Susanna blinked back the sudden hot rush of tears. “You understand,” she whispered.
“I understand that you have been afraid,” Dev said, “and I will do all I can to make sure that you will never feel so alone again.”
He leaned across the counter and kissed her, and Susanna felt her heart expand with blazing happiness. “I love you,” she whispered against his lips and felt him pause, and smile, before he kissed her again.
“Miss Burney!” Mrs. Green rustled out of the back room to take in the sight of her newest assistant in a passionate embrace with a Navy captain. “What is the meaning of this?” she spluttered. “This might well do for Edinburgh but we do not behave like this in Oban!”
“Well, at least you are using your own name this time, Susanna, rather than someone else’s,” Dev commented as he released her. He bowed elegantly to Mrs. Green. “How do you do, ma’am? I am Miss Burney’s husband, Sir James Devlin. So in point of fact—” he smiled at Susanna “—she is actually Lady Devlin.”
“Lady Devlin?” Mrs. Green shot Susanna a deeply suspicious look. Susanna could see that she was now torn between disapproval and the fear that Dev might actually be speaking the truth and that she was about to alienate an influential member of the gentry. “Lady Devlin is working in my gown shop?”
“Not anymore, I fear, ma’am,” Dev said cheerfully, “but I do thank you for providing her with respectable work, unlike her previous trade.”
“Devlin!” Susanna said, turning scarlet, digging him hard in the ribs. Dev smiled at her, another of his brilliant, wicked smiles and Susanna saw that even Mrs. Green was not immune. The modiste had turned slightly pink and was actually fluttering her eyelashes at Devlin.
“Well,” Mrs. Green said. “I suppose I must wish you happy, Sir James.”
“Thank you,” Dev said. He held out a hand to Susanna. “No more running away, sweetheart,” he said softly.
Out in the street, in the keen breeze and the shadow of the harbor wall, Susanna stopped and put one hand against his chest. “Devlin,” she said, “are you sure? Twice I have lacked the faith …” She stopped.
Dev covered her hand where it rested against the dark navy-blue of his jacket. “You don’t have to do everything on your own, Susanna,” he said quietly. His face darkened. “Rory told me about you losing your father to the wars. I understand now why you were so afraid of risking everything for us all those years ago and why you ran from me in London.”
“Rory told you?” Susanna echoed.
“I saw him on my way here,” Dev said with evident satisfaction. “He was the one who told me where to find you. Nice lad,” he added. “We played cricket together. He can’t wait to be out of that house. He only granted me permission to marry you again on the understanding that we would go and fetch him and his sister immediately after our honeymoon.”
“Marry again?” Susanna said. “Honeymoon?”
“Your conversation suddenly lacks sparkle,” Dev murmured, brushing his lips against hers. “You do nothing but repeat what I say.” He grabbed her hand again. “Come on.”
“But where are we going?” Susanna gasped as he pulled her along at a pace approaching a run. Dev shot her a smile.
“It is our wedding anniversary,” he said. “Or had you forgot?”
They reached the ruined chapel on the headland just as the sun was dipping behind the distant mountains to touch the sea with molten silver. Dev opened the door and they slipped inside. The air was cool here, the dust motes dancing in the light from the stained-glass windows.
“There is no one here to witness our vows,” Dev said as he drew her forward to stand before the altar, “but I do not think that the words will go unheard.”
He took the wedding ring from his pocket and slid it back onto Susanna’s finger.
“A beginning and an end,” he said. “An eternal circle.” He kissed her again, and this time it was a kiss of love and promise and benediction, and then for a long time they stood on the sun-warmed stone outside the church door, watching the sea as the sun went down.
Presently Dev stirred, tucked Susanna’s hand though his arm and steered her through the rickety gate and up the stony path away from the town. They walked slowly, heads bent, very close together.
“We have three days before we go to collect the twins,” Dev said. “Then we travel up to Invergordon where I take up my command.”
