Wildly Romantic: A Multi-Genre Collection

by Lana Williams

  She regarded him misty-eyed. “Marcus, you have made me so happy.”

  “No regrets then?”

  “No,” she said. “No regrets. And you?”

  He studied her soberly. “Only one.”

  Her gaze flickered. “And what is that?”

  He moved lower, caressing her downy mound. “That I have been too occupied these last weeks to contemplate the many ways I have yet to make love to my wife.”

  “Are there truly so many more?” she asked a bit breathlessly.

  “Innumerable, my pet,” he answered with a diabolical grin. “Though not many women are as delightfully adventurous as you have proven to be.” He moved upward to ply a kiss to her sleepy lips. “Shall we try a new one, my dearest heart?”

  Before she could answer, he flipped her over onto her stomach. Nipping at her nape, his teeth and tongue triggering rivulets of rapture down her spine, his hot open mouth worked its magic as Marcus’ big warm hands roamed the plane of her back to cup her bare buttocks.

  Lydia squealed in erotic delight at the love bites that blazed a trail from her shoulder to her bottom where he squeezed and licked her softly molded flesh.

  “You have the loveliest arse, Lydia,” he murmured hotly, cupping the full, twin globes. “I want to devour it.”

  He angled her hips to slide a warm hand between her thighs. His fingers languorously loitered, tracing the lips of her vulva and working her slit until she writhed and coated his fingers with the slick and creamy proof of her arousal.

  Forgetting her earlier half-protest, Lydia gave herself up to the exquisite sensations. His fingers circled and tormented her clit, setting her empty passage clenching in eager, throbbing convulsions of need. Arching her back, she gave herself up to him until she could bear his teasing no longer. With a groan, she grasped Marcus’ thickened rod, frantic to guide him into her.

  “Not yet, my pet,” he chuckled, grasping her wrist.

  “Please, Marcus,” she moaned, panting and rocking her buttocks against him.

  Ignoring her plea, his clever digits worked her vulva and clit. He traced the cleft of her buttocks with deft fingers and moved on to her tight little hole, where he lingered with slow, attentive circles at the entrance.

  Lydia gasped. “Surely you don’t mean to…” Her scandalized voice quivered with an erotic shudder.

  “Fill your tight little arse?” he finished for her with a chuckle. “Oh, perhaps one day, my pet, if you’re amenable to the notion, but for now we’ll take things slowly.” She was already incredibly slick, yet her trepidation only increased her arousal.

  Squirming her arse against his rock-hard length, she trembled in her desire. “I don’t care what else you do, just fill me now, Marcus!” Her voice was breathless and desperate with want. “Can’t you see I’m dying of my need for you? Please, Marcus.”

  “Please?” Marcus’ voice was low and hot in her ear as he grasped her hip to position his swollen cock at her needy passage. “Why I live only to please you, my love.”

  He entered her, feeding her his length slowly. His pulsing staff entering her by the inch, stretching and filling. Marcus’ strong solid body leaned over hers, his free hand reaching beneath her, pressing upon her pelvis. Instinctively her back arched and hips rose to meet him, to take him the rest of the way to the mouth of her womb in a long, smooth, sensuous stroke.

  “Good girl,” he murmured hotly against her skin. “How does this feel?” he asked, holding himself buried to the hilt and slid his thumb back again to circle her anus.

  “It’s not enough, Marcus. I need more.”

  “Trust me, my sweet,” he murmured. “I promise you nothing short of unadulterated bliss.” With this he pressed his thumb inside, causing her to gasp at the unfamiliar and almost painful invasion.

  “Breathe, dearest. Relax and open to me.” She exhaled and willed her body to ease.

  “Is it better now?” he asked, his hips beginning to work in unhurried thrusts.

  “Yes, it’s just so tight.”

  “Aye,” his voice was a throaty growl. “But not painful?” Deep and then shallow, he matched his thrusts with the varying action and pressure of his thumb.

  “No. It’s…it’s…” her voice broke off, lost in a delirium of deliciously decadent sensation.

