The Rakehell Regency Romance Series Boxed Set 4 (The Rakehell Regency Romance Series Boxed Sets)

by Sorcha MacMurrough

  "Thank you. I'm glad you understand. So that being said, I'm really very tired. I'd just like to get into bed, and rest. By myself," she added for emphasis.

  "Of course, dearest."

  He moved over to the bed and began to peel back the sheets, but she shook her head.

  "No, this is your chamber, and I don't wish to intrude."

  Randall looked startled at that. "Intrude? But you're my wife."

  "I know, but there is such a thing as couples spending too much time together. So if you don't mind, I would like a separate room made up for me. It is after all something most couples possess. I am not saying that I want to have one forever, but I need time to think. To adjust to the huge change of now having to share my life with you in every way. And you need time as well, for all you look so confident about our marriage."

  "I've hurt you physically, haven't I?" he said, looking near tears.

  She shook her head at once and reassured him, "No, no, not at all, Randall. Please don't look so wounded. I'm fine. I really am very grateful for all your help with my family and, well, saving me from Chauncey Howell. But I need some time alone. And time out of bed, so you can't keep dazzling me."

  "But you will talk to me, let me see you?" he asked hopefully. "Let me kiss you at least?"

  "No. Please, don't." She backed up until she reached the far wall. "I can't let you. All you do is confuse me whenever you touch me."

  "Very well," he said with a sigh. "But it will take a few moments for the servants to make the room down the hall from here as comfortable as you would wish, with a good fire and your personal effects. So please so me the honor of availling yourself of this bed and room until such time as yours is ready?"

  "Very well."

  He moved over to the bed and fluffed up the pillows, and took the coverlet down to the foot of the bed. Then he pulled back the sheets and stepped away.

  "I'll go get you some tea myself, and tell the servants to make up the room next door with everything you could possibly wish for. Lie down and rest. I promise not to take advantage."

  Exhausted now, Isolde got in the bed and pulled the covers over herself, suddenly feeling incredibly cold. Everything she had seen, heard, seemed to close in on her.

  It was all so incredible. The visions had been so strong. Especially that last one. She had never imagined....

  Her heart went out to Randall again, but she could not afford to be weak. Other women had been, and that had been their downfall. No, she had to hold herself aloof, while she got to know more about her new husband. His kisses, his amorous embraces, were far too distracting. She already knew him as a lover; she needed to know Randall Avenel as a person. Then she would know if their love were real, or simply a dazzling stirring of the loins.

  As she began to drift off to sleep, her mind started to wander back to their first morning together....

  She shifted in the bed until once more she was atop him. She let him slip slightly into her tightness, her short sharp movements moistening his tip until it glided more deeply into her. She let her palms travel down his broad expanse of chest, his rippling abdomen, his lean hips, his massive thighs which proclaimed him a magnificent horseman.

  The image of the black horse flickered again, and was still. Fiery red and gold sparks crackled all around them, and Randall let out his breath with a groaned exclamation. "God in Heaven, Isolde!"

  She was sure she would be split asunder as she jammed her hips down at the same time his powerful answering thrust surged upwards.

  She would have fallen onto his chest in a mindless frenzy if he had not clasped her in his huge hands. One hand crept up to caress her breasts in turn as she rode him hard, his body underneath hers never still as the outpouring of his passion went on and on.

  She could hear her own impassioned pleadings, the blood singing in her ears, her crying out his name. Just when she thought it was all over, he moved one hand down to caress the tiny sweet bud at the top of her thighs, and she began all over again.

  "No, Randall, we can't!" she said in a panic, her eyes flying open as her passion ran away with her yet again.

  "Take what you need, Isolde. I'm all yours. Anything you want. Every inch of my flesh, every part of my soul is yours if you'll have me."

  IIsolde clutched him fiercely, swinging herself up and down with her hands on his chest, setting a breakneck pace he did not even try to check.

  Her body was silhouetted by the light from the fireplace, and the first rays of the sun rising over the rooftops lit her body with a rosy glow. The blush of love flooded her from head to toe, and made her pulse like a goddess in his arms. She had felt her internal shudderings grow more and more savage with every stroke, and she was sure she could feel his climax only a heartbeat away.

