The Irresistible Lady Behind the Mask: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Emily Honeyfield

  Hudson rose and took her into his arms. Tempest went without any delay. When he bent his head to capture her lips, she opened her mouth in readiness for the kiss she had been aching for ever since she saw him in the main parlour.

  “I love you,” he said in a voice thick with desire.

  “I love you, too,” she returned with happiness as his head descended to hold her lips with his.

  Tingling sensations shot through her body. His hand slid around her waist, drawing her closer into his embrace as his mouth left hers to trail across her neck. Rivulets of desire washed through her. His hard chest pressed against her breasts, and she let out a small moan of pleasure.

  With a glint in his eyes, he raised his head and smiled. “Now that you believe that we’re married, do you think we could finally consummate it?”

  Her eyes widened. “Right here?”

  He grinned. “That looks like a decent enough couch. And I don’t want to have to wait again before you encounter Valerie and one of her outrageous stories. I ache to be inside you.”

  At his bold words, twin red spots stained her cheeks. “I yearn, too,” she returned.

  Whooping with joy, he drew her closer in his arms and kissed her. “Besides, I don’t think we’re going to be a conventional couple. Look how we got married. Someday we’ll tell our children and grandchildren that our marriage was consummated in your gaming parlour.”

  Tempest giggled. Hudson deepened the kiss and his wife kissed him back with the same measure of ardour. He swung her into his arms, his lips never parting from her. He laid her gently on the large sofa never breaking the kiss. Tempest curved a hand around his neck.

  With heavy-lidded eyes, Hudson began working at the buttons at the back of her dress. Done with opening the buttons although it was quite difficult and she had to lift herself from the sofa, he eased the dress from her shoulders.

  She shivered a little as the coolness of the room hit her flesh. But she was so fevered hot with desire for her husband she helped him drag the dress down to her ankles.

  She protested when Hudson suddenly left her, bemoaning the lack of his heated body against hers.

  “I’ll be with you shortly, my love,” he said as he quickly divested himself of his shirt, jacket, and trousers. Tempest turned away shyly from gawking at his thick, pulsating shaft.

  He lay down next to her and drew her to him, clasping her against his rigid thighs, capturing her lips again while his hand cupped the fullness of one breast. His thumb and index finger teased her hard nipple, and she wriggled with pleasure beside him.

  As he kissed her sweetly and worked at her breast, Tempest’s hands went up into his hair, caressing it. His other hand worshipped her body as his mouth left hers to trail her neck then lower. His hot breath fanned across her face, and Tempest moaned with pleasure, shocked at what she had been missing when she denied him weeks ago.

  Her body arched from the sofa when his mouth caught one nipple and the other was caressed by his hand. His mouth lifted from her nipple and he placed it on the other. Tempest thought she would die from the sensation twirling all over her body.

  His lips left her nipple and began trailing her body; from her flat stomach, to the curve of her hips down to her apex. Tempest gripped his hair and pulled when his tongue found her wet core.

  Hudson giggled. “And she finally gets her wish to make me bald.”

  At his teasing words, Tempest left his hair to hold on tautly to his shoulders as he tantalised her. A peak began building inside her, making her wriggle her waist.

  “Let it go, my love,” he said, catching her scream with his mouth as she screamed.

  His finger immediately replaced his lips and worked at her wet warmth until she was wriggling again and exploded in another bout of pleasure.

  Hudson then positioned himself between her thighs, his sensual eyes not leaving hers. His rigid shaft was poised for entrance into her, and she couldn’t wait to have him fill her.

  “I love you,” he said and kissed her again while her legs intuitively wrapped around his waist. She felt his throbbing length seeking for entrance and when he finally did, she jerked at the sharp pain that tore through her body.

  “I’m sorry, my love,” he said kissing her to take away the pain.

  After pausing for a minute to probably get her body used to the unfamiliar invasion, Hudson slid deeper into her tight core, filling her, and then he started moving slowly in and out of her. His thrusts grew faster, filling her and easing off again.

  A wild sensation, wilder than the initial two she had felt started building inside her. She clung tautly to her husband’s back as the emotion heightened and Hudson’s thrusts became even faster until spasms started moving all over her body, making her gasp with delight because she had never felt anything so beautiful. Hudson grunted as he convulsed above her, claiming his own explosive release.

  He curved her body to his as he lay on his side on the sofa. Tears rolled down her eyes.

  “I never knew what I was missing,” she cried.

  “I’m glad you didn’t know before now so I can show you over and over again.” He chuckled and kissed her.

  “I love you, Hud.”

