The Rake and the Recluse REDUX (a time travel romance)

by Jenn LeBlanc

  “No,” he said quietly, and she drew her hand back. He reached out, grasping her wrist to lead her as he spread his thighs. “On your knees.”

  She moved slowly to the floor in front of him, a bit frightened by the forceful demand. He released her wrist, stretched his arms wide along the back of the settee as he watched her, waiting.

  She finally reached up, unraveling the delicate folds of his neck cloth before sitting back.

  He nodded.

  She unbuttoned his silk waistcoat, spreading it wide across his abdomen, the heat of her hands sinking through the cotton of his shirt. He hissed, drawing breath through his teeth, and leaned his head back on the settee.

  “Keep going,” he growled.

  Her forearm inadvertently brushed the rise of his manhood. She gasped at the thick hardness she felt through the fabric of his trousers.

  “Oh, lord,” he inhaled sharply. She smoothed her hands up the front of his shirt and started undoing it, slowly revealing his warm, smooth chest in the flickering candlelight.

  She pushed the shirt open, teasing his nipples with her thumbs, and he tensed with a groan. Her manner instantly shifted to brazen. She ran her hands down the inside of his shirt, tracing the ridges of his muscles as she spread the shirt wider, pulling it from his trousers.

  His breath came faster as she leaned forward and circled his navel, then placed a kiss in its depth, smoothing the soft black dusting of hair that encircled it and trailed into his trousers.

  She gazed up at his face. His head was thrown back over the edge of the settee, his mouth open, his breath fast and heavy. She traced that patch of skin on his stomach, tucking her fingers beneath his trousers to feel the wet tip of his erection. She gasped at the unexpected moisture and his hips jerked.

  He gripped her wrist and pulled her hands back then leaned forward, his hot mouth on her neck as he pushed her down on the thick, plush carpet beneath them. He knelt over her, one hand on her neck and the other running up her leg, tickling the sensitive skin behind her knee, moving her skirts higher. His lips kissed a trail of heat down her chest to the bodice of her dress, biting at her nipple through her garments. He ran his thumb over her kiss-swollen lips and pushed it in her mouth. She drew on it, sucking hard on his salty taste as she watched him.

  He lifted her skirts and tore at the opening to her drawers, splitting them to the waist. His finger slipped between her hot, wet folds. Again she was ready for him. She arched up, releasing his thumb with her gasp. Massaging her gently, he kissed her soft belly through the tear in her drawers.

  She breathed deeply as he kissed, and kissed, and kissed, knowing what would happen next. He ventured lower and lower, until his mouth was buried in the crest of her privacy, his heavy breathing creating a cool, tingling sensation over her aroused flesh and her heart sang.

  There really was no other explanation for it. The feel of his mouth on her—on her—was so arousing her entire body was humming with the little shocks of it.

  He teased her hidden nub with his tongue and she tangled her hands in his hair. Drawing her knees up and arching her back, she angled her hips toward him. He tasted slowly, his tongue delving deeper and deeper until it slipped inside.

  “Gideon, please.”

  “Hush.” His breath fanned over her exposed flesh and she shuddered. His tongue plunged and his finger circled. She felt the tendrils of electricity coursing from her toes to her belly, the tightening and relaxing, her muscles increasing their cadence, marching toward her center.

  He circled the entrace to her womanhood—ever wary of protecting her—as he suckled the little nub of flesh and she came undone, the waves coursing through her body, wracking her violently against him as he held onto her, pushing her climax higher and higher. He rose above her, listening to her sighs and looking into her passion-flustered features as she inhaled powerfully and repeatedly before collapsing on the floor below him.

  I am never going to recover from this man. This wasn’t anything like she had read in the romance novels that mother-number-two had, or the movies she and her foster sister watched on cable in the middle of the night.

  This was so much more.

  This was everything.

  He stroked her legs then straightened her skirts as he sat back and willed his overexcited body to calm. He watched her for innumerable moments, realizing he was going to remain in a turgid state until long after he was away from her. He shook his head and pulled her limp, sated body into his arms, holding her as tight as possible against himself to minimize any movement between them. He stood with her and walked to the parlor door, opening it quietly and slipping through. He carried her to her suite, setting her on the bed.

