From France, with Love: League of Unweddable Gentlemen, Book 1

by Gill, Tamara

  Her acceptance of him, her willingness broke what little control he had and he thrust into her, wanting to make her his and his alone.

  She gasped, pulling him down for a flagrant kiss.

  He kissed her deep, his tongue mimicking his strokes and within a few minutes he wanted to lose himself within her. But not yet, it was too soon. He had to hold off a little longer.

  She reached down with one hand, clasping the cheek of his ass and pulled him deeper. With a tilt of her hips Tate sheathed himself fully and his restraint fractured. He thrust into her, once, twice, three times and came with such force that he forgot their location and called out her name.

  Ava gasped, moaning his in turn and the sound of her enjoyment was a match to his flame. She was as perfect for him as the day he’d asked her to marry him all those years ago. He’d wanted nothing more than to bundle her up, take her home and keep her in his bed and life for forever and a day.

  He collapsed to the side of her on the settee, pulling her to lie in the crook of his arm. The clock on the mantle clicked, marking the late hour of one in the morning. “I do not ever wish to move. I would be quite content to stay here with you forever if I could.”

  Ava ran her hand over his chest, playing with the buttons on his waistcoat that he’d not even removed in their haste to have one another. “And I too, alas, we cannot. We must return to the ball before we’re missed.”

  Tate sighed, not wanting to do anything. “If I agree to take you back to the ball, will you dance with me?” He turned to meet her gaze. “Do I warrant a place on your dance card now?”

  She grinned, raising her brow. “I think you do,” she said, turning to look up at the ceiling and growing serious of a sudden. “If you want to know the truth for my displeasure, I know your history with Lady Clapham and I couldn’t stand it. A woman who is titled, beautiful and elegant, of your social sphere. Well, I’m not fool enough not to know I was jealous.”

  He turned her face to look at him, beseeching her to believe his words. “I’m not looking at Lady Clapham to be my wife.” I want you as my wife, to be by my side always. He didn’t say the words, not yet at least, but he would. Everything that lay between them needed to be discussed and soon. “She is merely in the dowager’s employ and nothing more.”

  When it came to Ava, there was no-one who occupied his heart as much as she did. She had always been the one. A realization he’d come to know the moment she confronted him at his stables after five years of not seeing her.

  “When we return to Berkshire we will discuss what this all means. What we want.” He wanted her. As his wife, his confidant and partner. Nothing else would do.

  She smiled, leaning up to kiss him quickly. “I think that would be best.”

  Chapter 13

  I realized today that I have moved on in my life. That although marriage is not something that I desire any longer, know that I’m happy.

  – An Excerpt from a letter from Miss. Ava Knight to the Duke of Whitstone

  The following morning Ava woke late and rolled over on her mattress to stare out of the window of her room. She’d heard a maid come in earlier and open the blinds, carrying in some fresh water and wash cloths, but Ava had fallen back to sleep.

  The ball the previous evening had turned out much better than Ava had thought it would. Certainly after being a jealous little swine over Lady Clapham and all but storming out of the duke’s home earlier that morning, she’d not thought he would explain her ladyship’s situation.

  How wrong she’d been. Not that it changed much about their predicament, but it did make her feel somewhat better knowing his attachment to the lady was over. Still, she thought the best course for her was to keep her independence. The duke was so very revered within Society, people looked up to him, he was kind and a lot was expected of him. The role of his wife would be a massive undertaking, and Ava wasn’t convinced she wanted it.

  One thing she was sure of however was that she wanted Tate. The fire that burned, licked and charred their resolve whenever they were near one another could not be ignored. But there was another option they’d not contemplated, that of them becoming lovers.

  Making what had occurred at Lord York’s ball a permanent arrangement between them.

  No marriage, no contracts, no expectations, simply time together, enjoyment and pleasure.

  Nerves fluttered in her belly at the memory of what they’d done in that private room. Ava grinned, biting her bottom lip. She wanted to do it again and soon.