  “I love you, Temp.”

  THE END

  Can't get enough of Tempest and Hudson? Then make sure to check out the Extended Epilogue to find out…

  Which couple will be visiting Tempest and her lovely twins?

  What will become of Tempest’s gaming parlour?

  What will make Hudson feel grateful to Tempest once again??

  Click the link or enter it into your browser

  http://emilyhoneyfield.com/tempest

  (After reading the Extended Epilogue, turn the page to read the first chapters from “The Awakening of a Forbidden Passion”, my Amazon Best-Selling novel!)

  The Awakening of a Forbidden Passion

  Introduction

  Miss Priscilla Morton had everything planned out for her, including her upcoming wedding with her childhood friend, but it will all suddenly fall to pieces when a tragic and mysterious accident wipes out all her memories. When she wakes up, the handsome doctor who cares for her will awaken a fire within her very soul, but he will also inform her that she’s to marry another. Torn between passion and commitment, will she be able to make the right choice?

  What Doctor Rowley only ever wanted is to save those he cared for. But helping those in need always kept him away from romance. The only time he came close to love, it slipped right through his fingers before it even started. In a surprising turn of events, fate brought her back to him in the form of his patient, yet he cannot have her, as she is destined to be with another! His feelings for her may be forbidden but how will he be able to resist her fiery nature?

  They have discovered their electrifying connection under very peculiar circumstances, but before succumbing to their feelings, they have a mystery to solve. What caused the accident of Priscilla? Was it perhaps fate that brought them together for a reason, or is there something more sinister happening under everybody’s nose?

  Chapter 1

  (One month earlier: May Ball at Ruby House, home of Lord and Lady Tisdale.)

  Priscilla stood beside her sister, Bridgitte, surveying the ballroom. There were couples there already enjoying some of the more rousing country dances. “That looks like quite a merry time,” Bridgitte commented with a grin at the swirling couples.

  “I think it is high time that you stopped having so much amusement at the balls, and started paying attention to the gentleman you have been introduced to,” Priscilla said with a frown.

  Balls and all of their glitz had never been Priscilla’s element. It all seemed so frivolous. It probably did not help her disposition that Priscilla found herself quite lacking when it came to dancing.

  Bridgitte, on the other hand, was light and graceful on her feet. Whereas Priscilla preferred to play the piano, Bridgitte was often found dancing along to the music. This was just the kind
of place that Bridgitte felt most at home.

  To Priscilla’s surprise, Bridgitte did not mock her words. Instead, Bridgitte nodded along with her. “Your words are wise tonight, Priss.” Priss was a grating childhood nickname that Bridgitte had endowed Priscilla with when they were both just wee girls.

  Priscilla pressed her mouth into a thin line. Her eyes watched Bridgitte suspiciously. “I have never known you to agree that something I said had merit without a grueling battle. You must have drunk too much punch, Bridgitte.”

  “Do not jest so,” Bridgitte whispered. She looked around and then back at Priscilla. “Someone might hear you and think you are being serious.”

  The corners of Priscilla’s lips quirked up. “Ah, worried that someone might found out you are a tenor when you are deep in your cups?”

  “I am not.” Bridgitte folded her arms, which really looked quite ridiculous with her dressed in her best formal gown.

  Priscilla waved off her sister’s petulant glare. “Never you mind about all that ribbing. I am quite serious about it being high time that we found ourselves two perfect matches.”

  “I actually could not agree more,” Bridgitte declared, dropping her arms and clutching her hands together. “I do not suppose you have any particular gentleman in mind?”

  Priscilla pondered why her sister’s usually sharp tongue was so dulled, but it was nice. Priscilla had tried many times to bond with her younger sister, but had failed miserably to find some common ground. Perhaps this Season would finally prove to be such a thing for them.

  She was just about to answer her sister when she cast her eyes away from her sister and her vision landed on two gentlemen who were talking across the room. There was an older man, but it was the younger man who drew Priscilla’s eye. There was something about him.

  “Priscilla,” Bridgitte said with irritation. “What are you looking at that is so fascinating?”

  Her eyes went to Bridgitte as a blush dusted her cheeks. “I thought I saw someone I recognised, but I was mistaken.” She did not know truly why she lied. Perhaps it was embarrassment, or just maybe it was an urge to keep the dashing man to herself for the moment. Her charming sister would certainly have no trouble shifting the gentleman’s gaze to herself, and Priscilla wanted to live in the fantasy that he was hers alone for the time being.

