"Oh, you're safe. Thank goodness."
Jane, once more bespectacled, stood on the steps of Jarvis House to greet them. Lord Payne, who was thoroughly dusty and covered in a sheen of sweat at her side.
"Where's Lavelle?" he called to Ruan, who was helping Olive to dismount. The Duke threw the younger man a look that spoke volumes, which Payne returned with a grim nod of understanding.
"The guests have all left," Jane said, ushering Olive and Ruan inside. She guided them to the drawing room, where she ordered a pot of tea be fetched for Olive and something stronger for the Duke.
"Does anyone know what happened?" Ruan asked urgently, his mind already working to see how they could salvage the situation.
"Just myself, Lord Payne and Julian," Jane offered, handing Olive a steaming cup of tea. "We weren't quite sure exactly what was happening, so we didn't tell the other guests."
"Good," Ruan relaxed, "Let's keep it that way. Lavelle is dead, he fell off the cliffs just by Fisherman's Cove. We will tell no one of what he did, for his family's sake-- Julian can circulate a rumour that he was in his cups when he left."
"You're going to pretend it was a tragic accident?"
Olive spoke for the first time since they had arrived, her face a picture of confusion. Ruan nodded; he hated Lavelle for the danger he had put his wife in, but he did not want to ruin his family's name, for Lavelle had brothers who lived around the locale and it was they who would bear the brunt of his treachery.
"Good God man, you're far more noble than I," Lord Payne said, taking a large bite out of a sandwich and looking at Ruan with awe.
"He's the most noble man that I have ever met," Olive whispered proudly, taking Ruan's hand in her own and squeezing it tightly. Ruan felt a stirring of pleasure at her words. They were both nearly finished their drinks, and Olive looked as tired as he felt.
"Shall I take you home?" he suggested, thinking to leave her at the boarding house, as he had every other night.
"Yes," his wife held his gaze, "Take me back to Pemberton Hall, Ruan. I'm ready to go home."
Liv could feel her husband's heart beating in his chest as she rested against it. He cradled her with one arm, his other hands gently holding the reins of the horse that was bringing them back to Pemberton Hall.
No words had passed between man and wife once they had left Jarvis House. Instead Ruan had lifted her, as though she weighed nothing, into the saddle of his horse, before hopping up behind her. The journey was both pleasant and arduous. It felt wonderful to be held in the arms of a man as strong as the Duke, but the butterflies in her stomach had erupted at his closeness, so that she felt almost sick with excitement.
Pemberton Hall lay in darkness when they arrived, Ruan guided the horse to the stables, banging on the door to rouse one of the grooms.
"Oh, Ruan, don't," Olive protested, "I can wait here while you tend to the horse, don't wake the poor men."
"My dear," her husband took her by the waist and pulled her toward him. "You may be able to wait, but I cannot."
A bleary eyed young groom opened the door to the living quarters of the stables, interrupting their embrace.
"Sorry to disturb your sleep Keats," her husband gave the lad an apologetic smile, "But I need you to stable him. I'm in rather a rush."
Olive felt her face flame with embarrassment as her husband took her by the hand and led her across the cobbled yard toward the back entrance of the house. They entered Pemberton Hall through the kitchen door, Ruan leading her commandingly up the servant's stairs, to the third floor.
"Oh," he paused when they reached the hallway, a look of dismay on his face. "I suppose that wasn't a very glamorous way to bring a Duchess into her new home."
He looked genuinely crestfallen and Olive had to stifle a laugh, such was his dismay.
"The hallway rather makes up for the lack of decor on the way up," Olive offered, for it did. The arched ceilings were covered in frescoes, and the wallpaper was heavily embossed. A thick Persian carpet ran the length of the hall, inviting the walker in the direction of an impressive set of double doors, that Olive knew would lead to the Duke's suites.
"If you're impressed by the hallway, then you'll faint at the sight of the bedroom," Ruan growled, lifting her up in his arms and carrying her toward his room. "Though dear God please don't faint. I've had the ignominious pleasure of being, possibly, the only Duke of Everleigh to have two marriages go unconsummated for any length of time."
Olive bit back a giggle at his self-deprecating words. She felt snug in his arms and was grateful for their support, for her knees felt weak with nerves and anticipation. Ruan near kicked the door open, in his haste to get inside. He placed Olive gently on the bed, then began to tear at the cravat around his neck and the buttons on his shirt.
Olive watched him from beneath her lashes, feeling suddenly shy. Her husband lifted his shirt above his head to reveal a toned, muscular stomach like a washboard and a chest that was thick with dark curls. She sat up and hesitantly reached a hand out to touch his chest. The skin on skin contact made her husband pause, and he placed his hand over hers,just above his heart. "I love you," he said simply, pressing her hand close to his flesh so that she could hear his heartbeat.
"And I you," Olive whispered, for the love she felt for him had pierced through her on the cliffs, when she thought that Lavelle would shoot him. She had never felt so strongly for anyone, as she did for the Duke, and the thought made her a little nervous. Her feelings were obviously displayed on her face, for Ruan stroked her cheek softly; "Are you certain that you're ready?"
Despite the passion which burned in his eyes, Olive knew that if she told her husband that she was not ready yet, that he would stop. The only thing was, she didn't want him to. As she nodded her head, he dropped his lips to hers and kissed her gently. The soft feel of his skin, contrasting the hardness of the muscles beneath, left her dizzy and light headed. With assured hands her husband began to undress her, working the buttons of her dress as though he was a trained ladies maid and not a Duke.
"You're rather adept at that," Olive commented, feigning humour to hide her nerves.
