A Season for Love

by Cynthia Breeding

  The doctor arrived the next morning to check his stitches. Elizabeth wasn’t with him. Darian dressed after the doctor left and went in search of Elizabeth. They had to talk.

  “She is unwell,” Julianna informed him when he asked where she was. “She said she had a terrible pounding in her head.”

  Too much ratafia? Could she actually have over-indulged and enjoyed the evening with John Delaney? A red haze filled his vision and he took a deep breath. Well, no matter. Once he broke off his courtship with Isabella, he would be free to pursue Elizabeth. Somehow, he would make his parents understand. And to Hades with Society’s expectations. The only woman he wanted in his bed and by his side was Elizabeth.

  “Where is your sister then?” he asked.

  A small frown creased Julianna’s brow. “She went to Stafford House this morning.”

  For a moment, Darian wondered why and then he gave an inward shrug. So much the better. He would talk to her first and then his parents.

  He rode up the long driveway an hour later and handed the reins to a groom. The butler was somber as he opened the door and the foyer was empty. A downstairs maid went quietly past him toward the kitchen. Darian paused. He could hear no pots or pans banging nor servants talking. The usual ebb and flow of the house was still.

  “What has happened?” he asked.

  “It is not my place to say, my lord,” the butler answered, “but His Grace is in the library.”

  Darian strode down the long hall and, as he approached, he could hear angry voices muffled behind the heavy oak door. Nothing to do with his mother or father being taken ill then. He breathed a sigh of relief, not realizing that he’d been worried. He swung the door open and stopped.

  Isabella sat on the sofa, her face pale. Several strands of her hair had come loose and hung to her shoulder. His mother sat in a chair across from her, her fingers worrying one of her rings, a sure sign she was upset. Edward stood by the window. His collar was open, the shirt stuffed halfway into his breeches and he wore no waistcoat. The duke stopped pacing and looked at Darian.

  “What is wrong?” Darian stepped inside and closed the door.

  His father took a deep breath. “Your mother and I were taking a stroll in the maze this morning.” He gave Edward a disgusted look. “And came upon these two…fornicating in the gazebo.”

  Darian glanced at Isabella. Two bright pink spots highlighted her cheeks, but she raised her chin and looked at him defiantly. He almost smiled. She had just made his job so much easier, although she didn’t know it.

  Edward turned away from the window to face him. “I want to marry her. Will you be calling me out?”

  Their mother stopped fidgeting with her ring. “I will not have my sons dueling. Is that clear?”

  “He has the right to avenge his honor, Mother.” Edward looked steadily at Darian.

  “So I do,” Darian replied, “but I have seen too many men die needlessly to want to be the cause of yet another.” He turned to Isabella. “Do you wish to marry Edward?”

  He watched several emotions play across her face as she hesitated. No doubt she was thinking of giving up the title of marchioness—although she’d not have had it anyhow—but he wasn’t going to make this easy for her. Her expression became resigned as she must have realized he wouldn’t marry her now, given the circumstances. She could do worse than Edward for a husband.

  Isabella nodded. “Yes, I would like to marry Edward.”

  Cats always landed on their feet. Darian gave her a curt nod, then looked at Edward. “Wellington gave me a parcel of land in Hampshire. It comes with a Barony. I have no need of it. I shall see that it is deeded over to you. Consider it a wedding present.”

  Edward looked bewildered. “That is most generous. But why?”

  Darian allowed himself a small smile. “Because, brother, you have just made my life a lot easier.” He took a deep breath and looked at his father. “I am going to marry Elizabeth Townsend.”

  Surprise flitted across Isabella’s face. “She has no dowry and is not a peer!”

  “That matters little to me,” Darian returned. “I love her.”

  Anger flashed in her eyes. “You deceived me!”

  Darian raised an eyebrow and she fell silent. He turned to his mother. “I know you wished for me to marry into the peerage. But I want a wife who will be my partner, who will stand beside me. One that I will be faithful to and her to me. One that I love. I found her. Is it too much to ask that I can be happy with her?”

