The Dark Regency Series: Boxed Set

by Chasity Bowlin

  She sounded quite fierce and the stern expression she wore was at odds with the youthful loveliness of her face. He laughed. “Are you so fierce a defender then?”

  “You may jest all you wish, but if I had not come here, Spencer, where would you be right now?”

  It was a sobering thought. He’d have gone entirely mad and would have harmed someone else or ended his own life. “You’ve made your point. Pax.”

  “Are we at war?” she demanded. “I only point out that we are in far less danger together than separately. Whatever is occurring here is not limited solely to this house… Even on the road here, the driver was convinced the black bird he saw was a harpy.”

  The description called to mind his own impression of Mrs. Agatha. When she’d slipped into his room and given him something to help him sleep, he’d thought her a crow. Was she involved? It was useless to wonder, at least for the moment. Until their closeted villains made another move they were at an impasse. So he changed the subject and asked her another question that plagued him. With a glance at Dorcas to assure himself that she still slept soundly, though her snores were a clear indication, he put words to his fear. But it wasn’t the inhabitants of Kinraven or the dangers they faced that occupied his thoughts. It was her. “Your gift, your ability to see into other’s minds… are you certain that was your only reason for the avoidance of my touch?”

  She blinked at him in surprise. “Yes … I hate prying into people’s lives—into things they wouldn’t wish for me to see. It’s a horrible invasion of their privacy, and then you’re forced to lie, to pretend that you don’t know these things about them. Sometimes, you see things about others that you’ve no wish to know. My greatest fear was that I would touch you and see—.” She broke off abruptly and looked away.

  “What did you fear?” he questioned softly. With a tender touch, he placed his hand beneath her chin and tilted her face up to his. Their gazes locked and he stared into the deep blue of her eyes. That single glance conveyed a multitude of emotions. “How do I know what to rail against if you do not tell me?”

  “I couldn’t have borne it if I had touched you and seen, even inadvertently, that your heart was engaged elsewhere. I never thought to have your affection for myself, but to see it bestowed elsewhere would have been too much.” Her voice was pitched low and filled with a wealth of pain and longing.

  “And that night, at Briarwood, when you saw what was in my heart and in my mind… What then?”

  Her face flamed with embarrassment and she averted her gaze. “I never meant to pry into things you would not have wished for me to see.”

  She swallowed convulsively and glanced at her sleeping companion. “Spencer, this isn’t wise.”

  “Tell me the truth, Larissa… What was your aim in coming here?” he asked. “I know you read the letter, and I know about Moreland’s threats, but you could just as easily have sent for Rhys or Michael to come and take care of things. Why take it upon yourself when you did not have to?”

  “It seemed best to deal with things as expediently as was possible.”

  She lied. He knew that because she averted her gaze so quickly. “And you, being forced to travel by ship and then by carriage, when a single rider could have reached Kinraven in half the number of days were the most expedient course of action?”

  She turned back to him and fire flashed in her eyes. It was clearly a subject she did not wished to be pressed on. “Would you have preferred I had not come here then?”

  “Not at all. What I’d prefer is for you to be honest with me… no hesitation, no prevarication. Knowing my feelings, your visions having provided you far more intimate knowledge of just how much I desired you, why would you come here?”

  It was an admission she had no wish to make. In retrospect, it seemed foolish, reckless and that she’d greatly overestimated her own courage. There was no getting around it. She would to tell him the truth, embarrassing as it was. “I had thought, before realizing just how grievous the situation was, to seduce you,” she answered softly.

  His eyes widened for a moment, his brows arched upward in surprise. “To … seduce me…. I see. Given what you know of my feelings, why would you have thought seduction necessary? Even when I should have sent you far from here, I could not tell you no.”

