Lady of Pleasure

by Delilah Marvelle

  She pulled away with an exasperated laugh. “Yes, I believe you both love me. Ardently.”

  He smiled and gestured down at the squirming bundle he held. “So what should we call him?”

  There was only one name worthy of a dog that had been gifted to her for an engagement present. “Captain,” she gushed. “We should name him Captain.”

  Ronan tilted his head as he glanced down at their puppy, rubbing its head. “It is rather fitting, isn’t it? Yes. Captain. I like it. Captain it is.” He released Captain, who scampered over to basket and started to chew on it.

  Ronan rose. Straightening to his full height, he wordlessly held out an ungloved hand to her.

  Caroline bit her lip, took the warmth of his large hand and rose.

  Guiding her to the plush sofa, he seated her and then himself. Shifting against the cushions, he cleared his throat. “You don’t mind moving into my house, do you?”

  Remembering all those red velvet walls with dents in them, she knew it wasn’t a place worth even redecorating. “I have a better idea. How about I buy back your family’s estate in Devonshire? The one you never got around to saving up for or buying? It’s for sale, you know.”

  He paused and stared. “It is? How do you know?”

  She smiled. “I never told you but I asked about the estate shortly before you returned from Paris. Mama and I took the carriage out to Devonshire to see it. Ronan, it’s beautiful. It’s everything a house should be.”

  He still stared. “You would buy the estate?”

  “Our children need something other than red-velvet walls, don’t they?”

  He laughed. “Yes. Yes, they do.” He rubbed at his chin and shifted toward her. Because he had to damn well know. “How many children were you thinking?”

  She bit her lip and observed him with flushed cheeks. She shrugged, lowering her gaze. “I don’t know.”

  He leaned toward her in amused disbelief. “Are you getting shy on me? Are you serious?”

  She shrugged again, not meeting his gaze.

  Oh this was going to be fun. He leaned in closer and slowly took up her hand. Bringing it up to his lips, he softly kissed the warmth of her velvet skin, savoring the feel of that delicate hand in his. “I am Lord Caldwell. And you are?”

  She glanced at the hand his lips still hovered over, those large, blue-green eyes meeting his. “I think you are overdoing it.”

  He refused to release her hand or the moment. “Might I call on you sometime? Tomorrow perhaps?”

  She stifled a giggle. “I suppose.”

  He lowered his chin. “Don’t ever use the word suppose. It is either yes or no. Trust me in this. It’s important to know what you want out of your man and life.”

  She giggled again and nudged him. “Yes. You may call on me tomorrow.”

  “Good.” Releasing her hand, he quirked a brow. “So uh…I take it I impressed you with my kissing abilities? Is that why I’m being allowed to marry you?”

  She smirked. “Apparently, you are now full of yourself.”

  He laughed. “I will have you know, it wasn’t easy. I have been relentlessly practicing on a basketful of strawberries each and every day. Every day.”

  Her brows rose. “Strawberries?”

  “Strawberries.” He puckered his lips and pretended to dap his lips with one. “They were the closest thing to practicing on your lips.”

  Caroline burst into laughter, grabbed him by the lapels of his coat and yanked him down hard toward herself. “Then I suggest you pretend I’m the biggest strawberry there is.”

  His smile faded. He angled down toward her. “Now, now. Slow. I’m still new at this whole kissing thing.”

  Stifled giggles erupted from the doorway making them jerk toward it.

  “Slow?” Victoria drawled, crossing her arms playfully. “Judging by the table, you two were anything but slow.”

  Ronan choked and veered his gaze toward the doorway.

  “I better be invited to the wedding,” Elizabeth said wagging a finger at them. “Because I bought a new gown on Regent Street. They will be delivering it in two weeks. So don’t get married before then.”

  Anne set her chin. “I’m asking that you name the first girl after me. Anne is a brilliant name and I always wanted to be an aunt.”

  Mary rolled her eyes and arranged her bombazine gown. “I feel sorry for those children already.”

  Anne shoved her. “Go sleep in your new casket and close the lid while you’re at it.”

