Lady's Temptations: A Winter's Regency Menage

by Reed, Kristabel

  But he’d merely smiled, and while his blue eyes had been shrewd as they studied her, he’d said naught.

  Pressing quick kisses to first Maryanne’s then Henrietta’s cheeks, Sarina nodded to their husbands and waited for the butler to announce her carriage awaited. She’d not seen Oliver this morning; in fact, she didn’t expect to see him at all. He usually had business to attend to starting quite early.

  Nerves danced in her belly as she listened to Maryanne’s chatter about the start of the Season and her and Henrietta’s plans for the rest of the week.

  “You’re welcome to stay in my townhouse as long as you need,” Sarina assured her cousin.

  Then she wondered why those words, those specific words, had escaped her tight control. She took a deep breath, smiled as if she’d meant nothing more than that her family was always welcome, and almost sagged with relief when the butler announced her carriage was waiting.

  Her nerves did not abate by the time they’d reached the turnoff to her estate. Hunts Hall lay several miles to the west, while the cottage she planned to meet Prescott and Liam was situated barely a mile to the north. At the small village where they took luncheon, Sarina firmly sent Lydia, the footman, and driver off to Hunts Hall.

  Then, without a backward glance, let alone an explanation as to why she took an unmarked carriage to visit the friend she claimed she desperately needed to see, Sarina climbed inside, sans chaperone.

  An hour later, the carriage pulled up to the modest cottage. Liam and Prescott awaited her.

  And Sarina was determined she’d enjoy the next couple days with her lovers, her loves, no matter what.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Sarina was quite pleased with herself. She patiently waited for the carriage to pull away. Her blue bonnet pulled down just slightly to cover a bit more of her face, and her jacket wrapped tightly around her, gloves hiding her fingers.

  She dared not breathe until it had.

  She felt like a spy. Like a woman with a secret—and she was. And one no one could ever know about, one she loved and wished to indulge in at every opportunity.

  The wheels retreated behind her and the sound of the driver shouting at the horses faded. Only then did she force her legs to move, one step, another, breathing deeply of the crisp early spring air. Excitement and anticipation pounded through her with every step, a beat of need she desperately wanted to grab with both hands and hold onto.

  And then she was at the door. Before she could reach for it, the heavy oak flung wide and Prescott stood before her.

  She said not a word, simply stared at him for a long moment. Took in his dark eyes, the heady scent of him, and suddenly she was in his arms, his mouth on hers. Hard and branding and he kissed her as if he hadn’t seen her in a year.

  Liam appeared behind her. He pulled down her jacket just enough to kiss across the back of her shoulders. His fingers flexed on her hips, pulled her hard against him and he turned her so he, too, could kiss her hello.

  “I could hardly wait to see you,” Sarina admitted. Her hands pulled at them, closer.

  “Are you all right?” Prescott asked, mouth on her neck.

  “We were worried about you,” Liam added, his hands skimming down her back.

  She melted. Her resolve, her duty, and most especially her heart melted in the face of so passionate a greeting. It wasn’t the promise of sex, though it hung heavy in the air, nor really of the physical touch, though Sarina hadn’t realized how anxiously she’d craved that until she felt their bodies pressed against hers.

  It was simply being here. With them. For the moment, it was enough.

  They had questions—she knew they did. Knew they wanted to know about Oliver and how he’d taken the news of her refusal to marry him.

  Sarina pressed her lips harder to Liam’s, reached behind her for Prescott. She didn’t want to answer their questions. Not now. Not yet. Later.

  Now was for heat and passion and frantic need. She didn’t want slow, didn’t want to explore or to build up. She wanted them. And she wanted them now. Needed the reassurance of their touch, their love.

  They moved through the cottage, toward a bedroom. She didn’t know what the cottage looked like and didn’t care. The bedroom blurred in pale greens and blues, but Sarina ignored that as well. None of the décor mattered.

  Only the caress of Prescott’s lips on her shoulder did. Only the touch of Liam’s hands on her hips did. Being with both men felt complete. Duty might pull her in one direction, but her need of these men kept her wanting to be in their arms.