  Because she’d been too preoccupied with her role in his departure to consider that there might be very significant reasons for his continued absence that had little to do with her. It had been her own vanity. “I thought you would be angry… because I ran away that night at Briarwood, because I…lacked the courage to face my fear then. And when you learned the truth of what sparked my fear, I thought you’d be livid. So, I had planned to use the things I saw in your mind, your fantasies of us, to my advantage in the hopes of stilling your ire.”

  “That’s a bit underhanded isn’t it?” he chided. “And hardly fair.”

  “Clearly it’s unimportant in the overall scheme of things as I’m utterly lacking in the courage to follow through with it,” she snapped, altogether uncomfortable with their conversation.

  “It most assuredly is not,” he agreed as he tugged her to her feet. He lifted her hand and pressed it to his chest, directly over his pounding heart. “Does a more intimate touch offer you deeper insights into a person’s motivation?”

  His nearness, the heat of his body and the firmness of the flesh beneath her hand tempted her. She wanted him to kiss her again, but for whatever reason, she could not find the courage to ask. Not again. “If my gift were not stunted by whatever forces are aligning against us here, it would. Is that why you wish for my touch… to test my gift?” she demanded.

  He said nothing for the longest time, and the silence stretched between them. It was tense, but not unpleasant. She became attuned to him fully, the rhythm of his heart beat, the cadence of his breath. Without conscious thought, she stepped closer still, until their bodies touched and their lips were only inches apart. Only then did he answer.

  “No,” he said, and his roughened voice sent shivers over her skin. “I wish for your touch as I wish for air. The desire for it is constant and the lack is felt so keenly that it will surely end me.”

  She smiled at his heartfelt declaration. “Truthfully, I do not think your situation is so dire.”

  He shrugged, a slight movement of his shoulders that allowed her to feel the play of muscle beneath her hand. “Perhaps not. I am no poet, as you well know, but the sentiment is true. You are in my thoughts constantly, and had our amorous adventures not been cut short last night, I would have shown you already how ardently I desire you… If you are willing to leave your companion here to sleep off her excesses, I would show you now.”

  A blush stole over her cheeks, but it was the hitch in her breath that most interested in him. Her lips parted as she exhaled and the sight entranced him.

  “Tell me the truth, Larissa. If you don’t want this, you just have to say it.”

  “I can’t. It would be a lie if I uttered it” she whispered. “You know that, Spencer.”

  “Come with me,” he urged.

  She didn’t ask where, there was no need. She would have followed him anywhere.

  Larissa followed him up the stairs. As they reached the landing, he peered ahead and when he saw no one, led her to his chamber where she allowed him to usher her inside. The sound of the key turning in the lock behind them was loud and deafening. She felt no fear of him, but the situation was another matter entirely. While she was not a virgin, her knowledge of what was to happen was limited to something ugly and twisted.

  As if he’d sensed her fear and her doubts, he said, “Yes, you are in my room. The door is locked not to keep you in but to keep others out. Anytime you wish to leave, you may do so… I will do nothing here that you do not wish for me to.”

  “I am fully aware of all of those things… it’s everything else that I find to be confusing.”

  He frowned. “I don’t quite understand what you mean by that.”r />
  “Last night, there was very little time to think… and it all seemed to just happen. But now, I’m thinking about it and wondering what I ought to do or say or feel, and I just—I just don’t know what to do! I feel like I’m on the verge of making a grand fool of myself!” At the end, she threw her hands up in an age old gesture of frustration.

  “Then might I suggest we start where we did last night?”

  “The library?” she asked, confused.

  “A kiss,” he corrected with a smile as he approached her. “Only a kiss.”

  Even aware of his intentions, when his arms closed about her and tugged her closed, Larissa gasped. There was no panic, no fear. The heat in his gaze, the urgency of his touch, only made her feel desired which in turn fed her need of him. As his lips descended on hers, her eyes fluttered closed and she gave herself up the flurry of sensation.

