Wildly Romantic: A Multi-Genre Collection
Page 28
“We have all the time we want.”
“Perfect,” she said as she wrapped her legs around him. “We’re going to need it. This is the ideal way to start our new life together.”
He smiled down at her, passion burning brightly in his blue eyes. “Aye. A lifetime with you won’t be enough.”
THE END
OTHER BOOKS BY LANA WILLIAMS
Medieval Romances:
A Knight’s Christmas Wish
Falling for A Knight Novella, Book .5
On Amazon
A Vow To Keep, Book I of The Vengeance Trilogy
On Amazon
A Knight’s Kiss, Book 1.5 of The Vengeance Trilogy
Amazon
Trust In Me, Book II of The Vengeance Trilogy
On Amazon
Believe In Me, Book III of The Vengeance Trilogy
On Amazon
The Vengeance Trilogy – Boxed Set
On Amazon
Victorian Romances:
Unraveling Secrets
Book I of The Secret Trilogy
On Amazon
Passionate Secrets
Book II of The Secret Trilogy
Amazon
Shattered Secrets
Book III of The Secret Trilogy
Amazon
Trusting the Wolfe, a novella
Book .5 of The Seven Curses of London
On Amazon
Loving the Hawke
Book 1 of The Seven Curses of London
On Amazon
Charming the Scholar
Book 2 of The Seven Curses of London
On Amazon
If you liked this book, I invite you to sign up to find out when the next one is released: http://www.lanawilliams.net/contactlana.html
If you enjoyed this story, please consider writing a review!
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Thank you for reading A Knight’s Quest, the first full length book in the Falling For A Knight series, which follows the next generation of the de Bremont’s. If you haven’t yet read Rylan’s story, I invite you to read A Knight’s Christmas Wish, the novella that begins the Falling For A Knight series.
The sack of Berwick, Scotland in 1296 was a dark point in the country’s history and was the first battle in the First War of Scottish Independence. King Edward I, angered by Scotland’s alliance with France, marched on the city with 30,000 infantry and 5,000 cavalry, according to some accounts. The death toll ranges from 7,500 to 13,000, and included men, women, and children. If the king of England’s goal truly was to make the mills “flow with their blood”, he succeeded. And so began a bloody era for Scotland’s independence.
While most of the characters in A Knight’s Quest are fictional, the backdrop of the events are true. Sir William Douglas was governor up until the siege and was held in England afterward for several years. Sir Gilbert de Umfraville was his sworn enemy. The Guardians of Scotland truly did exist.
After reading of this terrible attack, I couldn’t help but wonder what might happen to those who survived. That brought Lady Sophia to mind. I hope you enjoy the story and that it catches your imagination, as it did mine.
Thank you to my wonderfully talented critique partners: Michelle Major, Lani Joramo, and Robin Nolet, and to my beta readers, Linda Benning, Lauren Billing, and Sarah Billing. I couldn’t do this without you!
If you’d like to know when my next book becomes available, I invite you to sign up for my email newsletter at: http://www.lanawilliams.net/contactlana.html, follow me on Facebook at www.facebook.com/LanaWilliamsBooks or on Twitter at @LanaWilliams28. Happy reading!
Reviews help authors tremendously and also help other readers find books, so please consider leaving a review. It would be much appreciated.
More historical romances are coming your way!
A BREACH OF PROMISE
(THE RULES OF ENGAGEMENT #1)
VICTORIA VANE
A BREACH OF PROMISE
On the night of her betrothal, Lydia Trent receives just a taste of what awaits her in marriage with her fiancé…and then he leaves her wanting. Now, after waiting six years for her exceedingly reluctant bridegroom to honor his troth, Lydia is resolved to break it off.
When Marcus, Lord Russell, receives Lydia’s letter demanding a release from their marriage contract, he is at first stunned, but certain that he’ll have her eating out of his hand with his usual wit and charm. Although confident that he'll repair the damage, he has no clue how determined the headstrong Lydia is to thwart his every effort to win her back.
