The Sweet and Spicy Regency Collection

by Dorothy McFalls

  She leaned into his chest and snaked her arms around his waist as she parted her lips. Her mind was surprisingly silent. She couldn’t think; she could only feel. She could only drink in how his touch, his caress brought life to her most intimate parts.

  He helped her push away his shirt and she rained kisses on his bare chest, quickly becoming drunk from his sweet scent, that welcome mix of almonds and sage. His hands explored her body. He was slow and patient with her as he pushed away her wrapper to trace her shape through the thin nightrail she wore beneath. With a satisfied sigh, she reached out for him, feeling desperate to touch him. His muscles were taut, his skin smooth.

  This was like a dream, a distant dream she’d long forgotten. “Yes,” she whispered, instinctively knowing how the scene was to play out, and knowing not to fear it.

  Agile fingers unlaced the top of her nightrail and bared her breasts. Each round globe felt particularly heavy and wanton. He dipped his head and took a nipple between his teeth, suckling until she thought she might cry out. A vibrating heat filled her chest and spread low in her belly and high in her legs.

  With his thigh he gently pushed her legs apart.

  “Elsbeth, I have waited too long for this.” His smoldering gaze spoke to her in a way only Dionysus’s paintings had ever done. She longed to ease his suffering. And ease her own aching need as well.

  He pushed her skirt up while fumbling with the front of his trousers. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to happen, dove,” he said between deep kisses where their tongues were given the chance to play. “There should be flowers, music…at least a bed.” His fingers parted her nether curls. His touch was warm and gentle with her delicate flesh.

  “Relax,” he whispered, stroking her deeply between her legs until she thought she might melt into nothing at his feet. “Just feel.”

  Her breathing hitched. Awareness of her body—of how he was stroking her, touching her in her most delicate of places—exploded with a flash of bright colors. Her budding heat pulled and strained against his touch in such a pleasing manner she opened her legs wider. And then desire took over. She traced her finger down his chest and daringly reached into his unfastened trousers to caress him.

  Slowly, he withdrew from her until only his lips touched hers, breaking the contact she had learned to crave.

  “The door,” he whispered and gave her a quick kiss. He was only gone a moment. But it felt like a lifetime. He hurried across the room and pushed the door closed. He then fumbled with the key in the lock. But before he could turn it, the wretched key slipped out of his hand, bounced across the oriental carpet and disappeared under the heavy desk. She’d never seen him look so harassed. He drew a ragged breath. He’d probably come to the same conclusion she had. They’d have a devil of a time finding the key in the dim moonlight.

  “Everyone is abed.” She reached out to him. “Surely, we are safe.”

  With him, she felt uncommonly safe. His body was trembling with need by the time he pulled her back into his arms. She grabbed his shoulders and held on to him, silently begging for him to give her more.

  He answered by positioning the wide tip of his manhood at her opening and pushing deep into her with one smooth stroke. She’d always been small, tight. Her body stretched to accommodate him. Though he was stretching her to her limit, she welcomed his fullness, a swelling of sensations more fantastic than before. A fullness that felt natural.

  The tip of his tongue eased her mouth open, urging her to breathe. He pulled out and pressed back in again, moving slowly and rhythmically massaging her sensitive flesh.

  “Oh my,” Elsbeth moaned. It had never been quite like this. She had never even dreamed…

  His motions grew more urgent. He filled her over and over until she was sure she could take no more. She cried out, her muscles trembling as she rode wave after wave of pleasure until she sank into his arms, feeling more relaxed than ever and unable to catch her breath.

  He kissed her forehead, her nose, her chin, and then slipped from between her legs. “Next time,” he whispered, sounding as breathless as she, “we should definitely have a bed nearby.”

  The mere thought of repeating that miracle set her legs quivering anew. Her eyes slipped closed as she held on to his strong shoulders and waited to wake up from what had to have been her most vivid dream ever.

  His lips found hers again and she lost herself in his touch. Her life would never be the same again. Nothing would ever be the same, nothing would ever be so—

  An angry fist knocked sharply against the study’s heavy wooden door. “Lord Edgeware!” a woman shouted. “La, I hope you’re in there. This is really most unacceptable. There is a man lurking outside the—” Lady Dashborough pushed open the study’s door and gasped. “What-what-what is the meaning of this?”