  She reached up, smoothing her hand over his jaw.

  He smiled down at her and loosened her dress, kissing her lips. “Francine,” he said, placing a finger over her mouth to keep her silent. “I have to go before we are discovered. I should never have come to you tonight. I—should not have. We really do need a chaperone.” He shook his head with a quiet laugh.

  She smiled as she leaned back into the bank of downy pillows, speechless as she watched him disappear back into the passage.

  He returned to his room, entirely disheveled but not caring in the least. The question is no longer when will I see her next, but can I survive one day, one hour, or one minute without her? And I simply cannot. He hadn’t meant to do seduce her. He’d only wanted to see her once more before going to bed, but when he heard her reading in the parlor he was drawn in. He hadn’t meant to, he kept telling himself—but the look she gave him…

  Well, he’d felt entirely unnerved. He groaned loudly. He had to find some control, or at least some semblance of it. He stripped what was left of his clothing, unceremoniously leaving it on the floor at the foot of his bed. Falling to the pillows, he rolled under the sheets and tried to sleep.

  The next morning, the Larrabees arrived at Eildon Hill early to gather the governess and outriders. Then they loaded the carriage and left.

  Stapleton ordered footmen to remove the box shutters, curtains, and panels from the duchess’ room. Mrs. Weston had the fabrics in the laundry house, carefully trying to clean them so they could be re-hung. There was a lightness to the work. Scrubbing away the years of dust and debris cleansed the room and her memories. She wanted to see it again the way it had been, when everyone was amazed by it.

  Mrs. Weston also felt that Gideon should at least see the room back together before deciding whether to destroy it. She certainly hoped he would save the chamber, since his father, Darius, had designed it for his mother, wanting a calm, beautiful area for her to relax and read and spend time with her beloved boys. He had spent a fortune on the decorations and the installation of the tub and running water.

  With the curtains and panels down and the windows cleaned, the barren room appeared cavernous. There was a large, low bed against one wall with an overstuffed horsehair mattress and countless pillows. Behind the velvet drapes that had lined the walls were bookshelves filled with small trinkets and keepsakes that Mrs. Weston planned to give to the brothers.

  There were hundreds of small items they’d collected: pressed leaves, stones, and bricks from the ruins on the property that they’d given their mama as gifts. The housekeeper picked up a heavy stone that Gideon had carried back to Melisande, all the way from the ruins, when he was only five. Mrs. Weston took both hands to lift it from the shelf and she laughed, remembering him inching his way up the grand staircase one step at a time to give it to his mother, just to see her face.

  There were also crystal animals, enameled boxes, dried flowers, and several pieces of jewelry that had been gifts from Darius. He never came home empty-handed from a trip. No matter where he went, he found something for the duchess, even if he was simply gone out to the stable to check on the horses. Mrs. Weston collected the items carefully so the walls and bookshelves could be cleaned.

  “Oh, Your Grace, I am so sorry if I failed you,” she said to
the room as she sat at the edge of the tub, looking around. “Your sons are amazing men. I so wish you could see them, how they’ve grown. I see your spirit in both of them, even though I’ve had to look harder when it comes to Gideon. But lately, I see you more and more.” She sighed.

  “There you are, Westy. Hiding out in here?” Perry asked as he entered.

  “No, my lord, only gathering your mama’s things for you. They need to clean the walls and such, and I wanted to make sure everything she kept was safe.”

  “I see. So what have you?” She pointed to the baskets and he looked inside. “We collected these things for her?” He twirled a dry leaf in his fingers. “She kept everything?”

  “Melisande adored the two of you, my lord. She kept everything you gave her.”

  He reached into the box and pulled out a small, black river stone with a white grain across the surface. He rubbed it between his fingers as he sat next to her.

  “Did she bring me here?”

  Her heart broke, seeing the lost little boy in the face of this powerful man. “Yes, my lord. The bed there,” she said, nodding to the mattress. “She wanted it low so you could play on it safely, nap here while she read.”

