Regency for all Seasons: A Regency Romance Collection

by Mary Lancaster

  He’d found his mate.

  More than that, it was as though his soul had been asleep until now, waiting for her, and now aroused by her familiar scent. Lavender. Aroused by the taste of her liquid sweetness. The silky warmth of her skin.

  Mine.

  She is mine.

  It was a primal recognition stretching beyond the bounds of time.

  Did she feel it as well?

  *

  “Violet…”

  She knew he’d held back to give her this pleasure. Dear heaven, his voice was raspy and straining from the effort. She felt his rigid fullness against her thigh, and now she was determined to give him a similar pleasure. The only problem, she did not know quite what she needed to do, for although her cousins had spoken to her about what would take place on her wedding night, and her aunt had talked in circles about it, none of them had given her explicit details.

  “Romulus, tell me what I should do.”

  He gave a groaning laugh and caressed her.

  She loved the look of him, his muscled strength and the taut planes of his body as he lay on his back and reached one arm around her to draw her closer to his side. His muscles rippled upon his golden skin as he nudged her atop him.

  But as he did so, she noticed that a few, thin lines of white marred his chest and arms. Scars from naval battles, she imagined. Some of them appeared new, still thin, red and puckered. “What you should do?” She rested her head against his chest, her breasts pillowed against him, and her legs entwined with his, although his were much longer.

  He gently ran his fingers through her hair, studying her as the long strands spilled across his arms and over his chest. “Yes, tell me what to do. Neither The Book of Love nor the women in my family went into detail about this moment. I should have spent last night reading an altogether different sort of book.”

  He chuckled. “You don’t need reading material for this. You’re doing just fine.”

  He took a moment to remove his breeches.

  Her eyes widened, not expecting…but she’d felt his stiffness against her thigh, and should not have been surprised by the aching need that suddenly swept over her. She wanted him inside her, wanted their bodies intimately connected.

  What they could not yet say in words, they would say with their bodies.

  “It may hurt a little at first, Violet.”

  She eased onto her back and opened her arms to him. “You won’t hurt me.”

  It was all the encouragement he needed.

  His big, solid body settled over her, the weight of him exciting even though he was careful to carry most of it on his elbows that were propped on either side of her. She ran her hands across the spray of gold hair on his chest and along the rock-hard bulge of muscles on his arms.

  As she closed her eyes and breathed him in, she caught the familiar bay spice scent on his warm skin. She kept her eyes closed as he settled himself between her legs, but her heart pounded with the uncertainty of what was to come. Of course, she trusted him and was calmed by the sweet words he whispered in her ear.

  To her embarrassment, it took nothing before she was ready for him, for he worked every part of her at once with his fingers and lips, building her desire with deep, probing kisses and a light, magical touch. He cupped his hand around her breast and rolled his thumb over it to tauten its tip. At the same time, she felt the press of him along the most intimate part of her.

  His thrusts were uncomfortable at first, but the discomfort quickly melted away, leaving in its wake sensations of pleasure she never dreamed could exist. She held on to his massive shoulders, felt herself carried along on a beautiful wave that ebbed and flowed, dipped and rose with his every thrust as he eased himself inside her.

  She marveled at the hot glisten of his skin, ran her hands, palms flat, along his body, and felt every strain and stretch of his powerful muscles.

  Somehow, she felt the intense build of his own need along with hers, and was amazed she could evoke such feelings in him. The Book of Love had explained a man’s urge to mate with any desirable female, but this was something more, something that could only exist between Romulus and her.

  As his own wave began to swell, hers did, too. They were both carried on magnificent crests that pulsed and pulled them along on an endless, quivering tide. He spilled himself inside her. “Violet,” he whispered, his breaths short and her name spoken in a groan. In this moment, she knew they were united forever.

  He held her close.

  He’d given her everything.

  The most precious gift he gave her was his heart. He trusted her to love him and hold him dear forever.

  She hugged him fiercely.

  He grinned at her. “How do you feel, sweetheart?”

  “Spectacular.”

  He growled low in his throat, obviously pleased by her answer.

  “What did you think of it, Romulus?”

  “I don’t know if I can quite put my feelings into words.” He shifted off her, but continued to gaze at her, now frowning.

  “Oh, you didn’t like it.” She tried to mask her disappointment. The moment had felt so special for her. She thought it meant something special to him as well. Was she mistaken? “This was my first time. I wasn’t–”

  He kissed her on the mouth. “I liked it very much. You stirred something deep inside of me, something I did not think could ever exist.”

  “What sort of thing?”

  He caressed her cheek with his knuckles. “You awoke a sleeping dragon. I don’t know how else to describe what I experienced while holding you in my arms and claiming you as my wife. Mythology has it that a male dragon takes only one mate for life. There is no courtship involved, for he knows her instantly. By her scent, I imagine.” He cast her a wicked grin. “By his first glimpse of her luscious, scaly skin. By her wing span that carries her lithe body through the air.”

  “Romulus–”

  “I know.” He cast her another grin, this one appealingly boyish. “Your skin is silky smooth, not scaly. Nor do you have wings. My point is, I knew you instantly in that way. In that deep recognition of the soul. It is said dragons roar together when they couple.”

