In Temptation and Damnation with the Earl: A Steamy Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Violet Hamers

  “Here we are,” Mrs. Webb walked in, presenting biscuits and tea. “Allina, John, come sit at the table, Dears, so you can have something to eat.” They both rushed over to the table, climbing into the chairs in similar fashion to each other.

  Cleopatra watched with a smile as the two started munching on biscuits.

  “What is your favorite game?” Allina asked as she bundled her legs beneath her.

  “I like hide and seek,” John said with glee.

  “Why does that not surprise me?” Alexander whispered so only Cleopatra could hear him, making her laugh.

  “How about you?” John asked Allina.

  “I love hide and seek too! We could play now.”

  “Not tonight, it is too dark out, Dears,” Mrs. Webb urged as she poured them their tea. “Perhaps in the morning?”

  Both looked suitably saddened by this news.

  “What about spillikins?” Cleopatra asked as she moved away from Alexander to the side of the room where there was the new box she and Allina had played with before. “Here we are.” She presented the box to Allina. “You will like this game, John; the aim is to pick up the sticks without disturbing the pile.”

  John eagerly played with Allina, the two of them becoming firm friends within minutes. Of a similar humor, they were soon laughing together at each other’s jests.

  After some minutes, Cleopatra turned away to Alexander, seeing him smile as he watched the two of them.

  “You look happy,” she mused as he wrapped an arm around her waist again.

  “I was just thinking…” he whispered quietly, pointing his head toward the two of them, “We are a family. You mothering your brother and my sister.”

  The idea of a family shot a thrill of excitement through Cleopatra.

  “I would like children someday,” her gentle murmur brought a new smile to his lips.

  “Me too.”

  “I guess we have unfinished business to attend to.” She pulled on his hand, urging him to follow her from the room. She cast one look back at John and Allina with Mrs. Webb, but seeing them so happy, she turned back to Alexander, whose smile had turned devilish with mischief.

  As they neared Cleopatra’s chamber door, she felt herself being swept from her feet. Alexander had her against him, his arms wrapped around her waist and hers around his neck. He kissed her, distracting her completely from the goal of the room.

  As he parted her lips, the touch of his tongue set a fire burning in her stomach again. Images of their last night together atop her bed sent excitement through her.

  She was aware his feet were no longer walking toward her room. She pulled away from his kisses.

  “Where are we going?”

  “My bedroom,” he whispered with delight as he rounded the corner, still carrying her. He pushed open the door with ease, stepping inside and pulling her tighter toward him for another kiss.

  They were both lost in the moment. Cleopatra was too absorbed with the passion to realize they were in danger of a collision.

  The chaise longue was behind them, blocking their path. They collided and fell in a tumble with Alexander above her. They giggled together as he reared up and fell still.

  Cleopatra admired him in the candlelight, her eyes dancing across the short dark hair, the gray-blue eyes and the strong jawline. She lifted a hand up to his cheek, brushing the skin there. He sighed as she touched him.

  “I love you, Cleopatra,” he murmured so quietly; she had to strain to hear it.

  “I love you too.” Her words made a smile appear across his cheeks.

  “Well, now that you do love me, I have a question for you,” the smile was mischievous, urging her to stare up at him with raised eyebrows.

  “What is that?”

  “Do you remember when I spoke of an appetite for the bedroom?”

  “I remember it well,” she giggled again.

  “And what do you think of it now?” He whispered as he dropped down on his elbows on either side of her. “Do you have an appetite of your own for it?”

  She held back her laugh, biting her lip as the temptation to be mischievous on her own grew within.

  “Well, I think I need a little more exploration before I can answer that.” Her words made him laugh, and she reached up, pulling at his jacket and trying to push it off his shoulders.

  He moved to help her. Once the jacket was gone, the cravat followed, along with the waistcoat and the shirt. She admired the tone of his chest as it was revealed. She reached out to it, ready to explore with her fingers, when he suddenly jumped up.

  “Alexander!”

  “Trust me,” he kissed the back of her hand and pulled her to her feet. He spun her around and quickly released the fastenings at the back of her dress. When loose, he let it drop to the floor, leaving her in a chemise and corset.

  His hands brushed down the exposed skin of her arms, drawing goosebumps, then he lowered a kiss to her neck. It was gentle, soft, and tantalizing. She leaned back, urging him to continue his kisses.

  “This time,” he murmured in her ear, “there will be no pain. We can be free with each other.”

  She nodded, struggling for words behind her haze of desire.

  He turned her back around. His hands quickly went to work on her corset as she went for his trousers. She was the first to complete her task, urging the waistband lower on his hips.

