Unleashed Desires 0f A Noble Lady (Steamy Historical Regency)

by Scarlett Osborne

  “Probably fled when they heard the shot. Took Emma with them I bet. Went somewhere safe. They are loyal and intelligent for the most part. They weren’t expecting gunfire, and you can’t blame them for that,” Captain Todd said with an air of cynicism.

  “Well, their cowardice means we will have to unload the furs ourselves. We need to get them off the ship as soon as possible. I need to bring the authorities here. They need to confirm our story. That Donald was waiting here to attack me and fled into the water and we don’t know what happened to him after that. Got it?”

  Donald called out to his friend through the thin fog. “Not very noble of you, wouldn’t you say Matthew?”

  Donald watched his former friend stiffen and turned to see the two other lords emerging from the fog. Donald was wet, bloody, and haggard but alive.

  “You were dead,” Matthew’s voice was not but a whisper. “I shot you dead, I checked for a pulse. You had no pulse.” Matthew cried out feebly, almost as if in despair.

  “You never did well on your biology tests in school,” Donald remarked flippantly, trying to appear stronger than he was, despite barely being able to stand.

  Matthew swore and looked to Lord Gallanville. “And you! What are you even doing here?”

  “You people keep asking me that. This isn’t your private dock, there is plenty of business aside from yours going on. Including my own.”

  “And you couldn't just mind your own?” Matthew spat.

  “Not this time unfortunately.”

  “Cousin, in light of this, perhaps it is best we flee,” Captain Todd said while resting a hand on Matthew’s shoulder.

  “Flee? From what?” Matthew snorted. “Donald is wounded, and I already pummeled this sop once before. If he wants a round two, so be it.” Matthew took a step forward, unbuttoning his cuff links.

  “As much as a rematch would be quite entertaining for the both of us, I am afraid that there is something to look in to cut in on this dance.” Lord Gallanville gestured with his walking stick behind Matthew.

  Matthew gave him a smirk, not bothering to look behind him. Which was why he didn’t see the pair of constables that tackled him from behind and pinned him to the ground. Captain Todd immediately turned with his hands raised in the air while they shackled Matthew on the ground.

  Donald fell to his knees, sounds becoming distant as Lord Gallanville ordered the constables to get him a physician. For the second time since he hit the water, Donald thought he was hallucinating, and this time he was much more sure.

  And then he saw her. He saw Emma running toward him. But she was miles and miles away. She shouldn’t be here. So he knew this was it. The bullet wound had finally caught up with him. And a kind God had given him one final vision of his lady love.

  Then he felt her arms around his neck. He felt her kisses peppering his face and forehead and lips. Her weight on him caused the pain in his arm to flare up uncomfortably but he didn’t care. She was there, she was really there. Relief flooded through him, finally letting him collapse in her arms as the world became black.

  Chapter 36

  Emma sat next to her betrothed’s bed, unwilling to move from his side while he rested. Even at the behest of the servants or Josephine, who had finally caught up with her in London, she simply kept repeating the same thing over and over again. “I almost lost him once. I’m not going to risk it again.” She was left alone with him at her request, even though it was terribly inappropriate to stay with her bedridden betrothed.

  After Donald had passed out on the dock, he was brought to his estate and a physician had been fetched.

  He had been laid up in his room, a place that Emma thought was far too dour to allow for proper recovery. She had the curtains and the windows pinned open to allow for the warm fragrant summer breeze to blow in from his colorful garden.

  The first four-and-twenty hours were the most tense. The physician was optimistic, saying that the ball had not hit anything important. They gave him some powerful medicine for his pain and they said they had to wait to see if he developed a fever. That was the most dangerous thing they had to overcome now.

  But as the night passed and no fever developed, they began to ease back the pain medicine, allowing Donald to enter a gentle natural rest. He continued to sleep, for another day, taking a little water from a cloth and broth from a spoon every hour, which Emma insisted on providing for him herself.

  A constable had come to interview Emma about what she knew had transpired, which was surprisingly little. Luckily, he had informed her, he had gotten a clear picture from what Lord Gallanville was able to tell him and what he could learn from the first mate of The Bright Side, who he found tied up on board.

  She had sent word to both of their families about what had transpired, or an abbreviated version of things, since in her mind it all struck her as particularly complicated. She informed them that the wedding would be delayed until Donald was recovered enough to travel.

  Donald was awake before she had received a response to the letter.

  “Emma…” She had been dozing in her chair when she heard his voice weakly call out for her. She sat bolt upright and saw that his eyes were open a little bit to see her. Those beautiful honey-brown eyes were gazing at her, and she realized she had missed them desperately. He still looked gaunt and tired, but he was awake and seemed to be in good spirits already. “I missed you, My Love. Did you follow me all the way to London?” he asked.

