The Rakehell Regency Romance Collection 6

by MacMurrough, Sorcha

  "Some other day," he said with a little smile. "Today is your special day."

  "Every day is special with you," she said sincerely.

  He smiled. "But this is a particularly special day."

  "Oh?" she said, wondering at the odd light in his eyes. She frowned. "It's not my birthday, and so far as we know it's not yours. I think we need to have an official one for you, though. And we can celebrate your name day. And the day we first met, and as many other special dates as we can manage..."

  He grinned from ear to ear. "Then how about this one?"

  He went over to his dresser and opened the bottom drawer. She watched the muscles of his broad back rippled as he fished around at the back until he final located what he was looking for.

  He returned to the bed with something concealed behind him. "I was going to do this later, somewhere more romantic perhaps. But I really can't wait any longer."

  He got down upon both his knees by the bedside, held the small velvet box out in front of him and opened it. "Darling Gabrielle, I was wondering if you would be willing to do me the greatest honour, and consent to become my wife?"

  "Oh, Simon, yes, " she cried, flinging her arms around his neck. The ring box tumbled into the covers as he climbed back into the bed and made love to her rapturously.

  It was only when he rolled on top of it some time later with a wince that he recollected what he should have done had he not allowed himself to get so carried away.

  "Er, I was about to put the ring on your finger, but one of us got completely carried away."

  "Only one of us?" she asked with a wink.

  "Well, both of us," he conceded. "But with an unbridled response like that, who could possibly blame me."

  She giggled. "Hmm, I don't think blame is exactly the right word. I can never fault you for your prodigious enthusiasm."

  "It's where the word amateur comes from. Someone with a love of something."

  Gabrielle stroked one broad bicep. "You're certainly no amateur when it comes to knowing exactly what pleases me."

  He caressed her bare belly with one broad hand. "Good, I'm glad. Then I hope you won't mind another night like last night. But only if you're up to it..."

  She kissed him lingeringly. "Up to it? I'm looking forward to it. Let's forget about that fancy day out that you had planned. I just want to stay right here like this with you. So long as you teach me that massage so I can do it to you."

  "Let's get that bath first, sweetheart, and then you can tiddle me until I faint. But first..." He took up the ring and slid it onto her finger. "I love you. Have loved you from the moment we met. You were a vision of heaven, and I need you so much, I can't live without you by my side. Marry me, my love, and make me an even happier man than you already have."

  "Yes, darling, yes."

  He slid the ring over her finger, and sealed their engagement with a kiss.

  It was a perfect fit, and she admired the sparkling rubies and diamonds. She had never seen another ring like it, for the stones had been rendered into the swirling petals of a rose.

  "Roses, your favorite. It is exquisite. Thank you so much." She kissed his hand tenderly, and then his lips.

  He took her hand in both his own, his expression suddenly serious. "I know there are a lot of reasons why we can't get married right away, but I wanted this to be a pledge. I want you to wear this as a token of my undying love and my solemn vow that only death shall ever part us physically if I ever have a choice in the matter.

  "I love you more than life itself, Gabrielle, and will do everything in my power to let you know how special you are to me. How only you can ever complete my poor self. And how I want to complete you in every way."

  "Oh, Simon, you do," she sighed, cupping his finely chiselled cheekbone. "Please don't doubt yourself any longer."

  He nodded. "I just can't help thinking what an enormous and very brave leap of faith this has been for you, loving a man like me."

  "And a great leap for you too. I mean, you've had little enough reason to trust anyone these past few years as it as. Then there's being intimate. Being someone's, er, lover, partner, is always a gamble. You've risked the most secret part of yourself, entrusted it to my care. Your core, your essence. I can't tell you how humbling and how thrilling that's been for me."

  "For me too." He gave her a kiss that curled her toes.

  She would have dragged him back into the bed, but he was already on his feet and offering his hand to her. "But come, your bath awaits, my princess."

  She looked at the ring again. "I truly do feel like one with this lovely gift. Thank you. I shall treasure it always, and never take it off."

  After a long leisurely bath that was part fun, part serious intent, they looked in on Lucinda, and once they saw all was well, returned to their own room, where they curled up in front of the fireplace so she could dry her hair.

  Simon sent for a tray of food to be brought up, and fed her like a little bird, with every bite followed by a kiss.

  Once her hair was dry he brushed it until it crackled, then spread it out all over the floor as he made love to her.

  "Magnificent. All of you spread open to my gaze in the bright sunshine. No, don't blush and look away. You're a revelation."

  "So are you." She rolled him onto his back. "Remember what you promised."

  "Very well. Oh, oooh..." He laughed happily. "Where did you..."

  "I've been comparing notes with Isolde and Bryony. There are all sorts of lovely things I've just been waiting to try on you. So just lie back and enjoy it."

