A Lover for Lydia (The Wednesday Club Book 4)

by Sahara Kelly

  It was such fun, she thought. The sun was bright, the water salty and—after the initial shock—very pleasant, and to be able to let everything go, to simply play with friends in the sea…such an experience was both liberating and relaxing.

  And, as she looked around, she had to chuckle. All she could see were heads bobbing on the surface; their bodies fully submerged. Even if anyone had managed to take a peek at the women enjoying the afternoon, it would have been hard to tell they were naked beneath the waves.

  Except for the lack of bonnets, there was nothing to mark them as exceptional.

  The little cove echoed with laughter, splashing, idle conversations and more laughter as the four women relished their forbidden pleasure.

  They swam, moved along the shoreline and bobbed back, dodging some of the swells, letting others smack their naked skin.

  They threw seaweed, squeaked at the touch of it against their legs, sat on the sand with their heads breaking the surface and generally behaved much as five-year-old children did in similar circumstances.

  Lydia raised her face to the sun and let the water soothe her mind.

  This, she told herself as she walked in place on the sand beneath her feet, this was how one should enjoy nature.

  And the kiss of the sea all over her skin couldn’t help but remind her of last night when something else had kissed her skin.

  The water was easing away any residual soreness, not that there had been anything other than an odd sensation or two. Holding a man between one’s thighs did exercise one’s muscles in a way that differed from the normal course of things.

  She smiled to herself at the memory, and Rose must have noticed.

  “It is good, isn’t it? Decadent and shocking, but oh so good.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” said Lydia with a sigh. “The seawater is so soft and the sand feels lovely between my toes.” She looked down and wriggled them, watching the little puffs she stirred up waft away and settle elsewhere. “This is completely wonderful.”

  “Does anyone know how long we’ve been in the water?” Ivy lazed her way up to them. “I’m enjoying every minute, but I do not want to be surprised by the sight of the Maeve nearing us.”

  Prudence swam toward them, making quite a show of her strokes.

  “Show off,” called Rose.

  “Weaklings, all of you,” scorned Prudence, emerging from the waves like a mermaid.

  “Oh dear, your hair,” sighed Ivy.

  “Don’t worry. We’ll just announce I lost my bonnet. You know, the one that is in the bag over there that actually holds our blankets for drying ourselves, and spare shoes for weight.” She giggled. “I know this is scandalous, but thank you for it. You’ve given me an afternoon of such pleasure…” She spread her arms and floated.

  “Damn. I wish I could do that,” frowned Lydia.

  “I’d teach you, but I have to admit that I think the sun is lower than it was, and the shadows are growing. We have to go in.” Ivy’s voice was sad.

  “I hate to agree,” said Rose, “but you’re right. And it will take us some time to dry off.”

  “I don’t want to, but we must.”

  Sadly they walked back to the beach, shivering a little as the droplets clung to their skin, no longer protected by the ocean.

  However, the blankets were a great success, and much hilarity ensued as they dealt with awkward chemises that clung to damp limbs, dresses that refused to button, and all the other tiny annoyances of putting clothes back onto bodies fresh and still damp from the sea.

  While Prudence attempted to dry her hair, Lydia strolled to the face of the cliff, barely a dozen yards from the water.

  Her eyes narrowed as she saw something—a loose piece of rock was about to drop down and behind it, yes, definitely a shape.

  She picked up a smooth stone and used it gently, as if it was a hammer. The piece fell, leaving her breathless at the fossil revealed beneath.

  It was a fish, a perfect fish, as perfect as if it had just swum to that spot. She looked around it to see if she could remove it, but a few taps only freed the tail, and she let out a little cry of disappointment as that piece fell into her hand.

  “Lydia, the Maeve is here,” Ivy’s voice penetrated her brain. “Come along, we’re waiting…”

  She turned to see everyone in the rowboat and Ronan waving at her. “Hurry up, lass, before the tide turns.”

  She looked back at the remaining fossil, and then, sadly, turned away. What the devil the tide had to do with anything, she had no idea, but she knew it was time to leave.

  Perhaps she could come back, with her tools, and free the rest of the fish. She would come back, she promised herself. But not alone.

  Mowbray would bring her.

  With a determined step, she walked off the beach and into the rowboat, and much too soon for her liking, they were all back on dry land at Maiden Shore.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  As it happened, nature provided the ideal distraction early that evening, when news arrived that there had been a cliff subsidence not far from where they were.

  “Oh Lord, I hope it didn’t take my fossil,” said Lydia in a worried tone. “I was hoping to get back and retrieve the other half.”

  “It is a fine one, Lydia, I will agree on that,” nodded Colly. “I’ve never seen such detail before.”

  “And to think that is only part of it,” she sighed.

  “Perhaps we can go back soon and see if it’s still there?” Prudence offered a sympathetic pat to Lydia’s shoulder as they went in to dinner.

  “Any idea where the fall was, Colly?” Miles seated himself. “I trust nobody was hurt.”

  Colly shook his head. “I don’t believe so, but I cannot say anything exact as to its location. Just further down coast.”

  Everyone grinned at his perfect reproduction of the local accent.