  Stepping between them, Alex took two hands to their heads and held them still. “No need to hurry on those children,” he called out.

  Ronan and Caroline both scrambled up from the sofa as all of her sisters and mother and brother stood grouped together in the doorway.

  They were all openly grinning.

  Captain dashed toward Mary and barked, scrambling against its paws in an effort to get to her.

  Mary’s eyes widened. She pointed at him. “We have a dog?!” Falling to her knees with the ballooning of her bombazine skirts, she gathered him. Stroking his black fur, she turned to the dowager, her features brightening. “Look at him, Mama. It’s like he’s wearing bombazine. I will have to call him Charon. ’Tis the only name for a dog like this. ‘Tis the only name.”

  Caroline burst into laughter and glanced over toward Ronan. “I do believe I just lost my engagement present.”

  Ronan also burst into laughter. Life couldn’t get any better than this.

  A week later

  At a party her brother wouldn’t allow her to attend but one she attended all the same

  The Caldwell residence

  Caroline jerked to a complete halt just as a mustached man crawled across the length of the wooden floor before her and disappeared head first beneath the billowy gown of a heavy-set brunette. Only his trouser-clad calves and leather boots peered out as the woman kicked him, scrambled back and yelled, “Did I give you permission to crawl? Leave off before I fetch my crop and show you what you’re really good for!”

  Caroline burst into laughter. Ronan had warned her that the people from the Whipping Society were risqué, but this was astonishingly good fun to watch grown men and women behave like children as opposed to the well-rehearsed antics of the ton.

  “Your brother is going to kill me,” Ronan said into her ear from behind.

  Caroline jumped and snapped toward him with a laugh. “In three weeks time, I won’t be his problem but yours.” She jabbed a finger toward the man who now crawled in the direction of another woman who was sipping on wine and smoking a cigar. “Shouldn’t you try to contain some of your guests?” she drawled.

  Ronan grabbed her waist and yanked her hard up against him. “If I were you, I would worry about containing me.” He smiled. “Are you up for some cards? It’s been a while since you and I played.”

  She grinned. “Piquet?”

  He slowly shook his head from side to side. “Non, mademoiselle. You and I are graduating. Écarté. Have you ever played it?”

  Oh, now, he was pulling out the French card games, was he? “I can always learn how to play.”

  “Done.” He led them through the crowds around them until they veered into a crowded room where tables and chairs were chaotically set out. The cigar smoke bloomed and shoved its way down her throat.

  She coughed against all the smoke and winced, her eyes watering. “Ugh. Ronan…” She coughed, blinking rapidly. “I don’t mind these men and women smoking, but can some of the windows at least be opened?”

  Ronan paused. Leaning back, he yelled out at the top of his voice to the crowd around them, “Will someone open the goddamn windows? This isn’t a cigar divan, boys! My woman can’t breathe. And neither can I!”

  Several men jumped onto their booted feet and unlatched windows, throwing them open one by one.

  A breeze gushed in.

  Ronan leaned back toward her and quirked a brow. “Better?”

  She nodded. “Much. Thank you.�
�

  “Of course.” He guided her over to a table where two glasses, a bottle full of a murky liquid substance and a basket of strawberries were laid out waiting for them with a deck of cards. He yanked out a chair for her and gestured toward it.

  She eyed him. “This looks planned.”

  He smirked. “It is. I still have to practice on strawberries, you know. Until they cease coming in from the fields I’m told. Have you ever had gin before? Did you father ever keep it in the sideboard?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  He grinned. “Your night is about to get better.” He grabbed her hand and swept her into the chair. Pushing her and the chair closer to the small table, he bent toward her from behind, kissed her throat, and said against her skin, “Don’t drink too much. It’s important we both remember this night.”

  “Duly noted.” Caroline arranged her skirts in the chair, leaned over, and plucked up a strawberry, savoring its moist sweetness.

  Settling into the chair opposite her, Ronan grabbed up the cards and with a lopsided grin started shuffling. “This game consists of a hundred and one points.”

