The Dark Regency Series: Boxed Set

by Chasity Bowlin

  “These,” he said, “are the moments when I regret that I am not a poet.”

  “I’ve no need of poetry,” she said. “I only need you.”

  Spencer dipped his head and placed a kiss between her breasts, over her heart. He hooked one hand behind her knee, opening her more fully to him as he settled between her thighs. Only then did he loosen the buttons of his breeches.

  She was not content to simply be the recipient of lovemaking. Larissa wanted to bring him the same pleasure he’d brought her. Reaching between them, both curious and eager, she closed her hand around the hardened length of him. The contrast of the satiny texture of his skin and the firmness of the flesh beneath fascinated her. She wasn’t a virgin, but neither had she ever had the experience of exploring a man’s anatomy. As he grasped her wrist and pulled her hand away, she realized she was yet to be denied.

  “I want to touch you,” she protested.

  “Later,” he vowed. “Later, I will gladly submit to your exploration… but now, it would surely kill me.”

  Larissa wasn’t certain what he meant by that, but she had no time to question it. He pressed against her, the blunt head nudged inside her. He was larger than she’d anticipated, and for a split second, panic threatened. But then he shifted slightly, and the same tension she’d felt before crept in, not unpleasant but anticipatory. There was more, and she wanted to experience it all.

  Some instinct prompted her and she drew her knees up, hugging his lean hips with them as he sank into her. There was no pain, no discomfort, only the very foreign sensation of fullness, but she relished it. To be so close to him was what she’d wanted for years. His hips rocked against hers, and pleasure washed through her. Each slow, deliberate stroke as he moved within her, withdrawing and then plunging in again was a pleasure so exquisite it bordered on pain. It flooded her senses and left her weak.

  Then the rhythm changed. What had been slow grew faster, and while his movements were tempered, they were not gentle. She looked up and could see the intensity of his desire. It was etched plainly on his face as he moved within her. She lifted her hips to meet each thrust, welcoming him into her body as the pleasure built. Now she understood what awaited her once the tension inside her broke and she was eager to experience it again, to share it with him. He thrust again, more forcefully and she felt him tense. His body drew taut and the breath shuddered from him with one final thrust.

  The rush and heat of his release triggered her own. She closed her arms about him and sighed his name. She held on tightly to him as her body quaked with it. When the last waves of pleasure had subsided, and their skin cooled in the chilled air of the room, they still held fast to one another. She was reluctant to let him go and it pleased her immensely that he felt the same. As she drifted off to sleep, she snuggled against him and savored the safety of being in his arms.

  Chapter Ten

  Larissa awoke with a start, immediately aware that she was not in her own bed nor was she alone. The large hand that rested on her hip curled proprietarily over her and memory rushed back bringing with it remembered pleasure and the faintest blush of embarrassment. She’d been bold and wanton and she regretted it not at all.

  “I can feel your mind working,” he grumbled. “Stop it. At least until morning.”

  Larissa peered through the bed curtains that he’d closed at some point during the night to ward off the chill. The faint gray light of dawn had begun to spill through the windows. “It is morning. And if I do not go back to my own room now, everyone in the house will know where I have been, and while I don’t imagine they will know precisely what we’ve done, many will be able to hazard an accurate guess.”

  He opened one eye as his hand roamed lazily over her body and he tugged her more tightly against him. She could feel the evidence of his arousal pressed firmly against her hip.

  “One day, very soon, you will not have to rush from my bed at the break of day.” He pressed a kiss against her shoulder.

  She shivered at the rasp of his beard on her skin. “We’ll have to have that discussion later. For now, you need to let me out of this bed so that I can dress!”

  He rolled onto his back, placed his hands behind his head and smiled. “Fine… but leave the curtains open so I may enjoy the view.”

  She tossed a pillow at him. “No! You’re getting out of this bed because I cannot get back into my stays and gown without your help!”

