The Rakehell Regency Romance Series Boxed Set 5

by MacMurrough, Sorcha

  Ash looked at her steadily. "But you never—"

  "Oh no, never," she said with a look of genuine horror which both elated and depressed him. "Not to say he didn’t try, though. They all try. That’s the trouble. I couldn’t imagine—

  She sighed and shook her head. "I know that sounds silly to you, a worldly chap such as yourself, but really it seems too, well, barbaric. Yet it can be lovely, or so I’m told. I hardly know what to think or feel."

  "I’m not so worldly as you believe. I have never fancied myself in love, or been engaged, as you have."

  Before Ellen could ask him any further questions, Ash said, "And Georgina? How has she coped wth the loss of her beau? I mean, I am assuming that it's all over—"

  "I only wish it were," she said frankly. "She still cares for him despite everything. I mean, I know what Arabella and Blake told us about them both being a pair of rabid fortune-hunters out to recover their desperate situation, but Oliver did come forward to tell the truth. He wasn’t involved in any way with the murders. Or so he says. I’m sure Georgina would be willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, she loved him so. But my parents would never hear of it."

  "He’s a changed man, though, I’m sure of it. He does wonders at the clinic with Antony. He helped Matthew Dane and his wife Althea no end when they were first married."

  She nodded. "Yes, I suppose we can include Oliver in the list of people who have reformed, along with Matthew himself. Once Oliver enlisted and went to Waterloo with Blake to work with him in the field hospitals, Blake said he had the gift of healing and trained him as a nurse. He did it willingly. Said it was penance for the harm he had caused, apparently.

  "Then when the war was finally over, he stayed on London working with the invalids, and has been studying to become fully qualified when he’s not working."

  Ash nodded. "I know my mother has seen him a couple of times to teach him a bit of what she knows, and Arabella still keeps in touch with him. They are cousins, after all. He’s said to have gone from one extreme to the other. He now lives like a monk in his digs and works like a demon."

  Ash paused for a moment, before asking, "Would you be willing to meet him again, to forgive him?"

  She halted and stared at him for a moment. Then she shrugged one shoulder and continued on up the forest path. "For my part, there’s nothing to forgive. He never hurt me. But I want to let the past rest now. I know he was not much better than Timothy Bridges, but he has reformed, I’m sure of it.

  "No, I would have no objection to meeting with him again. Not if Georgina still loved him. But to tell you the truth, if he’s as sober, reliable and industrious as everyone says, he could do a great deal better than my sister."

  Ash nodded. "He is so far as I’ve ever seen, from the times I’ve dropped into the clinic to lend a hand. I’m glad he had his conversion on the road to Damascus. ‘And as he journeyed, it came to pass that he drew nigh unto Damascus: and suddenly there shone round about him a light out of heaven: and he fell upon the earth, and heard a voice saying unto him, Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me? And he said, Who art thou, Lord? And he said, I am Jesus whom thou persecutest: but rise, and enter into the city, and it shall be told thee what thou must do.’"

  She looked at him in surprise. "Why would you study-"

  "I wanted to learn the things I had missed from my rather unorthodox upbringing."

  She smiled shyly. "Do you suppose you can teach me some of the things I’ve missed from my orthodox one?"

  He gazed at her steadily with his earnest golden eyes. "A little knowledge can be a dangerous thing."

  "Still, I would like to learn if you have time."

  "I’m experienced, but still a virgin."

  She flinched slightly at his directness. "That wasn’t quite what I meant. I was referring to other things as well. All about India, for example." Then she looked at him more closely. "But what you just said. Surely that’s a contradiction in terms."

  "Not at all. I’ve enjoyed myself, pleasured and been pleasured by women," he admitted. "No men, in case you were wondering. But I’ve never actually participated in the full act of love."

  Ellen gazed up at him. "May I ask why, or is it too personal?"

  "I always want us to be honest with each other. A simple reason. It’s too enormous an undertaking, with potential consequences even if one tries to be careful. I would have to have a woman I loved, respected, esteemed and was convinced I could share future happiness with before I would ever permit myself to indulge in the full joys of sexual congress."

  "But what about being, um, well, being pleasured. Wasn’t it a great temptation?"

  "It was very tempting, I will admit. But part of the success is learning how to control the temptation, not be selfish and take everything with no thought for the other person. And not all pleasure is centred in the genitals."

  She blushed, but asked, "What if they were willing?" wondering as she did so at her own audacity.

  He shrugged. "I imagine some of them were willing to go all the way to full intimacy. But I made it clear from the start that that was not an option. The man has the right to say no, just as the woman does.

  "I don’t think they were too disappointed, though. There are a great number of ways to fulfill a person without the full act itself. You can even pleasure someone without touching them if you practice and use your imagination."

  Ellen listened, wide-eyed.

