The Rakehell Regency Romance Series Boxed Set 5

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The Rakehell Regency Romance Series Boxed Set 5 Page 36

by MacMurrough, Sorcha


  She stroked the hair back from his brow tenderly. "I never thought you were bad, darling, just misguided and wounded. But it was like you were only half a person. Just work. No pleasure, or when you did get it, you reproached yourself for it. Were angry with me."

  He nodded. "It's true. I could lose myself in you so completely that the tea made no difference. And I hated myself for treating you like an object."

  "No, not really. You always tried to please me, even when you said you were never going to. Even when I couldn't hug or kiss you."

  Lawrence sighed. "Believe it or not I was actually trying to protect you. You touch or kiss me and it's like fireworks going off. I just suffuse and convulse with desire, and all I want to do is bury myself inside you up to the hilt and stay there forever. God, how raw and crude."

  She smiled slightly. "It sounds like an interesting challenge. But I think we might have to get out of bed some time. But you are within me forever, Lawrence. Now that I've known the joy of your passion, nothing else could ever compare. I feel you within me always, and not just because of the baby."

  She took his hand and placed it on her abdomen. "I feel you in my head and heart too, in my spirit. You've been so grim, but I've seen your potential for happiness. That day with the swing. You laughed and loved, and for a time you didn't fear yourself, or me. We can get that back. And try to keep it, nurture the joy of love every day."

  "You do. All the hundred little thoughtful things you do for me and the boys."

  She smiled up at him mishieveously. "We may not be able to use the swing for amatory games for the moment, but there's something so special about just having you all to myself to touch and treasure even for an hour--"

  "Two hours, every day," Lawrence said firmly. "No work, boys, or writing your histories, Mr. J. A. Lyons."

  She smiled at his proud expression. "So I've gone from bawd to bluestocking, have I?"

  "Except that you never were a whore."

  Juliet gave her husband a long sideways glance full of mirth. "I don't know, darling. You certainly manage to make me feel quite wanton. Especially when you look at me like that."

  "You mean like this," he said with a grin, staring at her like a starving man presented with a feast.

  "Oh, my yessss—"

  "I've missed you so much."

  "And I've missed you. Come, take your clothes off and get in this bed."

  "Oh, no, I shouldn't-"

  "There are lots of different ways of making love. You've just seen one. I have a mind to try a few more."

  "Dare I ask where--"

  "Eswara has been teaching me all about the tantra. I have a lingam massage for you--"

  He knew the Sanskrit word and blushed to the roots of his hair. "Good Lord," he gasped. "What was she thinking telling you about--"

  "That we have to be careful for a time, but we adore each other. So let's worship each other in any way we can. And she can teach you about the yoni massage if you--"

  "If?" He grinned. "Damned right I want to learn, if it will make you happy."

  He had by now divested himself of all his clothes. She immediately began to massage him all over.

  "I rather like you silent and submissive," she said with a giggle.

  "I rather like you bold and in control. Oh, Juliet, oh!"

  "And there's plenty more where that came from."

  He rolled over and buried his face between her thighs. "I know. And you can have as much as you like."

  "I like, very much. Mm, just there. And there. Oh, that is wonderful, thank you."

  "You said that to me our first night. I should have listened to you then. Did I hurt you very much? I mean, for your first time," he asked worriedly, lifting his head to look at her.

  She smiled gently. "You've always been a magnificent lover. You were very caring, and I adore your eagerness and inventiveness. And some of the games have been quite thrilling."

  "I don't want any games. Being with you is so powerful, I can, well--"

  "What, what is it?" she asked in surprise, looking at his sudden fit of trembling.

  "I can be right inside you and still burn for more."

  "Oh, Lawrence, I feel exactly the same," she admitted with a shaky laugh, caressing his finely chiseled jaw.

  "You do?" he said in relief. "God, I thought I was some sort of monster or degenerate."

  "No, not at all. It's love. And wanting trust and intimacy. Needing to communicate, be honest with one another. You were said to be an eloquent chap, and I can see your tongue is most certainly skilled, but you've never told me what you want or need. We've just gone by instinct."

  "We've not done too badly, though, have we?"

  "It's been frustrating though, not touching or kissing."

  "I'm sorry. It's been frustrating never knowing if I pleased you or not. When you were so silent."

  "You can't tell from my body?"

  "Some women pretend."

  She laughed. "Then come here. I'm going to give you a few lessons about what pleases me. But you'd better not fancy any sleep tonight. And only if you show me a few of the things that please you."

  Lawrence travelled up her body in a long, languid caress. "I'm looking at it. It's all of you."

  He kissed her again with his full need and passion, without any restraint, and felt himself soar. Her arms reached out to clasp him, and in his heart and soul he knew she had him safely now, and would never let him fall into the abyss again.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  After their magical night at Blake's, Lawrence took his now well wife home with her family to a completely different house and life from the one he had subjected them all to.