  His father started to answer, but his mother shushed him. She smiled at Darian. “Love is all that matters. Go to her.”

  * * * *

  “What do you mean, she is gone?” Darian paced in the parlor at Newberry, pausing only to look from the earl to his wife and back again.

  “When I went in to inquire about her headache, I found a note,” Lady Newberry replied. “It simply said she’d done something unforgivable and that we could pick up the horse she borrowed at Hampton Cross.”

  Darian could have kicked himself. Of course, she’d have seen the kiss as an act of betrayal, especially since she responded so passionately to it. Elizabeth’s sense of honor ran deeply.

  “Did she say where she was going?”

  Lady Newberry shook her head. “I cannot imagine where she would head. She has no family besides us.”

  He turned to Julianna, sitting on the sofa, her eyes red from crying. “What time did you talk to her?”

  “It was early. The sun had just come up.”

  Darian cursed silently. Elizabeth had more than a three hour start on him. The public coaches at Hampton’s Cross went in every direction.

  He stood and took his leave. Mounting his horse, he turned the gelding south. He would find Elizabeth, if he had to search all of England to do it.

  * * * *

  Elizabeth sat on the wooden bench in the station house, her small portmanteau on the floor beside her. She’d packed only the plain gowns she’d brought to Newberry. They would serve if she could secure a post as governess in London. She clutched her reticule. It held the few coins that were left of her pin money, after she’d purchased her ticket. Not enough for too many nights at an inn, but she hoped the new parson would allow her to stay at the rectory until she secured work.

  She would miss Newberry, especially sweet Julianna. Elizabeth sincerely hoped Julianna wouldn’t be denied her first Season for lack of a chaperone. But she couldn’t stay. Not after what happened.

  Shame flooded her and she looked down at the floor. She’d acted like a complete wanton, returning Darian’s kiss so eagerly and pressing her breasts against his chest in wild abandonment. Even now, her nipples tightened at the memory. And worse, she’d wanted more. She’d wanted his naked flesh pressed against hers…had wanted to know why a tingle had started between her thighs…one that wanted some kind of attention, although she knew not what. All this…and he was about to become her cousin’s betrothed! How could she have such feelings for Darian? It was wrong. So wrong. And it felt so right. She wiped at a tear. She’d done the right thing by leaving.

  “Thank God I found you!”

  Elizabeth shook her head. Now she was hearing his voice as well. She might very well become a candidate for Bedlam at this rate.

  “Elizabeth!” Darian sat down and drew her into his arms, holding her tight, his one hand stroking her hair while he rained kisses on her forehead.

  He was there. She wasn’t imagining things. She raised her face to his. “What are you doing here?”

  “Coming for you, my love,” he answered. “I want you to be my wife.”

  She stared at him. Bedlam was lurking, for certain. “What?”

  “I want you to be my wife, Elizabeth. I love you.”

  “But—”

  He placed his fingers against her mouth. “Let me explain.”

  When he’d finished, she continued to stare at him. “Your parents approve of this?”

  “Yes!” Darian traced her cheek
with two fingers. “Even if they did not—and they do—it would not matter. I do not want a wife I do not love and I do not want a mistress either. I want you.” He knelt beside her and took her hand. “Will you marry me?”

  Elizabeth stared at him. If she were having a delusion, she didn’t want it to end. But he was real. The warmth and strength of his fingers was real. She threw her arms around his neck. “Yes! Yes, I will marry you.”

  He kissed her slowly and fully on the mouth and then stood. “So, how lavish a wedding do you want? Please just do not make me wait six months.”

  Elizabeth smiled at him. “Then you are in luck, my lord. I have never wanted all the frills and frippery of a big wedding. The vows are the important thing and those I would make privately to you and to God.”

  Darian grinned and drew her close again. “Then it is off to London and a special license. If I hire private coaches, by tomorrow night you will be the Marchioness of Bingington, my lady.”

  Chapter Ten

  Darian lifted the brass knocker on the house in Mayfair. If the butler were surprised at his arrival with his new bride on his arm, he was too well-trained to show it.