Yet, Marcus discovers, in spite of her conviction to end the engagement, Lydia is more responsive to his touch than he ever imagined. He just needs to get her alone to unleash the promised passion he sees within his virgin fiancée. Armed with this knowledge, he will use any tool in his arsenal to exploit her weakness.
In short, he’ll just have to ruin her!
A Word from the Author
Dear Reader,
A BREACH OF PROMISE, first published in 2011, was my very first foray into erotic historical romance. It has now been five years and twenty two books since this hot little novella first hit the press, but Lydia and Marcus still continue to appeal to new readers.
If you have read this story before, I hope that you enjoy re-visiting my world. If it is your first time reading one of my stories, I hope this novella gives you a chuckle and a truly enjoyable escape.
Sincerely,
Victoria Vane
Prologue
Derbyshire, England—1742
GIDDY WITH ANTICIPATION Lydia Trent ran her fingers over the luxurious fabric as her maid Molly slid the fine silk over her petticoat and stays. The gown was a custom-made confection of soft, petal pink with white bows and matching pink, satin slippers specially ordered for this momentous occasion. Once dressed, Molly put the finishing touches to Lydia’s hair, pinning her usual plaits into a ladylike coronet atop her head and finishing the coiffure with pink ribbon and white roses.
A soft tap sounded at the door. “Are you ready, my dear?” her father called through the wooden panel. “The guests are nearly all arrived.”
“One minute more, Papa!” Lydia called. With a deep intake of breath, she stood and turned to the pier glass, but to her chagrin, the beribboned and bowed image that greeted her fell far short of her expectations. Instead of a young lady of sophistication, one who would prove to Marcus she was now a woman grown, Lydia was struck by her ludicrous resemblance to her birthday cake. Lydia had looked forward to her engagement party to Marcus Russell since…well…since as long as she could remember. She had thought herself the happiest girl in the world to know that such a dashing, young man would one day be hers. And now, with the arrival of her seventeenth birthday, it would become official at last.
With a deep breath, she exited her room and dipped into her well-practiced curtsey. “Do you approve, Papa?” she asked with a tremulous smile.
His warm, dry lips brushed her cheek. “You are the image of your dear Mama.” He then pulled her hand to the crook of his elbow. “Shall we, my dearest treasure?”
Lydia was a bundle of nerves as she descended on her father’s arm. As she reached the bottom of the staircase, her gaze flickered over the assemblage of well-wishers. She bit her lip with a racing pulse as she sought the one who made her heart skip and her knees quiver. She had expected him to be first to receive her, but she saw no sign of her soon to be fiancé amongst the assembled guests. Seized with trepidation, she looked to her father for reassurance. “Where is he?” she whispered. “Where is Marcus?”
He covered her small hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. Though her father’s words and manner were confident, she detected anxiety behind his eyes. “Have no fear, child, he will be here. Any number of things might have delayed him in London.”
“Of course you are right, Papa,” she replied with a serenity she could not feel.
Fighting the nervous churning of her stomach, and the powerful urge to
flee back to her chamber, Lydia moved about the room to greet her guests. With heat stealing into her cheeks, Lydia made her obeisance to the parents of the elusive groom-to-be. “Lord and Lady Russell.”
“My dear girl, how lovely you look!” Lady Russell gushed as she kissed both of her cheeks, “Your mother would have been so very proud.”
“Enchanting, simply enchanting,” Lord Philip Russell agreed, all the while stealing anxious glances to the doorway. In obvious embarrassment, he conjured several possible, if unlikely, scenarios for Marcus’ delay to which Lydia murmured an appropriate reply while refusing to meet their gazes.
After nearly two hours of waiting for the missing bridegroom, the engagement dinner commenced in an awkward but telling silence. Too mortified to raise her eyes from her plate, Lydia picked at each course, fighting back tears and wishing with all her heart that the earth would just swallow her up.