  “I did, my sweetest,” she admitted. “I knew Matthew had read the letter you had left for me. I was trying to figure out what he was up to. I let you down, though,” she said, tears welling up in her eyes. “I couldn’t stop him from hurting you.”

  Donald’s good hand raised and wiped the tears from her cheek. “No, My Love, you stopped him from killing me by getting help. You stopped me from dying by being there. You did everything I could ever ask of you.” He grunted in pain as he sat up to plant a kiss on her forehead. Emma rested a cautionary arm on his own to discourage him, but Donald would have none of it.

  Emma’s heart swelled as Donald held her small hand in his larger one. “Will you come to bed with me? Help me find rest, My Love.”

  Emma only hesitated to be sure she wouldn't jostle him too much. She tried to climb slowly into bed with him, but found her skirts too immense and her corset too constricting. Standing up again, she stripped down to her underclothes and reclaimed her spot next to him, pressing herself softly against his good side.

  His muscles were bare, dressed only in bandages. This was the first time she had beheld him completely naked from head to toe and, she couldn’t help but admire the feel of him. Her wandering thoughts were only further encouraged by the feeling of his bare body up against her almost-bare one. Where his flesh touched hers she began to feel hot.

  If only he were well. I want to show him how worried I was about him.

  She could tell Donald was exhausted as he lazily pulled her closer, wrapping his long arm around her to cradle her. When his hand felt her clothes, he seemed to stiffen slightly and relax. She smiled lightly to herself. She knew he could feel now how truly exposed she was.

  Emma hadn’t thought that a gentleman recovering from a bullet wound would have an appetite for much, but she soon felt his hand wandering across her back. Broad and strong, his one hand could easily support her in the bed. She pressed back into his touch, approving his curiosity and his warmth.

  She would give him anything he asked for then, not out of pity for his injury but to revel in having him to give herself to. She didn’t worry though. Even in this state, Donald would be patient for their wedding.

  She was slightly surprised when she felt his hand scoop down against her buttocks and give her a firm squeeze, causing her to give out a little squeak and giggle. “Donald!” Her voice was hushed and playful. “You are supposed to be recovering.” But she nuzzled her head against his chest and made no effort to move the wayward hand as it gently squeezed and kneaded.
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  She could feel herself starting to doze lightly, enjoying his eager touch but also exhausted from the events of the last few days when she noticed something. A bulge that stood out against his blankets. She was educated in what the bulge was, but had obviously never experienced it up close. She was curiously and dreadfully nervous.

  I want to touch him. To feel his manhood. To know what it feels like.

  She let her own hand explore, feeling down his chest and stomach and finally finding him.

  He feels hot. And very hard. It feels nicer than I thought it would. Is it supposed to feel this good to touch? The heat of his manhood is making my heart race.

  Gripping gently she gave a light test squeeze which caused Donald to groan. Emma was worried for her lover, which caused her to pull back, worried she had hurt him.

  She looked up at him, concerned, and found that he was looking back at her. He gently shook his head. “Go ahead,” he said huskily.

  She looked back and it seemed as though his manhood was even bigger than before. She reached back and found his heat beneath the blankets. Touching him, squeezing him, and just generally getting a feel for her soon-to-be husband. From the way he throbbed and groaned, he seemed to enjoy her touch quite a bit.

  As she was so focused on this new touch, she barely noticed Donald’s hand slipping lower and lower against her, until she suddenly felt his fingers pressed against the silk outside of her undergarments. His one finger prodded, pressing firmly but curiously so he could feel the shape of her through the fabric. She stiffened and slowed her motion, suddenly distracted as her thoughts both sped up and became less understandable.

  Touched. She wanted to be touched. She wanted him to keep touching her and didn’t want him to stop. She slowly ground her hips back and forth against his fingertips. The fabric created a tantalizing and tortuous barrier between him and her. She wanted nothing more but to feel his flesh touch hers, but she couldn’t. Or wouldn't. She wasn’t sure; all that seemed to be clear was her frustration and her need.

  With each throb and pulse of her she felt her grip on her mind slip. She was getting closer to something that she couldn’t define. He started to rub her underwear faster, using more of his fingers now, rubbing more of an area as well increasing the speed.

  Her face was flushed red hot when she felt herself let out a small moan. But then realized that expressing herself like this made her feel even better. She moaned again, louder this time. Rolling her hips and encouraging her betrothed to touch her more and more.

  Soon she felt her hips and thighs begin to shake. Her muscles twitched and yanked in all directions and she felt herself fill with pleasure. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t think, all she could do was feel wave after wave of pure pleasure rock through her body as Donald slowed.

  She felt like she was losing herself, enjoying the afterglow of his touch, and drifting off to sleep.

  Chapter 37

  Donald followed close behind the jailer, avoiding the stone walls of the prison as they were cold and damp with condensation.