  “I think you are a little impatient,” he chuckled as he went to help her.

  “No more than you,” she said in defiance with a smile. “My dress is practically torn from your eagerness.”

  His trousers dropped to the floor, releasing him. She admired him for a moment, too overwhelmed by seeing him so completely. She was so absorbed in her study of him, her eyes tracing every stretch of muscle tone on his body, that it startled her when his hands returned to her corset.

  She gasped as he quickly undid the laces, freeing her from it. He threw it at the side of the room. It clattered with a lamp, both of them froze, their gazes turning toward it as it wobbled in its place.

  “And I am the impatient one, you say?” she laughed again, drawing his eyes back to her.

  “I never did deny it for myself.”

  With her standing in her chemise and stockings, he took hold of her waist and pulled her flush to him, their chests pressed together and resumed their kisses. They were heated, each flick of tongue making them moan and pull at one another.

  “Alexander,” she pleaded between kisses, “please.” She could feel the wetness pooling between her thighs, she needed to feel all of him. It was like an ache growing there, an ache where he should be.

  “Are you pleading with me?” he asked with mischief, his hands lowering from her waist to her hips.

  She playfully tapped him around the arm.

  “Please, Alexander.”

  He groaned, clearly unable to resist.

  He pulled back from their kisses and dropped to his knees. He lifted the skirt of her chemise and took hold of the stockings on her legs. He lowered them quickly, leaving a smattering of kisses across the exposed skin of her legs as they moved.

  She was giggling as she watched, too enamored by the sight of him with his hands on her legs. When he had finished his task, he stood again. They shared a smile for a moment, both of them breathing heavily with excitement.

  Cleopatra felt him take hold of her waist and spin her around so that she was facing away from him, toward the chaise longue.

  “Lean down,” he whispered in her ear. She did as he had instructed, leaning forward and resting her hands on the chaise longue. Her breath hitched as the skirt of her chemise was lifted again. He pressed it around her waist, exposing her completely to him.

  She bit her lip, waiting for him. When he moved into her, she gasped at the sensation of being so ready for him.

  I love you, Alexander.

  That was the thought that dominated as he began to move. He was right, there was no pain this time. Only excitement and a ne
ed for more. She buried her hands in the fabric of the chaise longue, trying to quieten the moans that were escaping her as they moved together.

  The rhythm grew faster. Behind her, she could feel his grasp on her waist grow even tighter. He was moaning himself, saying her name over and over again.

  She could feel that now-familiar sensation building. She was going to reach her peak. She threw her head back, preparing for it to overwhelm her when he pulled away from her.

  “Alexander!” she complained, reminded of their last encounter. He had done a similar thing then.

  He laughed as he took her waist and pulled her straight again, so that she was flush against him, her back to his front. He peppered kisses along her neck.

  “I have another idea,” he whispered, his voice deep with desire. He took hold of the chemise and lifted it free of her body, exposing her completely to him.

  He took her hand and walked her over to the bed, urging her down on the bed covers. She went willingly, marveling at his appearance in the candlelight as he stared down at her. His cheeks were flushed, and his gray-blue eyes were alert.

  He crawled onto the bed over her and entered her again. The change of angle had her clawing at him. He set up a new rhythm, this one slower, somehow, more sensual.

  “Alexander–” she moaned his name as he buried his head in the crook of her neck. She wrapped her hands across his back. With each movement he made, she clawed at him, matching each wave of pleasure it caused.

  One of his hands went to her knee, holding her open for him. The move made her gasp…the idea they were so close, so entwined…was breathtaking.

  She was going to reach her peak. Her moaning changed. He had to be able to sense it as his whispering in her ear grew more heated.

  “Oh, Cleopatra,” he murmured such words of love that it had her reaching her edge. She clawed harder at his back as she crashed down. He rode out the wave; just as she thought her wave had ended, he reached his own. He buried his hands in the bedsheets beside her and threw his head back, declaring her name loudly.

  He stilled above her after a moment, breathing heavily, then dropped to his elbows, bringing their faces close together. He pressed the gentlest of kisses to her lips, urging her to hold him close with her arms.

  He laughed suddenly, a small chuckle escaping his lips.

  “What has you so amused?” she smiled, running one of her hands through his dark locks.

  “I was just thinking,” he smiled again, “I know it is strange, but in a way, I cannot tell you how happy I am that you accused me of murder, sold my secret to the newspaper and that I practically kidnapped you from the street for want of justice. Otherwise, I would not have met you.”

  “It is perhaps a rather strange idea of courtship.”

  “Strange? I would call it dramatic.”

  “It certainly was,” she pulled on his hair, drawing him to her for another kiss. “I hope our married life is perhaps a little more tranquil.”