  She pushed back her bedding and went about her morning routine before dressing in a light blue morning gown. Before she headed back to Berkshire she’d gone into Hatchards and ordered some books on horse breeding and lineage and they were supposed to be in by today. She would call in the bookstore before heading over to Hyde Park to meet with Hallie and Willow.

  With the viscountess living in Mayfair it was only a short walk to Hatchards, and at the early hour when most households would still be abed after a late night at balls and parties about London, Ava had little trouble making it to the store within reasonable time.

  The little bell above the door chimed as she entered, and saying hello to the clerk behind the desk, she walked about to see if there were any other books she would like. The comforting scent of leather and polish permeated the air, the quiet, hushed tones of other booklovers in the store as they walked about made her smile.

  For a time, Ava lost herself within the rows of books, the variety on offer, before one book in particular caught her eye. Opening the tome, she gasped, shutting it with a snap.

  Looking about Ava checked that she was alone, and seeing that she was so, opened it again to see images of men and women, sometimes more than two in all sorts of bed play.

  She stared as one image in particular that showed a woman lying in the opposite direction to her lover and Ava couldn’t imagine such a way was even possible. How would that even work?

  She shut the book, placing it back and determined to read it further when she was in next. Right now if she did not leave she would be late meeting her friends in the park.

  It didn’t take her long to pick up her books, and thanking the clerk, she walked out onto Piccadilly, turning toward Hyde Park and running head on into a wall of muscle that was standing before her.

  For a moment Ava thought it might be Tate, until she looked up and all hopes for such a reunion was dashed.

  “Miss. Knight. How opportune it is to meet you here. Are you in a rush to be somewhere else by chance?”

  The answer was a resounding yes. Yes, she was in a rush to meet her friends, but even more so now she was in a rush to get away from him.

  “Excuse me,” she said, moving past Lord Oakes. She started when he clasped her hand and wrapped it about his arm, joining her on her walk to Hyde Park.

  Panic tore through her at being alone with him again. She’d sworn after the day he tried to assault her that she’d never be alone with anyone she did not trust and she certainly did not trust Lord Oakes by any means.

  “So,” he said, all joviality. “Where are we off to in such a rush? Are you going to meet the Duke of Whitstone again, or someone else?” He grinned down at her and his attempt to be amusing came off as nothing but a sneer.

  Never did Ava think she could loathe someone as much as she hated the lord beside her, but alas, here she was with the one man she’d prefer to be dead than be with alive.

  “If you must know I’m meeting my friends, Miss. Evans and Miss. Perry in Hyde Park. Not that it’s any of your business.” She tried to pull her hand free to no avail.

  He tsked tsked her, smiling at a passer-by as if their little tête-à-tête was normal and commonplace. “Come now, Miss. Knight. We know each other on a personal level. Do not be cold with me. There was a time you were all too willing and quite hot to touch.”

  She wrenched her arm free, rounding on him and bedamned where they were. “I was never willing. And you may think whatever you like, but if yo
u come near me again, I will make you pay.” She wasn’t sure how she would accomplish this, but she would, even if that meant swallowing her pride and asking Tate to help her with his lordship. Not an option she relished since she was so very determined to keep her independence, but still, sometimes a man was required to pull other men back into line.

  Lord Oakes lifted his hand and ran his finger over the wrist she injured. Very few people knew of her being wounded and why her horse had reared, causing her to fall. So how did Lord Oakes know of such a thing unless…

  She narrowed her eyes and he grinned before pushing against her healed wound harder than one ought and she gasped, stepping away.

  “I do apologize, Miss. Knight. Are you sore there?”

  She stared at him a moment, not believing he would be so brazen. “You ought to know, Lord Oakes,” she said, seeing if he understood her words.

