongue. It tasted deliciously of woman with a delicate floral scent. Could he stop before he took her maidenhood? He knew Horatia trusted him to protect her. He had already gone further than he intended. Her long slender legs enticed him, and a wicked voice in his head urged him to go further, to settle between them and fill her soft center with his hard cock. To make her his own. Her mews of pleasure as she grabbed his hair made him want her so much he had to fight not to take her right there on the carpet.

  “God!” he groaned. “We have to stop, Horatia.”

  “What? No.” Her beautiful eyes had an unfocused look, which made his blood run hot.

  Really, Guy was being difficult! Horatia took his strong hand and guided it back to her breast. She sighed as his fingers closed around the soft flesh. Instead of resisting, he turned his attention to the other breast, which caused shockwaves of delight to course through her body. Heat pooled lo
w in her belly, burning and molten, excited and expectant. She had grown moist and wanted to touch herself. She wanted Guy to touch her there.

  As his last shreds of resistance slipped away, Guy pushed her back, his mouth plundering hers, tracing her full under lip, which had promised a passionate nature. He was now quite convinced of it. When she looked deep into his eyes, Guy saw the trust and respect she held for him. He pulled away, making a valiant effort at restraint.

  “I don’t think we should,” he said, his voice hoarse and ragged. He knew the evidence of his body made a mockery of his words.

  “You’re trembling,” she whispered. “I don’t believe you.” She pressed herself ruthlessly against him, hip to hip, exalting in how she affected him. He gave a strained laugh.

  “Horatia, have mercy!”

  He struggled to inhale as hot blood surged through his body. He was losing the battle. His hand stroked up her slim thigh under her petticoats and slipped inside the slit in her drawers locating the delicate petals of her sex. Horatia’s body tensed, and she flushed, but then with a moan, she gave herself up to his ministrations. He groaned when his fingers found the hard bud nestling beneath her hot moist flesh. She wriggled, giving small mews of pleasure. His free hand went to his breeches as desire drove him to mount her. They both wanted it, so surely it was right. He paused, grappling with his reason. No, it wasn’t right. There was a time when he would have taken this opportunity without a thought. But not now. Surprised at discovering how he’d changed, how Horatia had changed him, he pulled his hand away from his breeches and focused on her enjoyment.

  Horatia clutched at his shirt and emitted small shrieks as he continued his rhythmic stroking. “Guy, oh that’s so…” She had never known her body to be capable of such pleasure. Moving her hips against his hand, something built within and took her to the edge of lucidity. She knew not what she did or said.