At the meal’s conclusion, after all had seemingly given up any hope of his appearance, the antechamber echoed with the sound of raucous laughter. Marcus Russell burst into the dining room.
“Lord Marcus!” Lydia’s heart skipped a beat.
With glazed eyes and drink-induced affability, He executed an unsteady and over-flourished bow to the room at large. “I offer my most profuse apologies to our dear host for my unfortunate delay, but happily I’ve just received news that is truly worthy of celebration.”
The winsome smile froze on Lydia’s face at the realization that Marcus’ high spirits were due to an event he deemed far worthier than this long-awaited betrothal party.
“Did you indeed?” Lady Russell asked, directing a sidelong glance to Lydia.
Marcus paused for dramatic effect. “You are now looking at a newly appointed undersecretary to the Foreign Ministry.”
Lord Russell beamed with paternal pride. “Capital news, my boy!”
“Congratulations are most certainly in order,” Sir Timothy Trent agreed. “Simpson, bring the port!” To her dismay, even her father seemed to regard Marcus' tardiness as an easily forgivable offense.
With the final covers removed, Lydia was forced to retreat with the women as Marcus joined the gentleman for port and political talk with nary a thought to his fiancée.
Darting sporadic glances at the door, Lydia stumbled over the keys of the spinet, fumbling the elegant notes of Scarlatti’s Sonata Number Twelve in B Minor, and then falling off completely once he deigned to appear. Marcus entered the drawing room and surveyed the occupants with an unfocused stare. “Sh-shampagne,” he cried when he finally lit upon Lydia. “We must have champagne to toast the blushing rose that has now become my betrothed.”
His lingering gaze, as if suddenly recalling the evening’s true purpose, sent a hot flush creeping from the base of Lydia’s neck to the tip of her nose, and when Marcus smiled, her breath seized as abruptly in her throat as her fingers on the spinet keyboard. To be the object of his full attention, even for this brief moment, was akin to the sun appearing from behind a dark and dismal cloud to blaze its full radiance upon her. In that moment under the giddy glow of his smile, Lydia thought she could forgive him anything.
Following the congratulatory toasts, a wave of panic flooded Lydia as Marcus offered his arm for a private stroll in the gardens. Nodding and blushing, she accepted and proceeded out the terrace doors in a tongue-tied silence. All the pretty speeches and coquettish looks she had rehearsed before her mirror evaporated. Marcus’ abstraction only added to her discomfiture.
Marcus was first to break the tense silence. “So the deed is done at last. Our families are surely congratulating themselves on the success of their matrimonial machinations.”
Lydia’s throat went dry at his resentful tone. “Y-you did not want this engagement?”
“Did you?” he asked, but failed to await her response. “It’s not like they ever gave us a choice, is it, my pet?” Marcus’ unsteady steps slowed. “Here you are, barely out of the schoolroom, with no experience of life." He chucked her under the chin. "As for me, they wish to clip my bloody wings before I ever take flight. What a damnable life to have it all mapped out at another’s whim,” he mumbled as if to himself.
No. She hadn’t imagined the bitterness. The knot in her stomach tightened. “You don’t have to, you know—marry me.” She closed her eyes and choked out the words.
Marcus’ laugh was a low, mirthless sound. “But there you are wrong, my sweet. As a younger son without a pot to piss in, I must do precisely as my family demands of me.”
They had reached the huge oak where an old wooden swing was suspended. Without asking her leave, Marcus seized her by the waist and hoisted her onto the seat. He stepped back with another laugh. “There. You are dressed in virginal white and look upon me with wide, plaintive eyes. Proof positive that our scheming parents would plan weddings when you are naught but a mere child.”
He threw himself to the ground by her dangling feet and turned his attention to the pilfered bottle of champagne. He popped the cork and covered the bottle with his eager mouth to catch the effervescent explosion.
Her eyes burned at his scorn. “I’m not, you know,” Lydia said.
