Harlequin Historical July 2021--Box Set 1 of 2

by Virginia Heath

  ‘The fantasy was outstanding...but you are better, Hope. So much better than I could have imagined.’

  When he could stand it no longer, and had to touch, he did so with reverence, knowing he was indeed the luckiest man in the world but that she wouldn’t believe him if he said that. ‘Look what you do to me.’ He took her hand and wrapped it around his erection. Then caressed one of her sensitive puckered nipples so that she could feel his body twitch and pulse with need. ‘What on earth makes you think that you do not please me? I am overwhelmed, Hope. A lost cause. All yours to do with as you please.’

  It was pure torture watching her hand explore the shape of him, and he had to close his eyes because the pleasure was so intense. Because he had to, Luke kissed her lips again, dragging her on to his lap so that skin touched skin. Her breasts filled his hands, the saucy tips pebbling as his thumbs gently traced them. Only when he felt her sigh into his mouth did he lower them both to the mattress so that he could carry out his promise.

  He trailed his lips over her shoulders first, then down her arms. Kissed every finger before he moved to her stomach, and down her legs, then took his own sweet time retracing the route, waiting until she was moaning, impatient, before he finally allowed himself to taste her breasts.

  She groaned when he finally sucked her nipple into his mouth, and seemed delightfully surprised it brought her pleasure too, until the quest for pleasure took over and she anchored his head there with her hands. Sensing she needed more, he allowed his fingers to wend a lazy trail to the seductive triangle of curls, her hips instinctively rising to meet them.

  She trembled at his first touch. Her body soft. Already wet and ripe. As he stroked her and that tight bunch of nerve endings awoke, she struggled and writhed, murmuring nonsense as encouragement until she forgot to be embarrassed about her beautiful, lush and overtly feminine body and thrust her breasts towards his mouth demanding they be worshipped too.

  In mere moments, she was on the cusp, her muscles tense and her hips straining against his touch. He had never seen anything so alluringly erotic in his life as Hope in the throes of ecstasy. And she was his.

  All his.

  ‘Don’t stop, Luke...please don’t stop.’

  ‘I won’t, love.’ Her eyes fluttered closed, and as her hips bucked he gathered her close and kissed her as she came apart in his arms, capturing her cries in his mouth as she violently shuddered her release and collapsed boneless against him.

  Only then did he roll above her, moved beyond recognition by the gift she had bestowed upon him, yet still desperate for everything and needing to know her completely. As he kissed her, she stretched her limbs contentedly, opening her long legs in welcome and sighed as she kissed him back.

  He tried to take things slowly, but his body was possessed and desperate to be in hers.

  He tried to bring her to the cusp of oblivion again before he intruded, but his gloriously wanton and voluptuous new fiancée was having none of it. She reached between their bodies to stroke him too, smiling triumphantly at the profound effect her touch had on him, then when he could obviously bear no more, guided him to her entrance. Inviting him in. Those siren’s hips again rising to meet him until he couldn’t wait a second longer. It took every ounce of strength he had not to plunge mindlessly into her wet heat, to gently inch himself inside, only to stop short when he reached the barrier of her virginity and the barrage of intense, possessive emotions which assaulted him as he did.

  He would be her first and her last. Her one and only. No one would ever know her as completely and intimately. He was humbled and elated, and so filled with love it felt as though his heart might burst.

  They held each other tight as he pushed past and slowly began to move. Tentatively at first so she could get used to the size and shape of him, but as passion began to build again, she soon dictated the rhythm, enthusiastically meeting him thrust for thrust. As the walls of her body caressed him from root to tip, those long legs hooked around his hips and her fingers traced his face, more words of devotion spilled unbidden from his lips. Eyes locked, bodies joined, souls in perfect tempo, the need for words was gone and he lost himself in her entirely and all was unimaginable pleasure and exquisite pain.

  Nothing existed except them and that moment. The tangled limbs. The knotted sheets. Breathless, joyous, wonderous oblivion. Total trust. Complete surrender.

