Harlequin Historical July 2020 - Box Set 1 of 2

by Virginia Heath

  He managed to blink in affirmation, but she clearly took that as a no because those awful little tears she was so adept at holding back filled her eyes.

  ‘Do you remember when you first told me about Kelvedon? You said he was getting what he wanted and my father would get the money he wanted and you asked what I would get? And I realised it was nothing. But now things have changed and I’m married to you instead, my father has been paid and I’ve upheld every aspect of our arrangement so far… Don’t I deserve something in return? Not necessarily immediately, of course. I’m not in a great hurry. But at some point…in the not-too-distant future… If it’s not too much trouble…’

  Even though his mind wasn’t working, judging by the way the rest of his body below the neck was behaving, it would be no trouble at all.

  ‘Why aren’t you saying anything, Owen?’

  ‘To be fair—you haven’t paused long enough for me to get a word in.’ He felt as if he was falling headfirst from a steep cliff top, his limbs flailing in the ether and the craggy rocks below approaching fast.

  ‘I apologise… I had a speech all worked out… I thought it was a convincing one, but I am not entirely sure it came out in the right order.’

  ‘I think I have the gist of it…’

  ‘Good…b-because I really don’t have it in me to repeat it.’ She bit down on her lip and stood as still as a statue as she awaited his verdict. ‘As I said…there’s no immediate hurry and you probably need some time to think.’

  Thinking was beyond him. Especially as simply breathing was now problematic. After an ironically pregnant pause which did nothing to stop his stunned heart hammering painfully against his ribs, he managed to moisten his mouth enough to choke out a sentence.

  ‘You do realise that to have children at some point we would need to…’

  ‘I just delivered a baby, Owen! I am completely aware of how it got there.’

  Which still did nothing to address his biggest concern. ‘But you said the thought of my touch makes you sick to your stomach!’ Because he couldn’t. Wouldn’t…

  ‘Oh, for goodness sake, Owen! After that kiss the other night, we both know that was a shocking lie!’

  She exhaled and stared at her feet. ‘I sincerely doubt that side of things will be a problem between us. In fact, it brings me neatly to the next issue which we urgently need to discuss before we embark on our trip to the Aveleys’ on the morrow…and that is the tangible and obvious frisson which now exists between us.’

  ‘The frisson?’ Part of him wanted to laugh, the other cry at her delicate and dismissive explanation for all the yearning and craving which consumed him. ‘I think that has always been there, Lydia.’

  ‘It has.’ She nodded curtly while staring intently at a spot on the wall and swallowed. ‘We are both adults… Married adults…’ She moistened her lips and folded her arms tightly across her bosom, looking every inch a woman who was desirous of the ground opening up and swallowing her. ‘Who are clearly both struggling with…um…abstinence. Enough, or so I am told, that others have noticed.’

  ‘By others, you mean Randolph and Gertie?’

  ‘Cyril has also passed comment.’ She could never call Slugger just Slugger. ‘A rather valid one, actually…reminding me that the institution of marriage, in essence, was created to avoid the temptation of the original sin and the scriptures and our vows to one another do rather condone it all.’ She chewed her bottom lip as she stared at the floor.

  ‘Suffice it to say, it seems silly to deny ourselves that aspect of marriage when it is so obviously making us both…um…uncomfortable and this solution effectively kills two birds with one stone.’

  ‘Two birds…’ Procreation and rampant lust. ‘One stone.’ Once, while digging roads, Owen had been so overcome by the heat he had started to hallucinate. This felt similar. His head was spinning so much he was sorely tempted to lie down.

  ‘We were always quite well suited in that area, I thought…and I’ve always enjoyed the way you…’ She peeked up at him, then positively growled. ‘You might try not smiling quite so smugly!’ Then she spun on her heel and marched to the door, infuriated, embarrassed and utterly disarming. ‘Let me know your decision in due course!’

