Once Upon A Regency

by Samantha Grace

  Bloody hell. She’d be ruined if they were ever found out.

  And ruined if he gave in to his baser desires and did more than simply hold her in his arms.

  Despite his burning need, he made no seductive overtures. Instead, he held his breath and accommodated her in silent agony when she asked for his help in slipping out of her princess costume, for the sarcenet veils were sticking to her cold, damp skin and adding to her discomfort. “Very well. I’ll loosen the laces and then turn away.”

  He tried not to think of her exquisite body or how badly he ached to explore it.

  His hands shook as he attended to the task of undressing her—bloody hell again, because he felt as though it were the most natural thing for him to be doing. She seemed relieved that he was there to help her. “Winnie, can you stand on your own?”

  He could see that she was still dizzy and dependent on him to steady her. “Apparently not,” she said, tipping forward the moment he released her.

  He stifled a groan as he took her into his arms again and continued undressing her. He slid the material off her slender shoulders and once again groaned as the delicate fabric pooled like silky water at her feet.

  He forced himself to think of anything but Winnie’s sweet body. There were more important matters to consider. The girl was ill and possibly poisoned, but how? It wasn’t the stew or honey drink he’d poured from his own sack, for he would have felt the effects of those as well.

  “Winnie, where are your robe and nightgown?” He’d never imagined those words spilling from his lips, ever. When alone with a woman, his objective had always been to get her clothes off and keep them off her until he’d spent himself in carnal pleasure. The women with whom he’d dallied had been equally eager to fulfill their own sexual desires, hungering for his body and the pleasure he would bring to them.

  Names did not matter.

  Hopes and dreams were never discussed.

  “No, not my nightclothes. Hand me one of my day gowns and a shawl.” She wavered a little when he released her, but managed to stand in her thin camisole with her arms wrapped around herself as though that meager posture could warm her shivering insides.

  Whatever forces existed in the heavens, they were playing a cruel trick on him. He’d never wanted to bed a woman more urgently than he did now with Winnie, and he was never more certain that he would not act upon that desire. Odd thing, caring for a person. Made you worry about their comfort instead of yours. “Here’s a pretty blue gown. Let me help you put it on.”

  “Thank you.” Her face was crimson and she couldn’t look him in the eye. All the better, for the tortured ache he was fighting to suppress no doubt showed in his eyes. His hands were still shaking as he fastened the buttons along her back.

  He wasn’t used to this sort of battle, one in which no swords were drawn or blood was spilled, but it was just as dangerous as any battle he’d faced against Napoleon’s forces or earlier today against those vicious dogs.

  His heart was in jeopardy. Bad time for it to happen.

  He hadn’t even known the girl a day.

  Ardaric stroked her hair, fascinated by the cascade of lush, ginger waves over her pale shoulders. “I won’t allow them to hurt you, Winnie.”

  She smiled weakly. “Keep telling me that. I need to believe it.”

  “I will. As often as you wish, because it’s true. How do you feel now?”

  “Angry,” she replied, but he knew she was also nauseated for her complexion was green and she now clutched her stomach. “Give me one of those fire irons. I’d love to stick it right up Lord Darkwell’s... well, it wouldn’t be proper for me to tell you where I’d like to put it.”

  He grinned. “Perhaps you’ll have the chance, but not until you’re stronger.” He still wasn’t certain whether it was poison or the mix of stew and fear that was giving her those violent stomach cramps. “Let me tuck you into bed, and then I’ll go downstairs to—”

  “You won’t stay with me?”

  His sigh was one of exasperation. “I had better not. You need to rest.” And I need to kiss you. He ran a hand across the nape of his neck. “I’ll look in on you again in a few minutes.”

  “I’ll come downstairs with you.” Another crimson blush shot into her cheeks. “I don’t want to be far from you.”