  Chapter Fourteen

  With his hand inside her wrapper, cupping her breast, his other hand tangled in her hair, and her nightrail hiked up about her waist there was no hope of pretending that what they’d just been caught doing was anything other than what it looked like.

  Elsbeth jerked free of Edgeware’s embrace, pushed her skirt down, and pulled her wrapper closed as priggishly as possible. Still, her cheeks flamed the moment her gaze met the sharp scrutiny of Lady Dashborough, who had a brightly lit four-stem candelabrum held high over her head.

  What a pretty pair they must have made. Her, dressed in her flimsy nightclothes with only a sheer wrapper for coverage. Edgeware, dressed without a coat or cravat, his shirt open, nearly torn off, revealing a goodly portion of his chest. And—Elsbeth’s blush grew hotter—his trousers hung open, unbuttoned. Yes, what a pretty gossip they had just handed to Lady Dashborough.

  “My lord,” the good matron said after a sharp intake of air, “not only are suspicious men roaming your grounds. There is this. You must now understand why I was worried about letting my daughters cavort with such a…such a…hoyden.” She waved her arm in the general direction of Elsbeth. “Or has she woven her wiles so tightly around you that you’re blinded to the beast she truly is?”

  Edgeware appeared to be having a bit of trouble gaining his wits. He cleared his throat several times while setting his clothes to right.

  “My lady—” he implored only to be interrupted.

  “I demand, Lord Edgeware, yes, demand, that you remove this thing from your house first thing in the morning. I would say sooner, but I am a charitable lady with charitable feelings toward the ladies Olivia and Lauretta. What damage their association with such an immoral—”

  “My lady,” Edgeware nearly shouted, “you do not understand the situation!”

  Elsbeth’s jittery attentions snapped toward him. How could he expect to convince Lady Dashborough that she was mistaken in what she had clearly seen?

  “Not understand?” Lady Dashborough’s chin shot up toward the ceiling. “How can that be possible? What I saw was a woman with a history of questionable morals using her charms to ignite your lust.”

  Edgeware chuckled nervously. “You see, my lady. This is where you are mistaken. It is my charm that has won the rather proper Lady Mercer over. For, I’m delighted to announce that—” he cleared his throat and gave Elsbeth a blazing smile “—the enchanting lady has just agreed to be my wife. What you saw was my expression of gratitude for her acceptance to my suit.”

  Wife? The room began to spin. “But I must never marry again.” What was the dark lord doing? Why was he stealing away her freedom? What possible use could he have for her?

  He didn’t know.

  “Elsbeth?”

  He surely didn’t know.

  “Elsbeth? Breathe, my little dove.”

  Two strong arms supported her.

  “Sit her in this chair, my lord. She looks ready to faint. Your charms have overwhelmed her, no doubt. You are a very charming man,” Lady Dashborough said.

  Elsbeth sank into a leather chair and cradled her dizzy head in her hands. A warm hand rubbed her back heartily.
<
br />   This was foolish, and she never accounted herself acting a fool. She drew in a deep breath and slowly straightened her spine. She had to blink several times to clear away the blurriness.

  “I say,” Lady Dashborough quickly spoke up, “I would imagine any respectable young lady would be overwhelmed by your suit, Edgeware. Your interests undoubtedly have near to killed a woman of Lady Mercer’s standing.” She clicked her tongue.

  Elsbeth, feeling as if she was plodding through a murky dream, turned her head away from Lady Dashborough’s pained smile to focus on the hand now covering hers. She blinked.

  “You cannot mean…I mean, my lord, surely you were jesting.” She drew a steadying breath. “And such a thing to jest about.”

  He didn’t know. How could she possibly tell him?

  “Lady Dashborough,” she said, her voice strong and clear. She rose from the chair. “Lord Edgeware is jesting. There is no engagement, only an indiscretion as you first suspected. I assure you, it was not planned.”