  "Enjoy is such a weak little word to describe this."

  She gave an impish smile. "That's right, love. Bliss, passion, joy, ravishment. You can have it all, if you just let go. You can do it. You encourage me all the time, so now it's your turn. That's right, let me see you pulsing, just ready to expl..."

  Simon obeyed her instructions to the letter for the rest of the day and evening, until they both collapsed panting.

  Once back up on the pillows under the cover once more, Simon kissed her left hand and placed it against his heart.

  He snuggled into her with a sigh of pure joy, and for the second night in a row he slept straight through until morning without a single nightmare. Chapter Thirty-three

  Isolde caught sight of Gabrielle's ring at breakfast the next morning, pointed, and was the first to hug them both.

  The whole family was thrilled at the news of their engagement, and all gathered round to hug, kiss, shake hands and look at the ring in turn.

  "When do you think..." Isolde called above the merriment.

  Simon shrugged. "I would do it in a heartbeat if I knew who I was. And wasn't still labelled mad by most of the world."

  Randall shook his head. "Listen, I know you're worried, but Jonathan Deveril is nothing if not discreet and you know you can count upon us as your family. Any time you'd like to..."

  "Thank you," Simon said politely, "but we don't think we're ready quite yet. We're waiting for just the right time."

  "Such as?" Isolde asked.

  Randall suggested, "June is always a good month for a wedding."

  Gabrielle nodded. "Hmm, not a bad idea. But it shall be as Simon decides. Above all, we don't want a huge fuss. We just want something simple and loving."

  "That's all very well and fine. Anything you have will be grand compared to what some of us Rakehells had," Randall said with a wink at his wife.

  Gabrielle's face fell. "We would never want to try to outdo anyone--"

  Her cousin shook his head. "Oh no, I'm simply saying when Isolde and I wed, we did it in Mama's bedroom, she was so ill. Nothing else is important except that you love each other."

  Simon gave a warm smile. "If that's all we need to concern ourselves about, then we have no worries at all."

  "How wonderful. Delighted to welcome you into the family in earnest," Randall said, finally getting close enough to Simon amid all the children that he could offer his hand to shake.


  Simon grinned broadly, and for a second Randall could have sworn...

  But the fleeting impression vanished as suddenly as it has appeared. He shook his head to chase away the odd notion that they had indeed met before he had ever come to Barkston House with Gabrielle, and he turned the conversation around to insisting that they have a party to celebrate, and to also introduce Simon around the neighbourhood a bit more.

  Simon was reluctant at first, but agreed in the end after Isolde and the other Avenel adults assured him that they did not mean to make a Society beau out of him, simply have people meet him as one of their cousins.

  "All right, my dears. You know I can refuse you nothing." He smiled at Bryony and Isolde, one so dark, the other so bright and red, like his own beloved. "But not quite yet."

  "It won't be a big party, I promise," Randall hastened to reassure them. "It would be mainly Rakehells. A ball would be just the..."

  Gabrielle shook her head. "Oh please, that makes it seem as though we're aristocrats, when everyone knows we're living here at your sufferance."

  "Rubbish," Randall said airily. "We shall celebrate your engagement in style. "And now, off the two of you get before you ravish each other right on the table in front of the children. I think I'm going to need to give the two of you more time off until you come down off your cloud of euphoria. It's positively indecent the way both of you glow when you look at each other."

  "Sorry," they both apologised at once, and then grinned.

  "Actually, no, I'm not in the least sorry," Gabrielle said, giving Simon a warm kiss. "Well, only about the scaring the children part."

  But the eldest were all smiling happily, not in the least put out at the cloud of romantic happiness which seemed to fill the room.

  Dowager Lady Hazelmere sniffed. "I'm not sorry either. It does so remind me of my wonderful days with your dear Papa."

  Gabrielle blinked for a moment, for she was sure that the older woman was staring right at Simon as she said it. Yet Simon was certainly no blood relation.....

  A strange thought began to form in the back of her mind as she looked at the three men, all toasting the happy couple with cups of tea. They were all so tall and dark, and so similar in appearance that they interchanged clothes all the time....

  Not to mention the fact that Isolde had discovered Michael was still alive when he had been declared dead after the war by following a man she had thought to be Randall....

  They might be brothers, right enough, but by all accounts the Dowager had said their marriage had been a most happy one, and Simon definitely had recollections of his own mother and father, brothers and sister, not just in England, but in France.

  So no, they were not brothers, but they certainly could be related. After all, many of the best families in England intermarried in a complicated network that had little to do with love, and everything to do with the 'right' connections. Many families had even wed into the French aristocracy for the same reason.

  "Are you all right, my love?" he whispered, holding her close around the waist.