  ‘Yes.’

  Her step faltered, and when she turned she was smiling. Grateful! As if he were doing her a favour instead of offering him his biggest fantasy on a plate. ‘Do you mean it?’

  ‘I’m not one for games, Lydia. I want you to be happy and…the truth is, my constant and rampant lust for you aside, I’ve always wanted a family myself one day, too, so…’ Good grief… He was going to be a father, too. Eventually. This was all too much to take in. ‘This would…um…actually benefit both of us.’

  And he and Lydia would finally…

  All the blood pooled between his legs in celebration. ‘H-how do you…propose we proceed?’

  ‘Well, I suppose you will need to…er…visit me at some point.’

  What a sanitised and polite way of putting it. He nodded. At this stage he was so befuddled it really was the best he could manage. The itch he couldn’t scratch, the woman of his dreams, was inviting him to her bed.

  ‘We could start later, Owen…if you are agreeable?’ He’d been more than agreeable for ten long years. Climbing the walls with agreement this past month. ‘Get it over with before our trip, where doubtless all eyes will be on us.’

  ‘And we won’t be able to escape each other.’

  ‘Which will only make our current predicament worse.’

  ‘I have got to be honest and say I have been dreading the house party—for exactly that reason.’

  ‘Me, too.’ She flicked him a part-pained, part-guilty, part-heaven-only-knew-what-she-was thinking look and then her words came out in a high-pitched hurry. ‘Would eleven suit?’

  And now they were actually making an appointment. Calmly and politely. An appointment to do the deed. To slake their rampant and apparently mutual lust at their earliest possible convenience.

  Tonight.

  ‘Eleven…’ He glanced at the clock on the mantel, the hands already pointing to nine while the most male part of his body was already excitably pointing to the twelve, then swallowed. ‘Eleven suits.’

  ‘Excellent…’ Her hand flapped at nothing. ‘Then I shall leave you to it.’

  To what, he had no idea, but nodded anyway. She darted out of the door and quickly shut it behind her in case he changed his mind and Owen stared at it, dumbstruck.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Lydia had absolutely no idea what she was doing.

  For the last two hours she had been a walking mess. She had managed to bathe, had brushed and plaited her hair, dabbed on some perfume and donned a nightgown. She considered climbing into bed, but that seemed too forward. She settled for turning down the covers and then waiting for him in the living room, the book in her lap a pathetic prop to make her seem entirely calm and casual, when nothing could be further from the truth.

  Everything felt strange.

  She was both daunted, relieved and curious. Excited and nervous. Her body felt decidedly odd. She couldn’t decide if it was the lack of undergarments or the prospect of what was about to happen. Or the relentless and all-consuming desire which had thoroughly taken her over since their kiss—but she had never been quite so aware of her breasts before and the dull throb between her legs refused to go away no matter how much she tried to ignore it.

  Twice, she had considered seeking out Gertie and asking advice, but couldn’t bring herself to do it because this was intensely private. Between her and her husband. She just prayed instinct would prevail exactly as it had when she had delivered her friend’s baby and nature would take its course.

  It had always seemed to in the past.

  Every time Owen had kissed her, her body had known exactly what to do and exactly
what it wanted. But then she had never entirely acted upon it. And neither had he. They had been young. Fearful of the consequences of passion and mindful of the need for abstinence. There had been lots of kissing, a great deal of over-the-clothes touching, but, while she had been on the cusp of succumbing to her passions on several occasions, he had always been much too much of a gentleman to take things too far.

  At the time, that had been beyond frustrating and she had lain awake for hours afterwards feeling hideously unfulfilled. Exactly like she had after their kiss last week. Which had far surpassed all their previous kisses a decade before, sent her body into a positive frenzy of desire and made her relive the dratted event over and over again in every quiet moment since.

  Gracious, that man could kiss!

  He had left her so ripe and ready to be picked she could barely think straight.