  “Are there a lot of them, do you suppose?” Lady Maud contemplated the soup. “It must be rather frightening if one lives too close to the cliffs.” She took a spoonful, swallowed, and closed her eyes in bliss. “God, Colly. I want your cook.”

  “Many do. None will get her.” He grinned back. “But to answer your question, yes, I think the idea of crumbling cliffs is a pretty constant feature of this landscape. A good storm will erode land better than most anything else.”

  The conversation continued over the delicious meal and ended with everyone declaring themselves most satisfied.

  And as usual, everyone retired to the parlour to enjoy an after-dinner brandy.

  “This has spoiled me,” announced Rose. “I am going to object most strenuously to being shooed away for tea with the ladies when we return to London.”

  “Indeed,” nodded Ivy. “But rest assured, my dears, that when you dine at Hartsmere House, there will be no separation of the sexes.”

  “Only when it’s just us, of course,” Colly added, shooting a speaking glance at his wife. “We won’t be able to be so informal if there are other guests.”

  Prudence sighed. “I don’t want to think of returning,” she said. “I find this informality much to my liking.”

  “You’d be shocking half, if not most, of the Ton, me darlin’, should you tuck your feet up on Lady Cartland’s couch.”

  “I know,” she rolled her eyes. “Even I am not that stupid. Although perhaps I ought to do something shocking. That would prevent me from having to attend any number of dull soirées.”

  “If they’re dull for you, imagine what they’re like for me. I have to sit with the chaperones now and everyone defers to my words because I’m a Duchess. It’s as if I’ve suddenly become the fount of wisdom, and each word from my mouth is priceless.” She sighed.

  “Well, ladies, how about we leave those worries for a little while? We still have some time to enjoy ourselves here. I suggest we make the most of it.” Mowbray threw out the suggestion, hoping to add a slightly more positive note to the conversation.

  “Mowbray’s righ
t,” said Lydia. “Perhaps tomorrow we can stroll down the beach and see where that cliff fall was. What do you all think?”

  “How about we sail instead?” offered Ronan. “I have a suspicion there may be a bit of a blow soon.”

  Every face turned his way at his comment.

  He held up his hand. “I’m not foretelling the future,” he grinned. “I’m not that Irish.”

  “We had a lovely day today,” said Lady Maud, her face betraying her puzzlement.

  “Indeed we did, my Lady. And may I say what a pleasure it was spending time with you alone on the ocean.” His wicked grin flashed at Sir Laurence.

  “Do I have to call you out, boy?”

  Maud chuckled. “Don’t be silly. You’d have to get up at dawn. Can you recall the last time you did that?”

  “Hmm.” Her husband pondered the question. “Good point.” He turned to Ronan. “You’re a cheeky lad, but I’ll let you live.”

  “You’re a true magnanimous gentleman, sir.”

  “I think I’ve lost track of the conversation here, and I haven’t had enough brandy to account for it,” complained Miles, with a glance at Mowbray. “Be a good brother and help me out?”

  “Of course.” Mowbray rose and took the decanter from the tray, refilling his brother’s glass. “There. Now you can lose the thread of the conversation and honestly blame it on the liquor.”

  “You are all kindness,” Miles grinned.

  “So. The weather.” Lydia attempted to retrieve the original question. “How do you know it’s going to storm, Ronan?”

  “I’m not completely sure, lass,” he answered. “But the more you sail, the more you get to see things, feel things, notice little changes here and there. Harbingers of things to come.” He shrugged. “I’ll wager if you ask a shepherd or a good farmer, they’ll tell you the same thing.”

  “I’ll agree with that assessment,” Mowbray nodded. “Weather changes can affect many items we don’t normally pay attention to. So if Ronan says a storm will be on the way, I’m quite prepared to believe him.” He glanced at the Irishman. “But not tomorrow, right?”

  “Probably not. The morning would be best for a sail, if you’re all interested. And if the storm is a big one, it might be the last chance to see the coastline as it is.”

  There was a general vote of agreement, and soon after the evening broke up as most of the ladies were tired from their adventures in the ocean.

  Mowbray lingered under the pretext of making sure all the glasses were returned to the tray. Then he blew out most of the candles and walked to the window.

  “The servants are supposed to do that, you know,” Lydia walked up beside him and rested her head against his shoulder.

  “I know.” He leaned over and let his cheek touch her hair. “You smell of the ocean.”

  “Do I?”

  “Yes, you do.” He chuckled. “One might think you got your hair wet today.”

  “If one tried to get a brush through it earlier, one might be right.”

  He half turned, and she stood straight, smiling at him, lit by the moon. “So if one were to pursue that line of thought about wet hair and the sea, one might easily suppose that you ducked your head beneath the waves.”

  “A valid deduction, sir. I am impressed at your powers of observation.” Her lips curved into a wicked smile.

  “Your approval and validation of that comment might well lead one to assume that swimming was indeed involved.”

  “Define swimming.”

  “The act of moving through water without one’s feet touching bottom.”

  “Ah.” Lydia’s expression was completely innocent.

  “And that, for a lady of our social class, is—I’m told—quite difficult, given the required garments necessary for a dip in the sea.”