  While they had made frantic, frenzied love many times since their wedding night, this time was distinctly different, their breathless silences punctuated by whispers of endearment and low, keening cries until mutually reaching the shuddering pinnacle.

  More than a mere joining of their bodies, it was a deliberate, slow and languorous merging of two souls.

  Epilogue

  Bloomsbury Square, London—1749

  AFTER MONTHS ABROAD, passed in lengthy negotiations and countless diplomatic functions, the Peace of Aix-la-Chapelle had concluded eight years of war spanning three continents. Lord and Lady Russell returned home in triumph, their part in the delegation’s success the toast of London.

  “My felicitations on your success and promotion.” Nicholas raised his glass to Marcus upon their first meeting at Russell House.

  “I never could have done it without Lydia,” Marcus confessed with unusual humility. “She proved herself a more-than-capable ambassadress. The Spanish and Austrian delegates were quite taken with her and the Italians completely enamored with her beauty, wit and charm. My new bride is truly a goddess among women.”

  “And far too good for you,” Nicolas answered back with a grin. “Which now begs the question of how you ever managed it? I didn’t believe she would ever have you.”

  “Ye of little faith.” Marcus arched a brow. “I told you when we departed for Woburn that I would convince her.”

  “It seems to me you said you would seduce her. You don’t mean to say you really carried out that nefarious plan?”

  “The deed was done most thoroughly.” Marcus smirked. “As I said, Nick, I only needed the chance to have her alone.”

  “But that never would have happened had not Mariah’s gown torn. Wait a minute…no, I can’t believe it.”

  “What, Nick?”

  “Your mother trod on the gown.”

  Marcus raised a telling brow.

  Nick was incredulous. “You can’t mean to say your mother was in on this Machiavellian scheme?”

  Marcus laughed unabashedly. “In truth, it was Mother’s idea entirely!”

  Nicholas rolled his eyes heavenward. “Surely, the acorn doth not fall far from that tree.”

  “One could learn much from my mother,” Marcus said. “But in the end, even my expertise in seduction was not what truly won Lydia.”

  “No?” Nick asked dryly. “Then how did you manage it?”

  “By diplomacy, of course—aided by a superior understanding of the feminine mind.”

  Nick looked thoroughly unconvinced. “Do tell.”

  “What a woman wants above all things, Nick, is to believe herself the most important consideration in the world, the center of a man’s universe.”

  ****

  In an adjacent chamber

  “Lyddie!” Mariah embraced her cousin. “How wonderful to have you home at last. And you positively glow! Are you truly happy?”

  Lydia beamed. “Deliriously so.”

  “Then you have no regrets at all?”

  “In truth?” Her lips curved impishly. “Only that it took so long to discover how many ways a man and woman can be united as one flesh. Marcus had surely lived up to his promise of conjugal bliss.”

  Mariah gasped. “You are truly scandalous!” Recovering from her feigned shock, she asked, “Is it truly so wonderful?”

  “Indescribable, my dear, but then again, most everything about Marcus is. Although I once despised him for false vanity, he truly is a gifted man. He has proven both an attentive husband and a most considerate lover, and all that a woman could desire, at least all this woman desires.”

  “I am so very glad that you didn’t settle for less
, but I never would have conceived that he would finally succumb to marriage. How did you ever convince him?”

  “I must actually credit Lady Russell. She explained to me that a man desires above all things to think himself his own master. Thus, I had only to convince Marcus that marrying me was entirely his own idea.”

  The End

  Preview: A PLEDGE OF PASSION

  A PLEDGE OF PASSION

  (The Rules of Engagement #2)

  Victoria Vane

  Only a madman makes a promise in the heat of passion... During a midnight tryst in a moonlit garden, Nicolas Needham fell in love—only to walk away. As a younger son with few connections, his pride demanded that he better his circumstances before paying his suit to Lady Mariah. When Nicolas is finally given the opportunity he needs to advance—by negotiating a contract of matrimony on the British Envoy’s behalf—he is shocked to learn that the intended bride is the same woman to whom he once pledged himself.