  His eyes widened and then, throwing his head back he laughed as if she’d said something extremely amusing. People walking down Piccadilly glanced in their direction but continued on without comment. “Oh, you’re a true beauty. I know now why I wanted you so much, if only to try and tame the little beast that rumbles in your soul.”

  “You have no soul,” she said without thought. “So it would only make sense for you to try and take it from someone else.” His admittance of being there that day was an odd thing to do. He may not have said the actual words, but he all but admitted to knowing of her injury and how it came about. Lord Oakes was the fire-starter, of that she had no doubt, but still, it was her word against his lordship, a female voice against that of a man’s. A powerful man even if his pockets were to let by all accounts.

  “You cannot prove a thing, my dear, beautiful Miss. Knight. And your word against my own is moot, worthless, so if I were you, I would not try and sully my name. Even so, looking at you now, knowing what a fine piece of flesh you are, it does make me hard with want of you.”

  She recoiled, starting toward the park. He caught up to her, keeping to her quickened pace. “Does the duke know of our rendezvous? Does he know how you moaned my name that day in your parlor when I stroked your cunny?”

  Tears pooled in her eyes and she blinked them away. “Leave, you’ve said enough and I will not listen to you a moment longer.”

  “Oh, but you will listen, you little whore.” He pulled her to a stop, his grip on her upper arm painful, yet she refused to cringe, to buckle under his assault.

  “I saw you last night with the duke. I saw everything…” he smirked. “I want you in my bed. I think I’ve waited long enough to have you.”

  A tremor ran through her, leaving her cold. She swallowed, looking about and thankfully seeing that the people on the street were paying them little mind. “You will never have me,” she whispered fiercely.

  “If you do not comply,” he continued, “I will ruin your little horseracing business and breeding program and you’ll be left with nothing, no income, no customers, and no duke,” he whispered sadistically against her ear. “How sad you will be then. As sad as you were when the duke was abroad and you returned home to Berkshire. Or when he finally returned to England and decided to remain in London, fucking who knows how many women. But,” he shrugged, “it is the way of my society. Lords take lovers and wives wait at home.”

  She flinched, hating the idea of such a marriage. Hating the thought of Tate making love to anyone else but herself. “You may threaten me with whatever you choose. I will not do what you ask.” Her mind reeled, wanting to leave, to get away from Lord Oakes.

  He chuckled, letting go of her arm. “We shall see, Miss. Knight. Good day to you,” he said, bowing before walking off in the opposite direction.

  Ava turned for the park, not slowing her quickened pace until she spied Hallie and Willow. Her friends had always been a place of comfort and safety and right at this moment she needed them more than ever.

  Willow waved to her as she came nearer to them, and Ava schooled her features to hide the turmoil that twisted and turned within her.

  “Ava, we’re so glad you’re here. We’re discussing the ball and the Marquess of Boothby’s home. You know the gentleman, you danced with him at the Yorks’ ball. It’s this evening, and we’re deciding on what to wear. We thought we may all dress in matching pastel colors so to look like a set. What do you think of our idea?”

  Ava nodded, smiling and mumbling her agreement while her mind whirled with what to do. Could she tell the duke of Lord Oakes’ threat? If she did tell Tate what had transpired today, he would call him out. Lord Oakes had already proven himself as a man who didn’t shy away from firing upon innocent people. The thought of losing Tate in such a way made bile rose in her throat.

  No, she would keep this to herself, go back to Berkshire and deal with Lord Oakes in the country, away from the prying eyes of the ton if she could manage it. He would trip up soon enough in all his nefarious dealings and threats, and then the law would take care of him for them all.

  * * *

  Upon her return home, Ava could hardly remember how the past hour had gone by, what she and her friends had discussed or whom they had run into. All she knew was that she wanted to be alone, away from all the noise of London and back in Berkshire.

  “If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll lie down for a time. I have a sudden headache.”

  “Are you well?” Hallie asked, taking her hand and halting her steps in the foyer of the viscountess’ home.