  “Which means, it’s going to be a long game.”

  “Don’t let it fool you. It goes fast.”

  “I have no doubt it will.” Caroline glanced around herself, the rushing noise of conversation and laughter and shouts making her feel exquisitely alive. For the first time in her life she understood why her parents had always veered toward the jagged edges of society.

  Cigar smoke aside, one could breathe.

  Six hours later on the floor of the parlor

  Ronan held up yet another glass of gin and clinked his glass against hers. “To us.”

  “To us.” Caroline grabbed his arm and shook it excitedly knowing there were only three weeks left until the wedding and that Paris was next. She brought the almost empty glass to her lips and swallowed the remaining contents in only a few brisk gulps. She swore she wouldn’t drink again, but a woman had to celebrate her upcoming wedding somehow. “Gin is rather good.”

  “It’s also cheap.”

  “Even better.” Caroline lowered her glass, paused and looked around, realizing they were the only ones left in his house. She blinked. “Where is everyone?”

  Ronan finished his gin and slowly set aside the glass. Pushing his hair out of his eyes, he said matter-of-factly, “I told them all to leave. So they did.”

  Silence hummed.

  Caroline swallowed, remembering all too well what Ronan’s lower half was capable of doing. It was time to go. Because she wasn’t interested in being sore again. She scrambled up onto her feet, stumbling against her skirts, and primly organized her gown. “I can’t wait for the next party. I should go. It’s late.”

  He slowly rose and edging in close, lingered before her, lowering his gaze to hers. “Can you stay?”

  She swallowed again as the heat of his body penetrated the mere inches set between them. It was obvious what he wanted. “It hurt last time.”

  His features softened and his hands trailed up her arms, rounded her shoulders and cupped her face. “It won’t hurt like that again,” he whispered. “I promise I will go slowly.” He kissed her forehead and then her cheek, the softness of his lips coaxing her into giving in. “Caroline.” He grazed the back of his finger against her cheek, his warmth penetrating her skin. “Let me erase that night. Please.”

  She swallowed in effort to ease the anxious fluttering in her stomach.

  His eyes trailed down to her lips and lingered. That finger, which still traced her cheek ever so softly slid its way down to her exposed throat.

  Her breath hitched as she fought against swaying from that touch.

  He watched his finger slowly curve down toward the expanse of her shoulder. “I enjoyed our night together.”

  She swallowed. “I enjoyed it, too.”

  “Good.” Angling his head, he lowered it and covered her lips, parting them slowly. His tongue grazed her tongue.

  A fluttering overtook her stomach as he now slipped his other hand slowly around her shoulder and pressed her body against the heat of his hard muscled frame.

  Her pulse thundered and she knew that this time it would be different. Because everything between them was different. She knew that. They kissed and kissed until she knew she was ready for whatever he had in mind. She broke away from their kiss and managed, “One hour and then I have to go.”

  He opened his eyes from their kiss. “Two hours,” he bargained, dragging his hands toward the hooks on her gown.

  She swayed against him. “Two. And then I have to go.”

  He held her gaze. “I will ensure you never want to leave.” Quickly sliding his hands beneath her, he effortlessly hefted her up and into both arms, rolling her body toward his chest and wordlessly glanced down at her.

  She shyly observed his rugged features in the shifting light and shadows of the candles and lanterns lighting the room.

  Tightening his hold on her, he carried her out into the corridor and up, up the stairs, leading to what she could only guess was his bedchamber.

  Her hands jumped up to the lapels on his evening coat, tightening their hold to keep herself steady in his arms.

  “I have you,” he assured her, holding her tighter. Striding through the open door of a candlelit room that bore a simple bed with simple white linen, he moved them over to the bed. He gently lowered her onto the linens, slipping his bare hands out from beneath her. Heading toward the door, he gently closed it and turned back toward her.

  His dark eyes captured her gaze.

  Caroline felt every inch of her turn to fire.