  And only a fool believes him.... Lady Mariah Morehaven has lived a quiet, almost reclusive life in the country. While she accepts that marriage is her unavoidable destiny, as a baroness in her own right, and heir to one of the oldest and land-rich estates in England, she fears becoming the target of fortune hunters. Entrusting her cousin’s well-connected godmother to help her find a suitable match, Mariah is devastated to discover that the man sent to negotiate for her hand is the very same who broke her heart.

  A PLEDGE OF PASSION

  (The Rules of Engagement #2)

  Victoria Vane

  “Love is a passion which kindles honor into noble acts.” - John Dryden

  My Dearest Mariah,

  Twelve long and agonizing months have passed since that fateful night I claimed a kiss and a promise from your sweet lips—the kiss meant to seal a pact that I have failed to uphold.

  I strongly wish for what I faintly hope; like the daydreams of melancholy men, I think and think in things impossible, yet have now lost my way wandering in that golden maze.

  That night was the loveliest dream, but the future we spoke of is naught but a fantasy that can never be. Thus, it is with a heart burdened with the greatest regret that I release you from your vow.

  Please know that I will ever remain—

  Your most faithful, humble, and obedient servant,

  Nicolas

  Chapter One

  "For they conquer who believe they can."- John Dryden

  Bedford Square, London—One Year Earlier

  “MY DEAR GIRLS, I have quite the surprise for you." Smiling, Lady Russell poured steaming hyson into three delicate cups of the finest Chelsea porcelain. They were seated in the morning room with sun streaming in through the tall windows, spreading its golden fingers of light across the richly patterned Aubusson carpet. "Lord Marcus has just sent us an invitation to a house party at Woburn Abbey."

  "Woburn Abbey?" Mariah repeated blankly.

  Lady Russell paused with her hand on the sugar bowl. "It's the country seat of the Dukes of Bedford. Do you take sugar, Mariah?"

  "No, thank you, my lady," Mariah answered. "Cream will suffice."

  "And you, my dear?" she asked her goddaughter, Lydia.

  "Yes, please," Lydia answered, "but no cream."

  Lady Russell handed the first cup to Mariah and the second to Lydia before continuing. "After spending a king's ransom on renovations to the house and gardens, the duke is most eager to show it all off."

  Lydia's brows met in a frown. "But I am not even acquainted with the duke and duchess. I don't understand why we would be invited."

  "Because Marcus wishes to make the most favorable impression, of course," Lady Russell replied.

  "I still don't understand what that has to do with me," Lydia said. "Has Marcus not told you that I wish to end our betrothal?"

  "He has mentioned it, of course," Lady Russell replied dismissively. "But he also assured me that this rift between you will soon be repaired."

  Mariah observed the two women while quietly sipping her tea. Philomena, Lady Russell, was a force of nature, and very accustomed to getting her way, but Lydia could be stubborn to a fault. While Mariah admired her cousin's courage in standing up to such a grande dame, it was clear that the lady was not about to give up either her political or matrimonial ambitions for her son, Marcus.

  "I am sorry he has misled you, my lady," Lydia replied, "but Marcus is quite mistaken, as I have no intention of becoming his wife."

  "But, my dear, you act in such haste!"

  "Six years is hardly haste," Lydia remarked wryly.

  Mariah's sympathies were wholeheartedly with her cousin. What self-respecting woman would wait six years on a man?

  Lady Russell heaved a martyr's sigh. "I suppose I must shoulder some of the blame for not prodding Marcus. He was so single-minded to establish himself with the diplomatic service that I feared pressuring him to marry would only have caused resentment. But I fear breaking with him at this critical juncture would irreparably damage his prospects. Although Marcus is fortunate enough to have the Duke of Bedford as his uncle and chief patron, he cannot presume wholly upon this family connection. At this juncture in his career, my son must forge his own alliances. In this endeavor, a beautiful and charming wife will be an invaluable asset."

  "That may be," Lydia sniffed. "But Lord Marcus's career is no longer my concern."

