Alexander hauled him off to the stable none too gently, while Blake helped Robin and Darren up to the house. Only when they were gone did Michael let the butt of the musket he had been leaning on slip, and collapsed to the ground at last.
Bryony was instantly at his side, cradling his head against her bared bosom.
"Oh God in Heaven, Bryony, please, just get me back into the house," he panted, writhing in the worst agony he thought he had ever felt in his life.
He turned his face into her bosom for a brief second, breathing in her clean, fresh scent, like a spring meadow, roses and newly-mown grass.
At last the stench of gunpowder and blood faded. He sat up just long enough to strip his jacket off, throw it around Bryony's bared upper half, and put her arms in the huge sleeves. Then he laid his head in her lap and wept.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Much later when the house had settled down thanks to Blake’s excellent care for all his patients, Bryony and Michael were safely in their bed, the children sleeping on the small sofa behind a screen.
Darren was bruised, but not concussed, and a sleeping draught for Gavin had soothed him into a peaceful slumber after his terrifying ordeal.
Robin the valet was resting comfortably belowstairs, proud of his hero status in the eyes of the rest of the staff for helping stopped Derek Dalrymple from kidnapping the young master. They waited on him hand and foot, and every so often asked him again what had happened, so they could relive the drama all over again.
Blake examined Michael once more, and looked pointedly at his oldest friend. "Well, do you think it was the treatment Bryony was giving you, or were you practising all along behind our backs? Or was it your mind playing tricks on you?"
"All of the above," Michael confessed sheepishly. "I think I didn’t want to be better for a few reasons. Firstly, that I didn’t deserve to be after all those poor young soldiers in France I killed. And my own men dying without me there. The losses were so heavy. It was dreadful, my worst nightmare come true.
"I thought I had been through a lot until I woke up in the hospital and found so many of my comrades gone, as if they had never existed. I never even got to say goodbye, and it had all been for naught. Napoleon had abdicated. All that slaughter had been for nothing." He shook his head and pushed the memory aside forcefully at last.
"With Bryony coming along, I had new hope, a reason to get well. But I also a reason to not want to. I was afraid that she had pitied me only. That as soon as I was well, things would change between us. It seemed easier to keep things as they were. I’m sorry for ever doubting you, love. I hated being dependent, but I thought if Bryony knew how much I needed her, she might not leave me."
"I would never leave you. I love you," she reassured him with a tender smile.
He nodded. "I know. But I was also concerned that once I was able-bodied, you’d fear me the way you feared all men after what your first husband did."
She shook her head and kissed him on the cheek. "I could never fear you, darling."
"Not even after what you saw today? That was the real me, the savage killer," he said, his face contorted with anguish.
She shook her head. "I did see the real you, a man who loves his wife and sons, and let justice be done without taking it into his own hands. There’s nothing for me to fear any more now, ever."
"Well," Blake said, snapping his bag shut, "as your doctor I advise plenty of rest for the next couple of days. Then to institute a more gradual regimen of practicing walking, with some bars for support and so on. I would suggest the path out at the front for starters. For now I’m going to just say well done, even if you did deceive us a bit. I’m just so relieved that everyone is all right. And that Bryony’s past troubles are finally all over."
When he had gone, she asked softly, "Do you think he’s right? That it really is all over?"
Michael nodded. "Yes. I think so. I don’t know how he found us. Alistair swore that he would protect you. But Derek will be in jail for a long time. Even when he gets out, if he ever does, he knows me well enough to be sure I’ll carry out my threat."
"And his mother?"
"She’ll be easy enough to buy off. We’ll get Alistair to draw up something sensible and force them both to sign it. But not too soon. Let Derek sweat in jail for a time fearing the worst."
She looked at him in surprise. "I’ve never known you to have a cruel streak."
He laughed harshly. "Cruel doesn’t even begin to describe how I felt when I saw what he had tried to do to you. I went wild, even beyond what I feel when I see blood. I was so furious I would gladly have killed him.
"But a voice in my head, your voice, told me there are worse things than death. I knew that if I killed him you would never forgive me, that I would lose you. And if I killed again I wouldn’t have been able to forgive myself either. You called me back from the brink of disaster yet again, my love." He took her hand and kissed it.
She laid her head on his shoulder and nestled close against him on the bed. "Thank you for saving my son."
"Our sons. We’re going to raise them together to be good and decent, and excellent brothers to any other little arrivals we chance to find along the way."
"In the cabbage patch?" she asked mischievously.
His hands roved over her boldly. "Perhaps. I do so enjoy ploughing and digging."
"Oh stop," she gasped at the intensity of his caress, fearful the boys would wake.