  He looked down at the stone. “I don’t remember,” he said softly.

  She patted his arm. “You were but a babe, Perry. You can’t expect to remember these things. It was so long ago, and you were so tiny.”

  “I remember her scent. I remember the feel of warmth. I remember the slick of the stone in my palm, but I cannot bring a vision to my mind’s eye.” He stood and picked up the box of nature’s trinkets. “I’ll just…take this to my suite. You can let Rox know.”

  Mrs. Weston nodded. She stood and pulled a thick leather-bound book from the shelf, placing it in the basket before carrying it out of the room to give to Ferry.

  Gideon and Shaw sat at the old drafting table in the library, going over the original plans for the manor and the plans that his father had used when he built the room for his mother. According to the date, the room was done about three years before Gideon was born. There was a passage they hadn’t found yet which led from the room directly to the master bedchamber. It appeared to open up behind his wardrobe. The paneled room had always belonged to the duchess’ suite but, before his father’s renovation, only had fifteen-foot ceilings like the rest of the first floor. Darius had opened up the structure, removing another set of guest suites from the second floor to create the space. Shaw could see the alteration was structurally sound; they had reinforced the walls in the room with interior buttresses that were hidden by the velvet drapes.

  “I believe we should restore the room as it was,” Shaw said, looking at Gideon. He could see the duke’s face tense, relax, and tense again, the indecision drifting back and forth across his features. “The space isn’t accessible from the main areas of the house, and there isn’t a way to make it accessible because it’s tucked behind the family suites. There isn’t really anything else to do with it, other than restore it, perhaps update it, and return it to the lady of the manor. As it was meant to be.”

  Gideon nodded sharply. “Make it so, Shaw. If the fabrics are not salvageable, refer to Lady Francine for direction. The room is hers. If she has questions about it, refer her to Mrs. Weston. She was here when it was built.” Gideon stood to leave. “I need to prepare for London. We’ll be leaving in a few days. I must make ready everyone for my absence as we will be gone at least a fortnight, possibly twice that. You should make sure you have everything you need: measurements, samples, sketches, whatever.”

  “Of course, Your Grace.”

  Gideon turned on him. “Roxleigh,” he said stiffly. “I told you to address me as Roxleigh.”

  “Roxleigh.” Shaw paused as he looked into his serious countenance. “Eildon Manor is on the brink of an amazing restoration. The room, Lady Francine’s chamber, will be the crown jewel. This is a good thing.”

  Gideon nodded and turned again, leaving the library.

  Perry walked down the main stairs to find Gideon leaving the library in a daze. “Rox, are you ready to go to Kelso?”

  Gideon shook his head, clearing his thoughts. “No, I… I shall have the phaeton brought around soon, then we’ll be off.”

  “Gideon?”

  “I’m fine, I just… There’s been much to consider, you understand.”

  “Yes, I do. Why don’t we ride instead?” he suggested.

  Gideon stared at him for a moment, then nodded.

  They arrived in Kelso early that afternoon, bringing more baskets of food from Mrs. Weston. Meggie and Lilly’s parents were shocked to find the duke and viscount at their home. The duke was attentive to his lands, but never made unannounced house calls. The girls’ mother rushed about the tiny house attempting to make it more presentable, even though Gideon told her not to. She looked like a woman on the brink of disaster.

  “She obviously needs a distraction, Rox,” Perry murmured to his brother.

  Gideon nodded and handed her the packs of food that had been strapped to the horses. She took them gratefully and rushed to the kitchen. Dr. Walcott came into the main room looking a fright. He sat in a chair across from the brothers.

  “How is Lilly?” Gideon asked as her father, Byron Steele, walked into the room.

  “She’s better,” Dr. Walcott answered. “I believe she’ll recover. The superficial wounds are healing nicely, leaving only the deep wounds to worry over. She’s not been taken with another fever and she survived the first, so she must be getting stronger.”

  “My Lilly’s a strong girl, Yer Grace. She fells the crops wit the boys wit ne’er a worry.”

