Convenient Bride for the Soldier & the Major Meets His Match & Secret Lessons With the Rake (9781488021718)

by Merrill, Christine; Burrows, Annie; Justiss, Julia

  He hated that he wouldn’t be able to get his hands on the men who’d hurt her, and vowed to himself he’d do whatever was necessary to better protect her in future.

  Christopher was gratified to discover an opportunity to fulfil that pledge later that very evening. Despite the reassuring report the footman had brought back from Dean Street, at the conclusion of dinner, Ellie insisted she would never be able to sleep until she’d seen for herself that her girls were safe.

  ‘We couldn’t possibly allow you to return to the school alone,’ Christopher objected. ‘If you simply must go tonight, let me escort you.’

  ‘Yes, you must have an escort,’ Giles agreed. ‘And take our carriage. With footmen outriders and a crest on the door, it’s much less likely anyone would be foolish enough to try to attack you.’

  ‘I would feel safer in your carriage,’ Ellie admitted. Although the dubious glance she slid him said she didn’t think riding in a closed vehicle together was at all safe.

  ‘I’ll ride outside on the box, to help keep watch,’ he said. Her relieved look and little nod told him she appreciated his discretion.

  Though discretion was hardly what he preferred, he thought, blowing out a frustrated breath. After the attack today, he didn’t want her out of his sight.

  A short while later, the carriage arrived, Giles and Maggie saw them out, and the footman helped Ellie into the vehicle. ‘If anything concerns you, knock on the panel, and we’ll stop at once,’ he instructed before climbing up beside the coachman.

  * * *

  The transit to Dean Street completed without incident, Christopher instructed the groom to walk the horses while he ushered Ellie inside. To their mutual relief, the matron reported all the girls were sleeping, and there had been no further incidents. Consultation with Jensen revealed he’d stationed two of his compatriots at the street corners, one outside the girls’ dormitory upstairs, one near the service entrance in the cellar, while he himself kept watch at the front door which, like all the others, remained locked, the windows shuttered and latched.

  After thanking him again, Ellie turned to Christopher. ‘I appreciate you letting me allay my concern. I’m ready to go home now.’

  ‘Not so sure going to your house is a good idea, miss,’ Jensen cautioned. ‘You crossed Gentleman Bob before, over my Annie. Now you’ve crossed him again with Artis. You said the lass told you them what attacked you was Keppy and Rigger? Rigger is one of the Gentleman’s right-hand men. He’ll have made it his business to know who you are, and he’ll know you ain’t got no man to protect you at Hans Place. Better you stay here, or with your friend Lady Lyndlington. Ain’t nobody going to attack a viscount’s house.’

  Alarmed—and irritated that he’d not thought of that obvious danger before—Christopher said, ‘Jensen’s right, Ellie. You ought not to spend the night at home. At least not until you can arrange for protection at your house, as you have for the school.’

  Ellie sighed. ‘I suppose you’re both right. But I’m not prepared to spend the night away from home—I’ll need to get some things. And I do hate to inconvenience Lady Lyndlington.’

  ‘You wouldn’t be, and you know it,’ Christopher argued. ‘Let me accompany you to Hans Place and stand guard while you collect your things, then see you safely back to Maggie’s.’

  ‘Very well, you may come with me to Hans Place. Jensen, if I deem it too late to go to Lady Lyndlington’s by the time I finish my preparations, expect me to return to the school.’

  ‘Any time, miss. I’ll be on watch.’

  After checking carefully up and down the street, Christopher ushered Ellie back into the Lyndlington carriage, then climbed up on the box and gave the coachman her direction on Hans Place.

  * * *

  Once the coach halted before her house, Christopher hopped down and inspected the street to ensure all was safe before handing Ellie out again. Standing protectively close, he ushered her up the stairs and into the hall. While she went up with her maid to gather her things, he informed her manservant about the attack and the need for her to stay somewhere else until they could hire additional staff to protect the house.

  Despite her assurances that she was fine, Christopher thought she looked utterly weary by the time she came back downstairs, the maid hovering protectively. He went over to offer her his arm, and to his relief, she took it.