  "My dear girl, could you not wait just a short while before making your decision known? At least until the delegates are chosen for the forthcoming peace treaty? He is my youngest son, and I wish him to secure his future." Lady Russell continued in a cajoling tone, "Would you truly refuse me this small boon when your mother and I were so very close?"

  Uncertainty marked Lydia's face. "My lady, I cannot carry out such a ruse purely for Marcus's gain."

  "But Marcus is only half the reason for you to attend. You and Lady Mariah must go for your own benefit as well. The exposure to such influential people can only do you both credit and elevate you in society."

  "I suppose that much is true." Lydia's gaze flickered to Mariah. It was clear her will was faltering. Although she continued to fight, it seemed the dowager was about to win her way. "Mariah could certainly benefit. She has never even had a proper come out."

  "No, I did not," Mariah said sadly. Her London season had been all arranged, but then her father suffered a sudden apoplexy. She wistfully considered the invitation but then shook her head. "I could not go, Lyddie. You know I cannot leave Mama alone to manage Papa. She frets so when I am not at home."

  "Aunt Eustacia can certainly manage without you for a few more days. She has a veritable army of servants. Don't you think it's time you considered your own marriage prospects? You will never meet anyone suitable while buried at Morehaven."

  "Lydia is right," Lady Russell chimed in. "This is the perfect opportunity for you to mix with good society without the pressures of a London season."

  "Please, Mariah. You must come with me," Lydia cajoled.

  Although her conscience bade her to return home, the more Mariah considered it, the more she wanted to go. Lydia needed the moral support, and Mariah's life had become so incredibly dull since her father's illness. Outside of attending her parents' needs, her idle hours were filled with reading, needlework, and long walks. Only occasional visits with Lydia broke the monotony. What harm could there be in enjoying herself for a few more days? Mariah capitulated with a sigh. "You make it impossible for me to refuse."

  "Precisely, my dear," Lady Russell responded with a feline smile.

  "Perhaps I could go just for a short while."

  "It's settled, then.” Lady Russell set her cup down decisively in its saucer. "You will write your mama that you are going with us to Bedfordshire while Lydia and I see to the packing."

  ****

  Mariah and Lydia descended into the courtyard amongst a frenetic flurry of activity as liveried footmen loaded and secured the provisions and luggage onto the caravan of vehicles. Lady Russell stood
on the top stair under the portico with her quizzing glass poised, as if she were a general inspecting an army on parade.

  The carriages preparing to depart for Woburn Abbey included Lady Russell's opulent black lacquer traveling coach, an extensive baggage train, and Lord Marcus's sportier post chaise. Lord Marcus and his secretary, Mr. Needham, were currently standing by Marcus's coach, conversing with the driver and looking bored.

  "Lackaday, Mariah! Just look at that cowardly weasel!" Lydia jerked her head in Lord Marcus's direction. "First he refuses to accept my decision to break our engagement, and now he's conscripted his mother to intercede on his behalf. He's completely deluded if he thinks to placate me now."

  "Perhaps he truly has had a change of heart?" Mariah suggested.

  Lydia gave an unladylike snort. "More likely it's only fear of his mother's wrath that prompts his recent actions. I know you always wish to believe the best of people, but Marcus is truly an incontestable cad. I refuse to wait one moment longer on a man who doesn't want me, regardless of his recent and remarkable protestations to the contrary."

  "But he certainly seems sincere."

  "Of course he does!" Lydia chortled mirthlessly. "He's a diplomat. It's his job to hedge, evade, dither, and dissemble."

  Mariah grinned. "If recent actions are representative of those dubious talents, he should have quite a promising future."

  Lydia sighed. "I would send him straight to the devil but for his mother. Lady Russell was like a sister to my own dear Mum. The two of them conspired the match between us the day I was born. It would have broken Mama's heart to know what a feckless rogue he turned out to be. I will play along only until this house party is over, but once the delegates are announced, this sham engagement shall come to an immediate end. Who knows? Maybe I'll even meet a more suitable gentleman."