  He groaned. “I don’t like putting you in clothes. I’m much better at taking you out of them.”

  “We’re not going to discuss your skill at removing women’s clothing… not now. Not ever,” she said, her tone laced with warning.

  He raised one eyebrow at that. “Are you jealous?”

  “Perhaps,” she admitted as she yanked her discarded chemise over her head. “More importantly, I’m on the verge of utter ruin if you do not help me dress!”

  “You’ve no reason for jealousy… ever. And you certainly have no reason to be concerned about ruin!”

  As she stepped into her petticoat and secured the tapes at her waist, she glanced up at him. “Just because we are in the wilds of Scotland doesn’t mean that the rules of polite society no longer govern us! We were reckless last night.”

  “Do you regret it?” he demanded, gruffly as he rose from the bed and reached for his breeches.

  Larissa looked up and immediately wished she hadn’t. He held his breeches in his hand, but otherwise, stood before her in all his masculine glory. Long limbs, heavy with muscle, the light dusting of golden hair on his chest that arrowed downward—she definitely could not think about that at the moment. Even after averting her gaze, the golden perfection of his body lingered in her mind.

  “You could stay here,” he said, as if he had looked into her mind and seen her temptation. “We could draw the curtains and no one would know you were here.”

  “Until Dorcas screamed down the rafters looking for me,” she retorted as she shrugged into her stays. She could hear the rustle of fabric behind her as he donned his breeches. “Tie these, please.”

  He moved behind her and tugged at the laces, drawing them tight before he tied them. “If I entrust Forrester with the task, we might possibly locate a bottle of gin to placate her.”

  She laughed in spite of herself. “Dear heavens but I’ve courted ruin at every turn on this journey… Now behave. I have to go. We have work to do today!”

  “What weighty tasks have you to set before me then?” he demanded as she slipped her gown over her head.

  Larissa didn’t have to ask for his assistance. He dutifully tightened and tied the laces of her gown. “I won’t have you laboring in the fields!”

  “As they’re still covered in several inches of snow, I should hope not,” he replied.

  When he brushed her hair aside and placed a kiss to that tender spot where neck and shoulder met, her eyes closed for a second and temptation warred with determination. Still, Larissa’s determination won out. She forced herself to step away from him and then looked back, careful to avoid the broad and tempting expanse of his chest. “We’re going to work on genealogy today.”

  “How thrilling… Should I stab myself in the eye now or later?”

  “Spencer, I recalled something else that Finella had said to me… that there had been four Earls of Kinraven in less than a decade’s time. It stands to reason that someone in particular has something to gain by eliminating them!”

  “Four heirs is a great deal of elimination,” he pointed out. “There are easier ways to make one’s fortune.”

  Larissa attempted to comb her fingers through her hair to establish some sort of order, but given the wild tangle that resulted from their nocturnal activities, she was having little luck. “There is no fortune! You said so yourself. Kinraven is impoverished, but titles have a value all their own… and they are not exactly heavy on the ground. It isn’t about money, Spencer, it’s about something you’ve never had to struggle for and that is status, the title
itself.”

  “Fine. I’ll see you in the library.”

  She paused. “That’s it? No argument or no insistence that I return to the safety of Briarwood?”

  He shook his head. “You’ve made an excellent point and I happily concede it. As for your leaving Kinraven, I’m barely capable of letting you out of my sight, much less sending you half way across Britain. No. You’ll stay here… On the surface, I may have always appeared a reasonable and civilized man, but underneath, that isn’t the case. After last night, you are mine. Whatever else happens, I promise you, you are mine and anyone or anything who threatens that will know it!”

  The words were spoken matter of factly but the weight of them was staggering. “I’m not yours. I’m no one’s!”

  “You are mine,” he said evenly, though there was a spark of anger in his eyes. “Just as I am yours.”

  “No! Spencer, last night was more than I’d ever hoped for… but it doesn’t change anything. Having a long term affair is a risk neither of us can take!”