  A climatic explosion of light and stars and happiness.

  All wrapped tight and comforting in love.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  They didn’t waste the final hours of the night on sleep, even though they were both thoroughly sated and exhausted. Instead they talked and made plans. Hope sat propped against a nest of several pillows and Luke staring up at her, his head in her lap and his face mere inches from her shamelessly still-bare bosoms.

  Bosoms which she had more affection for now that she knew they could bring her so much pleasure and because he adored them so very much.

  ‘I think it makes sense to offload the bulk of your shares. Especially as owning them in the first place causes you undue worry.’ He had just outlined his plan to simplify his estate to make running it more manageable.

  ‘It’s not worry, exactly...more that I much prefer to fully understand it all. Which I can’t when all those separate businesses are run by faceless others who own more of a stake in the outcome than I do.’

  ‘You need to be in control.’ She understood that about him know. Luke had to be master of his own destiny because for so many years he had been at the mercy of others. ‘I cannot say I blame you. What will you do with the equity? Or will it sit in the bank with all the rest of the money?’ Another thing he wasn’t easy with. He had worked hard to be financially comfortable and independent, but to be now so rich that money was no object didn’t sit right with him. ‘Unless you intend to become philanthropic.’

  ‘I’ve thought of that and it goes without saying that some institutions should benefit from it. Like Dr Long Fox and Brislington House. I would trust him implicitly after he helped my mother. But others that I know precious little about and have no relationship with...’ He idly tugged one of her curls as he frowned. ‘Again—the lack of control would keep me awake at night. How do I ensure my charitable gift gets used in the right way and goes to the right people?’ He rolled his big body so that he could face her, propping himself up on one elbow, as unashamedly naked as the day he was born, rumpled from their lovemaking and as sinfully handsome as she had ever seen him. ‘I’ve been thinking about duplicating his ideas and those of others like him, and perhaps setting up my own hospitals around the country and here in the capital. I keep reading about the horror stories of the York Asylum and Bedlam, so similar to the atrocities of Mill House, and feel obligated to rectify them in some small way. If I cannot shut them down, at least I would like to offer an alternative. I certainly have the money and with all the property in my portfolio, there has to be some place suitable to make a start. What do you think?’

  That she had picked the very best man in the world to fall head over heels in love with. ‘I think, as a marquess who now has a voice in Parliament and bizarrely seems to be earning the respect of everyone despite your annoying roguishness, you could do both. Open hospitals and use your dazzling Duff charm to align others to your cause to change the law. I suspect you’d have a lot of support for it. There have been rumblings of concern for years.’

  His expression was thoughtful as he let that sink in. ‘I never thought of that but it’s a good idea. There is no earthly reason why I couldn’t do both. It would be good to put this damn title to use too.’

  ‘Then here’s another idea to consider—involve your mother. For who better to spearhead your crusade than one who has suffered it?’

  ‘Oh, I couldn’t do that.’ He didn’t bother giving that a second’s thought. ‘She isn’t strong enough.’ He tapped his forehead. ‘To
o much stress might cause a relapse.’

  Overprotective to the bitter end. ‘I think she might surprise you.’ She had certainly surprised Hope.

  ‘She’s been through too much.’

  ‘I know she has. We had a long chat about it all last night in the garden.’ She wouldn’t mention Maria’s brief moment of panic. A promise was a promise after all, even if it meant keeping it from Luke. ‘She told me everything and has quite an interesting perspective of it all now that she is out the other side. She even suggested I should write a novel based on the way the supposed lunatics are treated. You should talk to her about it too. At least gauge her opinions on the idea before you run ahead in your own well-intentioned, over-protective and cloddish Cornish way. To do this properly, to do your brilliant future hospitals justice, you need to be able to see both sides of the coin.’

  His eyes narrowed playfully. ‘Is this what I have to look forward to? A lifetime of nagging, logic and sensible ideas which stop me from making a ham-fisted hash of things.’