  "There shouldn’t be a constant fixation on coitus. It dazzles, as my mother has told me, but it’s not the only aspect of the relationship between a man and a woman. It can even obscure what is important in the relationship. Seem the end in itself, instead of just part of the whole journey to higher understanding and love. Sex is not an end, it’s a beginning."

  Her expression was one of extreme doubt. "By not even touching?" she said incredulously.

  "Yes, of course. You can speak, or even just look."

  She laughed and shook her head.

  "Would you like me to try?"

  She shivered. "I don’t know if I dare. If I can trust you. If I want to discover that side of myself."

  "You already have, with your hands and wrists, you know. Was that so terrible?"

  "No," she admitted. "But I mean full sexual pleasure with another person is um, well, such a huge step. I don’t know if I’m ready."

  "Or if I’m the right person?" he asked candidly, his eyes glowing with all sorts of unspoken desires.

  "Yes, no, I mean, I don’t know. I mean, I know we’re becoming very good friends. I just don’t want you to think ill of me."

  "Do you think ill of me for having admitted what I have, that I’ve explored my sexuality but am still a virgin?"

  She blushed but shook her head. "No. I’m, well, I’m dying of curiosity to tell you the truth."

  "Good. So long as you tell me the truth, Ellen, I shall do the same for you. I would love to explore this other side of you. You can stop at any time. Would you like us to start now?"

  Her heart hammered in her chest. "What do you want me to do?" she whispered.

  He led her to a small clearing and hunkered down by a tree trunk.

  "Just sit in a comfortable position."

  "Near you?" he asked

  "No, exactly where you are now."

  She looked at him in surprise. "But I’m all the way over here--"

  "I’m just going to look. I’m not going to touch, I told you. And I don’t want to shock you with any naughty talk at this stage."

  "Oh, but I would like to learn—"

  "Perhaps some other time," he said dryly, hectic colour springing up on his cheeks. "If this goes well. Just relax."

  He began to look at her, making eye contact with an intentness of expression which left her breathless.

  She looked away a few times, embarrassed by the open candour of his golden gaze. Soon, however she grew happy with the warm feelings he was evoking, and began to return his regard, admiring his breathtaking hands
omeness in a way she had never been able to do fully before for fear of being caught. She noticed his fine lips, his slow sensual half-smile.

  After a time she could feel his warm eyes travelling over her body and downward, and she felt the blush creep through her as his moved to her breasts, waist and hips.

  Once or twice he even licked his lips slowly, which made her even more flustered and heated. It was like someone rubbing soft silk over her bare flesh, or a fine piece of soft fur.

  He worked his way all the way down to her toes and back up again, pausing longest at the places he was most intrigued by. Her breasts and lap got the longest regard, with a few licks for emphasis, and then he returned to her eyes and stared at her again.

  He raised his hand and stroked his cheekbone. Immediately she felt a jolt of electricity flash along her own as though he had been caressing her.

  His eyes never left hers as he began to circle his lips with one finger, his tongue darting out to suckle and caress its tip. His other hand was now on his heart and it was as though she could feel his hand upon her own breast. Her nipples sprang to life under the fine fabric of her gown, and she could feel her breathing grow short and reedy.

  His eyes continued to bore into hers as his finger stroked down his throat, darting to one side to touch the pulse point of his neck before he stroked his other hand upwards over his chest to touch the other one. Then his first hand moving down ever lower towards his waist.

  In an almost trance-like state she raised her own hand, wondering what she was feeling, a sort of swimming sensation she couldn’t control.

  Ash moved his hand again on his throat so she could see he was applying a fair amount of pressure, and then Ellen could feel her own pulse beating, a steady throb which matched the one building between her legs as he continued to stare at her admiringly.

  Her breath was coming in gasps, and she longed to close her eyes and give herself up to the sensations he was evoking. But to do that would be to lose the erotic contact.

  The twilight began to deepen, making the whole aspect even more sensual. It was as if all of her inhibitions had flown right out the window as her hand travelled down both her legs, before stopping at the knee, pressing between them and starting to travel back up in time to his own.

  His eyes never left her, and she could feel herself soaring. Her nipples strained against her gown and she placed her other hand there. One light brush of her fingers even through all her enveloping layers of gown, petticoats and drawers set her off. Her thighs clamped down on her hand with a will of their own as she shivered with icy heat. She gasped and panted, and at last was still.

  "Oh my, oh dear."

  "Not strictly fair, since you did touch yourself, but we can try again without hands if you like."

  "No, no, I don’t think— Oh, what must you think of me?"

  Ash gave her a long, burning look which scorched her cheeks. "I don’t believe you want the honest answer to that, for it might terrify you."

  "Oh, tell me please. Do you think I’m a wanton?" Ellen said tearfully.