  “Very well.” Ardaric carried her back downstairs and settled her on the sofa in the parlor, silently groaning as she curled up atop the faded fabric. He tried not to think of her curled up in his bed, naked between the elegant sheets. After making a quick inspection of the house, he returned to Winnie’s side and took her back into his arms as though it was the most natural place for her to be.

  He held her for the rest of the night, loving the way she nestled against his shoulder and loving the soft feel of her fingers tickling his neck as she clung to him. Her body felt as though it belonged against his... as though it had been created just for him.

  He also liked that she had a fighting spirit, even though she was a clumsy little thing and too soft-hearted to hurt anyone. “I think it’s that bite I took of Miss Allenby-Falk’s pie,” she said, tensing as a pang of pain shot through her. “It must have been rancid. Seems to be having a jolly good time frolicking inside my spleen and liver.”

  He’d given her something earlier to calm her stomach, but it didn’t appear to be of much help yet.

  She groaned. “I ought to have known better. Serves me right for biting into it.”

  He gave her hand a light squeeze. “Stay strong a little longer, Winnie. It’s almost daylight.” Was it truly possible she’d been poisoned? But how? She’d only taken one small bite of her meat pie.

  Could the Darkwells have tampered with it?

  He didn’t think it possible. They had been nowhere near Miss Allenby-Falk’s pies all the while he’d been at the fair.

  He ran his fingers gently through Winnie’s hair.

  She cast him a grateful smile that tugged at his heart. He reminded himself that he’d only known the girl for a day. He had to be cautious. He was a duke, not some green schoolboy who believed in love at first sight. No, indeed. He was too wary ever to do something so foolish as to fall in love with someone he’d known so short a time. He intended to leave once this mystery was solved. Another day? Two?

  It wasn’t nearly long enough. He wanted more time with her.

  He wanted... anything. Everything. So long as it was with her.

  But he dared not risk it.

  “Winnie,” he said in a whisper as she finally drifted off and fell asleep against his shoulder. He had nothing to say, just liked the sound of her name on his lips. And liked the feel of her even breaths soft against his throat.

  He’d experienced the wretched depths of war and come home restless and unsure of his purpose. He hadn’t been a duke very long, having inherited the dukedom of Blantyre upon his father’s passing. Until now, he’d gone through the motions, dutifully attending to his responsibilities but feeling empty inside.

  Thanks to Winnie, he was finding his purpose, regaining a sense of conviction and a passion for life he thought was lost forever. “I won’t abandon you, I promise,” he said and caressed her cheek. No, he wouldn’t abandon her until she was safe and then he could leave her behind in good conscience.

  He’d thought she was asleep, but her eyes drifted open and she smiled up at him, a sweet, sleepy smile that shot straight to his heart. “I won’t hold you to that promise. But thank you for the offer. And I still intend to shove that fire iron up Lord Darkwell’s—”

  Ardaric laughed. “You have fire in you, Winnie. I like that.”

  “And you have valor in you, Captain Mariner.” She yawned and shifted slightly to stretch her limbs, the simple action sending his body temperature soaring to volcanic heights. “I’d dearly love to know your real name, though I won’t press you on the matter. I’m just glad you were chosen to be my savior. You’ve done a most commendable job.”

  Men had souls, but war had a
way of tearing apart one’s soul until it was so tattered there was nothing of it to be found. He had retained his... but barely. In truth, he was beginning to wonder if the dotty godmothers had chosen him to protect Winnie precisely because his soul was so obviously in danger. All the years of fighting had worn him down, and the death of his older brother and then his father in short succession had left him bitter.

  But how could those old ladies have known?

  “In some ways,” he said in a husky murmur, “you saved me. So I think we’re even.”

  “Hardly that. All I did was feed you some stew that I did not cook. So if we’re even, then I think you are too easily pleased.”

  There was a lively innocence about Winnie that he found compelling. How odd that she should be the one to bring him back from the brink, to make him feel and yearn to rekindle the hope and happiness that he thought was lost forever. “How do you feel now?” Her greenish pallor seemed to be fading, and her skin appeared to be a healthier pink.