He brushed her tousled hair back from her face and kissed her on the brow. "I’m sorry, I forgot myself. I hardly dare touch you after what that brute nearly did-"
She took his hand and put it to her breast, before unbuttoning his jacket, which he had thrown over her to cover her nakedness, and she had been wearing ever since.
"I want your hands upon me to banish the darkness and the memory. You’ve only ever touched me with love, and I have to believe it’s stronger than hate."
"I pray so," he said sincerely.
She nodded. "I know so. Today we defeated Derek with the help of Robin and your friends. Even little Darren defied him. Now all my demons are gone, all of them, including my fears for your recovery. We can look forward to a happy future, and you’re never to tell me again that you want to give me up for my own good."
"I swear, I never will. I was so frightened that you would be taken—"
"But I wasn’t. I’m here with you now and here I stay," she reassured him with a loving kiss.
"I’m only sorry I didn’t ask you to marry me sooner. I hate to think of all those months we wasted, with me struggling against fate, and what was meant to be."
She shrugged one shoulder as if it didn't concern her in the least. "It was better to be sure, really sure, than to do something hasty that we might both regret."
"But I treated you like a servant," Michael reminded her sadly, stroking her cheek with one broad thumb.
"Only because I insisted that you make me work for a living," she said, before giving him a tender kiss. "Besides, you have nothing to reproach yourself for. You were a model master. I couldn’t have asked for a better situation, or home."
"Now I shall devote myself to being a model husband, and father. Nothing is more important to me than the three of you, and any other children the gods see fit to provide us with."
"You already are a model spouse. You know what I want even before I do," she said with a smile.
"You’ve most certainly read my mind on a few occasions," he purred, smothering her face in kisses.
She grinned up at him. "I’m glad. It wasn’t always easy, though. You were so determined to do the right thing. But all along I wanted you. You just couldn’t believe it."
He stroked her hair back from her brow lovingly. "I shall never doubt a word you say ever again. Except when you say no when I try to kiss you down-"
She blushed, and said shyly, "If you really enjoy it, I shan’t say no."
"If you really hate it then I shan’t do it any more," he said, h
is eyes glowing with love.
She kissed him reassuringly. "Everything you do is wonderful. It’s just all so marvellous. It can be frightening at times how much I want you. But we have the rest our lives to explore one another, and discover new things."
"Yes, that wedding gift of Ash’s looks like some most diverting bedtime reading," he said with a smile. "I don’t think I shall be up to all of the positions, but in most cases it appears you have to be the more flexible of the two of us anyway."
She gave a sultry smile of her own in return. "So long as I can have a massage or two from you, darling, I’m more than happy to do the work."
"So long as you let me have one of your special lingam massages and that spiced tea, sweetheart, you can have whatever you want."
She cast a look over at the boys, still sound asleep. Now?
Now.
She sat up to divest herself of her clothes, and began to remove his. Forever? Please?
He nodded, the joy of a blissful future with Bryony filling his heart nearly full to bursting.
"Whatever you want, you have only to ask. I would be less than a model master and husband if I denied you anything. You have all of me heart, body and soul, now and always, my dearest love."
Yes, my darling Michael. Forever.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
Nothing is better than the joy of falling in love. And I most certainly adore my career writing romances. But it occurs to me that books and movies often set up an artificial standard to be admired and emulated. One which, while it does not inevitably lead to disappointment, can certainly project a false image of ‘how love is supposed to be.’
The truth is that every couple is different, and every couple will encounter problems in their relationship. Some encounter them right at the start, others much later, but relationships are always a test of love and courage, for they leave us vulnerable.
When I was doing the research for this novel, I began thinking about my life as a suddenly disabled person. The changes which have had to be made as a result of my debilitating heart condition.
It is easy to feel sorry for oneself when you face a major health challenge, and think why me. But as I sat in the hospital for weeks, I actually drew a lot of hope from the experience. I realised that many other people have gone through the same thing, or far worse.
One needs only think of Christopher Reeve. He was at the time, and still is a very public symbol of the thousands of people suddenly struck down with some condition which makes them considered less than ‘normal’ (whatever that can be defined as).
So how does one cope with a partner who is disabled in some way? Well, obviously it depends to a large extent upon the nature of the disability, and whether it is physical or mental.
Often if will be both, a question as much of attitude as it is of aptitude. Michael does not want to or even feel he deserves to be loved, or to try to improve, until he is motivated. One can only ever be supportive and understanding, but as with anything else, ultimately if we love someone we allow them to make their own choices, even if we feel them to be a mistake.
