Risking the Detective (The Bluestocking Scandals Book 6)

by Ellie St. Clair

  He took her hand and practically ran with her down the road until they made it to his home, and he pulled her up the stairs, until they reached the top floor when he bent down and picked her up.

  “Drake!” she exclaimed.

  He grinned at her impishly, nearly taking her aback. For Drake hardly ever grinned, let alone… impishly.

  “Who are you?” she said in wonder, and he winked at her.

  “I am a man in love. A man who is, finally, allowing himself to love. A man who is going to show you just how much he loves you, in the best way he knows how.”

  And with that, he laid her gently on the bed, as though she was a porcelain statue.

  “I’m not that fragile,” she said with a laugh, and he pounced onto the bed beside her.

  “I know,” he said with a nod.

  “I promise you,” she said, curling a hand around his neck, “that I will not break. That I will be here for you. That I can also do an excellent job looking after myself.”

  “I know,” he repeated, smiling wickedly. “But there are certain things that I can do much better.”

  She looked at him in consternation for a moment before he began to inch down her body, and her lips rounded in an ‘O’ when she realized just exactly what he meant.

  He didn’t waste time undressing her, but instead lifted her skirts and began to slide his hands up her legs, each touch sending a thrill through her, her skin tingling as he traveled up, higher and higher, until he finally reached the very center of her, where she was, apparently, waiting for him.

  “Madeline,” he said, his voice somewhat sing-song, and when he ran his fingers over her abdomen, she giggled, pushing them away.

  “Stop!” she cried out through her laughter, and he moved back an inch.

  “Stop? You’re sure?” he said, his voice somewhat crestfallen but understanding.

  “Oh no!” she said, reaching down to pull him back. “Not stop — not there. Certainly not. No, I only meant, well, I’m a bit ticklish.”

  “Ah,” he said, his voice muffled from beneath her skirts, “I shall remember that.”

  “You mean to use it against me, don’t you?” she said, with a sigh, as suddenly his touch was no longer ticklish whatsoever.

  “I just might,” he said. “But for now—”

  And then his mouth was on her and she gasped in shock, all laughter gone as he did things that she could only describe as delightfully sinful, and yet, oh, so right.

  He swirled his tongue around the very core of her pleasure as his fingers found her, one, then two, in and out until she was moving against him of her own accord, her head thrown back and her hands fisted in the sheet.

  She had never known anything like this, and wondered if she ever would again. This didn’t seem like anything that could ever be replicated, so wonderful did it feel, and then… and then—

  She couldn’t breathe, so caught off guard was she by the release of explosion around her, and she cried out Drake’s name in a voice so loud, so strong, that she almost didn’t even realize it was her own.

  When she finally came back down, it was to find that Drake had extricated himself from her skirts and was now posing on top of them, his chin on his folded hands above her knee as he watched her.

  “That…” he said, raising his brows, “was incredible.”

  She managed a short laugh. “Is that not what I am supposed to say?”

  “Perhaps,” he said with a shrug, “but I can only be honest and tell you that I enjoyed it just as much as you did… if not more.”

  Finally regaining all of her senses, she lifted herself up from the bed, and he sat up, waiting for her. She reached out, grabbed his hands, and surprised him by pulling him forward, clumsily, until he finally realized her goal and lay back before her.

  “Now,” she said, her hands coming to the fall of his trousers, “it’s your turn.”

  “Madeline,” he said, lifting a hand to her hair, which she realized was bouncing around her shoulders now, “you don’t have to do that,”

  “I know,” she said, “but I want to. Only—”

  “Yes?”

  “Will you tell me if I’m doing it right?”

  “I don’t see how you could do it any other way.”

  She waited a moment, and he finally nodded.

  “Of course.”

  She worked to spring him free, waving off any attempts to help he provided, before she lightly ran a hand over him. He groaned, and she smiled in response, for it meant that she was doing something right. He slid a hand over hers, moving it up and down, showing her just exactly what felt good, and she soon had the rhythm herself, only to lean down and place her mouth upon the very tip of him.

  “Madeline,” he said, his voice a pant, and she smiled over him, at the power that surged through her in knowing that she had such a man at her mercy.

  She slid her lips over him, taking him fully into her mouth, before moving up and down, her hand below sliding over what she couldn’t take in. His fingers twined into her hair, but he didn’t push her or move her as he allowed her to set the pace — a pace which he must have enjoyed, for his breath came quicker and he groaned her name aloud.

  “Madeline,” he said. “I want you — all of you.”

  “I would love that,” she said so enthusiastically that he managed a choked laugh before flipping her over, lifting her skirts, and then, in one swift motion, burying himself deep inside her.

  She felt full, complete, and wanted nothing more than for him to go deeper, faster, harder, with every thrust. In no time at all, he was staring deeply into her eyes, biting his lip before he cried out her name and spent himself inside her.

  She held onto him as he came, until finally he collapsed next to her, although he threw out an arm and caught her close beside him as he placed a kiss on her temple.