  “An affair? Do you honestly think I would take you as my mistress?” he demanded angrily.

  “Of course, I do! You certainly can’t take me as your wife!”

  “Why the devil not?” he shouted.

  Larissa’s heart stuttered in her chest. Had he truly thought to? “You must see it is impossible… My reputation was always suspect, Spencer. From the beginning there were whispers about Moreland. With his return and the things he’s said, half the ton thinks I’m a faithless trollop who led him on and the other half believes me to be pining for his affections while my cruel family keeps us apart… but universally, they all think I’ve been his lover. Do you really want to take a wife the entirety of society knows is not chaste?”

  He stalked toward her. Instinctively, Larissa backed away from him, from the cold fury she saw banked in his eyes. It was only when her back pressed against the wall that she stopped. With the advantage of his longer stride, he was already upon her, pinning her to the wall. He dropped his head down so that they were practically nose to nose. “I will have you as my wife… Whatever rumors, whatever gossip, whatever truth exists, I simply do not care. I have wanted you for longer than I should have. When you were still far too young and far too damaged to even consider in such a manner, my own thoughts shamed me.”

  She gulped, swallowed convulsively as she read the determination in his eyes. “I would not have your name sullied—.”

  “My name sullied? Did you know that I’m a bastard?” he demanded. He stepped away from her and paced the room.

  “Spencer—.” She stopped abruptly. What was she to say to such an admission after all?

  “If you want to discuss reputations then by all means, we shall. Mine is a lie… everything about is a lie. The man the world saw as my father reviled me. He urged me never to marry, never to have a son and let the title of Wolverstone pass to my cousin so that it would be carried on by the true bloodline!”

  Larissa was stunned, not only by his admission, but by the utter cruelty of his father. “That’s a horrible thing to say!”

  “It’s true. My own mother admitted it before she died. She’d had an affair with a duke while in Geneva, apparently. At least, he outranked my father.” He uttered the last with a bitter laugh before turning back to her. “So you can make all the objections you wish based on your past, but it matters little to me… If it means having you, I’d forgo every title, every shilling. I’d walk away from it all in less than a heartbeat.”

  “You don’t mean that,” she said. “When faced with the ridicule of your friends, when every person in society waits for me to cuckold you because of vicious, malicious gossip—how long would your admiration last then?”

  He cocked his head and repeated the word as if stunned. “Admiration? Is that how you define what lies between us? Admiration?”

  She could sense the anger in him but was uncertain of its source. “What other word would you have me use?” she asked.

  Spencer stared at her, hands on his hips, a muscle working in his jaw as he fought to contain his temper. Finally, when he spoke, his tone was bitter. “What a weak and pale description for what I feel for you! Love, Larissa. I have loved you for years. And I daresay, regardless of what you decide to do with that knowledge that I will go on loving you for years to come. I know of no other way to be nor do I ever wish to.”

  The admission left her stunned. She’d known that he cared for her, that he desired her. But love, the kind he spoke of with such ardent devotion, was something she’d never dared to hope for. Overwhelmed, frightened by how much she wanted it to be true and by the prospect that perhaps, while he meant it in the moment, when faced with the reality of how much Moreland had maligned her in society’s eyes that his feelings would change, she wanted only to get away. “I have to go,” she uttered, her voice panicked and tremulous.

  “You said you wouldn’t run away,” he challenged.

  “I am not running,” she protested. “But I need to think, and I cannot do that clearly in your presence. We will discuss it later.”

  “Yes, we will.”

  Larissa opened the door and fled. She’d only just rounded the corridor when she nearly smacked into the stick like figure of Mrs. Agatha. The woman’s face blanched, if that was possible, as she took in Larissa’s disheveled appearance. With her hair a mess, dressed in her gown from the night before and clearly coming from Spencer’s chamber, there could be little doubt in the woman’s mind as to what had been going. It was exactly the kind of encounter she’d hoped to avoid.