  "Never better, darling."

  "In that case, I've had my fill of breakfast, so can we let the feast begin?"

  She smiled up at him.

  "Let me just finish my toast and we'll go."

  They cleaned their plates hastily and took Randall at his word, waving au revoir to the children and telling them that lessons would resume tomorrow promptly on the dot of seven.

  There were a few good natured grumbles, but David piped up, "I can't wait. Julius Caesar was about to meet Cleopatra."

  Randall laughed. "I'll say."

  She grinned as Simon swung her up into his arms and took the stairs two at a time.

  "You'll turn all of them into hopeless romantics at this rate."

  "There are worse things for young men to be," he pointed out as he hurried along the corridor to their room.

  As soon as they were back in the privacy of their chamber once more, he put her down on the bed, locked the door, and said, "Come here and let me taste all of you. I'm starving."

  "Take whatever you like, as much as you want. Satisfying you only feeds my passion," she urged, gliding her skirts up over her calves.

  He knelt before her, splaying one broad hand across each buttock as he pulled her up and open to his mouth. "I'm so glad. Hmm, delicious. A feast fit for a king."

  "So long as I'm your queen."

  "Aye, that you are," came the muffled words. "My quean too. I nearly fainted with excitement when you came to me in Bedlam as you did."

  "Is that what all men want? A lady in the drawing room and a whore in the bedroom?" she asked, gazing down lambently at his dark head as he pleasured her.

  His head shot up, his eyes blazing. "No whore, not now, not ever. If any woman gives herself, it should be seen as a precious gift, not a monetary transaction or conquest, or something that should be reviled as a sin, when it's the most natural thing in the world to want to share with the person you love."

  "Oh, Simon, I wish all men thought as you do. Women too."

  "So I want my lady everywhere, all the time," he said impishly. "Drawing room, bedroom, bathtub, rose garden..."

  He was already kissing his way back down her bare belly to resume his attentions on her aching and distended flesh. "And if there is a little bit of, shall we say vixen, in the mix, well, then, I'm more than happy to be your frisky dog fox."

  "Sure, with this red hair, could I be anything other than a vixen?" she replied with a laugh, tossing her tresses over her shoulder with a sultry smile.

  "You're perfect. My vixen, goddess, and my dearest love. And soon to be my wife."

  "Amen to that," she said, arching her back as the whirlwind sensations swept through her once more.

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Since their reluctance and shyness over the engagement ball in their honor were so evident, Isolde and Bryony made all the arrangements for Simon and Gabrielle's party, which was to be a supper with dancing afterwards a week from the day they had got engaged.

  Gabrielle could see Simon was still deeply unhappy about the whole idea, even on the morning it was to take place.

  She had hoped he would have come around to the prospect by now, but a slight frown marred his handsome features, and he was distracted and almost nervous, jumping every time she spoke.

  Finally she took his hand as they sat in the small study going over some of their finances together.

  "Darling, I know you're a bit nervous about the party tonight, but, well, the truth is, we can't keep hiding away forever. You act as though you've done something wrong. You know you haven't."

  "But I'm, well, odd, aren't I?" he asked quietly.

  Her brows lifted. "In what way?"

  "Just well, different."

  Gabrielle smiled at him lovingly. "If you mean really bright and intelligent, yes. If you mean anything less than a gentleman, no, not at all. Please believe me. Everyone will love you almost as much as I do. You have no reason to be so shy."

  "I'm terrified I'll have one of those seizures right in front of everyone and say or do something--"

  "Then we just admit you have epilepsy. I don't see anything wrong with that. You're ill, not mad. Even Julius Caesar had the so-called falling sickness."

  "I suppose that's one consolation. But in front of so many strangers..."

  She patted his hand and said in her most hearty tone, "They will stay strangers if you don't make the effort. Really, you'll be fine. You do have a rather disconcerting habit of telling the truth about everything, and a most bold tongue in bed. But if you remember that most people don't really want to hear the truth, you'll be fine.

  "Try to keep the conversation light and frothy, and above all, don't start getting romantic with me in front of everyone, or they shall soon find out that we are the most outrageously happy couple, and that really would be a scandal." She rolled her eyes comically. "Marrying for love amongst the aristos in Britain simply isn't done." She
added the last with a Ton drawl which would have done a Society miss proud.

  "I think you are wrong about the latter. From what I hear, every Rakehell marriage was a love match, even if some of them had a rocky start."

  "Yes, but they're Radicals. They feel strongly about the rights of women, and marriage as an institution. So at least we shall be in excellent company. Ours is exactly the same, a true love match in every sense."

  "Very well, I shall try to not view the night as a torment keeping me away from your lush feminine charms. Which I am amply going to partake of once they have all gone home."