  She held on to her sanity for one more heartbeat, then let herself go, surrendering utterly to the madness inside, the madness they made together with even the simplest touch.

  Her body and lips wantonly begged him for his own thunderous release. Her arched body sent her soaring and plummeting at last. She clasped him to her heart with every ounce of her strength, her whole body and mind revealed as she offered all of herself to him and his explosive need.

  All their other orgasms were as nothing in the face of this tempestuous onslaught. They exploded as one, the climax rushing through them both until they could scarcely breathe.

  She longed for such explosive passion again, but the very nature of it was so compelling, she simply couldn't let herself give in, not until she was more sure that Randall really did care for her, and was not simply indulging his jaded rake's palate with a new dish of the day.

  She was eager to sample the full banquet of delights that having Randall as her husband and lover had to offer. She certainly wasn't going to take the scraps from any man's table. Not Chauncey's, and not Randall's, she decided as she drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  A short time later a movement in the room awakened Isolde. It was Randall, back from his errands, carrying a piled tea tray, and some books.

  "I'm sorry I woke you."

  "The thought was kind," she said, pushing the heavy fall of auburn hair out of her eyes.

  "Would you like me to read to you while you lie down? Mother used to do it for me when I felt poorly," he offered.

  She shook her head. "Some other time. My temples are throbbing from lack of sleep."

  "Oh, yes, of course." He moved to close the shutters. "I'll blow out the candles then, shall I?"

  "Leave one."

  "Of course, my dear. Is there anything else you need?"

  "No, thank you," she said wearily. "You're being very kind, but really, there's nothing anyone can do for me at the moment except leave me to rest and think."

  "All right, I'll leave you alone then." But still he hovered anxiously.

  She looked up into his worried face. "What's wrong?"

  "You promise not to run away?"

  She sighed and shook her head. "To whom? My family have all approved of you," she said with some rancor. "And it's only through your offering financial assistance to us all that we even have a roof over our heads still."

  He shook his head and sighed. "No, I mean, not because you have nowhere to go, but because you want to stay."

  "I promise I won't run. I am no craven."

  "May I ask you one more thing?"

  "Yes," she murmured.

  "May I kiss you, just once? I find myself missing you already."

  "All right," she sighed, already nearly half-asleep.

  He tried to restrain himself, but every time his flesh was near hers, she sparked him off, enticing him to the point of frenzy.

  He groaned and let his tongue press forward, and soon he was kissing her as passionately as he had done before he had made his dire confession.

  "Oh, Isolde...." he gasped.

  "Randall!"

  She allowed herself to give in for a thrilling moment, until she realized it might just be
one of his tricks, him trying to get round her again.

  She shoved his shoulders hard. "One kiss. Now out! And don't you dare try to melt my resolve again."

  "I wasn't trying to-"

  "Out. Now."

  He sighed, but he did as she asked. "I'll see you later. For supper. Rest please, dearest. The servants will come tell you when your room is ready."

  "Thank you. Goodbye for now."

  Effectively dismissed, he grabbed a few clothes to change into to look more respectable, and departed with a sigh, leaving Isolde's lips throbbing and her heart aching for him, and herself, assailed by doubts on what should have been the happiest day of her life.

  Once Randall was decently dressed in somber black with a deep blue waistcoat the color of his lapis eyes, he went to find his wedding guests. After making some pleasant small talk with all of them, he took the young doctor aside and asked Antony Herriot to assess his mother.

  "Why, yes, of course, if you really wish it."

  Randall nodded. "I do. She's had the best specialists here day and night, for weeks, but somethings that Isolde said and did have me wondering if perhaps they did too much to her weakened constitution."

  "I see. Let me just get my bag, if I may, and I shall attend to her at once."

  Randall led the way, and hovered anxiously in the next room as the young man made a mostly silent but very thorough examination of the dowager.

  He pounced on him eagerly as he entered to wash his hands in the basin.

  "Well?"

  "A nervous affliction, some sort of crushing sense of guilt, and being run down from her grief and all the poking and prodding the other doctors have been doing."