  With the demons of the past laid to rest, everything fell into place, his work, friendships and family ties. His new in-laws were a joy to be with, and all the Rakehells, including Matthew, were made welcome and found time for.

  He set regular hours for himself in Bristol four times a week, with the other three days set aside for domestic affairs. He and Juliet shopped, paid calls, spent time with the boys, and allowed themselves half a day every Wednesday for their own special picnics in the glade.

  One day Ash and his wife came past, and without a trace of embarrassment admitted they could see the swing from their window.

  "My step-father Martin was nearly killed in this very spot, you know. Hung from that self-same tree and left for dead. The rope broke rather than his neck."

  "Oh my," Juliet said, looking around her in alarm.

  "Nay, there are no ghosts here any longer. You've both been happy here. You've brought life and joy back to this place. I hope you don't mind if Ellen and I use it some time. That swing rather looks like fun." Ash winked.

  Lawrence and Juliet, totally naked and cowering under a blanket together, nodded.

  "Please, use it any time from now until after our baby is safely born. It's an experience that I can highly recommend. With the right partner, of course," Lawrence said, with a fond kiss for his wife.

  Ash hugged his wife, the placement of his hands leaving none of them in any doubt as to his thoughts. "I couldn't agree more. If you find the perfect love, hang on to it with both hands. Sorry to interrupt. Carry on." He flashed a cheeky grin and they left.

  Juliet giggled. Lawrence shook his head. "Now, where was I?"

  She rolled on her back and spread her legs wide. "I don't recall. Why don't you start all over again with that wonderful thing you do right there with your tongue and it'll come to me."

  "It's certainly going to come to me if you keep doing that."

  Juliet laughed happily, and let the sensations wash over them both.

  Lawrence's seeming dereliction of duty allowed Nash the chance to further his own business interests at his employer's expense. But he was still not happy. He needed Lawrence, needed his aggression and drive.

  And he hated to admit it, but Lawrence knew far more about tea. He had an instinct for it and people. Nash could siphon off funds and tea, but h
e would never have the power Lawrence had, unless he could get the entire empire for himself.

  Juliet's pregnancy set him into a state of indecision. Should he move now, or bide his time? The longer she got her claws into him, the less likely it would be that Matilda had any chance of winning him back. Lawrence would be upset at the death of his wife, but he would throw himself into his work even more enthusiastically, and have Matilda to console him.

  One thing was for certain. Nash didn't want any heir to be born. With that in mind he began to arrange for some 'accidents.'

  He became a more frequent visitor to the house, though it galled Lawrence to have him there on the three days he was supposed not to be working. Inevitably Nash wanted to discuss business, and all he wanted to do was be with his wife and family quietly.

  Juliet began to dread his brooding presence, for he seemed to suck all happiness from the house, and the minor little accidents of a busy household became major disasters.

  One of the maids tumbling down the stairs on a patch of wood oil left at the top landing ended up in a broken leg. Juliet, following on behind, got a slightly twisted ankle. She shuddered to think what would have happened if she had gone down head-first as well in her pregnant state.

  A huge branch falling during a particularly windy day as Juliet worked in the garden narrowly missed her.

  A few days later, one of the heavy bookshelves in the library tore away from its wooden anchors, demolishing the six-drawer desk underneath.

  Juliet, now nearly eight months pregnant, quailed in fear as she looked at the remains of the once mighty walnut piece, which had been crushed flat and was now fit only for kindling. It took them days to clean up the chaos of papers, ink, splinters and glass shards, but every moment she spent doing so gave her time to ponder over the seeming accident.

  If she and Lawrence had not reconciled, she might almost have thought he was trying to kill her. But the love shining in his eyes was enough to tell her that her suspicions had to lie elsewhere, with the one man who had never made any attempt to hide the fact that he disliked her.

  After one especially trying visit, Juliet dared to say, "Lawrence, I really don't want Nash coming to the house any more. He was rude to my sister, and the last time he was here she was so ill that she took to her bed for two days."

  Lawrence looked up from his papers in surprise. "Oh, surely not--"

  But Nash had mistaken the dark-haired sisters, and doctored her untended cup of tea in the drawing room with a violent abortifacient. Since Miranda was not pregnant, it had not done her any lasting harm, but Juliet was now getting the uneasy feeling that Lawrence had indeed been nursing a viper in his bosom. Only it had been a male.

  She began to visit Lawrence in Bristol, taking a more active interest in the business, looking around the warehouse, travelling home from work with him. Nash had to become more cautious yet again. It damaged his Han's business to not be able to have the freedom to come and go as he pleased.

  He tried to persuade Lawrence to go up north again, the better to plot and scheme, and get rid of Juliet once and for all.

