by Jo Goodman
West's hands paused in their gentle massage of Ria's back. "We have considered that. That is why the colonel will be sending reinforcements. Northam was to make the arrangements after he and the others escorted us to this residence. I am certain everything has been made ready. The young ladies you calmed and cared for so splendidly last evening will have nothing at all to do with their former tormentors. The bishops will be looked after by others whose hearts will not be softened so easily."
Ria raised one shoulder under West's hand, reminding him his fingers were no longer offering their comforting pressure along her back. She sighed softly as he began kneading again. "I think it will not be easy for the girls to have other men in the house. The ones who witnessed the melee you created in the altar chamber will be especially suspicious."
"That is why North will ask the colonel to send women."
Ria was so startled by this intelligence that the water rippled around her. "Women? Do you mean it?"
"Pray, do not embrace the idea too closely. I am not yet recovered from the intrigues of the past two days, and frankly, I should like to be the one member of my club who does not have to concern himself that his wife and the colonel have formed some unholy alliance."
"I do not think it would be unholy," she said mildly. "Colonel Blackwood is quite charming and everything considerate. He has a superior intellect and an acerbic wit that I find vastly entertaining."
West was certain that the nature of her reply would bode ill for him at some future date. His sigh was perfectly audible and quite telling. "I don't suppose I should like you half so well if you weren't so provoking."
"Provoking? Do you think so? I don't mean to be."
"You are also a consummate liar, but it is one of your chief appeals."
She chuckled and brought his arms around her. They fit nicely under her breasts. "I have been thinking that some arrangements will have to be made for Jane, Sylvia, Amanda—indeed for all the girls. Their lives are extraordinarily changed. I would like to offer them opportunities different from the ones the Society gave them."
"Some will still become courtesans and prostitutes."
Ria nodded. "I know." She idly ran one hand back and forth along West's forearm. "It will require a goodly sum to provide for the ones who will want to do something else. Decent homes in respectable areas of town will not come cheaply."
"That is why the former governors of Miss Weaver's Academy will lend their considerable fortunes to the enterprise."
"Truly? Can they be made to do it?"
"Of course. I suspect after a few days of confinement, they will contribute generously to the rehabilitation of your young ladies."
"And after they are released?" she asked. "Can we depend on them to honor their promises?"
"No. What you can depend upon is that certain pressure will be brought to bear to encourage that they act honorably."
Ria was sure there was a great deal he was not saying. She might ask for the details later, she thought, but not now. Some things she was not prepared to know just yet. "None of this can touch the school, West. They must not be allowed to ruin Miss Weaver's or the reputations of its students."
"Before I left Gillhollow the last time, I arranged with Tenley that he should look after you and the school. Margaret was also apprised of my concerns. Their visits to Gillhollow had more than a single purpose."
"You were watching me so closely even then?"
"Especially then," he said. "Ria, the first thing I did when I realized Miss Jenny Taylor was in the employ of the bishops was to inform my brother. I am confident that he has received the missive by now and has acted accordingly. You can be assured that Miss Taylor has been removed from the school and that Mrs. Abergast and Miss Webster are providing direction in your absence."
"You have considered the whole of it, then."
"I wish I were so omniscient, but we have made a good beginning."
Ria hugged him to her. It seemed that they had. She appreciated the comfortable silence that settled over them. The water was still warm, though perhaps a few degrees cooler than the heat they shared between them. After a time, she said quietly, "This is my second bath today."
"I know. You came to my bed smelling of lavender."
"Did I? Perhaps I was too liberal in using the salts. I wanted to wash away the stench of that wretched place."
Though Ria said these words matter-of-factly, without rancor or particular distaste, West found himself tightening his arms ever so slightly around her. "You cannot know how I wish it might have been different."
"I think I do know," she told him. "Will you be surprised to learn that my only regret will be if you hold yourself responsible?" She felt, rather than heard, his sharp intake of breath. "Did you imagine I would not know? When they made you come to me and would have watched while you lay with me, I knew which of us would suffer more. You were so gentle, even when you coupled the cuffs, even more when you fastened them to the bed." She found his hand and took it in hers, drawing it beneath the water toward her heart. "I was never afraid of you, West, only afraid for you... for us. It would not have been rape, not between you and me. If that act was done, then it was done by the bishops to both of us, but I do not think they succeeded in any measure. They had a great deal of understanding about mastery and submission and none at all about how love bridges the distance between them."