  He shook his head. "Not at all. It was the most arousing sight I’ve ever seen in the world. You taking your pleasure just now was magnificent. I don’t think you know just how lovely you really are. May I touch you, just once, on the hand?"

  She nodded. She could feel him shuddering for a time as he clutched her fingers convulsively.

  "There. Now we’re even. And you don’t think ill of me, do you? I don’t disgust you?"

  "Why no, not at all," Ellen said in confusion.

  "But I’m going to be ill if I don’t get out of these damp clothes."

  At her look of enquiry he said evasively, "Er, damp ground, you know."

  "Oh," she said, though she knew full well she was saturated for an entirely different reason, and wondered if he was as well.

  "If we hurry, we can get the bathroom before everyone else."

  He kept hold of her hand as they went back up the path towards the house quickly.

  She was rather disappointed that their forest interlude had ended to abruptly, but Ash was not willing to let things end ther either.

  Before he pushed open the front door he turned, grasping her to him, wrapping his huge arms around her in an effusive embrace, his large body pressing against her breasts and hips for the briefest second.

  She tried to bring her arms up around him, but Ash had already darted half way up the stairs to fetch clean clothes for them both, leaving Ellen staring after him, her whole body on fire.

  Chapter Eleven

  Ellen thought she wouldn’t be able to look at Ash at supper due to all the shame she felt at the sensual release she had shared with him in the woods. But the conversation was completely mundane around the table with his family, and so she was able to relax.

  She was sure what they had shared was special. That he liked her. In fact, he made no disguise of his interest in her, trying to draw Ellen out of herself to learn more about her, and get her to participate in the families’ socialising more.

  They were very different from her own family, where meals were very much on the hoof and hurried, with all of them seldom at table now. It was almost as if they couldn’t bear to be reminded of the empty places where their loved ones had once sat. And Georgina was far too preoccupied with worldly concerns to wish to dine en famille .

  But here she felt warm, safe, admired. As if she belonged...

  After supper they retired to the drawing room for chess, and as the subject of his rounds starting the following day came up, Ash said suddenly, "But of course our schedule will change soon. Perhaps Miss Jerome would like to come to London with us in a few weeks’ time?"

  Eswara gave her son a long look. "Of course you can bring any friend you like. But she might be busy, and not find the occasion as entertaining as we all do."

  "Well, she’ll never know unless she tries," Martin observed, dandling his son and daughter, and moving in closer to Ash to enable him to lift the lad from his arms.

  Ash played with his baby brother Ranjeet as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and then laughed. "Hah, that was clever, Martin. Gave me the wet nappy, didn’t you."

  Martin had the grace to look sheepish. "Oh, sorry. Never even checked."

  "Must be my charm then, eh?" He began to strip off the wet napkin and within a minute was back with a fully dressed child.

  Ellen stared. He really was most remarkable. "Tries what?" she asked in confusion.

  "We’re going up to stay with the Duke and Duchess of Ellesmere at their townhouse, and celebrate the Hindu festival of Holi."

  "What is it?"

  "A spring festival of colours."

  "It sounds very interesting," she said, her expression earnest. "Do you all go to, um, participate?"

  "Yes, the Elthams, Avenels and Stones come with us."

  She managed to contain her surprise. The Stones? "I’m glad. Glad you’ve managed to put the past behind you, Martin," she said quietly.

  Martin remained cheerful-looking, no painful shadow of the past crushing his spirit. "It was my destiny to be with Eswara. I can see that now. Not Vanessa’s fault at all. And certainly not Clifford’s. He was always a good friend before my first wife was murdered by Vanessa’s half-brother."

  "Perhaps we can get Clifford’s brother Henry to come this year too?" she ventured to suggest, feeling sorry for her former brother-in-law and the way he had cut himself off from the world ever since the loss of his wife, her sister Josephine, nearly four years before.

  Martin shook his head. "I already asked. He refused. He just isn’t ready yet. Who knows when he ever will be."

  "One day," his wife reassured him. "Life has a habit of presenting us with all sorts of unexpected gifts." They exchanged long looks with a heated intensity which Ellen found almost shocking.

  "And nasty surprises," Ash said with a laugh, bouncing his brother on his lap.

  Little Ranjeet cooed, threw his arms around him and kissed h
im on the lips.

  Ellen felt a lump in her throat at the sight of the huge handsome man being so affectionate with the small child.

  "So tell me more about this spring festival," she said, settling near Ash on the sofa, and holding her hands out to take Jayashri on her own lap and stroke her long raven-black hair.

  Martin handed her over and sat on the opposite sofa with his wife, and they both began to sew.

  Ellen tried not to gape at the sight of her huge manly cousin darning a baby bootie. She wished she didn’t continually feel as if she had intruded upon some strange new world.