  She inhaled lightly. “Was I noisy?”

  “Delightfully so. But so was I. Could you not hear me roar in victorious conquest? My throat is strained. The noises I made are still rattling between my ears.” He kissed her again and drew her into the circle of his arms. “When one dragon dies, the heart of the surviving dragon dies along with it. This is what I felt when coupling with you, that we are one now. One heart. One heartbeat. That if I ever lost you…I would lose the greatest part of me.”

  She nestled against him, overwhelmed that he should feel this way. He was noble and handsome and heroic. That she would feel this oneness with him was not surprising. What made her so special that he should feel it with her?

  It still made no sense.

  Did love ever make sense? Or was it just a wondrous, magical sensation meant to be accepted and not dissected and debated until all the magic washed away?

  “You are quite the romantic poet, for a sailor. But this explains how I felt the first time you touched me. When you pulled me into your kitchen and unlaced my gown to rub vinegar on me, it was as though I recognized you from somewhere deep in my soul, out of the eternal mists of time.” She glanced up at him and smiled. “Do you think there is such a thing as a dragon song?”

  “Oh, Lord. Violet, are you going to sing to me now?”

  She laughed. “No, you wonderful but still horrid man. You’re cringing again. I was merely curious how one dragon mate calls to the other.”

  “It is a silent call that carries through the air from heart to heart. The operative word being silent.”

  “That is nonsense. You were roaring. I was making all sorts of ghastly purring sounds.”

  “I liked your sounds. I’d like to hear them again, if you’re not too sore to have me inside you again so soon.”

  “I’m no
t too sore.”

  He shifted their positions so she was under him again. His gaze intensified, his eyes a beautiful, opalescent green. “Violet,” he said, stroking his hand lightly along her body, “there’s something you must know.”

  “About this second coupling?”

  “Yes. No. About us. To hell with books and their advice. To hell with how we ought to feel and when we should say something.”

  “Or when we should keep silent?”

  His smile was devastating. “We needn’t stay silent any longer. We were both thinking it at our wedding ceremony. We should have said it to each other then. It is obvious we’ve felt this pull to our hearts from the first. We don’t need dragon metaphors to state the obvious. Or fear it is a mistake to say it to each other now. I love you, Violet.”

  Her heart felt ready to burst with joy. “Say it again, Romulus. It sounded so nice.”

  He growled and nuzzled her neck. “I love you, Violet.”

  “I love you, too.”

  They coupled again, laughing with awareness as they exploded in bursts of starlight together, he roaring and she purring, their limbs hopelessly entangled. Their hearts rampantly beating as one. Their lips upon each other’s lips to keep their laughter and their noises muted. But mostly, it was because they liked to kiss each other.

  As they calmed, their bodies side by side and their fingers entwined, for Romulus had taken her hand and not let go of it, he turned to her with a wicked smile. “Are you hungry?”

  She arched an eyebrow. “For you? Yes, but are you recovered so soon?”

  He shook his head. “I’m wrung dry. You do that to me. But I meant actual food. We ought to keep up our strength.”

  “For more coupling?”

  He gave her a light, affectionate kiss on the lips. “No more tonight. You’ll be too sore to walk in the morning. I wasn’t as gentle with you as I meant to be.”

  She placed a hand to his jaw, the short, bristly hairs of his new stubble of beard rough against her palm. “You were wonderful. Did I complain?”

  “You’ll feel it in the morning. It’s like any exercise or exertion. Feels great in the doing, but you ache to your bones the following day.”

  “I’ll take your word on it. Right now, I feel warm and giddy. Still tingling.” She reached for her chemise and drew it over her body. It was one thing to be naked under the covers, but quite another to strut about without…well, Romulus did not appear to feel that way.

  He rolled out of bed and crossed to the bureau to collect the tray and place it on the small table by the window. He drew two chairs to the table. Moonlight spilled through the window, illuminating his lean, warrior body.

  She thought him incredibly handsome when clothed.

  Romulus unclad…

  “Like what you see, Violet?” He chuckled. “I think your tongue just rolled off the bed.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Romulus had silently sworn to himself he’d give Violet the day to recover. But he broke that oath the moment he awoke the next morning and saw her asleep beside him, her dark hair splayed across her pillow and the sheet not quite covering her breasts. Their dusky, rose tips beckoned him.

  He groaned, knowing he should not wake his beautiful wife. She was sleeping peacefully, her breaths even and relaxed. He could tell by the light rise and fall of her magnificent chest.

  His wife.

  He loved the sight of her, especially in his bed.

  As he contemplated what to do next, she stirred and stretched, and then opened her eyes and turned to him.

  Her smile lit up his heart, for it was as brilliant as a ray of sunshine. “Good morning, Romulus.”

  “Good morning, my love.” He meant to ask her how she felt after last night, but he didn’t want to know the answer. He wanted to be inside her again, holding her warm, creamy body against his.

  He kissed her.

  She kissed him back with ardor.

  He cupped her breast.

  The fleshy mound felt warm and soft.

  She arched her back and moaned.