"There's a lot of things I'm very good at," her husband replied, his mouth quirking with amusement. His hands lifted her dress over her head, and soon she was lying naked beneath him. Any fear or trepidation that she might have felt, was soon swept away on a tide of pleasure. Her husband was a skilled love-maker, and though at first it hurt slightly, soon she became used to the feel of him. Within minutes she was breathless, as waves of pleasure--that she had not known were possible--washed over her. Sensing that she was spent the Duke finished with a low groan, collapsing on top of her and cradling her in his arms.
"That was rather good," she whispered to him across the pillow, when a few minutes of breathless silence had passed. She could not believe that the beautiful man lying next to her was her husband, and that she would wake up the next morning --and every morning-- to the wondrous sight of him.
"Rather good?" Ruan huffed, evidently displeased with her choice of words. "I obviously wasn't doing my job properly if it was only rather good."
"It can get better?" Olive glanced at him innocently, knowing that he would rise to the bait of her teasing.
"A hundred times better," Ruan said, his face filled with need as he pinned her beneath his strong forearms. "I'm afraid you'll have to get used to this Olive."
"Used to what?" she asked, reaching up with her hand and smoothing the lock of hair that had fallen into his eyes.
"To being in my bed," her husband replied, with a smile that could only be described as pure wicked. "For I won't be letting you leave it for quite some time."
The Lord of Heartbreak:
Reluctant Regency Brides Book 2
Miss Jane Deveraux is in a bind; her brother, Viscount Jarvis, has married and his new wife does not want her bookish sister-in-law encroaching on their wedded bliss. The Viscountess makes it very clear that Jane must find a husban
d, but at five and twenty the confirmed spinster doesn't have many suitors lining up to claim her hand. What Jane needs is a large sum of money, so that she can buy the local boarding house, and live out her days holding intellectual saloons for the egalitarian set. Though where she'll find this money is anyone's guess...
James Fairweather, Lord Payne is the heir to the Ducal seat of Hawkfield. Tall, handsome and with a roguish charm that has women falling at his feet, he should be living the easy life of an entitled bachelor. The only problem is that his father has tired of his rakish ways and declares that unless Payne cleans up his act he will be disinherited.
What Payne needs is a respectable --dare he say boring-- woman that he can parade around for a season to convince his father that he has changed his ways. The only person who fits the bill is his friend's sister Jane, though will the clever, bespectacled spinster agree to be his fake fiance?
And will sparks fly between this mismatched pair?
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The Regency Black Hearts Collection
Three wonderful tales of couples whose love meets a few hiccups, stutters, and out and out villains on the path to happily ever after.
Proposing to a Duke
At the age of five and twenty, confirmed spinster Isabella Peregrine is given an unexpected ultimatum by her new step-mother: find a husband or I'll find one for you.
Thoroughly in a tizz, Isabella proposes a marriage of convenience to the nearest male to her - who just so happens to be the brooding, intimidating Duke of Blackmore. When he rebuffs her clumsy advances, Isabella leaves for London, determined to find the man of her dreams and soothe her bruised ego.
Michael Linfield, Duke of Blackmore is a legendary, fearsome, war hero; famous for reducing debutantes and their mothers to floods of tears with just one glance. The brooding, giant of a man is hiding a secret however - a debilitating stammer that has haunted him since childhood. When the delightful Miss Peregrine proposes a marriage of convenience to him - with no benefits - Michael is so startled that his stammer reappears and all he can manage to reply is "N-n-no".
When news of Isabella's success in London soon reaches his ears, Michael is determined to go to town and win her as his own, if only she'll give him a second chance at love.
The Duke's Brother
Can a Duke's bastard win the heart of a lady?
Plucked as an orphan from the slums of St. Giles' by his half-brother the Duke of Blackmore, Sebastian Black soon rises to become one of the richest men in London, and a notorious rake to boot. His time at Eton has left him with a healthy disregard for the aristocracy - that is until he inadvertently becomes involved in the affairs of the prim, proper and snooty Aurelia St Claire.
Aurelia's brother, Lord Theodore Epsom, was reported missing after Waterloo, but she is convinced that she has sighted him alive and well in London. The pair join forces to try to discover exactly what happened to Theo and as their sleuthing takes them into London's murky back alleys, they discover that they aren't so different after all.
Can two people overcome their prejudices, their foibles - or even their very history - to find love?
A Lady Like No Other
"Would my lady care to dance?"
"My lady would rather eat a live chicken."
Beautiful, titled, and wealthy to boot, Lady Lydia Beaufort was expected to have a spectacular London Season. There was just one problem; the eccentric daughter of the Earl of Galway had no intention of becoming the ton's darling. Especially if it involved humouring the awful herds of fortune hunters and greedy second sons, intent on making her their bride.
All Lydia wanted was to be left alone in peace, to read her beloved Lord Byron. That is until an incorrigible rogue of a Marquess burst into her life, and turned all her ideas about love upside down.
Charming, congenial, and ever so handsome, Gabriel Livingstone, Marquess of Sutherland could have his pick of any of the season's debutantes, but the only rose he longed to pluck, was the very thorny Lady Beaufort. Just when he thinks he might finally have won her heart, fate, in the form of an Italian Count, a mischievous Gypsy and a political assassination plot, gets in his way.
Can this mismatched pair find their happily ever after?
Click on the link below to view on Amazon:
https://www.amazon.com/Regency-Black-Hearts-Collection-Three-ebook/dp/B074YYRQMR/ref=la_B06WVL4PNT_1_4?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1507563442&sr=1-4
The Duke of Ruin: Reluctant Regency Brides Page 15