“You are already become a dictatorial husband,” Susanna scolded, running her fingers along the line of his jaw, feeling the stubble against her fingertips and reveling in the roughness of it.
Dev turned his head and kissed her fingers. “I am,” he murmured. “And now I want to make love to you and I fear I am going to be dictatorial about that, too.”
“I lodge in a most respectable boardinghouse,” Susanna started to say, and saw Dev smile.
“Fortunately,” he said, “I have taken a little cottage just up here on the hillside. I wanted some privacy for us because I do not intend for us to be respectable at all.”
“But how could you afford it?” Susanna said. “Together we must have sufficient debt to sink a battleship.”
“Not anymore,” Dev said. “I have paid them all.”
Susanna drew back a little. “But how?”
Dev was looking rueful. “I had one thing left of great price,” he said. He looked down into her face, grinned. “Well, two things, but only one that I could sell.”
“You sold the pearl,” Susanna whispered. “Oh, Devlin!”
Dev laughed. “I didn’t sell that pearl,” he said. “I kept that one for you. There were two of them.” His smile turned wry. “They were a symbol of my past life,” he said softly. “For a long time I was very attached to them because they represented the life I had adored and lost, the excitement, and the adventure …” He stopped and cupped Susanna’s face in his hands. “They no longer matter,” he said, “because I have a new life with you.” He released her and laughed. “Actually, I tell a lie. There were three pearls in all but one of them was counterfeit. I gave it to Tom Bradshaw in payment of your debts.” He shook his head. “I’ll tell you all about it some other time.”
He was already kissing her as he drew her over the threshold of the cottage and closed the door very decisively behind them.
“You always wear such frustrating clothes,” he muttered as he started to unfasten the row of tiny buttons down the front of her dress. “This is a very respectable gown,” he continued, muffling a curse as his fingers slipped with haste. “Just what I would have expected for a lady working in Mrs. Green’s shop.”
“I’m a very respectable girl,” Susanna said.
“No,” Dev said, “you are not.” He folded back the material at the base of her throat and pressed his lips to the hollow he had exposed. “No respectable girl,” he said, against her flushed skin, “would be pleasured with a pearl from an Eastern potentate’s treasure.”
A delicious shiver rippled through Susanna’s stomach. “Then perhaps I prefer being wicked,” she murmured.
The bodice of the respectable gown gaped suddenly as the last button was undone. Dev slipped his hand inside. “Ah, the virtuous gown has submitted at last,” he said. His palm was warm against the side of her breast. He pushed the bodice back and lowered his head to pull on her nipple, his teeth grazing her through the fine lawn of her shift. Susanna gave a moan as a shaft of sheer delight pierced her. The bodice of the dress fell, a crumpled shell, to the floor and Dev pulled on the ribbon that fastened her skirt so that it, too, fell away with as much eagerness as Susanna was feeling herself.
“I think,” she gasped, “that this will end as it usually does with me naked and you still fully clothed.”
Dev laughed. “Maybe not this time.” He pulled her up the narrow tumbling stairs and into the bedroom above.
“Goodness, how beautiful,” Susanna said, distracted by the huge window facing the west and the golden sunset that now cloaked the sea.
Dev stepped behind her and slid a warm arm about her waist, nuzzling her neck through the silky strands of her hair. She could feel his lips against her nape, tracing a delicious path down her spine, feel, too, the hard, hot press of his erect length against her. She turned in his arms so that she could kiss him properly and freed herself briefly from his embrace only to make short work of the Navy uniform.
“You looked very fine in it,” she teased, admiring the firm musculature of his body in the sun’s golden light, tracing a finger down the curve of his shoulder, “but right now I prefer you out of it.”
The intense light in Dev’s eyes made her breath catch. “I am yours to command,” he said. He ran his hands into her hair, cupped her head and kissed her again, tasting, savoring, pent-up longing mingled with worshipful desire. It felt different, Susanna thought as her lips parted beneath the demand of his, less driven but no less urgent, the edge of anger between them banished now by love.