  ‘Sure you won’t be needing me, mistress?’ the girl asked. ‘Ought to put another poultice on that cut tonight.’

  ‘Thank you, Mary, but I can tend to it. I should be back tomorrow, Tarleton, though I’m not sure what time.’

  ‘We’ll watch for you, mistress,’ the maid said.

  ‘Goodnight to you, then,’ Ellie said and, leaning on Christopher’s arm, walked out.

  ‘I don’t know that I can afford to hire additional staff,’ she said as helped her to the carriage. ‘Perhaps I ought to stay at the school until the danger is past.’

  ‘Stay with Maggie,’ he advised. ‘It would be better for you and the girls. If the Gentleman does try to target you, and you shelter at the school, he may find out about the girls after all, putting them back in danger. And if he’s trying to target you, there’s no place you’d be safer than with Maggie—or Lady Sayleford.’

  ‘As if I would present myself uninvited at the home of a countess!’

  ‘You need only tell her that in admitting you, she was confounding one of London’s most infamous crime bosses. I think she’d relish the opportunity.’

  ‘You’re probably right,’ Ellie admitted with a smile. ‘Though I do hate to impose on anyone.’

  Before he could assure her once again that Maggie would not think of her stay as an imposition, the clock on the nearby church tower struck the hour.

  Pausing on the carriage step, she said, ‘What time was that?’

  ‘Midnight.’

  She made a face. ‘Regrettably then, I shall have to stay at the school. I can’t invade Lady Maggie’s this late—and before you assure me again she wouldn’t mind, you must remember, she is increasing. She could scarcely keep her eyes open through dinner! You know if I return to her house, she will insist on dragging herself out of bed to see me settled. No, I can make do with a cot at the school.’

  ‘Even if in so doing, you will be putting the girls in danger?’ he countered.

  ‘Damnation,’ she muttered, the unusual oath surprising him. ‘I don’t want to do that, either.’

  The solution occurred to him in a flash. He just had to convince her of it—and steel himself to make it work.

  ‘Overnight at my place in Mount Street, then. No, hear me out!’ he said, holding up a hand to forestall her immediate refusal. ‘I agree, under ordinary circumstances, bringing you to my rooms would be extremely ill advised. But after the extraordinary events of today, I think it’s the wisest choice. I’ll have my servants prepare you a room, while I keep watch in my study—on the ground floor, a full flight down from the bedchambers. Lock your door. Tired as you are—’ he allowed himself one brief caress of her uninjured cheek ‘—you’ll be asleep the minute your head touches the pillow, so no chance to be overcome by temptation. In the morning, we’ll whisk you away before you, in your renewed state of health and vigour, can ravish me.’

  She smiled a little, as he’d wanted her to. ‘Very well. Since I want neither to trouble Lady Maggie nor to endanger my girls, I suppose Mount Street is the best choice—for tonight.’

  ‘Let’s get you safely there, then.’ He handed her into the vehicle and climbed up to the box, giving the coachman the address.

  He wouldn’t need much stimulation to stay on watch tonight. Knowing that her loveliness reposed just steps away from him, in the privacy of his own home, he didn’t think he’d be able to sleep.

  And he’d need all the resolve he could muster to keep
from breaking his promise to get her safely out of his house without trying to seduce her.

  The image of her bruised cheek rose in his mind, damping down lust as it revived his anger and his determination to protect her. He’d do anything to keep her safe—even if having to resist the temptation to visit her in his bed nearly killed him.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  As Christopher had predicted, Ellie was so exhausted that by the time his sleepy maidservant had been roused to assist her, she’d fallen into bed and asleep without a single thought about how risky it was to spend the night at his home.

  Some sixth sense roused her in the pre-dawn stillness. At first, foggy with fatigue, she had no idea where she was. Then memory clicked in and she came fully awake in an instant.