She twisted her head a little, raising it so she could see if the grim line of his mouth had softened. "I wanted you, you know. Perhaps I reveal too much by admitting it, but I did. When you called me to stand in front of the mirror and put your hands on me, you showed me then how I might survive what they wanted. You made it seem as if it were happening to someone else, that I was more observer than participant, and yet it was me... and you... and the desire was as real as anything I have ever felt. Should I punish myself for that?"
"No." West closed his eyes briefly. "God, no."
"What about you?"
This time West hesitated.
Ria's fingers threaded in his. "See? You do not yet forgive yourself. You saved me, West, just as surely as you did long ago at the lake. You did not deserve to be punished for what you did then, nor do you deserve it now." She kissed his cheek and then whispered against his ear, "Mayhap it is something that can be washed away. What have you done with the soap?"
West stayed her hand. He stared at her darkening blue-gray eyes for a long moment, took in the sweet offering of her parted lips, the frank and unashamed desire that defined her exquisite features, and thought how utterly uncomplicated she made it all seem.
Perhaps it truly was.
He released her wrist and reached over the side of the tub for the soap. Smiling a trifle crookedly, he placed it in her open palm and watched her fingers curl around it. At the very first touch of its slippery warmth, he thought he would be undone.
They were heedless of the water that splashed over the side or that when there was laughter, it could be heard well beyond the bedchamber. Their bodies were made slick by the soap, and they moved easily against each other with no regard for friction or the restrictions of their setting, tangling arms and legs in ways that made them catch their breath with the sheer pleasure of it.
Dripping water in their wake, they abandoned the tub for the bed. Under the covers, Ria lay fully on top of West, pinning him down with her slight weight and the circle of her fingers around his wrists. She drew his hands upward to the level of his shoulders and lifted her head so she could look clearly into his eyes.
"Do you know," she said, "that your friend South has the most lamentable timing?"
"You are speaking of when he broke the skylight."
She nodded, absently rubbing the raised tendons in his wrists with her thumbs. "But I think you knew he was there, didn't you?"
"Yes."
"How? I looked up when I heard the first raindrops, yet I didn't see him."
"But you saw the clear night sky, didn't you? And the stars?"
<
br /> "Yes."
"So you should have known it wasn't rain that you heard. No clouds, no rain. I realized then it was a shower of pebbles against the glass, a sure warning of what was to come. I didn't know, though, that it would be South coming through the skylight. He was reckoned to be a good enough monkey in the rigging of His Majesty's ships, but one never knows how he will do on a rooftop."
Ria gave West's wrists a little shake. Her breasts rubbed his chest as she drew herself up. "You might have warned me."
"I couldn't."
She was silent, considering this. "No," she said at last, "I don't suppose you could."
Sensing something of her hurt, West told her, "It was not because I thought you would betray us, but because I didn't think there was enough time to prepare you."
She kissed him fully on the mouth. "You prepared me well enough. You covered me with your body."
"Mm."
"The glass must have cut you."
"It's nothing."
"Let me see." Ria slipped to one side and waited for him to turn on his stomach before drawing back the covers. Her eyes fell first on the tiny scratches that sprinkled his back, then on the faintly ridged scars that were evidence of the caning he'd received at his father's hand. It was humbling to know that he had taken both for her. She laid her palm gently on his back and moved closer. She kissed his shoulder. "I love you."
Because she said it in the manner of one confessing it for the first time, he smiled. "It is gratifying to know you haven't changed your mind, because I am still determined that you should be my wife."
Ria's sumptuously curved mouth took the shape of a beatific smile. When he covered it with his own, her arms came around his shoulders, and she opened her mouth, then all of herself to him. He came into her deeply at the very first thrust and held himself there, just as she wanted. She was tight and warm and needy and did not mind at all that he knew it. Her willingness to make herself so vulnerable to him and give so generously of herself still had the power to confound and please him, most often in equal parts.
Ria raised her arms toward the headboard and stretched, arching under him, lifting herself on the wave of pleasure he created. He held her and was held in turn, and they shared all that was splendid about coupling when they were greedy and hurried and pitched with a fever of wanting.
And later, when they could afford patience and tenderness, when their hearts beat less fiercely at the outset, they shared what was fine and right about this expression of love.
Ria stirred sleepily against West. Burrowed deeply under the covers, with her body once again fit neatly to his, she knew profound contentment. The sound that rumbled lightly at the back of her throat was very nearly a purr.
"She-cat or kitten?" West asked.
She pressed her nail tips into the back of his hand. "You decide."
He merely chuckled, and realized the sound of it was not so different from hers. That raised his grin. He pushed aside the thick fall of her pale hair and kissed the sweet curve of her neck. "I do not think I can wait for the banns to be read, not when you are so wickedly persuasive as you were today. If a gentleman's dressing room is no longer his sanctuary, and he can be assaulted in his bath, then a special license is all that is left to him."