  ‘Among other things.’ She kissed him and sighed as it inevitably made her want more. ‘I’d better go. The sun is coming up. My mother will kill us both if she discovers I’m missing.’

  ‘Or we could make a mad dash for Gretna Green instead? I could have my wicked way with you all the way there and all the way back...’

  ‘Tempting—but I fear my mother will definitely murder us then. She’s waited twenty-three years to see me married, and, after Faith, adores being the mother of the bride. If she doesn’t get to crow about it from the rooftops, there will be hell to pay so best to stick to our original plan of September.’

  He watched her stuff herself into her dress, an odd experience when she had never done anything like that in front of a man before, and helped her roll undergarments into her stays. He would have followed her stark naked out on the balcony too if she hadn’t insisted he put something on in case one of the other residents of Bloomsbury happened to see him. And because he had a flimsy relationship with propriety at the best of times, he insisted on giving her a searing kiss before he helped her back to her own. As he handed her the bundle of unmentionables, his eyes raked her possessively one last time.

  ‘Will you lie with me tonight?’

  ‘I might.’

  ‘That’s a resounding yes then because you, madam, cannot keep your hands off me. And who can blame you? I am irresistible and quite the catch.’ The cocky, lopsided grin was back with a vengeance.

  ‘Talk to your mother, Luke. The pair of you never talk about her illness and I think she really wants to.’ Then she blew him a kiss. ‘I’ll see you at Gunter’s, and if you aren’t vexing for once, I’ll let you distract me in the park afterwards.’

  * * *

  Hope skipped breakfast with her family. Not because she wasn’t starving—because after the long and eventful night with Luke she was famished—but because she didn’t trust herself to behave normally around them. She needed a few hours to digest everything before she risked conversing with them in case they instantly spotted the change in her, knew she had been thoroughly deflowered and was totally delighted to have been so. Parts of her still throbbed from their joining, an unsettling and constant reminder of the level of intimacy they had indulged in. Because of her body’s eagerness to experience it again, her cumbersome bosoms, in particular, were heavy and expectant and there was an unmistakable need between her legs which would likely send her quite mad herself if it wasn’t dealt with soon. Their passionate lovemaking had all been so enlightening, satisfying and freeing, she practically floated to Paternoster Row, grinning like an idiot yet still feeling slightly guilty that she had twisted Luke’s arm into a proposal.

  In all good conscience, she would have to talk to him about that before they announced the news to their families later. Just to be certain he did want to marry this September and not wait a little longer until they knew each other better.

  She handed over the signed contract which her new fiancé had gone over with a fine-tooth comb, then settled down for a long but interesting meeting with her new publisher where he appraised her of all his plans. He wanted to release Phantasma in January. The logic behind this was that people preferred to read ghost stories in the depth of winter, when the joy of Christmas was done and several more months of depressing cold weather stretched before them. As that made perfect sense to Hope, she trusted Mr Cooper to know the business aspect of the book market far better than she ever could.

  He also had a revolutionary plan to release the first chapter to one of the newspapers on the publication day to generate excitement, assuring her that once they had read the opening scene, they would need to know who the Phantom was. The timing, he added, would be doubly advantageous as it would coincide with Charity’s debut in The Marriage of Figaro and the wave of publicity which was bound to accompany both daughters of England’s premier portraitist and his famous soprano wife was something money couldn’t buy.

  His rapid about-turn about her using the name Brookes all now made sense. As much as they all frequently lamented the gossip columns’ obsession with them, she now understood why her parents said it was both a blessing and a curse. For once, the family notoriety would work in her favour and it was about time too.

  As the meeting came to a close he beamed at her across the table. ‘I suppose the only thing left to discuss is the exact name you want on the binding.’

  ‘I thought we had agreed on that?’