  “Oh, Madeline,” he said. “You… you make me feel… everything. You just make me feel.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I haven’t allowed that for myself in a very long time.”

  “Well, then, I’m glad that you have now,” she said, sliding a hand over his cheek.

  “It’s frightening,” he admitted, his lids hiding his eyes for a moment. “I still worry that something could happen to you. I have no idea how I would ever survive it.”

  She pushed herself up so that she was leaning on one elbow, staring down at him.

  “I understand better than most,” she said. “But when you try to escape the sadness of life, then you escape all of your good emotions — the joy, the love that makes life worth living. I learned that the hard way.”

  She paused for a moment. “I never thought I would love again. I didn’t trust myself, wasn’t sure that I could ever find a man who wouldn’t hurt me. But in you… I did.”

  She smiled at him then, loving the man he had been, the man he was, and the man he would become.

  He reached out and drew her close to him once more.

  “I love you, Madeline.”

  “And I love you, Drake.”

  Epilogue

  Madeline knew he was there before he even said anything.

  “Good afternoon,” she said, smiling down at the sculpture in front of her. “And why am I so lucky to have a visit from London’s finest detective?”

  She placed the tool down in front of her before looking up with a smile at her husband, so dapper in his black trousers and jacket.

  Hands in his pockets, he strolled toward her, nodding his greeting to the sculptors nearby.

  “Must a man need an excuse to gaze upon his wife?”

  She folded her arms across her chest.

  “He does when he is currently assigned to one of London’s most prominent murder investigations.”

  He laughed, turning a few heads of other men, who likely thought him somewhat ridiculous to be laughing when they were discussing such a subject.

  But that was the way it was — one had to put the work aside to enjoy time with his loved ones,
or else he would drive himself mad.

  He had learned that the hard way.

  “As it happens…” he said, “I must visit one of London’s finest inns. I am likely to get much further if I appear to be entering with a woman.” He leaned in beside her ear, “A high-class paramour, perhaps?”

  She raised a brow.

  “Just what are you suggesting?”

  “That you might want to do some undercover detecting with me?” he asked with a raised brow. “Nothing dangerous today. Just to survey the hotel and find some information.”

  “Well,” she said, pulling out her pocket watch, shocked to find that the afternoon was nearly gone, “as it happens, I have just completed this fine-looking gargoyle in front of me, forged out of the new Castleton Stone. And I know the company owner.”

  She said it quietly enough that no one else could hear, but she smiled at him mischievously, and he raised her hand to his lips as he helped her out around the table.

  “Are you happy with your decision?” he asked as he led her out of the factory.

  “I am,” she said decidedly. “Clark has helped manage this company for the past few years. Together, he and I will do a fine job running the business, especially as my father will stay on to advise us for a time. It’s hard to believe that he has actually decided to take a step back. I know he always said he would, but I never thought it would come to pass.”

  “Well, marriage can do strange things to a man,” Drake said with a low chuckle as he opened the door for her, and they both gazed out at the sun setting over the Thames.

  “That it can,” she said, looking over at him. “That it can.”

  Drake himself was proof of that. He was still Drake, the same man she had met, who had found his way into her heart, and yet he was also more than that. He now showed her a side of himself that she hadn’t known was there — a vulnerable side, one that had no qualms in presenting to her just how much he loved her, that would do anything for her — anything she asked, and more.

  Such as allowing her into his life as a detective. When she had told him she didn’t want to be shut off from his work, wanted to know his day, wanted to feel his frustrations and be there to physically help when she could, he had been wary but had trusted her — and had found that she was of more assistance than he could have ever expected.

  They were nearly at the hotel when Madeline spied a familiar figure in the distance.

  “Does that look like Rose to you?” she asked, looking up at Drake, who craned his neck and nodded.

  “It does.”

  She was standing near the entrance of the hotel, pacing back and forth, and Madeline nearly ran to catch her, so frantic was her expression.

  “Rose!” she called, and Rose turned to look at her. “Is everything all right?” Madeline asked breathlessly.

  “No,” she said, shaking her head back and forth, her bonnet flying askew around her. “Nothing is all right.” She looked past Madeline. “I have to go.”

  “But, Rose—”

  “I must,” she said, and was about to push away when Drake reached out and passed a card toward her.

  “Come see me,” he said firmly. “We can help.”

  Rose palmed the card, nodded, and then took off into a run, leaving Drake and Madeline staring at one another incredulously.

  “I hope she’s all right,” Madeline said.

  “And I hope that we are able to help her.”

  “You can help anyone,” Madeline said, squeezing his arm underneath her hand. “Of that, I am sure. There will be no child in London better looked after than ours.”

  Drake’s head snapped around to her so quickly that Madeline thought he must have injured his neck.

  “Do you mean, future children… that we might have?”

  “Yes,” she said thoughtfully. “But there is one in particular that I am thinking of.”