  Since the cottage door had opened, a desperate need arced between them. And Sarina craved it more than she thought possible. The hunger burned through her, hard and hot and heavy. A powerful need that eclipsed all others. That surrounded her and made her ache with the simple desire to join with her lovers.

  Finally she felt Prescott’s bare chest beneath her fingertips. Liam’s powerful thighs against her own. Not since that first night, her first night, had she felt their naked bodies against hers, and Sarina desperately needed to feel them. Wanted to. Wanted to explore and taste and experience that uninhibited passion again.

  When Liam would have lifted her over him, Sarina pushed him back and kissed him. Hard and possessive, a taste of his mouth, her own mark on him. Her teeth nipped along his jaw, his throat, across his collarbone. He growled her name, his hands flexing hard on her hips. Sarina ignored him.

  She wanted more, all of this, every taste and scent and touch.

  Behind her, she felt Prescott’s hard, naked body press against hers, and Sarina reached to touch him. She didn’t want this to end.

  Her fingers grazed Prescott’s erection, and a very pleasurable groan escaped him. Sarina looked up from where she kissed down Liam’s chest and grinned at Prescott. She had a feeling, from the look on her lover’s face, her grin looked as hungry to him as she felt.

  Returning to Liam, Sarina continued to kiss down his chest. She wanted to taste his erection, but wasn’t entirely certain what to do. Carefully placing light kisses along his length, she was wholly unprepared when Liam’s hand tangled in her hair and he growled her name.

  A jolt of pure desire flooded her, of power and need, and it shocked Sarina. Shocked her and made her want more.

  But then Prescott—she wanted to do this to Prescott as well. With one final kiss to Liam, she turned to her other lover. He tasted different from Liam in a way Sarina couldn’t identify. She kissed down his chest as well, her fingers dancing over his erection. She wanted him to growl again, wanted to hear that sound.

  Her tongue peeked out and she licked Prescott.

  She wasn’t disappointed.

  Grinning triumphantly, she let out a gasp of surprise when he hauled her up and kissed her. His fingers found her center, wet and aching, and easily, almost embarrassingly so, slipped in. Sarina moaned his name, reaching blindly behind her for Liam.

  He was there, pressed to her back, his hardness delicious and throbbing against her derrière. Prescott withdrew his fingers, settled her legs over his, and in one smooth thrust entered her. Sarina cried out, an orgasm already shuddering through her.

  The scent of lemon oil permeated the air, sharp and fresh, and she looked over her shoulder, shuddering, needing, craving this completion. Liam entered her slowly, inch by luscious inch, until she moaned and thrust against him.

  “Yes,” she breathed, her head thrown back against Liam’s chest, his hands covering her breasts to pinch and tease her nipples.

  Prescott’s fingers found her nub and with long, almost too gentle strokes, built her climax up once again. She moved, rising up on her knees to slowly sink back down. Again, harder, faster, teeth nipping Prescott’s shoulder, nails digging into Liam’s arms. She rocked against them, pleasure coiling round and round and then suddenly it snapped.

  She cried out, shuddering around her lovers as the pleasure crashed over her again and again.

  Behind her, she heard Liam’s hoarse cry,
her name. Only her name. Prescott thrust several more times until he, too, cried out her name.

  Boneless, sated, Sarina felt them slip from her and lay her on the bed. She closed her eyes, their arms already around her, and for the first time in over a week, felt home. She slipped into sleep, content with the knowledge her lovers were by her side.

  * * * *

  She’d forgotten her luggage outside the cottage her haste to be with her lovers. Now, dressed in only her shift and dressing gown, she looked at her men. Both Prescott and Liam were in their trousers and shirts, untucked, rumpled, and looking about as sexy as any men had the right to.

  Sarina very carefully did not stare over long. Just in case she gave into her urge to forget the tea she’d decided to make and drag them both back to bed.