  A sly smile spread on the lovely matron’s face. “Of course. How could I have thought otherwise? The ton will be very interested to know how the leopard has failed to change her spots.” She raised her hand. “No, Lord Edgeware, don’t you dare ply me with your threats. I’m willing to weather a minor scandal to protect others from this beast.”

  “Threats?” Elsbeth asked.

  “Threats?” Edgeware sounded perfectly innocent. “I cannot imagine to what you are referring. As for the engagement, I vow it is true.” He grabbed Elsbeth’s hand and cradled it against his chest. “My sweet dove, you cannot insist it be kept secret. You see, Lady Dashborough, her family is not yet aware of the arrangement. And then there is the matter of the marriage settlement and solicitors to be consulted. Of course, she insists she speak with her uncle before a formal announcement is made.”

  “I see,” Lady Dashborough said, eyeing them both far too closely.

  “Lord Edgeware—” Elsbeth began, ready to present him with a royal scolding. She had no desire to be party to his fiction.

  “Hush, my dove,” he pressed a finger to her lips—lips that felt shamefully swollen—before she could utter her first protest. “She is adamant about the secrecy, I am afraid.”

  “No, my dear,” Lady Dashborough said. Her eyes flashed in the candlelight. “This will not do. You cannot expect to suppress the news of the Marquess’s engagement. He is much too important. This move will come as a great shock to the matrons who have been busily grooming their daughters for him.” With that, Lady Dashborough took up her candelabrum and swept from the room.

  “Sir!” Elsbeth rounded on the dark lord, her tiny fists pressing painfully against her hips. “What have you done?”

  * * * *

  What had he done indeed?

  Nigel’s insides stirred with an unsettling mix of delight and terror. Certainly what he had just done would be very difficult to undo.

  “I believe you should consider yourself engaged, madam,” he said, his words clipped and sharp. Anger against himself boiled over onto Elsbeth. “I have told you this several times before. I am prepared to do anything…anything to restore you and your relatives’ reputations in the eyes of society.”

  “I never asked for this kind of help. Gracious, I believe I would rather seek the assistance of a footpad.”

  “That can be arranged!” he shouted and charged from the room, muttering curses against Elsbeth, the rigid society they lived in and its damned rules, and himself.

  Especially himself.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “You did what?”

  Nigel was lounging against a brick wall with his arms crossed against his chest. He kicked a pebble lying in the middle of the walk, sending it skittering across the slate stones. The day promised to be a warm one.

  He’d spent the morning with George, searching the grounds for intruders. After his surprise engagement the night before, he’d forgotten, until that morning, all about the shadowy figure both he and Lady Dashborough had seen prowling the grounds. By that time, no traces of mischief could be found. And even though his life depended on catching that bold, nameless interloper, he had a devil of a time keeping his mind on such matters.

  “I believe you heard me,” he said, snarling.

  “Yes, yes, I heard you.” George waved a hand in the air. “I just don’t understand why. Why tie yourself to Lady Mercer? Certainly you’ve heard the rumors about her. Her reputation was teetering on a sharp edge even before Dionysus’s painting of her emerged. Lord Mercer was a depraved maniac, and many believe his wife picked up several of his worst habits. Society matrons were inviting her to their teas and parties to see for themselves what kind of mad woman he’d created.”

  Doubt flickered in Nigel’s mind. Hadn’t Elsbeth admitted to learning how to pick a lock from her husband? What else had Mercer taught his innocent dove? It was a disturbing enough thought to imagine Elsbeth having anything to do with the brute. He especially shied away from picturing her learning the secrets of the marriage bed from him. The image roiled his stomach.

  “It was the only way I could think to protect her from that viper Lady Dashborough.”

  “Blast it all, Edgeware, I never took you for a fool, but this…this is unbelievable. Lady Mercer is not your responsibility. What she and that rogue Dionysus did…well, that was her decision. Her responsibility. It’s not as if she’s some young innocent too stupid to know her own mind.”

  Nigel pushed up from the wall he’d been leaning against. “That is quite enough,” he said, and stalked down the daisy-lined path back toward the manor.

  “Damn and blast, Edgeware,” George called after him, “don’t run away from your friends. You’ll doubtlessly need all the help you can get to not muck this up!”

  * * * *

  “Elly, why ever didn’t you tell us?” Olivia, trailed by a beaming Lauretta, rushed into the bedchamber and hugged Elsbeth where she sat at her dressing table, busily pulling her hair into a severe topknot.

  “We’re ever so happy for you,” Lauretta said.

  Elsbeth batted her cousin’s arms away. “The rumor of our engagement is a mistake, a horrid mistake. I have no intention of marrying Lord Edgeware or anyone else for that matter.”

  “I don’t understand,” Lauretta said.

  “I mean…” Oh, why couldn’t there be just one happy ending for her? But no, her heart had been betrayed once and she had vowed long ago to protect that tender organ from further damage. Even if it meant being doomed to live each day with Edgeware’s passion seared onto her soul while still keeping him out of her life. “I mean I will not marry,” she said very softly.

  He would be relieved. No man would wish to be forced into a marriage, especially not a confirmed bachelor like Edgeware. “I cannot marry anyone. And when the Marquess learns the truth of the matter, he will most assuredly agree.”

  Olivia sank down onto a little bench beside the dressing table and pried Elsbeth’s fingers from the locket she was clutching. “You mean…?” Her cousin blushed. “Surely, he won’t hold that against you.”

  “Whatever do you mean, Olivia?” Lauretta asked.

  Olivia’s blush deepened. “Never you mind.” With a sharp tug, she pulled Elsbeth to her feet. “And what in blazes do you have on, Elly?”

  Elsbeth briefly glanced at the dark gray gown. The material was heavy and the drab color did terrible things to her complexion, making her skin look dreadfully pale and splotchy.

  “It is a suitable gown for a woman of my status. Half-mourning, I believe, is very proper.”

  “Papa and Mama have both told you that you are too young to mourn a husband for the rest of your life. You need to remarry.”

  “If I were to get such a marriage proposal, you would find me dressed in my happiest, brightest, yellow gown,” Lauretta said wistfully. Poor heart-broken Lauretta. No wonder she’d fallen prey to the dastardly Lord Ames so easily.

  Olivia, flitting from man to man, lea
ding the hapless gentlemen on a merry chase while guarding her heart, would be a good role model for her sister to follow.

  “We have no time to dawdle,” Elsbeth said, her fingers nervously pushing the unruly strands of hair that had fallen from her topknot back into place. “Your maids should be along any minute to help with the packing.”

  “Packing?” both Lauretta and Olivia cried.

  “Packing.” Elsbeth said firmly. “There is too much going on at this house party that I do not approve. We, girls, are to be on the road back to London by noon.”

  Elsbeth turned a deaf ear to her cousin’s cries of protests. She had another matter to settle before they could leave. “I will return shortly. I have put off confronting Lord Edgeware and his misguided idea of marriage for quite long enough.”

  * * * *

  “Have you gone and lost your bloody mind?”

  “Good morning Uncle Charles,” Nigel said as his uncle stormed into Nigel’s study and slammed the door closed behind him. Nigel had been standing at the glass-paneled door, looking out into the housekeeper’s small physic garden. Pale lavender flowers waved at him in the warm morning breeze. “Pleasant morning, is it not? I believe I’ll take a ride. Would you care to join me?”

  “Do not try to turn the subject, my boy.”

  “I had not realized a subject had been raised. Pray tell me, to what were we speaking?”

  “You’re trying my anger, boy. I have no patience for your pale attempts at humor this morning. Not after hearing how you plan to tie yourself to that harridan.”

  “You speak of Lady Mercer?”

  “She is most unsuitable for a marchioness.”

  “Unsuitable?” He raised a brow at that. “She was once married to an earl.”

  “Exactly! You should marry a virgin! Not a woman with such loose morals that you’d never know if her child was yours or not.”

  Nigel closed his eyes and drew a slow, steady breath. Arguing with his uncle rarely accomplished anything. He unclasped his hands and flexed his numb fingers. His uncle no longer had a hold on his future. And though he had every right to express his opinion, his uncle’s thoughts were just that, opinions.