  “Much better, but do you mind if I still hold on to you?”

  He was about to answer when he heard a rattle at the back door and then a crashing sound, as though someone had hurled a rock through the kitchen window and was trying to break apart one of the shutters. He eased Winnie out of his arms. “Stay here while I see what’s going on.”

  Without awaiting her approval, he started for the kitchen.

  She let out a gasp and scrambled off the sofa. “I’m coming too.”

  “No, it’s too dangerous.” Until a few moments ago, the girl couldn’t stand on her own feet. Even now, she hardly looked steady enough to walk a straight line. “Stay here. I want your promise, Winnie.”

  Before she could respond, he heard another crash and knew the villains would break their way inside unless he stopped them immediately. He gathered his sword in one hand and pistol in the other.

  They were attempting to come in through the kitchen, but he realized he’d have a better vantage point if he approached them from the dining room. He unlatched one of the dining room shutters, opened the window and took aim at the only dark shadow he could make out by the back door that resembled a person. One well aimed shot might fell the villain and send his accomplices scurrying away.

  He noticed several of those red-eyed creatures beside that dark shadow who was, no doubt, their master. He got off a shot before he was noticed, and the bullet found its mark, striking the villain in the arm.

  The villain screamed and quickly ran off. A female? Was it Lady Darkwell?

  He was about to chase after her when she yelled a shrill command for her dogs to kill. “Wait!” Winnie cried, tugging on his arm as soon as he’d slammed the window closed, latched the shutters, and started for the kitchen door. He turned to her and saw that she held the shovel she’d earlier used to threaten him. She held it up and cast him a wan smile. “Toss those creatures my way and I’ll cosh them over the head. How dare they invade my home!”

  The girl was as soft and helpless as a lamb. She was gentle curves and silky skin. She lacked hard muscle and stood no chance against whatever lurked outside. But it was exactly that vulnerability in Winnie and her determination to overcome it that somehow strengthened him.

  He didn’t understand why he should feel this way about Winnie. Somehow, she roused his protective instincts as no one ever had. He’d heard of deep connections of the heart, the sort that his parents had experienced in their long years of marriage.

  He glanced at the girl with ginger hair and big, green eyes that gleamed in the dim lamplight. The top of her head didn’t quite reach his shoulder.

  She had freckles, and was a curious mix of graceful and clumsy.

  Yet, they did have a curious connection. But love?

  He didn’t think so; it wasn’t possible after only a few hours. How many times had he reminded himself of that? And it wasn’t helping. The girl was weaving herself into the fabric of his soul.

  “Damn,” he muttered under his breath, hearing the pounding hooves of a horse carrying its rider away. The dogs disappeared as well, leaving him alone with Winnie in the cold kitchen.

  “That was too close for comfort.” She let out a ragged breath, but instead of returning to the safety of her room, she dropped her shovel and took his hands in both of hers as though to warm them. He suspected it was her way of holding him back so that he would not chase after her assailants. “The servants will be back in the morning. So will my godmothers. We’ll find out who’s behind this mischief. You shot one of them. We’ll find out who it is tomorrow.”

  She appeared pale, but stronger than she had been an hour ago. Her beautiful eyes were bright and determined, no longer dull or distant. He regarded her with new appreciation. “Remember that kiss I wasn’t going to give you?”

  A blush spread across her cheeks as she nodded. “Yes.”

  “I’ve changed my mind.”

  WISH UPON A KISS

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Winnie stifled a gasp as Captain Mariner tipped her chin upward so that her gaze met his. “At last,” she said in a breathless whisper. Oh, dear! Had she said the thought aloud? The twitch of his lips revealed that she had. Did it matter when he’d risked his life so many times for her today that she knew he had to be the faerie prince of her dreams? “Tell me what I must do. I’ve never done this before.”