  But as she had plastered herself against him, a heaving mass of needy nerve-endings and unsuppressed desire, she couldn’t help but notice he had a similar desire for her, too. Hard, reckless and insistent desire. So insistent and so glorious, she had almost demanded he take her there and then. Up against the wall with Gertie, Randolph and their newborn right behind it before she’d panicked and pulled away.

  Then, of course, they had both run from it, because that was the polite thing to do when two people were supposed to be in a marriage in name only. Which in turn had led her to deliberate, every waking, lust-filled hour since thanks to Gertie’s earthy suggestion, why the devil they were still so diligently denying each other all the forbidden fruit which their marriage had rendered unforbidden?

  She did want children—that hadn’t been a lie—but not quite as desperately as she currently wanted Owen.

  Two birds with one stone.

  Plus all those alluring and intriguing birds etched into his equally intriguing and alluring muscles…

  The light tap on the door made her jump out of her skin. He was early. Fifteen minutes early to be precise.

  ‘Come in.’

  She could see he was uncomfortable. Owen always puffed out his chest and stuck out his chin when he wasn’t completely in control of a situation.

  ‘Hello…’

  Had a simple greeting ever felt so loaded?

  ‘Hello, Owen.’ She slid the book to the new side table placed beside her only a few minutes before for exactly that purpose. The seductive smile she had practised shrivelling and dying before it reached her mouth. ‘You’re early.’

  He winced. ‘I’m sorry… Should I go?’

  ‘No… No…’

  ‘This is…’ his eyes took in the room. Her nightgown. The lamps burning low. The invitingly open door which led to her bedchamber—then the bed—before settling back on hers ‘…decidedly awkward.’

  Then he smiled the same smile he used to all those years ago and she realised everything was going to be all right.

  ‘Yes, it is, isn’t it? Do you suppose it will get better?’

  ‘I certainly hope so. I’ve been staring at the clock for the past hour and discovered time moves at a snail’s pace when you watch it. I was going slowly mad—so I came early.’

  ‘Then, for the sake of both our sanities, maybe we should get it over with?’

  ‘No painful chit-chat? No nervously sipped brandy? No last-minute cups of tea?’

  ‘Do you think they would help?’

  He shook his tawny head. ‘No. They’d probably only make it worse.’

  ‘Then we should definitely get it over with, don’t you think?’

  ‘I suppose we should.’

  Trying to be dispassionate and appear both confident as well as matter-of-fact, she stood and held out her hand. ‘Shall we?’

  ‘If we must.’ Her sudden forthrightness seemed to amuse him and she felt the heat of a ferocious blush creep up her neck as his fingers laced through hers. ‘Lead the way, Wife.’

  Not knowing how to stage it, she had left just one lamp burning low on the nightstand, but now instantly regretted it. Not only would he see what had the makings of an epically red and mortally embarrassed face, he would see her nerves, her body and all her carefully hidden emotions and she wasn’t ready for any of that just yet.

  Feeling exposed, she tugged her hand from his and quickly extinguished it, plunging the room into a darkness only alleviated by the faint glow of the fire next door.

  Yet the shadows somehow felt more intimate, unsettling her further, and all her dispassionate matter-of-fact confidence evaporated like steam. Now what?

  Owen sighed and she heard the bed creak as he sat upon it.

  ‘If you are expecting me to do the necessary in a brisk and perfunctory manner, Lydia, you should know now I cannot do that.’

  Which was a relief—but also not a relief at the same time.

  ‘To be frank, I have no idea what I am expecting.’ Because it seemed like the right thing to do, she sat herself beside him on the mattress. ‘I was hoping you would take the lead.’

  ‘And I was hoping you would.’ He leaned a little till their shoulders touched. ‘What a pair we are.’ She laughed, or tried to, and rested her head against his shoulder.

  ‘What a pair indeed.’