  She glanced down at her stomach, and Drake’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely,” she said with a grin of her own, and Drake let out a celebratory shout before picking her up and swinging her around. She laughed before looking around them.

  “Are we not supposed to be undercover?”

  “Is there anything more undercover than a man in love?” he asked, and she smiled. “I suppose not.”

  And with that, he kissed her, right in the middle of London’s College Street, unafraid to show the world just how much he loved her.

  THE END

  Author’s Note

  I so hope you enjoyed Madeline and Drake’s story.

  As with most of the books from The Bluestocking Scandals series, our heroine is very loosely based on a historical figure from the Regency era.

  Eleanor Coade ran her business which created statues, architectural decorations, and garden ornaments out of Coade Stone for fifty years — from 1769 until her death in 1821. She had one of the most successful businesses of the time in an industry that was dominated by men. She bought the business herself after successfully running a linen drapery for a few years prior. Coade Stone was one of the most popular building materials of its time. The ceramic material, the recipe of which was a closely guarded secret, was quite resistant to weathering and erosion. From the Lambeth factory, her sculptures and architectural elements were sent throughout England.

  Her life was quite intriguing and if you are interested in learning more, there are numerous biographies describing the life of this extraordinary woman.

  I would love to stay in touch with you! Sign-up for my newsletter and “Unmasking a Duke,” a regency romance novella, will come straight to your inbox!

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  A Noble Excavation

  Preview Rose’s story, book 7 of The Bluestocking Scandals…

  An Excerpt

  It was good to be back.

  But also slightly heartbreaking as well.

  Rose’s brother had welcomed her with both pity and despair – his sympathy for her obviously at odds with his own worry for how their small business would fare in the wake of the claims of fraud. Rose understood. He used the earnings from the shop to support himself and their mother, and she couldn’t help but feel chagrin that she had let down the people who needed her the most.

  And all for what? To further her own ego? For her desperate wish to be accepted as a scientist on equal footing of true scientists?

  She was only where she was on account of a bit of luck and wealthy men’s interest in her discoveries. That was all.

  Rose stood now on the rise of the cliff, looking out over the shore that stretched in front of her.

  She had been gone a couple of months now, which was ample time for landslides to have uncovered new stretches of rock, where fossils might be hiding.

  She whistled to Digger, who was himself excitedly searching, and he came running toward her but stopped, his attention captured by something in the distance.

  “What is it?” she asked, shading her eyes with her hand, but she couldn’t make out anything unusual, although a slight smattering of fog still covered the air in front of her. “Is there some animal out there?”

  Digger barked in return, although Rose couldn’t be sure if he was answering her or calling out to something – or someone in the distance.

  Suddenly she started in surprise as a hulking mass rose out through the fog, bounding toward them in – joy, she realized.

  Digger jumped up in answer, and soon the two dogs were circling one another with the excited interest of two new canine acquaintances.

  “Hello, there,” Rose said, bending to greet the dog, although she didn’t have to bend far. She wasn’t overly tall, and she imagined if the dog jumped up, she could plant her paws on her shoulders and they would be able to look each other straight in the eye. “Wherev
er did you come from?”

  She had never seen the animal before, and she was fairly familiar with all who lived in the area – human or pet.

  The dog barked up at her, her ears lifting as he looked backward, as though she was telling Rose that she was not alone.

  She had no worry about being watched, however – anyone who would choose a dog such as this for a companion would have to be a lovely presence indeed.

  “Care to join us for a walk?” she asked, and the dog barked again. She laughed. “Well, come on then.”

  Digger and his new friend began to excitedly play as they followed her, wrestling with one another before zipping around in circles in front of, behind, and around her. Peace settled over Rose as she allowed herself to enjoy the moment, forgetting all that had recently occupied every moment of her thoughts and her time.

  Letting the dogs play, she returned her attention to the ground before her, keeping her eyes sharp for any sign of a disturbance or protrusion. It was here she had found her first skeletons, and here where she knew there must be more.

  Although she was worried. Had she been gone too long? Had she left her beach exposed for any other fortune hunter to search themselves?

  She was halfway down the beach when the hairs on her arms began to stand on end and she became very aware that she was being watched. She couldn’t have said how she knew, but she was being drawn over toward the copse of trees in the distance, that stood sentry over their cliff and all of the shore and ocean beyond it.

  “Hello?” she called out, knowing she should be concerned at the thought of being happened upon alone, but she was more so annoyed that whoever was above her had instead chosen to watch her from the distance in anonymity. “Who’s there?”

  Finally a bit of motion from her right had her head swiveling – and then the figure caught the attention of the dogs, who went practically galloping toward him.

  Him. That much she could make out from her current position. He wore a top hat low over his eyes, and he was holding something in his hands, something he was suddenly quite intent upon. Was he trying to avoid her? The fog had lifted, and the sun was beginning to beat down upon her rather intensely, so much so that she had to lift a hand to her eyes to shield them.