“Not what?” He took several long gulps.
“A child.”
“No?” He offered her the bottle. “I noticed you had none earlier.”
Her gaze darted hesitantly from Marcus to the bottle and back again. “Papa says I am too young to drink.”
Marcus smirked. “As I said, a child.”
Heat inflamed her cheeks. Lydia hesitated only a moment before snatching the bottle from his grasp. Her first sip was tentative. The peculiar combination of sweet and acidic effervescence tickled her nose and throat. Marcus regarded her with a curious look when she broke into a throaty giggle. “The bubbles, they tickle my nose!”
“It’ll tickle elsewhere too if you give it half a chance,” he encouraged with a grin.
She took several more sips. A longer moment of silence stretched between them. Reaching her toes to the ground, she pushed off to set the swing gliding. “Do you wish to break it off?” she asked, sneaking a look through her lashes.
Propped back on his elbow, Marcus looked up at her and drawled, “A gentleman would never do such a thing.”
It was not how she’d expected him to answer.
His gaze followed the gentle ebb and flow of the swing. Sprawled as he was on the ground at her feet, she was suddenly aware that his position afforded a clear view of her ankles, and with the forward motion, an occasional glimpse of her calves. The attentiveness of his stare told her he had realized the same thing.
Lydia took another long drink. She no longer felt the chill in the air and her limbs tingled. The swing by now had ceased its motion. Suddenly emboldened, she raised her skirts a few inches, as if to get them off the ground. Gazed locked with Marcus', she extended her pink-slippered foot to push off again. Her breath seized in surprise when he reached up to clasp her ankle.
“What are you doing?” She asked with a breathless giggle inspired more by nerves than champagne. Marcus held her, his eyes darkening with an unfamiliar stare that made her breath come back in a rush.
“Perhaps you are not quite the infant I thought.” His voice was strangely husky. He inched his hand farther up her leg, creeping over her silk-encased calf. “No, indeed,” he drawled. “Definitely not the leg of a child.” His hand slid higher.
His fingers skimmed her garter where he toyed with the ribbon and traced her bare flesh above it. She closed her eyes and shivered, knowing a proper young lady would never allow such liberties, but his attention and his warm hand on her cool skin excited her beyond description. If he anticipated her protest, it never came.
With a smile, Marcus retrieved the now-empty bottle she clutched to her chest and tossed it to the ground. He guided her hands to the ropes suspending the swing and flipped her skirts above her knees to position his body snugly between her thighs.
Lydia gasped at the boldness of the mov
e. She tried to pull her legs back together but his body prevented her. Though she trembled, his heat warmed her to the core, pooling low in her belly.
“Shall I stop, Lydia?” he asked. She responded with an unsteady shake of her head and a soft hiccup. With a low guttural sound, he slid his hands completely under her skirt, gliding over her skin to blaze a hot trail toward the apex of her thighs. She gasped again when his fingers found and grazed her downy mass. Her breath seized but she couldn't bring herself to push him away.
“Do you ever touch yourself here, Lydia?” he asked in a low, hoarse whisper.
The question made her insides convulse. “N-no,” she lied.
“Would you like me to touch you there now?” His voice coaxed and soothed.
She clutched the ropes while his skillful fingers explored, traced, and teased her. She knew she should make him stop but the pleasure was dizzying. Her world spun out of control when he found and began circling her small hidden nub, increasing the pressure until her body racked with little tremors and whimpers.
“You do like that,” he said. She bucked against him, setting the swing back in motion. “Not so quickly, little one.” Marcus laughed and withdrew his hand.
Grasping her waist, he pulled her down beside him and then rolled his body on top of hers, arms anchored on either side of her head as Lydia lay stunned beneath him, still coiled with desire. At the press of his erection against her belly, she came instinctively to life and undulated against him.
“God help me!” Marcus groaned. “I hadn’t planned any of this, but damn me if you haven’t given me a mind to finish what we started.”