  “Welcome back, my lord,” he said and gave a small bow to Elizabeth. “Your ladyship.”

  It was going to take some time getting used to the fact that she actually was a marchioness. Darian had told her she really didn’t need to assume any duties until they arrived at Bingington. The Mayfair house was run efficiently by the chatelaine, Mrs. Simson.

  Elizabeth looked around the large foyer with its black and white checkered tile floor and open ceiling. An ornately-carved Chippendale receiving-table stood near the door with its silver card-tray, and a massive gold-gilded mirror adorned the wall above it. A magnificent mahogany staircase spiraled up to the second floor.

  Mrs. Simson strode toward them, a bevy of servants behind her. She curtsied to Elizabeth as introductions were made. “I hope you will find all to your liking, my lady,” she said and began issuing orders for the footmen to carry the bags upstairs and for a bath to be brought to the lady’s chamber.

  Elizabeth and Darian followed her up the stairs. Mrs. Simson opened a door to a room done in shades of blue satin and silk. “This is the lady’s bed chamber.” She motioned for the young maid who’d followed them. “This is Elsie. She will be personally attending you. If you require anything, do not hesitate to ask.”

  “I will be next door.” Darian winked at Elizabeth. “Waiting.”

  Elsie bustled about, unpacking the few things Elizabeth had brought while the footman carried in pails of steaming water for the bath. Elizabeth drank in the luxury of the room with its plumped feather bed and canopy. She felt her cheeks warm. She would she be sharing that bed with Darian soon. Anticipation, as well as apprehension, made her mouth dry. She’d heard there was pain the first time. Would she be able to bear it and please Darian?

  “The bath is ready, my lady.”

  Elizabeth turned so Elsie could undo the buttons at the back of her dress and unlace the corset. Gratefully, she stepped out of them and slipped into the tub. Elsie had scented the water with soothing lavender leaves.

  The maid moved around the room, lighting the small fire in the hearth, turning down the counterpane on the bed, and laying out thirsty towels near the tub. Elizabeth closed her eyes, enjoying the swirl of the warm water, letting the aromatic fragrance of the lavender settle her nerves. She would soak for just a few minutes…

  “Soap, my lady?” Darian asked from behind her.

  Her eyes sprang open and she sat up abruptly, splashing water over the edge and then sank down equally fast, covering her breasts with her hands. Dear Lord! “I am naked,” she said.

  Darian laughed. “A good thing since you are in the bath.” He knelt down beside her, wearing a silk robe loosely tied at the waist, revealing a dusting of sooty hair on his chest. He gently pried her hands away from her breasts. “There is no need to be embarrassed. You are beautiful.”

  For a moment, Elizabeth felt she would die of mortification, but then she saw the look of appreciation on Darian’s face. His eyes darkened with desire, making her nipples pebble. When his hand softly stroked along the curve, her breast seemed to swell in his hand.

  “Beautiful,” he said again. “Now relax. I am going to bathe you.”

  “But I—”

  ‘Shhh. Just lean back. Close your eyes. Get accustomed to my touch.”

  It felt awkward at first, having male hands touching her, but as he soaped her arms and legs, leisurely massaging each finger and toe, she slowly relaxed. He slid the washcloth over her stomach and ribs and slowly encircled her breasts, kneading them gently. She gave a little moan.

  “That is it,” he said in a husky whisper. “Just let the pleasure take you.”

  Elizabeth lay still, her head resting on the tub’s edge, reveling in the magical sensations Darian was creating for a few minutes more.

  Slipping his arms under hers, he lifted her from the tub and carried her to the bed. Laying her down on thick towels the knowing maid had provided, he tossed off his robe and lay down beside her, continuing to slowly caress her skin, his fingers like feathers as he leaned over to capture her mouth with his. She parted her lips and he deepened the kiss, exploring her mouth fully, taking his time to let her play with him.

  Darian trailed kisses down her neck to the fullness of her breast, closing his warm, wet mouth over the tip and began to suckle.