  “Oh, I hope not. You excite me too much for our relationship to ever be described as tranquil and I would not have it any other way, Cleopatra.”

  The End?

  Extended Epilogue

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  Preview: Wicked Awakening of a Wounded Marquess

  Chapter One

  Chapter One

  In a small building, squeezed into a tiny corner of a London slum, Ariadne Davy knelt next to her father in the studio. The cold and wet room was her father’s sanctuary and where he spent most of his days, working away on his inventions.

  “It’s late, Pa,” Ariadne said with worry in her voice. “The supper gets colder by the minute.”

  “It can wait, Ariadne,” her father, George Davy insisted. He gestured at the parts scattered around his work table. His notebook that contained the blueprints of the project smudged with grease at the corners, nuts, bolts, screwdrivers of varying sizes cluttered the work table, even a brass mortise gauge. “This can’t.”

  Ariadne sighed. She knew she couldn’t fight with him. She had after all inherited his stubbornness.

  “How’s your sister? Is she all right?”

  Ariadne frowned at the strange questions. “You saw Leda just an hour ago when she came to bring you hot tea.”

  George ignored her. “Are you taking care of her? Sisters must always stick together.”

  Ariadne’s frown deepened. She didn’t understand why Pa was asking such questions. She had been here like this with him at his work table several times. In fact, Ariadne loved tinkering with the bolts and nuts as much as her father did. Just a month ago, she had devised a small box so that the oil didn’t spill out from the stove while they cooked. However, something about this particular moment felt different. She just couldn’t place a finger on it.

  “Leda is fine,” she said when her father continued to look at her expectantly. Pa nodded as if satisfied with her answer. “I knew I could leave her to your care without worrying about her.”

  Ariadne shook her head. She didn’t like where this conversation was going. “You’re here to take care of us. Both of us.”

  Pa looked away, staring into the distance. The studio’s windows were boarded up for privacy and no one was allowed in without her father’s explicit permission, not even to clean or dust out the room. Grime had accumulated on several of his old inventions, forgotten with time after he failed to acquire a patent. The King’s new rule that had come into effect a few years ago demanded official documents and a royal seal for a particular new invention to be used in the market.

  Leda had expressed her disapproval at what her father did several times. But George Davy wasn’t a man to be brought down by words and disappointment, even as none of his inventions brought him the recognition he deserved. Ariadne knew that he was a brilliant man and one day, the world would know it too.

  George held something under the blazing light of the work table lamp. The lamp, too, had been created by him and consisted of a wick lamp with the flame enclosed inside a mesh screen.

  “What is it?” Ariadne asked peering at the device.

  “This is my greatest invention. And, my dear, it’s going to save a lot of lives,” he said with what sounded like pride in his voice.

  “How?” she asked, curious.

  “I’ve designed it as a portable lamp for mine workers. Its mechanism is similar to this.” He nodded to the bright lamp on the table. “But in a compact manner. And since it is sealed, it will drastically reduce the chances of explosion.”

  “Can you tell me how it works?” Ariadne asked, fascinated by what she saw.

  “Air enters via tiny holes of the mesh, but the flames of the lamp cannot pass through it. Apart from giving them light, if they keep it on the ground they can even detect the absence of oxygen in the passageway. The wick will be snuffed out if enough of it isn’t present and they can make out of the mines before they suffocate.”

  “Pa, that’s brilliant,” Ariadne said. She thought of all those helpless mine workers, so many who died every year.

  “Thank you, Ari. All I wish is to see it exist in the world before I go.”

  Ariadne glanced up. Until then everything seemed to have been pulled out from a distant memory, but then it began to shift and change. Her father’s features became soft and blurry as if she was watching him through a glass window. “You’re not going anywhere, Pa.”

  George shook his head and smiled sadly at her. “I don’t have much time left, Ari. You have to take care of yourself, your sister, and everything I leave behind.”

  Ariadne reached for her father to comfort him
, to give him a gentle hug, and remind him that he wasn’t alone and that she was right there fighting for him. But as she shot her hand out, she touched nothing but air.

  “Ariadne,” Pa said, his voice echoing in her mind. Ariadne bolted upright in her chair. The wick of the lamp was snuffed out so she awoke to complete darkness that threatened to swallow her. She placed a hand on her heart to calm it down. She was at the head table of the studio.

  It was just a nightmare, and a terrible one at that. Tears streaked down her cheeks as the pain of his absence settled in her heart.

  She looked around the dark studio and she was all alone. Her father was long gone. He had passed away three months ago after a sudden stroke. It was sudden and it was brutal. He hadn’t seen the next day’s light.