  Still intently holding her gaze, he slipped his dark evening coat from his broad shoulders, pulling it down the length of his muscled arms which were hidden beneath his linen shirt. The coat slid away from his upper body with a soft rustle and crumbled onto the wooden floor of the candlelit bedchamber.

  A bulging, thick line pressed against the buttoned flap of his wool trousers.

  Caroline’s fingers dug into the linens.

  His hands reached up and his bare fingers smoothly and effortlessly undid his white silk cravat, his arms shifting to accommodate the movements. His full lips parted slightly as he slid the cravat from around his neck. He flung it over his shoulder and let it disappear behind him, now exposing the smooth sun-kissed skin of the strong neck hidden beneath.

  Her entire body was ablaze. Ronan was stripping. Her heart fluttered as she placed a shaky hand to her chest and tried to steady her breathing and her heart.

  “Don’t be nervous,” he whispered. “You and I are going to be doing this until we are old and unable to see out of both eyes. And then we will do it all blind and by touch. As when we first started.”

  She bit back an exasperated smile.

  He lifted his shaven chin, causing a few strands of his blond hair to fall away from his forehead, and slowly pulled out his shirt from his trousers.

  Caroline bit down onto her lower lip with the top row of her teeth and unblinkingly brought the linens up and around her, staring.

  This was hers. He was hers.

  Ronan casually lingered, his body positioned toward her and one by one by one, he undid the buttons on his ivory waistcoat. Stripping it from his body, he tossed it past her and onto the bed, standing only in a shirt, trousers and boots.

  He moved toward her. “Sit on the edge of the bed for me, will you?” There was a raw huskiness to his voice that made her stomach squeeze.

  She shakily pushed away a misplaced curl from the side of her face and scooted herself over to the edge of the bed, letting her feet dangle.

  Closing the space between them, he stood before her. “I’m almost done,” he softly said, as he undid the three small buttons around his throat. The open slit of the shirt fell open to his mid-chest, displaying well-defined muscles beneath.

  She swallowed again.

  He yanked his shirt up and over his arms and head. Muscles rippl
ed in cascading unison as his shirt floated off to the side and ruffled his wavy, blond hair.

  Caroline would have fainted if she hadn’t locked her knees into one another.

  Ronan straightened, his broad, smooth shoulders set, showcasing a gloriously wide chest and muscled, lean arms. Soft golden blonde hairs trailed from his chest down to a narrow path that made its way toward his lower half that still remained covered.

  His shaven jaw shifted, but otherwise he continued to motionlessly stand there. “Can I undress you?”

  She was clearly dreaming. Without thinking, she rose and drifted into him. Slowly, she set the slippered toes of her shoes against the tips of his large leather boots and allowed her skirts to cover both their feet.

  She released a shaky breath, her gaze drifting up the length of his naked broad chest which rose and fell in slow, even breaths, up toward his shaven chin until she rested upon the view of his full lips. The clean and simple scent of soap mingled with gin and strawberries drifted toward her, causing her already heightened senses to flutter. “Yes,” she managed. “Undress me.”

  The clock in the room chimed, startling her for a moment to glance toward the far wall behind her. It chimed a total of two times before clicking back into silence.

  Ronan’s large hands slid over her shoulders, causing her heart to nearly come up and out of her throat in astonishment. He reached down and around her with his bare muscled arms, his large hands grabbing each round cheek of her bum hidden beneath her skirts. He yanked her body hard up against his towering smooth, solid and broad body, and held her firmly in place against his erection, his jaw tight.

  He slid his hands from her bum and up along the back of her gown. His fingers gently grazed the hidden hooks at her back which held the material of her gown in place.

  Her mind blanked and nothing mattered in that moment. Nothing but his touch. She stared up at him in complete awe and wonder, her chest falling and rising a bit too quickly.

  Without a word, he released the hooks, the muscles in his taut arms shifting around her. One by one by one he released them, until he had opened the entire back of her muslin gown, exposing her corset and the chemise beneath it. He slipped his large hands beneath the parted material and swept it down from her shoulders and arms, letting it fall to her waist and then the floor. He unfastening the petticoats and let them drop to the floor with her gown.