The Tantra is a lovely way to develop intimacy even when ‘normal sex’ can not be engaged in. Or I would advocate what has been termed ‘outercourse’, the realisation that pleasure can come from any part of the body, not just the obvious ones. (This is also used in connection with male sexual problems such as PE and ED). The main motive is to make the other person happy, rather than yourself, and can be a real blessing for people who face health challenges, bad backs, and more. Not to mention a way of making things more exciting if you've been together for some time and want to spice things up a bit.
In all of my most recent novels the heroes have been flawed in some way, but that does not make them any less lovable or deserving of love. Just because they are not violent Alpha males does not make them any less sexy to my mind, or those of my heroines, strong women who can give of themselves without ending up victims or doormats. I hope all of you agree.
At the end of the novel, Michael is on the way to his road to recovery just like Alexander and Will in Books Four and Five of the series. They are the fortunate ones; many scarred by war were and are not so lucky.
We shall have to wait to see what happens to Ash, and some of the other characters we have met in the series thus far. And Michael will also be back soon as a supporting character, for he and Bryony's adventures will continue along with the rest of the Rakehells'.
In our next book we revisit Blake’s cousin Martin Jerome, nearly hanged by Gerald Hawkesworth in the very first book in this series, The Mad Mistress. Four years have passed since his devastating assault and near-death experience, and the murder of his newly-wed bride.
As we have seen with Michael Avenel in this book, often the mental scars can be worse than the physical. It will take a very special woman to uncover the secrets locked inside his heart. We hope you will join us to find out who it is! Don’t miss The Model Mistress, the next novel in the Rakehell Regency series.
As always, I love to hear from my fans at: http://www.herstorybooks.com.
Thank you all so much for taking the trouble to be so responsive to my novels. Wishing you all much love in your lives until next time.
S. M.
On the shores of glorious Western Ireland
FREE PREVIEW
The Model Mistress
Book Nine of The Rakehells Regency Romance Series
Steamy Forbidden Passion…
Martin Jerome has been a shadow of his former self ever since he and his new bride were attacked by highwaymen on their wedding night four years before. The dark secrets of that fateful evening have haunted Martin ever since.
A chance meeting with lovely Eswara Paignton opens up a whole new world of passionate possibilities. Eswara, a great healer from India, can sense Martin's inner turmoil and despair, and longs to help him heal and be able to love again.
Martin finds himself seeking out the alluring widow's company more and more. Both silently ache for the other. Both know the potential consequences of becoming lovers in their rigid society.
The more they struggle against their attraction, the more certain they become that their explosive passion is truly a gift from the gods. Eswara opens up the world of Tantra to Martin, with the most erotic results. She becomes the model mistress, in bed and out.
Martin aches to be worthy of her in order to marry her. Does Martin dare tell her what REALLY happened the fateful night his wife was killed?
Just when he is about to bare his soul to Eswara, she and her son Ash vanish. Martin is devastated at the loss of the only woman he has ever loved more than life itself, and the young man he has come to look upon as his own. Has Eswara REALLY just tired of their affair, or has the hell he went through four years ago come back to haunt him and destroy his happiness once more.....
"You're easily the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on," he said candidly.
"Thank you. But you need someone your own age to-"
"I don't need anyone now," Martin said quietly.
Eswara could see his face closing up again as it had before. "No, not now. True. But one day. In the meantime you have to promise me you'll continue your explorations of your inner being and self so that when it does happen you'll be ready. After all, I stopped at your waist. There is so much more fun to be had."
She gave him a long look, causing his manhood to surge against the sheets. "Just wait until you get to your feet. Toes can be wonderful things." She winked, and thus managed to coax a grudging smile from him. "More tea?"
"No, I think I can sleep now, if you'll do one more thing for me."
"If I can."
"Stroke my face until I fall asleep? And a kiss goodnight, and one from me thanking you for everything you've done wouldn't been too terrible, would it? Between friends, right?"
"No, not at all. You first."
Martin pecked her on the cheek shyly, blushing.
Eswara debated with herself the wisdo
m of what she was about to do. She could just peck him back and have done with it.
But this evening had been all about his pleasure. So she bent her head and put her lips to his. Summoning up all her imagination, and well-aware of his magnificent bare body right underneath the covers, so close yet so far, she kissed him ardently.
She held off his hands lightly when he would have encircled her to crush her to his chest. She teased him with her lips, tracing the shape of his lips with hers, and then with her pointy pink tongue.
Martin groaned as the kiss deepened and she explored his mouth thoroughly. She could feel his body vibrating underneath the sheets. She lifted her mouth slightly to nibble his full bottom lip, and sucked it into her own mouth.
The Model Master Page 28