  The kiss was gentle, but no less commanding for its gentleness. His lips moved over hers as they coaxed and persuaded. She found herself kissing him back eagerly. Gently, he sucked and nipped at her bottom lip. Her lips parted on a sigh and he slid his tongue between her parted lips to tangle boldly with her own. All the while, his hands roamed, caressed her shoulders, her back, slid down to the curve of her hips. There were too many layers between them. She wanted to feel his hands on her bare skin.

  It was such a shocking thought that for a moment, it drew her out of the sensual haze created by their kisses. She pulled back from him, and he simply let her. His arms fell away, and though his breathing was ragged and his eyes burned with his desire for her, he made no move to stop her.

  “I told you,” he said softly, “I will not do anything that you do not wish for me to.”

  She nodded. “You needn’t even say so. If I believed otherwise, I would never have come here… Since I can hardly wake Dorcas for assistance, perhaps you could help me with my gown?” She turned her back to him, revealing the laces that would need to be undone. “I could manage on my own, but why should I?”

  “Why indeed?” he asked roughly. His hands came up, tugged at the laces, and then expertly loosened her gown so that it sagged from her shoulders, then with a courage that surprised them both, Larissa tugged at the fabric until it pooled on the floor at her feet. Clad only in her chemise, stays and petticoat, she stood before him nervously. It wasn’t fear of him that plagued her but the fear that perhaps he would find her wanting.

  “And your stays?” he asked. “Should I assist you with them, as well?”

  “Please,” she replied.

  His touch was less direct. His hands roamed over her, touching her bared shoulders, skimming along the edge of her stays and then down over the lacing, the backs of his fingers brushing against her bottom with each tug of the laces. Again, he expertly loosened the garment, but she elected not to question how well he navigated the removal of women’s clothing.

  “Do you require assistance with the remainder of your garments?” he asked as one finger traced a shiver inducing path along her spine.

  “Not quite yet,” she replied. “I think perhaps I’d be more comfortable if I weren’t the least clothed in the person in the room.”

  “Naturally, I’d never wish for your discomfort.”

  Larissa glanced over her shoulder as he unbuttoned his waist coat and shrugged out of it. His cravat followed. Then he was tugging his shirt up over his head, to toss it the floor. Clad only in his breeches, his chest bared to her entirely, she couldn’t take her eyes from him. His chest was thick and heavy with muscle, his broad shoulders and strong arms such a contrast to her own body.

  “You haven’t run yet,” he observed.

  “It isn’t part of my plan… Seduction does require that one remain present, after all,” she replied breezily.

  “I find this location to be somewhat less than conducive to seduction,” he admitted as his fingertips traced the crocheted lace at the neckline of her chemise.

  “And what location would you prefer?” she asked even as she shivered from the sensation of his callused fingers on her skin.

  “My bed,” he replied. “You may consider me seduced.”

  She laughed. “It doesn’t seem to have required much effort on my part.”

  “I am a man of easy virtue,” he replied. “Now come and take advantage of me… please, I beg you.”

  The easy banter, the playful side of him was one she had not encountered before. Their past interactions had always been fraught with unspoken feelings, with desires that neither felt free to act upon.

  Larissa placed her hand in his and allowed him to lead her to his bed. The house was quiet and still, the only sound was the low crackle and burn of the fire in the hearth. Spencer sat on the edge of the bed facing her. She stood between his knees and his head still reached her shoulders. He made her feel small, but not weak. “I’m afraid I’m not very good at seduction. I haven’t the faintest notion what to do next,” she admitted.

  Spencer couldn’t take his eyes off her. Clad only in her chemise and petticoat, the garments so thin that even in the dim light of the fire, they revealed more than they concealed. Seated as he was with her standing before him, her breasts were clearly displayed through the linen of her chemise and were more temptation than any man could resist. Gently, almost reverently, he slid his hand from her waist, over her ribs. His thumb brushed against the underside of her breast. She stilled, not even breathing, but she didn’t pull away. Shifting slightly, he dragged the pad of his thumb over the taut peak. The breath she’d held shuddered out of her and her eyes drifted closed.