  A little thrill of surprise and desire raced through her. She enjoyed sex with both men so very much; she had no fear of it, as some of the women she’d heard talking admitted to. No, she wanted them, wanted the ecstasy of them moving within her and of her orgasm crashing over her.

  The orgasm she knew she’d only ever feel with Prescott and Liam.

  Prescott had started the fire in the kitchen while Liam had unpacked the hampers full of cold chicken and bread. They sat around the small kitchen table, the only occupants of the house, and Sarina decided they all looked relaxed and so far removed from their everyday life.

  What must it be like to live like this? No servants, no cook. Just them, the three of them, eating and making love, taking long walks and reading well into the night. Always the three of them.

  “I cannot wait,” Prescott said as he sat across from her, “until it is like this all the time. Until we can be home, at peace. Together.”

  Sarina wondered if he’d read her mind, but before she could think further, Liam caught her hand and kissed the inside of her wrist. She shivered at the contact.

  “Home will be our sanctuary,” Liam added. “Where we won’t have to hide.”

  Prescott nodded across the table to Liam. “We’ve already taken steps,” he said with a slight smile, “to employ very discreet servants, to train them appropriately. We thought we’d purchase a larger townhouse.” He broke off a chunk of bread. “One with suitable doorways.”

  Sarina looked from one to the other and took her hand from Liam’s. She fiddled with her teacup. “You’ve given this quite some thought, then.”

  “Of course we have.” Liam nodded as if she should’ve expected this. And she supposed she should have. “We don’t want you to be concerned with any aspect of our marriage.”

  Marriage in name to one, in heart to both.

  Sarina blew out a deep breath but didn’t pull back from Prescott’s light caress on the nape of her neck, or when Liam’s hand caught hers once more. Swallowing, the desire of the last several hours cooling, she sipped her tea and let the warmth heat her suddenly cold heart.

  “How did Hawksmoor react?” Prescott asked. “To your rejection,” he clarified when all Sarina managed to do was stare at him.

  Hesitating, she tore off a chunk of bread and chewed it slowly. But they both waited her answer and she had to speak. Now was the time; there was no going back. “I did not reject him,” she admitted quietly.

  They stiffened, and in the silence after her statement, she felt the weight of her words as surely as if they settled around her shoulders like a yoke.

  “Why?” Liam demanded in a hard voice. “Why did you not tell him?”

  The uncharacteristic hardness and the demand in his tone surprised her, but then Sarina supposed it probably shouldn’t have.

  “I could not,” she said just as softly. “Not after seeing what was needed at Hawksmoor. It’s more than the estate. Lord Hawksmoor does his best to keep the estate solvent and support those he must.”

  Sarina tossed the uneaten bread onto the table and stood. She needed distance from Prescott and Liam, yes, but also from herself. Her own thoughts. Unfortunately, no matter how she ran or where she currently stood, Sarina never escaped.

  “It would be very difficult for him to carry on alone,” she continued, though the distance between she and them didn’t help one whit.

  They looked at each other, as if they expected her confession. But no, maybe not when she studied them.

  “Has there been a change in your wishes since you visited Hawksmoor Manor?” Prescott asked coolly, calmly. Yet she saw the fire in his eyes. The fire she knew Prescott showed when he was discontented.

  Sarina took a deep breath and admitted, “I wish to marry you, Prescott, but—” She swallowed and looked to Liam as well. They were in this together. “There’s an obligation I see more clearly now. I didn’t know the extent by which Lord Hawksmoor supports so many. ’Tis so much more than simply a large house or a grand seat for the earl.”

  She twisted her fingers in her dressing gown then straightened. She was stronger than this, stronger than desire. Her head tossed back, she met their eyes clearly, Liam’s cool blue ones and Prescott’s hard brown ones.

  “It’s part of my history—not just mine but England’s. I can’t simply allow it to die.” She shook her head, truly feeling the obligation of duty.

  “Yes you can.” Liam’s words cut through the silence. “I do not care about brick and mortar and servants or the people who tend to those large estates. I’d rather see it turn to dust than lose you.”