  “Miss Walters,” Mrs. Agatha began, “I have no notion of where you have been or what you may have been doing, but this is a decent household! I will not have you infecting the others present with your loose morals!”

  “Mrs. Agatha,” Larissa said, as she drew herself up to her full height and returned the woman’s imperious stare, “You forget yourself. It is not your place to scold your betters.”

  “Better? I see nothing of the sort! Only a light-skirt slipping back to her own bed in the morning!”

  “Regardless of your opinions of my behavior, you are an employee of Lord Kinraven. I am his guest, and clearly, I have his ear,” Larissa said.

  “It would appear you have a great deal more than that!” the woman spat.

  Under other circumstances, that scandalous retort would have been amusing. Given the source, it was merely trying. “As I said, it would take very little effort on my part, Mrs. Agatha, to see you removed from this house permanently. Watch yourself, madam.”

  Larissa said nothing further, she brushed past the angry housekeeper and made a beeline for her own room. As she entered the chamber, she saw Dorcas sitting up in the middle of the bed eyeing her speculatively.

  “Well, someone clearly had a late night of it! Would’ve thought to see a bigger smile on your face this mornin’, though!”

  “I just had a very unpleasant run in with Mrs. Agatha in the hallway,” Larissa responded. She pointedly ignored Dorcas’ veiled attempt to gossip about Spencer. She was not yet ready to discuss him with anyone, not the events of the previous night nor the revelations of the morning. There was much to consider before she could even articulate her own thoughts on the matter. Her feelings were not in question. She could admit, at least to herself, that she loved him and had loved him for years. But it was a different thing to love the idea of a person, to idolize and worship them, than to love the man with flaws, high-handed ways and a frequently foul temper.

  “That’d be enough to put anyone off,” Dorcas agreed enthusiastically. “But the question I have, is where were you all night long that you'd be running into the housekeeper this morning? And don’t tell me you were with Mary or John because I went to check on them several times last night and saw neither hide nor hair or you or the earl! Poor Forrester was near falling down this morning from staying up all night with them two!”

  Guilt crept in then. On top of her confusion and the turmoil creat
ed by Spencer’s declaration, she now had a guilty conscience to weigh on her shoulders. “I’ll go to them this morning.”

  “There’s no need. Gertrude is right there in the kitchen, will be all day. With everyone coming and going, they’ll be right safe. ’Tis only after dark when the kitchen is quiet and the servants abed that someone needs watch over them. I reckon I can nap this afternoon and take the night watch again… seeing as how you might be occupied.”

  “Dorcas, have I explained to you that being a companion means you should encourage me to proper behavior rather than delighting in my improper behavior?” Larissa asked.

  Dorcas chortled. “Proper behavior. Like I’d know it if I saw it! I need to slip down to the kitchen for a bit of sherry… should put me to rights. That whiskey from Seamus had a bite to it! While I’m down there, I’ll have the footmen bring you water to wash with. You’ll never get that hair tamed without it!”

  Larissa said nothing further as Dorcas donned her single gown and pinned up her braided hair. She’d need to get the woman new clothes, she decided. Dorcas was an unlikely companion, and her glancing acquaintance with propriety was glaringly obvious, but as Larissa was a fallen woman both in reality and in the eyes of society, she felt she was entitled to be a bit eccentric in her choices.

  Larissa seated herself on the edge of the bed after Dorcas’ departure and replayed the scene with Spencer from earlier. He’d been so furious that she’d dismissed the idea of marriage. It wasn’t lack of desire to be his wife. There was nothing she’d ever wanted more. But she couldn’t help but fear that she would be a hindrance to him. Spencer had always been all that was right and proper in the eyes of the world. What would people say of him if he were to take a sullied woman to wife? Would he grow disenchanted with her over time when doors were closed to him because of Moreland’s lies? Of course, it could be infinitely worse if Moreland told the truth of what had happened. The very idea of that sort of public humiliation left her weak and sick at heart.