  “They are quite restrictive.” She shot him a look of pure mischief.

  He swallowed, fighting the urge to take her in his arms and taste those lips. “It would be easy to overcome such restrictions, though, don’t you think?”

  She tilted her head to one side and raised a finger to her mouth, tapping it as if in deep thought. “Hmm. It might.”

  “Lydia,” he breathed, his arms finally sliding around her. “Tell me.”

  “Come to me, Mowbray, and I’ll show you.”

  *~~*~~*

  Her heart pounded as she dismissed the maid.

  The Maiden Shore staff were all extraordinarily efficient, and Millicent—who had been assigned to Lydia—had quickly learned that Miss Davenport didn’t require much in the way of attention. As long as her room was clean and tidy, and the basics accomplished, the young lady was content to take care of herself most of the time.

  Lydia didn’t know it, but she was becoming a model of the future of young ladies belowstairs, who were surprised and envious of her independent nature. The older staff shook their heads and frowned at the lack of propriety, but Millicent was thrilled to work on behalf of such a progressive guest. And also enjoyed the considerable amount of free time she found on her hands.

  Lydia was unaware of the house politics, of course. She was only aware of the cool air on her skin and the slither of her silk robe as she wrapped it around her and tied the belt.

  Standing near the window, she wondered if she’d ever get tired of the scent of the night here at Maiden Shore.

  Sweetened with the lingering fragrance of flowers and seasoned with the salty tang of the sea, it was unique and to her would always bring visions of Mowbray and the tangle of limbs on soft sheets.

  Would he come to her room? She hoped so.

  It was risky, of course. A gamble that might end up badly for both of them. Although they were in a private home, away from London and the gossip that would surely ripple through drawing rooms faster than a rogue wave rocked yachts on the Solent.

  She shut her eyes for a moment, wondering what Rose, Ivy and Prudence would say if they knew Mowbray had become her lover.

  Would they be as shocked as the rest of the world?

  Probably not, since she’d declared her intentions of taking a lover at the beginning of the summer.

  How foolish a comment that had been, she thought. The idea had developed into a goal, but she’d neglected to include the infinite amount of emotions that had accompanied it.

  It could never have been Anthony Calder, nor a suitable candidate like Will Furness. The mere thought of them seeing her without her clothing, let alone touching her and being so very intimate…no, it was untenable.

  It could only have been Mowbray, she knew. But when that had happened?

  She shook her head.

  And it meant trouble, because now she was only too aware that no other man could ever touch her that way. No other man would make her laugh, make her want to hit him and protect him, and no other man would come close to understanding her the way Mowbray did.

  Which lead to only one conclusion.

  If she were to marry, it would have to be Mowbray.

  Marriage, she knew, wasn’t something she was looking for at all. Yes, she had told Lady Susan that she was free to choose her husband, and she was. But what she hadn’t said was that she had no intention of choosing anybody. That, if she were completely honest with herself, the idea of giving up the woman she was just for the title of wife, and all that it entailed? It scared her to her toes.

  Even though she’d watched her friends fall in love and wed, and even though she’d felt envious of their happiness, she’d truly believed a lover would fill the void. And in many ways she had been right.

  Waiting for Mowbray was exciting and arousing, and she knew tomorrow morning would be filled with wonderful memories of the night before. She had seen “that” look on her own face for the first time—a glow, a smile that came from her heart, a heart filled with happiness.

  Yes, this liaison had given her what she most wanted and she eagerly awaited her lover, clad only in a frisson of silk and her own skin.

  But a nagging worry ref
used to go away.

  Would they end up having to marry simply because they’d shared a bed? She felt uncomfortable at that idea, almost as if marriage was the punishment for lovemaking.

  And oh, that was not what she wanted. Not at all.

  Resolutely, she pushed the subject aside. She needed some time to think it through, to be logical and sensible.

  And waiting almost naked for Mowbray, wasn’t the right time at all.

  The tiniest scratch on her door alerted her to his presence and he slid inside, locking the door before she could move.

  “You came,” she whispered, holding out her hands. “I’m so glad. I wasn’t sure…”

  “Hush,” he answered, smiling as he walked to her, took her hands and used them to spread her arms wide. “You knew I would.”

  She drew a breath as he closed the distance between them, still holding her arms out, and rubbed their bodies together, abrading her nipples with his loose shirt and then pressing her into the wall, his hard length finding a home between her thighs and making her groan with pleasure.

  “Mowbray,” she murmured.

  He claimed her lips and she tried to move her hands, but he held them tightly, removing them from their embrace. It was simply body to body, silk against linen, solid against yielding.

  She spread her legs, wantonly inviting the pressure of his arousal, knowing she was already growing wet from wanting him.

  His mouth took hers, slowly at first and then with more urgency, thrusting his tongue rapidly in a foreshadowing of what lay ahead.

  She duelled with him, scarcely able to breathe for the wanton cravings welling up within her body.

  Crushed against the wall, her upper body leaning backwards out of the window, she answered his call, fighting for command, giving back everything she could, until finally neither could wait.

  He groaned as he let her go, and with one single movement he loosened her robe and pushed it away, leaving her naked and breathless.