"Do I tempt you?"
One of his eyebrows kicked up. "Can you doubt it?"
She laid her hand along his. "No, I suppose not, but it is surprisingly gratifying to hear."
West let her nestle against him more deeply, not at all averse to having her under his skin just now. In time her breathing slowed, the cadence changed, and he knew she was sleeping.
He marveled that she could be so completely a whirling dervish in one moment, contemplative in another, and then find the perfect stillness of sleep. If he were fortunate, he reflected, she would always draw his attention in ways both subtle and bold, giving back as good as she got, and most often giving better.
West watched her because he could not help himself, not because he was by nature a spy. She bested him, embraced him. She laughed with him, occasionally at him. There was nothing about Ria that had not been good for his soul. At Hambrick Hall, he had been given his direction by his friends, but it was in loving Ria that he had found his compass.
The End
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LET ME BE THE ONE
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ONLY MY LOVE
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Excerpt from
Let Me Be The One
The Compass Club Series
Book One
by
Jo Goodman
USA Today Bestselling Author
LET ME BE THE ONE
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"Goodman has a real flair... Witty dialogue, first-rate narrative prose, and clever plotting."
~Publishers Weekly
It was their laughter that drew her attention. Elizabeth Penrose leaned to her left until her vision was unobstructed by the easel in front of her. The stool wobbled a bit as she shifted. A paintbrush dangled from her fingers. She failed to notice the fat droplet of blue-black watercolor collecting at the tip, gathering size and weight enough to break free and fall squarely on the one part of her lavender muslin gown that was unprotected by a smock.
It was a pure pleasure to hear their laughter. Unrestrained, it had almost a musical quality. Four voices, all of them with a slightly different pitch, gave it a certain harmony. Elizabeth's eyes darted quickly to some of the other guests, and she saw more heads than hers had turned in the direction of the laughter. She did not think for a moment that the men had meant to call attention to themselves. Not above a half hour ago they had been circulating among the baron's guests, slipping in and out of the small conversational groups that had formed naturally once everyone had taken their fill of the picnic repast.
Blankets covered a good portion of the gently sloping hillside. Like patches of a quilt, they were shaped into a larger whole by the strips of grass and wildflowers between them. In various states of repose the guests enjoyed the late afternoon sunshine, the occasional breeze, and the steady rushing rhythm of the stream running swiftly between its banks.
Elizabeth blinked as the men laughed again, heads thrown back, strong throats exposed. Although the tenor was deep, there was something unmistakably youthful in the sound of it. Mischievous, she thought. She could not help smiling herself, feeling not so much an eavesdropper as a coconspirator, even though she had no idea what had prompted their great good humor.
That they knew one another was not surprising, she supposed. They were all members of the peerage and breathed the perfumed air of the ton. What was interesting was that they appeared to be fast friends, not rivals, yet until they had slowly gravitated toward the same unoccupied stretch of blanket, Elizabeth could not have said for certain that they shared more than a polite nodding acquaintance.
They dispelled that notion once again as the Earl of Northam plucked three ripened peaches from the basket beside him, drew his legs under himself tailor-fashion, and began to juggle. Fresh gales of laughter, a little ribald this time, practically erupted from the others. For reasons she did not entirely understand, Elizabeth Penrose felt a certain amount of heat in her cheeks. Though confident no one had noticed
her, she nonetheless sought protection by ducking behind her easel.
It was only as she began to apply brush to paper that she realized the Earl of Northam had stolen most of the subjects of her still life.
Brendan David Hampton, the juggling, thieving sixth Earl of Northam, lost his rhythm when one of his friends pitched him another peach. "Devil a bit," he said, grinning, "but I could never get the hang of four." He gathered the peaches before they rolled off the blanket and lightly tossed one to each of the others. The one he kept for himself he held up in the palm of his hand and pretended to study it.
"Tender-skinned. A copse of fine hair covering it. A delicate blush deepening to ruby at the cleft." Northam split the peach. "Succulent when parted. Moist. Scented. And the heart of it is revealed lying nestled at the center of the sweet delicate flesh." Quietly, so that his lips barely moved, he said, "Gentlemen, I give you Madame Fortuna's quim. God bless her." He paused. "And God bless naive Hambrick boys."
Let Me Be The One
The Compass Club Series
Book One
by
Jo Goodman
~
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ONLY MY LOVE
The Dennehy Sisters Series
Book One
Excerpt from
Only My Love
The Dennehy Sisters Series
Book One
by
Jo Goodman
USA Today Bestselling Author