  ‘It’s perfectly all right to be nervous, Lydia. If it makes you feel better, I bypassed nervous a half an hour ago and barrelled straight into outright anxiousness.’

  ‘Why are you anxious?’

  ‘Honestly?’ His hand found hers buried in the folds of her nightgown, his touch achingly gentle exactly like she remembered it. ‘Because I cannot deny I might have given this a great deal of thought over the years and a great deal more since Gretna. As a rule, overthinking things is never good.’

  ‘You thought about it with me or just in general?’

  He laughed softly, his head shaking. ‘With you, stupid. You were the first girl I ever kissed. And now, apparently, you are also going to be the last…so I don’t want to get it wrong.’ A confession which made her heart stutter. Especially as his accent had slipped again and she knew already that meant he was just being Owen.

  ‘The last?’

  ‘Well…we did take vows. And I cannot deny I’ve never stopped wanting you, Lydia. Ten years is a long time to wait.’

  ‘You don’t have to wait any more.’

  ‘Even so… I still do not want to rush things. That would be wrong. We should take things slowly and see where they progress.’

  ‘How slowly?’ Because she feared she might burst if they delayed the necessary for too long.

  ‘As long as it takes for things to not feel quite so awkward and at least a little bit…romantic.’

  ‘The hard-nosed businessman and all-round man of mystery wants romance?’ Her insides were in danger of dissolving into mush at the prospect.

  ‘I know. Call me old-fashioned…’ His smile this time was less pained and more boyish. Shy, even. ‘Maybe we should start with just a kiss? Ease ourselves into the proceedings.’ He mimicked the accent of the innkeeper from their embarrassing wedding night. ‘As I recall, we were very good at that.’

  ‘As I recall, we became quite proficient at it.’

  ‘We did.’ His thumb was gently stroking the back of her hand and just that simple touch was making her yearn. ‘Do you remember our first kiss? We were in Hyde Park, shrouded by trees.’

  ‘In our little spot. Near the Serpentine.’

  He nodded. ‘I was nervous then, too. So overwhelmed, I hesitated…’

  Not once, she remembered with a smile, but at least a hundred times when the perfect opportunities presented themselves all those lazy Thursday afternoons that heady summer—and she had been unsubtly hinting for a good two weeks beforehand. Was on the cusp of kissing him out of sheer desperation, she suddenly recalled, the longing had been so intense and she was already head over heels in love with him by that time.<
br />
  ‘You didn’t hesitate. You panicked as I recall.’

  Because, with the benefit of hindsight and behind his cocky bravado which he always strapped on like a mask, any fool could have seen it wasn’t just her first kiss, but had obviously been his first kiss, too.

  Innocent, clumsy, magical and utterly perfect.

  Beneath her palm his heart had raced so fast, neither of them had a clue what they were doing and he had been the one to pull away looking, she now remembered, utterly terrified to have overstepped the mark. Worried about his job, his home, his references, her reputation, the ramifications of stepping above his station if their forbidden romance was ever discovered.

  It had been Lydia who had dragged him back then, not giving a fig about any of his natural concerns, who couldn’t wait for each Thursday to roll around so they could spend all afternoon kissing in the dense thicket of trees. And it was also she who had convinced him to creep into her bedchamber in the last few weeks of their romance to do more of the same when she simply couldn’t wait for Thursdays to come around any longer. It came as a shock to suddenly realise, with unnerving clarity, that if anyone had done the seducing all those years ago, it had actually been her. Owen had always been the cautious one. Probably because he had the most to lose. Just as he continued to be cautious around her still. His face was inches from hers, but he didn’t close the distance.

  But what did he have to lose now?

  He must have seen the question in her eyes. ‘I fear you are going to have to kiss me first, Lydia.’

  Her anxiousness made her clumsy and she practically threw herself against him. He refused to be rushed. His lips brushed over hers like a whisper, the pad of one finger tracing her hairline and then her cheek until she practically melted into it.