  He was conscious of every movement and catalogued her every response. She had gifted him with more than simply her body, precious as that was. She had gifted him with her trust and it was paramount that he act accordingly. If she were to reconsider, he would let her go. It would be an utterly miserably moment for him but the alternative would not even be considered.

  More firmly, he kneaded the softly rounded flesh and teased the hardened bud of her nipple. A sound escaped her, part sigh and part moan. That small sound was like the greatest of treasures. She leaned into him, accepting his touch; it was all the encouragement he needed. He dipped his head and pressed his mouth to her chemise, taking the tender nub between his lips. Her hands slid into his hair, holding his head in place. He had no intention of leaving, it was a feast he’d waited years to taste.

  Her back arched slightly as she sought to intensify the contact. Taking the taut peak fully into his mouth, he sucked greedily at her tender flesh while his hands slipped to her waist and released the tapes of her petticoat. It fell to the floor and then his hands roamed her legs, slid beneath the hem of her chemise. He stroked her thighs, the backs of her knees, and then allowed his hands to roam further, over the arc of her hips to the soft, rounded globes of her bottom. The satiny skin at the backs of her thighs just below the curve of each cheek was too tempting to ignore.

  She clung to him, breathless. When she whispered his name on a soft sigh, in the sweetest entreaty he’d ever heard, he lifted her into his arms and laid her back on the bed.

  He looked down at her, nearly naked, her body covered by a single, nearly transparent layer of linen, her face flushed with passion and her lips swollen from his kisses. He’d dreamed of this moment for so long it hardly seemed real to him. Then she reached for him and he gave up thinking altogether. He wanted to feel, to taste the sweetness of her skin and savor every touch.

  Spencer joined her on the bed and everywhere their bodies touched he felt the heat, the spark of need. The depth of his desire for her was beyond his ability to describe, so he didn’t bother to try. Instead, he sought to demonstrate. Every touch was calculated to draw out her pleasure, to build the anticipation and desire to a fever pitch.

  He teased each breast, with his lips and tongue, he drew on each pebbled nipple until she was gasping beneath him. He tugged at the hem of her chemise, drawing it up as his hands trailed over the silken skin of her thighs. From knees to hips
, he traced delicate lines on her flesh, allowing his callused fingers to coax soft sighs and moans from her. Her hands roamed over his chest, his back. She touched him greedily, as if trying to commit every part of him to memory.

  Eager for more, he allowed one hand to drift inward, along her inner thigh. She parted for him, granting him access. His fingers brushed against the soft curls at the apex of her thighs, and then dipped lower into the slick heat of her cleft. The evidence of her desire only spiked his own and he drew a deep shuddering breath as he struggled for control. Then her hands slid from his chest, to his waist, and lower.

  “You still have on too many clothes,” she chided softly.

  “I fear if I remove them, it will all be over to quickly,” he admitted ruefully.

  “Anything worth doing, is worth doing again, is it not?”

  That prompted a chuckle, which quickly became a groan. She might have lacked courage initially, but she had grown quite bold. Her hand slid over the front of his breeches, along the length of him. That tentative touch inflamed him more than any skilled courtesan ever had.

  Slipping his fingers deeper inside her, he kissed her and swallowed her cry. With the pad of his thumb, he found the small, hooded bud and began to caress it in time with the thrusts of his fingers. She arched beneath him, her body drawn taut with anticipation. He continued the sensual onslaught, teasing her flesh to new heights. Her thighs trembled and her belly quivered as she hovered there on the edge of her release.

  When she was mindless beneath him, her breathing ragged and her eyes heavy lidded and glazed with passion, only then did he strip the chemise from her entirely. Her body bared before him, he took a moment to savor it, to drink in the sight of her. He parted her knees further, opened her more fully to him, and played her body like an instrument. She came apart then, her whole body coiled with tension. She cried out as the first spasms took her, and then her body went limp even as she clung to him.