A Wicked Earl she can't Resist: A Steamy Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Olivia Bennet

  He could see the twins gearing up for a further assault on his decisiveness and turned to Nancy with a plea for help. “What about you? Did you enjoy yourself? Are you learning well?”

  Nancy sighed. “I already knew about the eclipse but it was nice to see it up close with your telescope.”

  Duncan nodded. “Indeed. Perhaps we can do that more often. Look at the night sky I mean, but then afterwards, off to our beds.”

  There was a general murmur of grudging agreement and Duncan had to hide a smile. He wished that Miss Fletcher was here to see it. He felt sure she would have had a compromise that would be acceptable to everyone.

  Emily jerked awake, sitting up in bed as she blinked into the inky blackness. Someone had lit a fire in the grate and the glowing embers provided the only light. She blinked again, a few more times before shuffling out of bed.

  Her hand knocked against the bedside table and something made a tinkling sound as if she’d displaced something. Slowly, she felt the air above her table, bumping against a circular-shaped item. She felt around it, realizing that it was a bowl.

  At that moment her stomach growled. She laughed softly, feeling around for a candle and going to light it against the embers of her fire. She held it up, seeing that her table held a full meal; the bowl she’d touched, and a covered plate. She put the candle down, and picked up the bowl, relishing the soup before downing the steak and potatoes.

  “I must have missed dinner,” she murmured to herself and felt inexplicably disappointed to have missed the opportunity to see the Earl. Her dream was still swirling about in her mind, making her feel hot and cold.

  Before she met his lordship, she’d never once entertained such fancies about any man. It was a little embarrassing to be carrying this torch for her employer–a man so far out of her reach that he might as well be on the moon.

  She peered out of her window, seeing the actual moon was still out. Her room felt close and airless all of a sudden and she decided that she needed some fresh air. Picking up her tray, she tiptoed out of the room and down the backstairs, wondering if Betsey might still be in the kitchen.

  The house was silent, aside from occasional footmen that she passed in the hallways, always ready to serve. She put her tray down on the kitchen table, hearing the gentle snores from Betsey’s room which was adjacent. She smiled fondly and went to the door. It opened onto the side of the building but she could double back and go to the garden.

  Taking a deep breath, she closed the kitchen door behind her, hoping that somebody would not find it unlatched and lock it. London was not quite asleep yet. The occasional clip-clop of a passing carriage could be heard in the street as well as drunken shouting now and then. Undoubtedly there were parties just winding down and everybody was making their way home or to other entertainments.

  She shuddered, her mind returning to the brothel she’d barely escaped. She had a feeling that now was a very busy time of day for them.

  To think that I might have been one of those girls.

  She closed her eyes, shivering suddenly as she felt the cold hand of dread trail down her back. She did not know what would happen if Laurence Blackmore ever caught up to her but she had a feeling it would be bad.

  Perhaps the Earl would protect me.

  She snorted aloud, laughing at herself, knowing that she had lied to the Earl and his family. Why would he help her when she’d come to him under false pretenses? Her mind went to her father and she wondered how he was doing. With no one to restrain his excesses, she did not know how he would fare on his own.

  Does he even know my fate? Does he care?

  Chapter 19

  In spite of his exhaustion, Duncan tossed and turned, unable to settle to sleep. After three hours of restless movement, he sighed and got out of bed.

  “Perhaps a whisky might be helpful.” He crossed over to his bottle cart and poured himself a drink, wandering out to his balcony to see if he could see any stars through his telescope.

  The night was cloudy, although the moon was peeking from between a fluffy cumulus cloud making it shine bright white and a scattering of cirrus clouds. The midnight blue sky in stark contrast made the view a breathtaking one and he sighed deeply, just savoring it.

  Movement at his peripheral vision had him shuffling sideways away from the telescope to peer down into the garden. He squinted, not sure if he was seeing things or there was actually a woman, dressed in a white shift, flitting about his garden. For one terrifying moment that froze his blood, he thought he was seeing the ghost of his wife.

  But no, Jane had bright flaxen hair that shone golden even in light such as that from the moon. This person’s hair was darker, and she moved differently–her step was more considered, less uncontrolled. As she passed beneath the apple tree, he saw that her head brushed up against the hanging branch while Jane’s used to be at par with it.

  Miss Fletcher.

  He was moving before he could even think about it. Deliberately not speculating on why he was practically chasing his governess through his own gardens, he took the stairs two at a time and flitted down the corridor, leaving the house through the verandah door. He could see that she had settled on the gazebo, sitting hunched over as if deep in thought.

  What’s the matter, little one?

  He hesitated at last, wondering if he should barge in on her thoughts at this time, even as his legs continued toward her without his permission. He came to a stop a few feet away and waited for her to see him.