  She was in Christopher’s house—in his own bedchamber. But not in danger—for she was alone, while he kept watch in his study on the floor below. Relieved of the need to withstand temptation, she suddenly realised she’d just been handed a unique opportunity to take an intimate glimpse into his life. Seized with curiosity, she lit a candle and edged out of bed, eager to inspect the room.

  The chamber was neat, its furnishings comfortable rather than elegant. A chair and table sat near the hearth, the polished wood and soft leather burnished by the glowing embers of last night’s fire. A decanter of wine stood on a sideboard, along with an assortment of papers she supposed must be draft bills. A tall bookcase held an eclectic assortment of volumes, from poetry and history to classic works in the original Latin and Greek.

  It was the room of a scholar, an intellectual, but also, she thought, returning to sit on the bed, the room of a man who appreciated good wine and fine linen sheets—which held the scent of his shaving soap.

  Could she sneak an equally revealing glimpse at the man himself? Although he said he’d keep watch, he had to have been almost as weary as she was. Surely he’d fallen asleep in his study. It would be several hours before any servants were about. If she were to tiptoe downstairs and peek into the room, she might indulge herself by gazing at him openly, for as long as she wished.

  When would she ever have such an opportunity again?

  Dismissing the protest of conscience that doing so was even more an invasion of his privacy than snooping about his chamber, she tossed a dressing gown over her nightgown and, abandoning slippers to ensure a silent transit, took her candle and crept down the stairs.

  Though in her weary state last night she’d scarcely noticed the arrangement of the rooms, she was pretty sure the one behind the stairs would be his study, the front room reserved for receiving guests. Heart beating rapidly at her daring, she made her way down the hallway to the door.

  Which, thankfully, was ajar, saving her from the danger of squeaky hinges. Slipping inside, she saw, in the glimmer of light from the fireplace embers, Christopher lounging in the chair behind his desk, his left cheek resting against the hand he’d wrapped over the chair arm. Asleep.

  For a time she watched the gentle rise and fall of his chest. Then, emboldened by the depth of his slumber—and too far away to see him with the clarity she wanted in the dim light—she tiptoed closer, placing her candle on the table by the hearth and gradually drawing nearer and nearer, until she halted right beside him.

  She smiled, tenderness warming her as she took in the shadow of stubble on his cheeks, the tousled hair tumbling over his forehead. He’d shed his waistcoat and cravat, which left his shirt lying open so that she could see bare skin from his throat down to the top of his chest.

  Even in repose, he radiated strength, confidence—and a powerful masculinity. Struck anew by the force of it, she hungered to touch him, to run a finger down that bared throat and under his shirt to explore the muscles of his chest. That would surely wake him, though—but might she comb her fingers through that tousled hair, or very gently touch his cheek?

  While intellect warned she ought to beat a hasty retreat while he still slumbered, her senses clamoured for more than filling her eyes with him. Just one touch, her needy senses begged. One brief caress of the man she loved and could never have.

  After vacillating between the wise decision to flee and the temptation to seize this chance and savour the feel of his skin, she slowly raised one finger—and touched his cheek.

  His hand grabbed hers, his body going instantly alert as he awoke with a start. Jumping at the sudden movement, she shrank back, pulling at her captive hand.

  As recognition registered in his eyes, he released her. ‘Ellie? What are you doing here? Is everything all right?’

  ‘Yes, everything’s fine! All still and quiet.’

  ‘What woke you, then?’

  ‘I’m not sure. Some sense of being in a strange room?’ The need to see you. But she couldn’t tell him that.

  ‘You’re safe here, and it’s several hours yet before dawn. Go back to bed…’ his voice trailed off as he scanned her, from her unbound hair, to the unfastened robe that revealed her nightgown beneath, to her bare feet ‘…before you catch a chill,’ he finished, his voice husky.

  Though his words urged her away, his gaze held her captive, burning hotter as he slowly scanned her again. She felt his glance like a caress, from the lingering inspection of her feet, up legs barely concealed beneath the fine linen of her nightgown, to her breasts, where it lingered, growing hotter still. She could feel her body warming, melting, as a spiralling heat began to build at her centre while, as he continued to stare at them, her nipples tightened.