The bed was swathed in pure gold and crimson as Dev drew her down to lie beside him. “I truly am yours to command,” he murmured, his fingers toying with the strands of black hair that now spread across her shoulders in silky abandonment. “Only yours, Susanna, now and always.”
“As ever you speak well,” Susanna said, smiling, as she stroked a lazy hand down Dev’s spine, enjoying the shudder of response her caress drew from him. “But can you match actions to words?”
They lay for a moment looking at one another, so close, almost touching, a mere hairsbreadth apart. She saw the amusement in Dev’s face change to taut desire then he rolled her beneath him and sheathed himself in her in one long thrust, taking her mouth with his even as he took her body. She gasped at the invasion, her breath lost in his, as his hands moved over her, evoking the most sublime pleasure. The spiral tightened, burning out the pain and misery of their lost years, drawing them together with desire now transmuted into love and tenderness. Susanna clung to him as the exquisite climax took them both together. She could feel the tears hot on her cheeks, felt, too, Dev shift slightly to cradle her in his arms as he brushed them away with gentle fingers.
“Darling …” He sounded shaken. “Please don’t cry.” He rolled over onto his side, drawing her with him, still intimately entwined. “I love you,” he whispered against her hot skin. “I will love you always.”
“I’m only crying because I am happy,” Susanna said, smiling radiantly at him. “I love you, too, James Devlin. And I think,” she added, “that I will like being married to you very much.”
Dev started to kiss her again. “That’s good,” he murmured, “for we have a great deal of time to make up.”
Desired
Nicola Cornick
Nicola Cornick’s novels
have received acclaim the world over
‘Cornick is first-class, Queen of her game.’
—Romance Junkies
‘A rising star of the Regency arena’
—Publishers Weekly
Praise for the SCANDALOUS WOMEN OF THE TON series
‘A riveting read’
—New York Times bestselling author Mary Jo Putney on
Whisper of Scandal
‘One of the finest voices in historical romance’
—Single Titles.com
‘Ethan Ryder (is) a bad boy to die for! A memorable story of intense emotions, scandals, trust, betrayal and all-encompassing love. A fresh and engrossing tale.’
—Romantic Times on One Wicked Sin
‘Historical romance at its very best is written by Nicola Cornick.’
—Mary Gramlich, The Reading Reviewer
Acclaim for Nicola’s previous books
‘Witty banter, lively action and sizzling passion’
—Library Journal on Undoing of a Lady
‘RITA® Award-nominated Cornick deftly steeps her latest intriguingly complex Regency historical in a beguiling blend of danger and desire.’
—Booklist on Unmasked
Author Note
Welcome to Desired, book five in the SCANDALOUS WOMEN OF THE TON series! Desired is Tess Darent’s story. The outrageous Dowager Lady Darent has already been widowed three times and is looking for her fourth husband—but she is determined on a marriage in name only. Step forward Owen Purchase, Viscount Rothbury, who has desired the much-married marchioness for a long time. He is the protector Tess needs, but can he seduce her into realising that a true marriage is what she really wants?
Like the other books in this series, Desired is inspired by reallife events. Tess is a philanthropist and a reformer, and in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries the reforming movement was pressing for political change in Britain. The government, however, was afraid of a revolution and sought to repress any opposition by throwing the reform’s leaders into prison. Tess, as a secret leader of the reform movement, is in the gravest danger.
I have loved writing all the books in this series! Be sure to visit my website at www.nicolacornick.co.uk and don’t miss the final book in the series, Forbidden!
Nicola Cornick
Don’t miss the rest of the latest
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WHISPER OF SCANDAL
ONE WICKED SIN
MISTRESS BY MIDNIGHT
DESIRED
Also available from Nicola Cornick
DECEIVED
LORD OF SCANDAL
UNMASKED
THE CONFESSIONS OF A DUCHESS
THE SCANDALS OF AN INNOCENT
THE UNDOING OF A LADY
DAUNTSEY PARK: THE LAST RAKE IN LONDON
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Coming soon, the next
SCANDALOUS WOMEN OF THE TON series:
FORBIDDEN
To Kimberley Young with much gratitude for all the years we worked together.