  His laughter was a deep rumble. “Your first time?”

  She nodded.

  He ran his thumb across her cheek as his laughter faded. “Open your heart to me, Winnie. My heart will always answer to yours.”

  Oh, dear. Oh, dear. Oh, dear. How could he feel this way about her? More important, how could she feel the same way about him? They’d only known each other for a day. Not even a full day. All the lessons in etiquette, all the years of training to become a proper lady, were too ingrained in her to be so casually tossed away.

  But she knew that she had to forget about appearances and propriety and give herself over to his guidance. “Will my heart always hear yours? Because I still can’t stop hearing the echo of the Darkwells and their horrid dogs. I’m scared.”

  “Trust me, Winnie.”

  He’d been in her bedchamber and seen her undressed. He’d been alone with her all night and done nothing untoward. He’d held her and protected her, cared for her and fought for her. She nodded. “I do.”

  She thought he would smile in relief, but he frowned lightly instead. At first, she didn’t understand why, and then she understood it all.

  Winnie panicked.

  It was her first kiss. Which meant she had no experience whatsoever and couldn’t possibly know what to do to make this kiss as special and magical as she wanted it to be for him as well as for her.

  “Close your eyes, Winnie. Don’t think about what you or I are about to do, just relax your body and feel. Can you do that for me?”

  “I don’t think so.” She began to despair. Her life had been quite simple up to now, and she wasn’t prepared for the consequences of failure. Relax and kiss him? When he was everything she’d ever dreamed of in a man? Not possible. Her thoughts were in a complete muddle already.

  “You can. I have faith in you, Winnie.” His muscled arms felt warm and hard beneath her palms as he drew her closer. He tucked a finger under her chin to tilt her face upward, and then he cut short her protest by dipping his mouth to hers and pressing his lips against hers with an intoxicating confidence.

  His lips felt warm and gentle and overwhelming. His touch kindled a fire in her blood and made her skin tingle from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, the flames slowly building in intensity and bringing her desire to life with a surging jolt.

  She was no longer worried about pain or death.

  Now she worried about losing him, about never feeling his touch again, and about never feeling his lips on hers again or hearing the soft rumble of his voice as he whispered her name. She slid her hands up his arms and held on for dear life to his broad shoulders.

&nbs
p; His lips were still on hers. Gentle. Hot. Assuring, as he wrapped his arms around her and drew her so close against his body that she felt the strain of his hard sinew and muscle, felt his heat as their bodies melted into one, felt her own body tingle and bubble with heat until she began to ache with an unexplained yearning.

  He deepened the kiss, seeming to understand the needs of her body. His lips pressed against hers as he delved beyond their soft boundaries, parting hers with the flick of his tongue and then mingling his tongue with hers in a gentle battle of thrusts and retreats that she found shocking and at the same time thrilling beyond measure.

  “You feel so good,” he whispered, or she might have only imagined he’d spoken the words because she wanted so badly to hear them. He probably hadn’t said anything because his lips were too busy driving her wild and he wasn’t talking, yet those words resounded as though he’d shouted them through the manor halls.

  She was too lost in wondrous sensations to speak and didn’t understand any of what was happening, only that she was in great peril of losing her heart to him. She had lost her heart to him. The Darkwells were not the only danger to her. They were cold and frightening, but Captain Mariner’s danger was warm and filled her with a gentle light, a golden glow that hummed and flowed through her blood like sweet nectar.

  Yet she sensed he was purposely holding back, that he was not accustomed to being gentle and this moment was as unusual for him as it was for her.

  “Trust me.” This time he whispered against her mouth before deepening their kiss until all she felt was his strength and with her every breath she inhaled the masculine heat of his body.

  “Oh, I do.” She opened her heart to him without restriction or hesitation and felt no fear when the molten heat of his lips on hers spread fire through her veins and her body began to slip into a magical realm.