  It was all the encouragement he needed. Blessed saints! He’d take any crumb she offered, but she was not holding back her love. She offered him everything.

  He did not hesitate to take it. The two of them were suddenly wild things, groping and laughing as they writhed and twisted in the sheets, desperate to wrap themselves around each other. He would have refrained, although it would have killed him. She only needed to refuse him, and he would have understood.

  But she wanted him, surprising him as she took the lead and encouraged his less than proper behavior.

  Her face hid nothing of her desire.

  Her eyes were closed and her lips sensually parted. Her skin was pink and flushed. And her breasts…he dipped his head and closed his mouth over one sweet bud, suckling it, guiding her to her shattering climax before he claimed his own.

  “Violet, that was…Lord help me, I’ll be dead by thirty.”

  She laughed and rolled atop him, her hair in a wild, silken tumble around her shoulders. “We shall both meet the same fate, I fear. I doubt we’ll go quietly. What you do to me, Romulus…the things you make me feel.”

  “I know, my love.”

  She sighed. “I was peacefully waking, and the next thing I knew, I was on fire and consumed in the burning heat of you. We shall go together in a burst of flames. You roaring, me purring. Or perhaps I shall be singing to you as we turn to ashes. I know how much you love to hear singing. Especially first thing in the morning.”

  He liked her teasing manner.

  He liked that she awoke happy and smiling.

  Was there anything he did not adore about her?

  The light rap at their door surprised them both.

  Romulus slipped the sheet over her shoulders to cover her, and then hastily donned his trousers before crossing to the door and opening it just enough to speak to whoever stood on the other side of it.

  His newly hired valet was before him, his expression strained. “Captain Brayden, I’m so sorry to disturb you.” He shrank back, as though fearing Romulus would sack him on the spot.

  “What is it, Winwood?”

  The man stared down at his feet, terrified to so much as glance up lest he accidentally glimpse the woman occupying Romulus’s bed. His wife, of course. But the poor valet obviously was not used to husband and wife sharing a chamber. They would have to work a practical schedule before his valet and her lady’s maid each ruptured a kidney over this situation.

  Winwood cleared his throat. “This letter was just delivered. The messenger said it was important and he would await Mrs. Brayden’s answer.”

  Romulus arched an eyebrow. “Mrs. Brayden?” He grabbed the note, expecting it was a mistake and he would recognize the Admiralty seal affixed to it.

  No mistake.

  The note was from Lord Forester.

  He already disliked the man. What right did he have to disturb Violet on the morning after her wedding?

  He wanted to rip it up before Violet read it, but that would rank among the stupidest things he’d ever done. She’d never trust him again. Besides, Violet might not be looking over his shoulder, but her ears were surely perked and she’d heard the note was for her. “Have the messenger wait in the kitchen. Ask Cook to offer him a cup of tea.”

  Just because he detested Forester did not mean he had to punish the messenger.

  When Winwood strode away, Romulus shut the door and turned to Violet. “It’s for you.”

  “Me?” She had already hopped to her feet and was tossing on her chemise, rushing to pull it over her slender body. Lord, her body. “I was sure it was for you, from the Admiralty.”

  She took the note from his outstretched hand and opened it, reading it where she stood. “Jameson wants me to meet him at the Royal Society this afternoon. His sister will be there, of course. They want to set up the hall for maximum effect and want me there to test my voice and see where it carries best.”
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br />   “Can’t they do it with another singer?”

  She frowned at him. “It wouldn’t be the same.”

  He wanted to argue the matter, but couldn’t. He understood only Violet’s presence would do. He would never allow just anyone else to perform his duties as captain on his ship. As much as he did not like or trust Forester, this was about Violet and her reason to be. She’d been given the voice of an angel. Her father called her his songbird. The orphanage was where her mother had been raised.

  He had to give his all in supporting her or risk breaking her heart. “I suppose we had to get out of bed sometime today. Of course, we’ll go.”

  “We?”

  “Violet, we’ve been married less than a day. I’m not letting my new wife out of my sight.”

  She arched an eyebrow, looking very much like an imp. “There will be singing.”

  “Your singing. Something I can easily tolerate. I’ll remain with you the entire time. I’m sure I’ll be transported by your every lilting note.”

  “What a load of hogswallop.” But she threw herself into his arms and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Thank you, Romulus. This means a lot to me. I’m so very grateful.”

  He twirled her around, laughing. “Just how grateful?”

  “Oh, I’m sure I’ll find a way to reward your low brain tonight. You forget, I’ve been reading more than The Book of Love.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “My cousin Lily’s baboon study. Baboons mate, too. In the wild. In the raw. Perhaps I’ll teach you a baboon mating trick or two.”

  He groaned. “My heart has stopped beating. You’ll have me dead before I reach twenty-nine.”

  She put her ear to his chest. “Nonsense, Romulus. You are in perfect health. Even your heart is strong.”

  “It’s beating so hard, it’s about to pound a hole through my chest.”

  She gazed up at him innocently. “Oh, then perhaps we ought to forget all about those baboon sex tricks.”

  “What?”

  “Shall I give you a sample now?”