  ‘Indeed we have, my dear, but I have heard that by then you might not even be a Brookes at all.’ He smiled knowingly. ‘Obviously, you can of course, have Hope Brookes stamped in gold leaf on the binding and for obvious reasons I should like to keep the Brookes at all costs.’ In view of his initial reluctance, the irony of that statement was not lost on her. ‘But you could add a hyphen and the Duff.’

  Hope Brookes-Duff.

  She let that sink in for a moment and decided she liked it. They would have been married a good three months by then and it seemed fitting to acknowledge their union in that way. Luke was her biggest fan, in so many ways and she had him to thank for pushing her into submitting her novel. ‘I think I would prefer Hope Brookes-Duff.’

  ‘Then that is what it shall be.’ He stuck out his hand and shook hers. ‘Welcome to the fold and my hearty congratulations on your engagement. You’ve got yourself a good man there. Smart and charming.’

  She did and smiled proudly as Mr Cooper led her to the door, until the ramifications of what they had been talking about suddenly struck home. ‘How did you know we were engaged?’ Because she certainly hadn’t been until the small hours of the morning and she hadn’t even told her own family the news yet. The pair of them were going to announce it tonight at dinner. Or so she thought.

  ‘Well...er... I...’ His eyes were blinking rapidly. ‘I think I read it in the newspaper.’ He was clearly lying.

  ‘Mr Cooper—have you, by any chance, met my fiancé?’ How else would he know that Luke was both smart and charming?

  ‘I...er...obviously we recently met at some function or another. I forget where.’ He waved his hand dismissing it, a hint of panic in his eyes. ‘You can tell a great deal about a chap from one meeting and your Luke...’ He clamped his jaws shut as her eyes narrowed, clearly realising he had just dug himself into an enormous hole.

  Just call me Luke!

  The sneaky scoundrel had obviously gone behind her back despite her explicit instructions to steer well clear. ‘Did you happen to meet him last Tuesday, Mr Cooper?’ The morning when she received Mr Cooper’s missive appraising her of his change of heart straight after the night of the roses and Luke’s pretty apology. Then blithely and convincingly congratulated her on Mr Crocker seeing sense.

  Crocker!

  The devious, conniving, overbearing... ‘He came here, didn’t he?’ And she was going to wring his neck when she got her hands on him. Dec
orate him in violet ice cream in the middle of Gunter’s while she gave him a piece of her mind. ‘He put pressure on you to allow me to use my real name instead of a pseudonym.’

  ‘Er...not exactly.’ Mr Cooper retrieved his handkerchief and used it to nervously mop his brow. ‘I’ve stupidly put myself in an impossible position because I promised him faithfully I wouldn’t mention it.’

  This time, her tone was stern. ‘Did Luke bully you into using my name?’

  ‘Of course not! I am not a man to be bullied, even by a shareholder.’

  ‘A shareholder!’ This was going from bad to worse.

  All this time Luke had had shares in Cooper and Son and not said a damn word about it! Now, all her doubts about her ability as a writer sprang to the fore, making her question why the publisher had wanted her book in the first place. Was this all Luke’s doing? In his well-meant and over-protective interference to make her dream come true, was he unintentionally setting her up for a fall?

  Mr Cooper winced, then huffed, defeated. The game was up and he knew it. ‘To be fair to him, he had no idea he owned shares until last Tuesday, and simply came here to introduce himself.’ There was no simply with Luke. The wretch had done it all deliberately. ‘And then we got chatting and he mentioned he had read your book and we had a long discussion about the sublime complexity and page-turning qualities of your plot, Miss Brookes.’ It galled that those compliments stroked her ego even though she was still righteously furious at Luke for his interference. ‘Then he was the one who suggested January as the perfect release date as he and his mother always read macabre stories to while away the long winter nights in Cornwall...’ All so totally Luke. ‘And then he happened to mention how clever it was of me to have signed you when the name Brookes and publicity went hand in hand. Especially after all the recent splendid coverage of your mother’s performance in Così fan Tutte and your sister’s recent success in the art world and I realised I was missing a trick in not using your real name...’