  “I think not, unfortunately. I do believe that my megrim will stop me from attending the ball this evening. I hope you don’t mind,” she said and meaning it. Above all else she wanted to see Tate again. Just being in his presence would calm her nerves, but she could not face the ton. Lord Oakes undoubtedly would be there. Not tonight.

  “Of course, my dear,” Willow said, coming over to her after she handed her shawl and bonnet to a waiting footman. “I shall have a tisane made and sent up to you directly.”

  “Thank you,” Ava said, undoing her bonnet and starting up the stairs. “That is very kind of you.”

  * * *

  Tate stood beside Lord Duncannon and his gut churned at the absence of Ava at the ball. Where was she? Her friends were here and were dancing and conversing happily, but Ava was not.

  He bided his time, and seeing them partake in a glass of punch between sets, strolled over to them. “Good evening, Miss. Evans, Miss. Perry. I hope you’re enjoying the night’s festivities?” His banal conversation bored even him, but he would do the pretty so to ensure if Ava was well.

  “We are thank you Your Grace.”

  They stared at him with knowing, amused visages and yet ventured nothing further. He couldn’t outright ask about Ava, but dear God, he wished he could. These social rules and expectations really were a bore at times.

  “Have you attended the marquess’ ball before or is this your first time?”

  Miss. Evans considered him with a studied air before she said, “This is my first time in London for some years. As you know I attended school in France with Miss. Knight and Miss. Perry. Miss. Perry attended this ball last year, as Viscountess Vance is her aunt.”

  Finally, Tate had his opening to enquire about Ava. “And Miss. Knight, is she not here this evening with you? I thought she was a guest also of the viscountess?”

  Miss. Evans raised her brow, her lips twitching. “Alas no Your Grace, she’s indisposed at home this evening unfortunately.”

  He stepped toward them, about to enquire further and then thought better of it. “Well, that is a shame. I do hope she’s better by tomorrow.”

  “Oh, so do we,” Miss. Perry said. “We have a night at Vauxhall Gardens planned and we’d sorely be disappointed if Ava is unable to attend.”

  “You’re attending the masquerade?” Tate had thought it was an event normally for those of low morals and pastimes that took place more on their backs than on socializing with the ton looking for a little distraction.

  Miss. Evans shushed her frie
nd, catching her gaze. “I do apologize, Your Grace. My friend is mistaken. We’re not attending Vauxhall at all. We’re staying in tomorrow night.”

  Tate watched the play between friends and understood that Miss. Perry had misspoken. He bit back a smile at her lapse and schooled his features. “I hope Miss. Knight is not so very ill. I would so hate for her to miss out on the pleasure gardens.”

  Miss. Perry chuckled. “It is merely a headache, Your Grace, but I misspoke before. We’re at home tomorrow evening.”

  “And are you attending any more balls this evening? Or is Lord Boothby’s ball enough to satisfy you both.”

  Their cheeks blossomed into a light shade of pink, making them as pretty as the women about them who stood adorned with diamonds and silks.

  “Tonight we have two other balls to attend after this one, Your Grace. The viscountess’ good friend Lady Southerton is expecting us next and has promised some fireworks for her guests.

  “That sounds most exciting.” Tate bowed. “I wish you an enjoyable evening. Please send my regards to Miss. Knight when you see her next.”

  Tate turned on his heel, heading toward the ballroom doors. He made a hasty farewell to Lord Duncannon before calling for his carriage. The journey to Berkley square was quick and telling his driver to park in the mews, he started for the front door, knocking twice before a footman bid him entry.

  He handed his card to the butler. “Please have Miss. Knight attend me in the library at once.”

  The butler studied his card only a moment before he guided Tate toward a room at the front of the house. “This way Your Grace. I shall see if Miss. Knight is available, she was unwell this afternoon.”

  “Your Grace?” A female voice said from atop the stairs. He glanced up and his apprehension at hearing of her illness abated a little at seeing her again.