CHAPTER ONE
London, October 1816
Covent Garden: “Artful ways beguile the implicit rake.”
—Taken from
Harris’s List of Covent Garden Ladies.
IT WAS THE NIGHT HER LUCK finally ran out.
Tess Darent knew that the net was closing and that someone was coming to hunt her down. Tonight she could feel him very close behind her. Tonight, she knew instinctively, was the night she was going to get caught.
“Hurry!” Mrs. Tong, owner of the Temple of Venus bawdy house held out the borrowed gown to her with shaking hands and Tess grabbed it and slipped it over her head, feeling the sensuous slide of lavender silk against her skin. It was not a bad fit. She was surprised that Mrs. Tong had anything so tasteful in the wardrobe. Fortunate, because she would not be seen dead in any of the harlot’s gowns Mrs. Tong’s girls habitually wore. Even if she was currently hiding from the law, Tess had standards to maintain.
The bawd’s face was pale beneath her paint and powder, her eyes terrified. Out in the corridor the sounds of pursuit were getting louder—voices snapping orders, the tramp of booted feet, the crash as Mrs. Tong’s pieces of erotic statuary were knocked to the marble floor.
“Redcoats!” the bawd said. “Searching the house. If they find you here—”
“They won’t,” Tess snapped. She spun around, lifting the heavy fall of her red-gold hair so that Mrs. Tong could lace the gown. She could feel the bawd’s fingers trembling on the fastenings. Mrs. Tong’s fear was feeding her own. The panic filled her chest, stealing her breath. Her pursuer was so close now. He was nipping at her heels.
“Even if they do find me here,” she added over her shoulder, marvelling at the calm of her own voice, “what of it? My reputation is so bad no one will think it odd to find me in a whorehouse.”
“But the papers?” Mrs. Tong’s voice quavered.
“Hidden.” Tess patted the lavender reticule that matched the gown. “Never fear, Mrs. T. No one will suspect you of being anything worse than an avaricious
old madam.”
“There’s gratitude.” Mrs. Tong sounded irritable. “Sometimes I wonder why I help you.”
“You do it because you owe me,” Tess said. Some months before she had helped Mrs. Tong’s son when he had been arrested at a political rally. Now she was calling in the debt.
“I’m no friend to the radical cause,” Mrs. Tong grumbled. She pulled the laces of the gown tight in a small gesture of revenge.
“The gown’s too big,” Tess wheezed, as the breath was pummelled out of her.
“Which is why you need the laces tight.” The madam gave them another sharp tug. She threw Tess a matching cloak of lavender-blue edged with peacock feathers and tiptoed across to the door, opening it a crack, finger to her lips.
Tess raised a brow. Mrs. Tong shook her head, closed the door softly and turned the key. “No chance,” she said. “They are all over the house like the pox. You’ll have to hide.”
“They’ll find me.” Fear clawed at Tess again. For all her defiant words she knew that it would be disastrous if she were to be caught now in possession of the papers. She would be thrown in prison. Everything she had worked for would be lost. The cold sweat trickled down her spine, prickling her skin.
“Buy me some time, Mrs. Tong,” she said. “They are a company of soldiers and this is a bawdy house. Distract them.”
She grabbed the jacket of the mannish suit she had been wearing on her arrival, extracted the little silver pistol from the pocket, forced it into the reticule along with the papers and pulled the drawstring tight. She tried on the exquisite pair of lavender slippers that matched the gown and winced. They were made for smaller feet than hers. She would have blisters by the time she reached home.
“There’s no way of distracting their captain,” Mrs. Tong said. “He don’t care for women.”
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