  Gideon nodded, looking up at Mr. Steele. “Sir, actually, the reason I’m here is that we believe we know who did this.”

  Mr. Steele collapsed in a chair, his mouth gaping.

  “Have you heard of a Lord Hepplewort?” Perry asked.

  Dr. Walcott shook his head, but Mr. Steele looked down at the floor.

  “Steele?” Gideon asked.

  He glanced up. “Yer Grace. I b’lieve a Lord Hepplewort stayed at the inn. He were here ‘round time Lilly were found. He did this to me girl?”

  Gideon nodded. “We believe so. As you must understand, there isn’t much that can be done through the law, though I want you to know that I will make sure he doesn’t get away with his actions. Even if he cannot be publicly punished for what he has done to your child.”

  Mr. Steele nodded, then looked back at the floor.

  Gideon continued. “My greatest concern is that he may feel threatened and return to hurt her, or any of your family. This is why I am asking that if she remembers anything, she tells no one but you and me. The last thing we want is for him to seek out revenge. He’s obviously unbalanced.”

  “Yer Grace, me family’s in yer debt. Everything ye’ve done. I canna thank ye.”

  Gideon stood. He reached for Mr. Steele’s hand and shook it. “There’s no need to thank me, Steele. I do what’s right.” He turned to leave.

  The door to the sitting room opened and Meggie walked in. “Yer Grace, I’m so sorry I abandoned my duties. Tis thoughtful of ye to visit my family.”

  “Meggie.” He shook his head. “How are you and your sister?”

  “Better, Yer Grace. Better every day. How is Miss Francine?”

  Dr. Walcott stood.

  “She’s well, Meggie, thank you. Her voice seems to be recovering. Mrs. Weston has taken very good care of her. Followed your instructions to the letter,” Gideon said with a nod to Dr. Walcott.

  “I’m glad to hear it, Yer Grace. I hope to return soon.”

  “Your position at the manor is safe. You may stay with your family for as long as they need you. Do not return a moment sooner, or I will send you home. Do you understand?”

  She curtseyed. “Yes, Yer Grace.” She turned to go back to her sister.

  Gideon caught Steele’s eye. “There is one other reason we came by today. We’ll be off for Lon
don soon and won’t return for at least a fortnight. If you have need of anything, you will send word to Mrs. Weston. She has instructions and will contact me if needed. If anyone sees this Hepplewort, anywhere, I want to know. I won’t see your family damaged further, Steele. You will leave this to me, is that clear?”

  “Of course, Yer Grace. We will send word without hesitation.”

  As Dr. Walcott followed them out to the horses Gideon paused. “I appreciate you caring for Lilly so carefully. I will cover your expenses. Simply send the bill.”

  “Your Grace, I wasn’t expecting—”

  “I know you weren’t, but you’ve had to stay here, missing your regular appointments. You must be compensated, and I will take care of it.”

  Dr. Walcott nodded as he reached out and shook the duke’s hand, then the brothers mounted their horses and headed back toward Eildon.

  “Gideon.”

  “Yes.”

  “You are too quiet.”

  “Yes.”

  “One word answers aren’t arguing your case.”

  “No.”

  Perry grunted and stopped the horse. “Rox.”

  “Yes?” he said, bringing Samson about.

  “To the clearing?” Perry asked with a devilish taunt.

  Gideon looked at him and his stoic façade melted into a challenging glare.

  “To the clearing,” he growled, leaning hard into Samson and turning him as Perry flanked him on Zeus.

  They raced through thick meadows, across streams, and into the wood behind Eildon Hill. The paths were tight and the brothers fought for advantage through the trees, gaining and then falling behind with every gnarled root.

  Gideon leaned back and threw his arms in the air, letting out a roar of vigorous, raucous laughter as he vaulted through the break into the clearing with Perry just behind him.

  Samson nickered and stomped, aware of his victory, and Gideon leaned over, patting the steed’s neck.

  Perry jumped from his mount. “Are there any beasts in your stable that can best that animal?” he asked, gently rubbing the horse’s nose.