  The Earl seemed to appear as if by magic from one minute to the next and she was hard put not to scream like a banshee when she caught sight of him. She did squeak in quite an unladylike manner and jump a few feet in the air as she leapt to her feet.

  “Apologies,” His voice, soft and deep, floated out to her in the dark. She wondered if she was dreaming again, “I did not mean to startle you.”

  She put her hand over her heaving bosom, trying to quiet her erratically beating heart. “Oh…” was all she could manage in the moment, “I did not see you there.”

  “My fault.” He looked down at the plush grass, “I forgot to put on some shoes and so I hardly made a sound.”

  She looked down at his bare feet, eyebrows raised. “Wha…?”

  He laughed ruefully. “Forgive me. I…saw you walking out here in the garden and could not resist. I have been meaning to speak with you since I got home.”

  He took a step closer and she had to restrain herself from stepping back.

  “Oh?” Emily blushed, wondering if that was the only word she was capable of, “Er, what about?”

  “I…wanted to express my gratitude to you, for how well you took care of my son. Words cannot express how indebted I am to you for that.”

  Shakily, she waved that away. “It was my pleasure. Think nothing of it.”

  He took another step closer and now she could almost feel his breath on her skin, “But it was not nothing. It was everything. If something had happened to Harry–” he stopped, choking as his head dropped and all her discomposure fell away. She closed the gap between them, putting her hand on his arm.

  “Nothing happened. He is all right. Isn’t he?”

  The Earl nodded. “He is indeed. Almost back to his old self actually.”

  “That’s good.”

  He nodded. “Yes, it is. Thank you.” He reached for her hand, lifted it to his lips and kissed it. She gasped, holding her breath as he continued to keep her hand in his own warm, soft, gentle one.

  They stared at each other, their eyes simply dark orbs in the light of the moon, emotions on display under cover of night.

  “You’re most welcome.” Emily almost choked on the words as she tried to stop her hands from trembling.

  “Are you cold?”

  She shook her head, swallowing hard as she lowered her lashes. Her hair hung loose down her back and she flipped it, trying to hide her face. He squeezed her hands, trying to peer down at her. “Please don’t hide from me.”

>   “I-I’m not.” Her voice was high and breathless. She felt again as if she was in her small, close room, with no air circulating. She was choking on the scent of him, his closeness, the air of danger and possibility that surrounded them.

  He pulled at her hands and she licked her lips, chancing a peek up at him. “Tell me you feel this too.” He whispered and she shivered before jerking her head in a nod, unable to deny the heady feeling that suffused her whenever he was near.

  “What will we do about it?”

  She raised her head, eyes wide, surprised that he was asking her. He was the one who was experienced in these matters. “I-I don’t know.”

  He sighed, deep and weary. “What would you like to do about it?”

  She frowned, never having expected to have to answer such a question.

  What do I want? I have no idea.

  She looked into his eyes, licking her lips again. “I…want to feel you.” The words just spilled from her lips, she had no idea where they came from. His breath hitched before his head began to descend, nearer and nearer until she had to cross her eyes to keep him in sight. Her lips tingled in anticipation and then she was surrounded by his warm insistence, assaulted by his heady jasmine and sandalwood scent and overwhelmed by the strength of his arms around her.

  She whimpered in surrender before surging upward to deepen the kiss, opening her mouth to let him in and allow him to ravish her. There was a curious buzzing in her hears as she felt his hand trail down her back, only to cup her bottom and pull her in, closer. His hardness was so immediate, so insistent against her thigh that she trembled–not sure if it was in fear or anticipation.

  Somewhere close by, a door slammed and they jumped apart, staring at each other, mouths open, breaths coming hard and fast.

  “I should apologize,” he rasped.

  She thought about it seriously before shaking her head. She was not that much of a hypocrite. His hand reached out and wrapped itself around hers.

  “So then what? What shall we do now?”

  She cleared her throat, trying to think through the giddiness. “Well, we could…see what happens?”

  He smiled, shaking his head. “I do not…” he sighed in frustration, “I am not looking for a mistress.”

  She stiffened, stepping back. But he tightened his hold on her hand so that she could not go far. “What I mean is…” he continued, “I do not mean to offer you carte blanche, yet I do not think I can offer you marriage. However, there is not much room to maneuver between those extremes.”

  She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and then opened them, feeling calmer. “There is no hurry. It is not necessary that we should decide tonight. Let us…get to know each other a little. I hardly know a thing about you and you…have no idea about me.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “I suspect there is more to that statement than meets the eye.”

  She shrugged, not wanting to outright lie to him. “When is there not?”

  “You know in France; they are much more blasé about these things. I wager they have a term for this…whatever it is.”