  He had debated coming here, both with himself as well as Emma. There was little to be gained. He didn’t feel the need for vindication. He wasn’t happy that he had triumphed over Matthew’s deception. There was nothing to rub in his face.

  In fact, as he stared through the barred window of the door to Matthew’s cell, Donald realized this was the last place he wanted to be in the whole world.

  Matthew didn’t look up, despite the jailer’s initial call that he had a visitor. “Donald,” he remarked, voice devoid of emotion. Donald was almost surprised by this before he realized that Matthew would have no other visitors to expect. He had alienated everyone else in his life through his betrayal

  “Matthew,” Donald said with a sigh, his voice the opposite, filled with so much emotion it fell heavily between them.

  “Why are you here? I don’t want your pity,” Matthew told him. There was still no bitterness in his voice. It was a simple statement of fact.

  “And I have no pity to give,” Donald said. “What you did was a rotten and selfish thing. You had every opportunity to be a gentleman, and you chose poorly each and every time. I don’t understand,” Donald said sadly. “You were a gentleman I always admired. Was this worth it?”

  “Worth it?” Matthew chuckled humorlessly. “Donald, is there anything you wouldn’t give up for Emma? Any price you wouldn’t pay to always ensure her safety and her happiness? That was the price I was prepared to pay.”

  Donald was suddenly surged with anger and seized with purpose. If there was one thing that Matthew needed to take away from his visit it was this. “You don’t love Emma.” Donald knew the words were cruel and they were spoken with an intended cruelty.

  Matthew looked up for the first time, staring at Donald through the window of his cell. “Excuse me?” he spat the word at Donald, his eyes filled with the same rage toward him as they had been that day in the cargo hold.

  “You don’t love Emma. You never have,” Donald reiterated.

  “My love for Emma is the only genuinely good emotion I have ever felt,” Matthew said while standing and striding over so that his face was mere inches from the bars. Donald didn’t flinch.

  “If you loved Emma you would have encouraged her to live her life.” Donald’s voice was dry and hard now, baked in the kiln of his anger.

  “Loving a lady does not mean standing by while she marries another.” Matthew was practically foaming at the mouth with anger now. “You have the privilege of thinking elsewise. That is the core of the problem, Donald, you never had to be the other gentleman.”

  “Loving someone means wanting to see them at their best. To see them happier, no matter what is required of you. A gardener doesn’t chide the flower for outgrowing the pot. If Emma told me today that she loved another more than she loved me, I would be deeply saddened, but I would always want her to find the bliss she deserves. That is what love is, Matthew. I hope you get a chance to understand that someday,” Donald said while turning away, not wanting to continue this visit further.

  Matthew called out to him as he walked away from the cell. “Do you want to know the worst part about all this, Donald? You’re right. You always are, and that is why I started to hate you.” Matthew was shouting now, and Donald suspected it wasn’t because Donald was so far down the prison hallway. “You can tell me about love, why don’t you let me tell you about hate, hm?”

  Donald stopped. He debated turning around or continuing on his way. That hesitation was enough to provoke Matthew to keep talking.

  “Hate drives you to do things. Pushes you to be as destructive as possible. Makes it so that the only thing that becomes important is what you can burn. So maybe I did love Emma, and maybe I didn’t. But I know one thing for sure. I hated you far more than I ever loved Emma.”

  And there it was. The words that finally managed to strike Donald straight to his heart. The gentleman he cared for like a brother hated him.

  “It saddens me to hear that.” That was all Donald said. The last words he spoke to Matthew before leaving him to his cell.

  * * *

  Donald was bitter when it came to the nature of business affairs. Each and everything about the Atlantic Animal Fur Company reminded him of Matthew’s betrayal. And the worst part about it was how the company was flourishing once again.

  The courts had ruled in Donald’s favor, awarding him full control of the business due to Matthew’s betrayal. What’s more, the secret furs had been purchased with Atlantic Animal Fur Company funds, making them legal wares for Donald to use. There was more than enough secreted away to supplement all the accounts that he had been letting go to lax due to the artificial shortage.

  To add further, Matthew being overseas had taught Donald to manage completely on his own. Not only was the company making record profits again, but Donald had no partner to split it with.

  It was truly a golden era of business for Donald, never in his life had he ever ma
de more money. But the riches of his life felt hollow, as he had paid the ultimate price for them. If Donald had known the consequences before, what the cost of this success would have been, he would have done everything in his power to avoid it.

  He took some small solace in the fact that in the end Matthew had been able to provide Emma with a happy and comfortable life, even if it wasn’t in the way he intended.

  Donald thought of Emma and the heated and lustful touching that they couldn’t stop. Since they had to put off the wedding to give him time to heal, their need for one another had only grown.

  They were ready. Donald was more than ready to take his betrothed to his wedding bed. He wanted her in a way that eclipsed all other wanting. No food or drink would save him, not for long.