  But Lawrence had said adamantly, "Nothing could possibly persuade me to leave Juliet when she's within weeks of giving birth, and she certainly can't travel. If it's so important, you go."

  One day when Juliet was at the warehouse, she caught sight of their former house servant who had looked at her so lewdly that first day she'd arrived in Millcote.

  "Lawrence, look! What's he doing here?"

  "Who?"

  "That man." She pointed.

  Lawrence caught a brief glimpse of him before he vanished behind the tea chests. "I'm not sure. He looks familiar but--"

  "He's the man you sacked for being so rude when we first came to Somerset."

  "So he is. I suppose Nash felt he might be useful."

  "Get rid of him," Juliet demanded.

  "What?"

  "Get rid of him!" Juliet insisted, trying to remain calm in the face of her fears. "Find out who's working in this factory and sack any of the men who were at the house when I first arrived."

  "Would you recognise them?"

  "Yes, I think so. You?"

  "Yes."

  Nash was livid as the six men most loyal to him were turned off. He grew even more desperate now. He needed to keep his Han's quota up, and would have to work all night every night by himself until the end of the month if he wanted to keep his lucrative sideline in adulterated Howard tea ticking over. His fall-back plan was to sneak the men into the wharf at night.

  But Juliet convinced her husband to institute extra security measures. Lawrence personally began to oversee a great deal more at the docks. He had sensed his wife's growing uneasiness over Nash, and he had to admit he was beginning to share it himself. After all, he had known both he and his brother, and he had been the one to introduce him to Matilda when they had 'run into each other' at a tea house.

  Juliet had been his first priority when he'd got home from London and Dorset, but he had not forgotten what Lady Pemberton had said to him. He couldn't prove pilferage, but he was increasingly of the opinion that something odd was definitely going on.

  "Look at this. A one can be made into a seven, for example. Or the ink scraped off in the ledger. Look at these numbers. They've certainly been changed," Juliet said to him one evening in his counting room as she chanced to look at one of the accounting books a clerk had been working on.

  As a result, Lawrence and Juliet began to keep the books themselves from that day forward. They also started to count every single container of tea as the chests came off the ships.

  Nash grew wild. How the hell was he ever going to manage now...

  But he had not got away with wholesale peculation all those years for nothing. It might be more difficult, but it could be done. He had the means and the tools.

  But he needed Matilda's help, even though she was a liability, becoming more and more licentious as the word spread about her peccadillos, and she had no more big burly serving men to service her at the warehouse every night.

  One cold October evening Juliet came to fetch Lawrence from work. They were supposed to be attending a harvest ball at Thomas Eltham's town house in Bath. Charlotte had recently been safely delivered of an adorable baby girl, and that too was a cause for celebration. Juliet was very much looking forward to seeing her and all her friends.

  Ted the nightwatchman told her, "Mr. Howard was just here a moment ago. Working late tonight. He might be checking the last of the cargo for the ship that's heading back tomorrow. Or he could be in Nash's office, just the other side of the canal. They'll be going over the bill of lading and getting ready for the mid-month inventory."

  "Thank you, Ted. I'll just take a stroll down and see if I find him. If you see him, tell him--"

  "I will, Miss."

  Juliet usually spent most of her time in the warehouse and its offices. Since the night was crisp and dry, she decided to enjoy her little adventure and look around a bit more. She generally avoided Nash, so had never been in his offices. She knew he had taken one of the two-storey houses. He worked in the bottom part and lived rent free in the top one.

  Juliet looked around curiously in the deepening twilight and saw a light off to her right. That must be the correct house, she decided. She strode alongside the murky canal and peered into the partly open door.

  Nash stood with a number of different containers covering the desk in front of him. She recognised the usual Howard tea cannisters and royal purple sealing wax. But some of the tins had been opened, and he was pouring half the contents into some empty ones by the sound of it. Then he added what looked to be twigs, fannings and dust, and a couple of other vile-looking things she could only guess at. When each tin was filled he re-sealed it.

  Even more interesting was the second batch of tins he opened, for they were divided into quarters into smaller black boxes and adulterated at a ratio of what she guessed to be one part tea to three or four parts rubbish. She
caught the name emblazoned on the side of the tin. Han's. Nash... The Oriental sounding name would fool the consumers. It had all been a fraud for goodness only knew how long. Ever since Lawrence had thought him a friend? Ever since he had lost everything and gone to India?

  Damn the wretch. Nash was nothing more than a hypocritical fraud.

  But even more shocking was the sound of footsteps coming down from above. Surely her husband could not be a party to such appalling dishonesty!

  But no, the tread was lighter, the steps softer. A shapely blonde with cat-green eyes wearing nothing but a black leather corset entered, carrying a horse's bridle and a riding crop.

 

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