  "That was my wife's assessment as well." He smiled slightly, amazed at the huge surge of pride those simple words filled him with.

  "Isolde is a good woman, very adept. I think your mother will begin to recover well if you just trust her. At least I hope the Dowager Lady Hazelmere will recover physically. Her feelings of loss are another matter entirely."

  He nodded. "I know. Sometimes it just feels so crushing."

  "But it helps to talk about the departed. Keep them all alive in your heart," Antony advised.

  Randall felt his flesh creep. "Them?"

  "It's not just the loss of your father and brother. It's the rest of your family, isn't it?" he guessed. "I mean, I'm not a full part of the Rakehell set, but I remember many of you above me at school and-"

  Randall nodded and sighed. "Yes, those were happy times. A lost innocence that can never be replaced. And now I've stolen away your cousin's as well, damn me for a swiving fool."

  Antony gave him a long look. "Yet many a good woman has been the making of a foolish man. I've never cherished Isolde in that regard, but if you don't mind my saying, her father was too damned noble for his own good, trying to marry her off to a distant relation like Howell just because they frittered away their own fortune and pressed for the match."

  "I see. I had wondered why he would cast such a pearl before that particular swine."

  Antony's lips twitched at the apt simile. "You're a man of the world, my lord, so I don't mind telling you, Howell has had more chances than most other men in the world and he's squandered them at every chance. I hear whispers about him from amongst the women in the clinic which really made me fear for her."

  Randall nodded. "Aye, I've heard similar. He's a distant cousin of mine as well, you see. So that made me all the more convinced I should marry her."

  "Thank you. I couldn't intervene on her behalf, but assumed once her father had died that she would have a reprieve due to the customary two years of mourning. She's a devout girl with a great deal of family feeling.

  "I had no idea Howell was trying to force her to become his mistress until Stephen told me just now. Damned bad business. All I can say is, she's made a lucky escape, and thank you. Not least because you've had to overlook what her father did to yours. Not that it was ever personal, but-"

  At Randall's scowl he quickly changed the subject.

  "In any event, I trust you to do the right thing by Isolde. In turn you can be certain that she will see your mother well as soon as possible."

  "Thank you, Dr. Herriot, for trying to put my mind at ease on a number of points."

  "Call me Antony, please."

  "And I'm Randall."

  "Yes, I recall. So, all I can say is, give her time. Give them both time," he added after a moment. "And do send for me at any time if you need my services as a family friend, though of course, Blake Sanderson is the head of our clinic, with his own fine practice."

  "It's good of you to offer. Yes, I know Blake of old, of course. He was with Father after the- Well, Mother called him in. He's yet another Rakehell, though I've not seen much of him since he came back from the war and got married."

  "No, indeed, he was married to his work before he wed the lovely Arabella, and now divides his time between London and Somerset, where his close relations the Jeromes live."

  "I see. Anyway, thank you for the suggestions, but I believe Isolde's loving kindness and compassion is exactly what my mother needs to help her get well again. She seems to have done much better than any of the other arrogant fools who have come here to poke and prod."

  "And if I might suggest an Indian healer as well? Blake's friend Eswara Paignton Jerome is a remarkable woman, and has become a very good friend of mine through her volunteering at the clinic. She sometimes comes to London for supplies, though her clients are mainly in Bath and nearby Somerset. All Indian medicine is based on balance, and the healing power of touch. You might learn something from her too. Isolde has met her, and finds her fascinating."

  "Hm, the healing power of touch, eh? That might explain the uncanny effect she has upon me." At the young doctor's blush he said quickly, "All she has to do is hold my hand and I feel such peace."

  "I'm glad. I think she feels the same about you. She was certainly glowing today at your wedding, the happiest I've ever seen her look."

  Randall sighed. "Thank you. I'm going to do my best. But I've been a terrible rake, and I'm not sure I can make her-"

  Antony patted him on the shoulder. "No one makes another's happiness. You share it."

  "I hope in time I can be certain she has no regrets about marrying me in such a manner."

  The doctor gave him a long, assessing look. "Even if she ever did, