The Rakehell Regency Romance Series Boxed Set 5

by MacMurrough, Sorcha

  She half-feared Lawrence changing into the cold and hostile version of himself. But she knew at some point, with her legs spread wide as though a sacrifice on an altar, she simply had to trust him not to hurt her. He hadn't the first night, when he had thought her a tart. Well, he still thought she was one. Only the anger and resentment had been added to their relationship.

  But surely he couldn’t be furious forever. And damn her for a fool, but she wanted him. She had never experienced anything other than dismay or revulsion at a man's touch before.

  Now Lawrence's hands upon her were like an extension of herself, all of her deep-seated yearnings and desires being laid bare as he gently opened her like the petals of a flower.

  Juliet bloomed under him that night as he made love to her over and over again, bringing her to peak after peak of shuddering delight. After her first three pinnacles she waited for him to tell her what a trollop she was. After her sixth, she waited for him to bark orders on which position to get into. When she lost count after a dozen, she had the uneasy feeling he was trying to prove his masculinity in the face of all the other lovers he imagined she had had.

  As the hours passed and still he drove on, she was sure Lawrence was trying to torment her, deliberately deprive her of sleep. They would quieten for a time, and change positions, from him to her on top, or him along her back with her on her front or side, to him on his back with her curled tightly against him.

  But no sooner would she start to slumber than he would being to touch or kiss her all over again, never leaving her untouched. Was this relentless display of prowess just trying to prove his ascendancy over her?

  Juliet thought of the way a hawk was trained in medieval and Renaissance times, continually kept awake, manipulated and petted until it at last it gave in to its master.

  Just when she was drifting off to sleep his hands or lips would move over her still quivering flesh, and she would be soaring once more. He probed her body deeply with his hands as if longing to uncover every single one of her deepest needs and desires. She sensed he was testing her in some unfathomable way, and was equally fearful of asking for more, or saying she had had enough.

  But then, as her foster-parents had taught her, sometimes it wasn't always what one said, but how one said it that counted.

  Near dawn, she stroked back the hair from his brow and kissed him tenderly. Then she raised her lips.

  "Lawrence, my dear, you're a wonderful lover, and I wish this night could never end. Thank you. It's all exquisite. But if you need to get back to work in a couple of days, you should get some sleep."

  He paused for a moment. "You're not too sore?"

  "No, you've been so gentle. It's like heaven."

  "One more time then?" he said uncertainly.

  "Mm, that would be wonderful, thank you. How would you like me?"

  "Just like this. Oh, lovely."

  "Mm. Lovely," she agreed wholeheartedly.

  She stroked her hands down his back and indulged her passion for his buttocks and groin, slipping one hand one way and one the other to cup him. He caught her wrist and she started.

  "Just brush me lightly, like that. If this is our last time I want to prolong it."

  "It doesn't have to be our last time. Not if you want to stay in bed in the morning and leave late tomorrow," she whispered, stroking him with the most feathery touches.

  He looked around the rather bare room, and shifted a bit in the lumpy bed. "You might be right, though. The accommodations of an inn leave a lot to be desired."

  She smiled up at him. "I don't care. At least you don't leave anything to be desired."

  He actually grinned then, taking her breath away at the sight of his masculine beauty.

  "God, Lawrence, you're magnificent," she breathed.

  She stretched under him luxuriously, trying to touch every inch of him, then arched her back, her zenith suddenly upon her, tearing through her even more fiercely than any she had experienced before. She couldn't even try to hold back her moan of passion.

  He wanted to believe her words, wanted her to desire him and him alone. Wanted her to forget any other man she had ever known. Wanted her to forgive him for his callous indifference the past two days. The vindictiveness which had caused him to say those unconscionable things to and about her. He couldn't bring himself to apologise, but he could bring her to joy. And himself along with her.

  Her eyes flew wide as he moved more intently within her, and they both exploded. And it was not only the shock of the thrilling sensations. He had not used any protection, not once. Yet he had sworn…

  She smiled to herself happily as he rolled himself on his back once more. He was about to gather her to him tightly when she resisted, and murmured, "Breakfast."

  "Mm, I suppose," he said sleepily, closing his eyes.

  Now it was his turn to have them fly open as she knelt astride him and took him up to the hilt.

  "I just adore sausage."

  He laughed aloud then, and flopped back onto the mattress. He let her do almost anything to his awesome body. She found him completely fascinating, and desire scorched through her as she worshipped him with her hands and lips, though he kept her from his most delicate flesh.

  She wondered at his reluctance, when he was so interested in doing the same to her. But she was more than able to delight him with her hands and the angle of her body as she rode him like the wind. Her explorations and discoveries soon triggered another towering culmination, and to her relief he finally slept.

  Juliet was still throbbing with desire, but with any luck he would agree to stay another night at the comfortable establishment, and there might be a chance for yet more pleasure.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  There were more than enough chances for pleasure when Lawrence and Juliet awakened lazily a number of hours later. His erection was fiercely hot, forming an impressive mound under the covers that she could not fail to ignore.

  She pointed, and disappeared behind the screen. He made a show of yawning loudly and moving about in the bed to cover her embarrassment.

  She came out from behind the screen blushing prettily, and he patted the bed and stroked her gently when she got back in. From there he rolled over to kiss her, then worked his way down to her breasts, giving them his full, undivided attention.

  He had to go slowly, Lawrence told himself, enjoy every moment, the freedom of her body. He would feed his pleasure from hers. His own needs were simple compared to that of Juliet. He wanted her to ride the crest of the wave of her passion in as many ways and for as long as she needed to. It was easy now that he knew what genuine pleasure was. Nothing had ever prepared him for the delights he had discovered within her time and time again.

  When she had quietened, he moved his mouth down still lower. This drew a protest from her at last. "No, really, you can’t, not after-"

  "No secrets between us. No barriers or boundaries. You're mine now. You’re so beautiful, Juliet, I can’t help myself. I want all of you. I need you to trust me. Please?"

  She fell back onto the pillow with a little nod. He spread her legs wider, feasting on the sight of her. Never had he seen a more lovely woman. He just had to experience all of her, over and over again. See if there was a flaw in her absolute physical perfection.

  In the sunlight filtering in through the mullioned window, he examined her almost as carefully as a doctor, and she was sure once again he was checking for any sign of a monthly.

  In reality he was enthralled with her lush pink perfection. He had known enough women in his day, but never one such as this. He was sure he could spend a lifetime in this bed and never grow tired of her charms.

  He knew he had no reason to trust her, but why make it complicated? She was a woman, he was a man. And here was more delight than he had ever imagined, right in the palm of his hands. She had done him a favour--the prospect of lying here with Matilda filled him with a cold dread.

  He pushed that thought to one side and teased her to
another cresting peak with his hands, until her limbs were leaden with his loving. He wanted her so languid that she would not feel anything other than pleasure, no shame or embarrassment.

  As he dipped his tongue to lick her tight little nub of flesh, flicking it back and forth lightly, she grasped the bedcovers, knotting them into her fists. His tongue slid lower, until he penetrated her and began to taste of her as though sipping fine wine. The rasp of his lightly-bearded chin sent her into oblivion, and when he brought up one hand to stroke her distended bud, she gasped and grasped his hair almost painfully.

  His other hand on her breast, with his forearm and elbow increasing the pressure on her belly, not only enhanced the experience, but held her still, for she rocked and panted in the throes of the most sharp-edged desire, which slashed through her and left her begging for more.

  Lawrence was more than willing to give her more, over and over. When at last she stilled for a moment, he replaced his tongue with two large hard fingers, and moved up between her legs to plant a sultry wet kiss on her mouth.

  "Now you know what you taste like. As sweet as honey, like roses. And there's some of me too. Would you like more?" he whispered enticingly.

  "Yes, please, more," she said in awed tones, completely in his thrall, no shame or fear or anything other than the powerful throbbing he elicited from within.

  He kissed her deeply again, and she panted and writhed in the grip of another outburst of passion.

  When she had quieted again, Lawrence turned her on her side, and began to lick and nuzzle down her back, until she panted in great heaving sobs. His hand moved around to her front and rubbed her into even more of a frenzy.

  When he reached one buttock to plant a playful nip upon it, she began to soar out of control once again, pleading for him to move inside of her, until he flipped her over on her back and she pulled him into her arms desperately. Her legs wrapped around his waist, driving him into her with a passionate abandon that soon had him begging himself.

  "It’s all right, Juliet. I’m here with you. You can have all of me. Just take your time!"

  Her devouring kisses soon ended any notions that he could control what was happening between them. She wrung the orgasm from him with her sinuous body as surely as if she had taken him in her hand and squeezed. They soared together, all muscles straining and quivering until they tumbled though the sky.

  At length they both quieted. With one last tender head to toe caress, Lawrence kissed her hard and heaved himself out of the bed. He rang the bell, and threw a sheet over her lovely bare form to spare her any indignity when the servant came in.

  He grinned with pride. Never had any woman looked so well-loved. It made him throb all over again just looking at her on his pillows, her dark hair spread, her legs wide, her breasts peaked, her feminine core glistening wetly with his ardour…. His seed.

  Oddly, he didn't care. In fact, the thought of her being with child made him feel so aroused he had all to do not to get back into the bed and dive into her secret cove, trying to delve into the mystery of her.

  She gathered the chemise he had discarded some time in the middle of the night.

  Desire roughened his voice. "I never want any clothes on you in bed. In fact, every night, I expect to find you in bed naked and waiting for me at any time."

  "Yes, Lawrence," she said. "May I wash now?"

  "Yes, of course." She was about to climb from the bed when he stopped her with one huge hand on her stomach. He took a handkerchief and tested her again.

  She met his gaze head on. "My monthlies won't be for another two weeks or so. I'm as regular as a clock."

  He scowled and said nothing, simply gathered his dressing gown and left.

  Lawrence returned a short time later with a towel and some shaving things. Once they had bathed, he took Juliet back to bed. She was astonished at the change in him. Gone was the tenderness and play of the night before, the long languid kisses. Flat on her stomach once more, or on her hands and knees or hanging over the edge of the bed, he took her from behind until she thought she would scream if she didn't get a kiss. He was like a man driven. He did not even dare admit to himself what was goading him onwards.

  If he didn't leave her pregnant now, he never would.... She was his. He was never ever going to lose her.

  At last Juliet twisted under his huge body and planted her hand on the back of his neck. She pulled his head down and almost devoured his lips. Their climax was simultaneous and crushingly powerful. He groaned and sobbed into her, longing to hear her match his cries. But there was nothing but silence. The abyss came up to seize him. The darkness within him had claimed his soul once more.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  At the end of another two torrid nights on the road, they at last arrived in Millcote.

  Juliet had never been more relieved in her life. She hoped that settling into their new home might calm Lawrence's moodiness and tendency to excess, for he was so intent upon making love to her that she was almost getting sore. She had ventured to hint at the problem, and he had changed his style, now facing her and pressing into her so deeply she was sure the top of her head would explode.

  But still he brought her to pinnacle after pinnacle of ecstatic culmination, night after night, and day after day in the coach. Yet still she was sure they hadn't even scratched the surface of their passion. For this was a bodily need, pure and simple for him, or so she believed. Just think what their unions could be like if he loved her?

  Lawrence didn't know what on earth was wrong with him. Every time he touched Juliet he just couldn't seem to get enough of her. He wanted to kick himself for almost rubbing herself and him raw, and tried to be more tender.

  But once he was inside her he nearly went wild. It took every ounce of willpower he possessed to not take her in his arms and kiss her senseless. Even her simple kisses overwhelmed him. The touch of her hands caught him in a silken web of sensuality he never wanted to escape from.

  Now that they were at Millcote, reality would intrude. Nash would be there, and his factory in Bristol, servants...

  He felt like saying the hell with it all, going down to a charming beauty spot like Lyme, or even staying at a fine inn in Bath and indulging in all the pleasures the fine town had to offer.

  But he was here now, and was curious to see the house. He would also have to send back any of Matilda's things she had already had sent down. He tried to recall what she looked like, and in doing so kissed Juliet almost in relief.

  "What was that for?" she asked softly.

  "You're mine. I can kiss you any time you like," he said gruffly.

  "I only wish I could--"

  "Er, here comes Nash."

  Nash was a tall thin man with sharp green eyes and a shock of startling auburn hair. Like Lawrence, he looked weathered by the Indian climate, and had the air of someone far too busy for social pleasantries.

  Indeed, he felt anything but gracious as he espied a dark-haired woman in the coach with his employer. Matilda's new maid? And what were they doing here? He had not expected them for a fortnight. He nearly panicked as he realised he had left out some most incriminating materials...

  "Well, Nash, it would appear you've chosen a very fine house," he remarked, staring at the red-brick mansion in awe. He had never imagined he would ever own anything so fine in his life, yet here he was.

  "What are you doing here, sir? You and Matilda are supposed to be enjoying your wedding trip."

  "Ah, just so. There's been a change of plans."

  "What, you're not married?" Nash said, restraining his emotions as best he could. Damnation, had he found out about Matilda after all?

  "I am married, to this charming young lady. Mrs. Juliet Howard, may I present Robert Nash, known to all as just plain Nash."

  Nash stared, and sensed a strain between the couple which he could not quite put his finger on. He shook hands abruptly because he knew it would look most particular if he did not, and suppressed all the thousand screami
ng questions in his brain as he said, "If you'll forgive me, sir, I shall just summon all the servants to allow them to welcome you home."

  Damn again. He had got up a most disreputable group of minions who would have suited Matilda down to the ground--a few lusty men and women to indulge her when Lawrence was away, and even himself if he was there, though tea was king. The last thing he had ever imagined was hiring for a household to be run by a tiny genteel slip of a thing who looked as though she would puff away with the first breath of wind.

  Lawrence stepped ahead of her, and she had the sensation she had been completely forgotten as he stepped into the spacious hallway and began to survey them like a general in command of his troops.

  The men were all huge, strapping specimens. He felt a creep of unease as one of them stared at his wife with open admiration in a most lewd manner. He was practically licking his lips.