  It was sheer ecstasy! Elizabeth arched into him, her whole body aflame, each nerve ending tingling. Wanting…something.

  As if he knew, he positioned himself between her thighs. Elizabeth had never felt so vulnerable, yet the throbbing sensation that was now the focus of her universe needed attention.

  He touched her there. Once. Lightly. Her hips lifted. Darian grinned. “I think you are going to be a natural at this, my love.”

  Darian slid up and over her. She felt the hard tip of him probing her entrance, inserting itself a little. His thickness stretched her wide, but it felt good. She looked up at him and smiled.

  He kept his weight propped on his elbows. “I love you, Lady Bingington.”

  “I love you, too, my lord.” She giggled like a school girl.

  The giggle turned into a cry of pain as Darian gave one hard push and penetrated her. He held himself still, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “I am sorry, my love. The pain will go away in a minute.”

  Elizabeth bit her lip to keep from crying out again and then, amazingly, the pain subsided.

  “You are all right?” he asked as began to withdraw.

  She clutched him to her. “Stay.”

  He laughed. “I intend to, my love.” He pushed himself in again and then pulled out only to reinsert himself. She caught the rhythm quickly, moving her hips to meet his thrusts. Pressure began to build inside her again, like hot, molten lava bubbling to the surface. Her body began to shake. She wanted more. Frantically, she thrashed beneath him, nearing the brink—the inferno was building, threatening to engulf her in flames—muscles suddenly clenched deep inside her, her toes curled, her back arched, and then a contraction began that rippled all the way through her as she exploded.

  Elizabeth lay panting, trying to catch her breath. Beside her, his body glistening with a sheen of sweat, Darian took long gasps. Eventually, their breathing eased and he drew her into the crook of his arm, her head resting on his shoulder.

  “How does it feel to be my wife?” he asked.

  “Absolutely wonderful,” Elizabeth replied as she placed a kiss on his neck. Then she giggled again.

  He looked down at her. “What is so funny? Not my love-making skills, I hope.”

  She propped herself up and tilted her head. “Never that. I was just thinking that now I am qualified to be a chaperone for Julianna. She can still have her Season. Actually,” Elizabeth said with a smile, “for me, it will be a real Season for love.”

  Darian grinned. “And I will be quite safe from
ambitious mamas since I am an old married man now.”

  Her smile grew wickedly sensual. “Can an old man still give his wife pleasure?”

  He rolled her over on her back and straddled her. “I will do my best.”

  From the Highland Press Publishing anthology

  Court of Love

  http://highlandpress.org

  About the Author

  An avid reader of anything medieval, Cynthia Breeding has taught the traditional Arthurian legends to high school sophomores for fifteen years. She owns more than three hundred books, fictional and non-fictional, on the subject. More information on Arthur, Gwenhwyfar and Lancelot is available on her website, listed below.

  She lives on the bay in Corpus Christi, Texas, with her Bichon Frise, Nicki, and enjoys sailing and horseback riding on the beach.

  Readers can reach her on her website: www.cynthiabreeding.com.

  Praise for

  Cynthia Breeding’s Books!

  Court of Love - This delicious anthology of convention-bucking heroines in three separate time periods will delight anyone who likes Jane Austen, but wishes to peek under Mr. Darcy’s clothes. Although the historical accuracy of this collection is a bit suspect and the plotlines are wrapped up with slightly alarming speed, each story features a woman with a unique personality and an independent soul, not to mention some very sexy men in breeches. Perfect bedtime reading for lovers of spicy historical romance.

  ~ Jaysen Scott, Romantic Times

  * * * *

  All I Want for Christmas Is You (Anthology) - A warm cup of romance is just the thing for a chill winter evening... This is a compulsively readable anthology of short romance. Highly recommended.

  ~Michael Angel, author of Three Curses

  * * * *

  I loved it! Curl up with three dashing, sexy pirates and three daring women in three delightful romances. The Last Pirates makes for great reading. You'll be wanting more from Cynthia Breeding—I know I will!