  “I have a vacation home there that I have recently purchased. I don’t suppose you would be interested in spending some time away from London?”

  She lifted a surprised eyebrow. “Now?”

  He shrugged. “Why not? It is the tail end of summer.”

  “I’m sure Lady Nancy still has some parties to attend. She will not take kindly to being whisked off to parts unknown.”

  He pursed his lips and inclined his head in agreement. “You may be right about that.”

  “Besides, the children have found a good working rhythm, I should not like to disrupt it for frivolous reasons.”

  His eyebrow rose at once. “Am I a frivolous reason?”

  Grinning at him, she patted him lightly on the chest. “Yes, you are.”

  He made as if she had dealt him a mortal wound. “I am devastated.”

  She laughed out loud, the sound echoing in the empty garden. Clapping a hand over her own mouth, she stared at him with wide eyes.

  He lifted an eyebrow sardonically. “We should go to bed before somebody else thinks to look out of their window and see what the commotion is about.”

  “Yes, all right.” She made to step past him but he stopped her.

  “But first, may I kiss you again?”

  She narrowed her eyes, wondering what it would say about her if she let him.

  It’s just a kiss.

  That traitorous voice in her head loved to lay temptation before her.

  “All right.”

  She expected that he would swoop down and capture her lips with his in a searing embrace and so she was surprised when he bent down and buried his head against her neck. She stiffened, especially when his wet tongue deposited kitten licks upon her sensitive flesh. She wanted to jump out of her skin, never having had someone so intimately close to her.

  When spots began to appear before her eyes, she realized that she was holding her breath and let it out slowly while he continued his leisurely exploration of her neck.

  “Th-this isn’t kissing,” she whispered.

  “Are you sure?” His warm breath fanned against her skin as he spoke and she shivered. His hands tightened around her waist in reaction, pulling her closer. His thumbs ran in soothing circles against the thin cotton of her shift, distracting her as he began to nip and suck and bite his way up the column of her throat and along her jaw.

  She felt weak and full of trembles at the embrace, her hands twitching, not knowing where or how to hold him.

  “Your skin is so soft,” he whispered into it, causing frissons to spread from that spot to every particle of her body. “You do not know what you do to me.”

  Emily’s eyes widened at his words. That she had any effect on the Earl was not something she could easily assimilate. She was ready to surrender herself to him, do whatever he wanted her to do and it should have scared her but it did not.

  You really are a little wanton.

  The voice sounded strangely like Laurence Blackmore’s and it made her stiffen and pull back from the Earl. He tightened his hold on her and didn’t let her move.

  “I haven’t kissed you yet.”

  “Th-this is cheating, My Lord.”

  “Is it?” He took hold of the flesh of her jaw and suckled a bruise into her skin, “Is it really?”

  “Y-yes,” her eyelids fluttered and she lifted her head to give him better access. She whimpered deep in her throat even as he shushed her before licking a stripe across her cheek and finally, fitting his mouth to hers.

  She forgot everything then, her past, her troubles, what allowing the Earl to do this to her made her…all of it. All that mattered was that he continued to plunder her mouth. Her arms went around his neck, tangling in his chestnut curls, pulling him closer. He growled, lifting her off her feet as his kisses intensified. She held on tight as he turned around with her in his arms and sat on the bench in the gazebo, not letting go of her lips for even a second.

  She straddled him, feeling his hardness poking insistently against her as he used his hands on her bottom to pull her closer. She wanted to keen with how much she wanted. She did not even have a name for the thing she craved but she felt as if she might die if she did not get it.

  “Touch me, please,” she moaned, rubbing her breasts against his hard chest.

  Instead of obliging her he leaned back and smiled, “No darling, you are the one who should do as you please, to me.”

  She did not know if it was the words or the term of endearment but she went a bit mad. Leaning forward, she braced herself against the wall of the gazebo, heat from her bosom radiating through the thin cotton fabric of her shift. It took everything Emily had not to grind down when the Earl’s hands squeezed her waist. Instead, she leaned forward against the Earl’s throat, “You’re quite incredible.”

  The Earl just hummed in response, tilting his head to the side while Emily ran her open mouth, breath
hot and wet, down his neck. His fingers flexed against Emily’s cotton-covered legs. “Not as incredible as you,” he groaned the words as Emily rolled her hips forward.

  He leaned in, grabbing at her mouth with his, hands like steel bands, pulling her down and tight against him. She could feel him rubbing against her and felt like a hungry wild animal when it catches a scent.

  Suddenly he pushed her away and she almost fell onto the grass.

  “No,” his voice was ragged, harsh, his breath panting, “I will not take you like this.”

  A flash of hurt ran through her before she regained her senses and got to her feet, crossing her arms in front of her. “You’re right. I don’t know what we were thinking.”