  Gazing still, as if he could not tear his eyes away, he opened his lips to speak, but no sound emerged. His hands on the chair arm tightened, his arms going rigid—as if he were fighting to keep himself from reaching for her.

  He wanted her, she knew, a certainty confirmed by a quick glance at the hard ridge outlined by the straining trouser flap.

  And she wanted him, all the desire that had built steadily over the days of their association peaking in a demand that she take now what she’d been trying to resist. Seize this one chance to love him completely before she must let him go for ever. That voice shouted louder than the demands for caution.

  For the first time in her life, passion was what she wanted.

  ‘Come upstairs with me,’ she whispered, holding her hand out to him.

  He dragged in a ragged breath. ‘Are you sure? I won’t be able to make myself stop at a goodnight kiss.’

  ‘I’m sure. And I don’t want to stop at kisses, either. I want to experience all of it. With you.’

  At that, he leapt up and gathered her into his arms, his touch still incredibly gentle. He pulled her close, one hand cupping her bottom to hold her against the hardness in his breeches while with the other, he tipped up her chin and kissed her.

  Softly. Tenderly. The passionate hunger so evident beneath his fierce control making the kiss all the sweeter.

  He could have seized her, forced her, ravaged her. All he did was give. Her heart melted even as her body heated.

  ‘Are you sure?’ he whispered again against her lips. ‘I didn’t bring you here for this, sweeting, I swear it.’

  ‘I know.’ She took his hand and moved it to her breast. ‘But I’m bringing you here for this.’

  ‘Then you shall have it all, everything you desire.’

  With that, he picked her up and carried her up the stairs.

  And then he lay her on the bed, her head on the pillows, and leaned over to kiss her. It was a gentle, leisurely exploration as he traced the outline of her lips with his tongue, then nuzzled and nibbled her bottom lip.

  As his tongue beguiled, one hand caressed her breast, massaging from the outer fullness to pull at the peaked nipple, sending sparks through her body with each stroke, while pinwheels of sensation rolled through her, set off by the movements of his mouth, his fingers.

  Driven by some irresist
ible urgency, she opened her mouth to him, setting off another blaze of liquid heat as he stroked hers with his, suckled it. Another, as his fingers found the opening in her night rail and slipped under to caress the naked skin of her breast, the puckered hardness of her nipple.

  And then he stopped and pulled away. She gave a garbled mutter of protest.

  ‘Tell me what you like, what you want,’ he said, gazing at her intently.

  Frantic that he’d ceased caressing, she shook her head. ‘I don’t know! Touch me. Show me what you think I’ll like. Just—don’t stop now!’

  Chuckling, he gave her a quick, hard kiss. ‘If you think of anything, tell me. If you don’t like anything, stop me. This is for you, my darling. All for you.’

  ‘I want it to be for you, too!’

  He laughed again. ‘Never worry, my sweet. It most definitely will be for me, too. First, I want to undress you. May I?’

  She bobbed her head. ‘Of course.’

  He pulled her to a sitting position and slipped the robe from her shoulders. Then, while he bent and kissed her, using his lips and tongue to suckle and caress, his fingers worked to free the little buttons of her night rail. Parting the garment, he slid it down to reveal one shoulder, an expanse of neck and back, and moved his fingers there, kissing her still as he massaged and caressed the column of her neck, her collarbone, the rounds of her shoulders and the peak of a shoulder blade, his fingers dipping down in front to almost but not quite touch her breast.

  Then, gently pushing her back down on the bed, he kissed the bared skin his fingers had just caressed while he moved his hands lower, to slide over the outline of each rib, down the narrow of waist and out the flare of hip.

  Her skin seemed on fire where his lips touched it, ready to ignite where his hands caressed, and each new flame of discovery heightened the throbbing urgency that was building deep within her, driving her towards…something.

  Then he moved his mouth down over her breast, taking linen and all into his mouth, licking and sucking at the nipple. The sensation so much more intense than the provocative touch of his fingers, she felt her body buck, a bolt of sensation at her centre making her instinctively raise her hips towards him.