  Bridgitte did not look thoroughly convinced but she seemed to not have noticed what had caught Priscilla’s eyes, much to Priscilla’s relief. Priscilla cleared her throat. “I have no particular gentleman in mind, no.” She gave her sister a smile. “Have you narrowed down your choices?”

  A light, airy laugh escaped Bridgitte. She lifted a delicate, gloved hand to her lips in a gesture sweetly refined by years of practice in front of her vanity mirror. Priscilla had seen Bridgitte do so since they were children.

  “You make it sound as if I have the whole of the county at my beck and call, Priss.” Bridgitte shook her head, a smile lingering on her lips. “Yet, I do have a few ideas.”

  Priscilla cocked an eyebrow, in much the way their father did. “A few?”

  “I do agree that we should start taking this opportunity seriously, but there is no need to rush into such a formidable decision.” Bridgitte gave Priscilla a look that asked if she was going to challenge the logic of that statement.

  With a sigh, Priscilla turned her attention back to the room. A gentleman approached and Priscilla gave him only a passing glance. He was not here after her. Sure enough, the young man stopped in front of Bridgitte and gave her a bow.

  “May have the honor of this dance?” The young man extended his hand toward Bridgitte, hope beaming from his youthful face.

  Bridgitte must have been feeling generous, as she usually turned down the first man who approached her each dance. This time she accepted with a gentle smile and put her hand in his. “That sounds splendid,” Bridgitte breathed like a ray of sunshine and the young man’s face lit up as if he had won some prize.

  Priscilla lost interest in her sister’s escapades. Her eyes went back to where she had seen the handsome man. He was nowhere to be seen, however. Priscilla felt her heart grow heavy.

  It was a silly thing, yet there it was all the same. Her heart longed to see the young man yet again. She caught a flash of dark brown hair and her lips quirked up into a smile.

  There he was talking with some other men. Priscilla felt the rush of blood in her veins and then her heart skipped a beat as his brown eyes met her own blue gaze. She had always felt quite ordinary, but caught in his gaze she felt beautiful.

  Priscilla looked away out of a sense of self-preservation. She put a hand on her chest. This was the oddest sensation. Was this how women fell into ill-repute?

  She should not have been staring at him so. That he had caught her was too much to think about it. Yet, she had felt no embarrassment when their gazes had connected.

  Priscilla turned on her heel and went to talk with a group of ladies that she recognised while staunchly pushing down the urge to look back over at the brown-haired man. Was he still looking? The question nagged at her.

  She conversed with friends and acquaintances. She even managed to forget about her mystery man for a time. Then, it happened that her gaze shifted across the shoulder of one of her companions and she found a most perplexing sight.

  The brown-haired man was standing across the room talking with a merchant that Priscilla was sure she knew, but the man’s name evaded her. His conversation was not what was peculiar, however. The strange part was that he had been looking at her, or at least in her direction. Had he been watching her?

  The man, seeing that he was caught in his reverie, looked away. A smile spread over Priscilla’s face as she turned her attention back to her companions. Perhaps finding a suitable husband would not be such a trying affair, after all?

  (Present – June)

  The tailoring shop owned by Miss Rowles was well known as the place to go for a beautiful dress. Priscilla was not disappointed when she came to Miss Rowles with her expectations about a wedding dress. Her maid tugged the dress and Priscilla laughed as the maid synched her up into the wedding dress.

  “I think you will be safely locked away in this until your husband sees fit to release you,” Gwen, her maid, said with a smile in the mirror.

  Priscilla had to agree. “Yes, I do not think I shall be able to free myself of it.”

  “Best not go running off then,” Gwen teased. The maid’s plump, freckled cheeks made dimples as she grinned.

  The idea of running away was not one that Priscilla had entertained. She gave Gwen a smile. “The very idea of Morton heiress running away from her duties is enough to call down the wrath of my whole family line.”

  “I think his Lordship did a fine job arranging your marriage,” Gwen said as if the words needed to be spoken.

  Priscilla gave a light shrug. “Philip is a good man.”

  “And a duke,” Gwen added, not that Priscilla needed reminding. Bridgitte had been a bit put out when their father, the Earl of Chaplin, had announced that Philip would marry Priscilla.

  Of course, Priscilla had been just as surprised. She had danced with, and spoke with, Philip, yes. Yet how could she view the man as anything but the boy she had grown up with?

  She thought of Philip, his gentle reassurances that things would work out just fine. “Just you wait and see,” as he always said.

  Priscilla frowned at her hair in the mirror’s reflection. “Do you think I should have my hair up for the wedding?”

  “Oh, yes,” Gwen enthused. “Perhaps with some flowers?”