  Sarina looked steadily at Liam, usually the calm one, the understanding lover and man. But his eyes burned with passion and she realized, for the first time since falling in love with him, how deep his anger and betrayal went.

  She knew this wasn’t going to be easy, confessing to the men she loved that she planned to marry another. And she knew they loved her in return, but seeing Liam right now, Sarina knew how deep that love was.

  “I know,” she said quietly. “I know you would. But I cannot allow that.”

  “So what does this mean?” Prescott demanded, his voice low and harsh. “You are no longer a virtuous maiden going to an earl’s marriage bed. You belong with us.”

  “And that is true,” she admitted quietly. “I love you both, more than I can express. And,” she added with a short, breathy laugh, “I’m no longer virtuous. But, I have a hand to play in this game. And I feel honor bound to play it the way it should be played.”

  “This is not a game,” Liam snapped. “I said it before and I’ll say it again. You’re not simply choosing for yourself.”

  “There’s another way,” Prescott said. His voice was even, surprisingly so, and Sarina looked hard at him. “There’s another heiress who may be amenable to marrying Hawksmoor in your place. It would solve everything to make Hawksmoor solvent.”

  Swallowing heavily, she drew in a deep breath, a breath that for the first time felt easy and free. Hope flared deep within her, and though she knew better than to instantly embrace it, embrace it she did.

  She saw that hope reflected in both Prescott’s eyes and Liam’s.

  “Is this truly a possibility?” she demanded, but hadn’t quite managed to tamp down on that hope.

  “Yes.” Prescott nodded.

  “We’ve talked with her,” Liam added. “She plans on being in London for the Season. And to meet Hawksmoor.”

  “Why?” Sarina demanded bluntly. “Why would she agree to such a marriage?”

  Liam grinned, his blue eyes sharp and alight with humor. “What woman doesn’t wish to be a countess?”

  Emotion, hope, and happiness, and, yes, even a slight fear, closed her throat. “That would be the answer.”

  “Yes.” Prescott agreed and rose from the table. “Yes it would. And we could have the life we want.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Sarina ignored the storm currently beating against her window; the middle of April had only brought with it more rain. She was tired of the cold rain and wished to walk along London’s streets, to stretch her legs and let the brisk air order her thoughts.

  And cool her desire.
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br />   The previous weeks had been spent running from Almack’s to soiree to ball. And while she’d enjoyed every moment, the laughter and the dancing and the friends, now, as she sat on her window seat, a book forgotten on her lap, Sarina acknowledged how empty it all was. A superficial excitement, easily forgotten as the carriage had brought her home. A ready diversion she eagerly embraced to help her ignore, well, everything.

  But the ache within her had only grown. Physical, yes, her body craved hands and mouths and lips and tongues. Begged for the pleasure only Liam and Prescott brought her. More than that, however, Sarina longed to simply see them again. To experience the warmth Prescott’s smile brought or the way she automatically grinned in return when Liam smiled at her.

  She missed them.

  Even staying in that cottage for three full days, laughing and loving, hadn’t been enough. Sarina wanted more. Wanted that always. In fact, she’d stayed so long, and without Lydia, Sarina had already decided to give her lady’s maid a very generous bonus come both her birthday and Christmas.

  The flush of love and need she’d felt hadn’t left her until she’d returned to London and was confronted with her cousins. And with each passing day, with every moment she remained here, Maryanne and Henrietta constantly pestering for her to announce marriage to Oliver, Sarina wanted them so much more.

  Oliver. He’d be arriving for tea soon, and she had to make a decision. A choice—help him retain the Hawksmoor legacy or marry for love.

  Sarina licked her lips and watched the rain trail sadly down her windowpane. She’d heard Miss Rose Ainsworth had been at Almack’s, but had not chanced to see the other woman. Sarina had searched for her nearly the entire night, but had learned she’d arrived, seemingly energetic, then left shortly thereafter. No one knew why. At least no one spoke of it, which was slightly more telling.

  Miss Ainsworth either had quite loyal friends, or whatever the scandal that fluttered around her had been quite firmly kept under wraps.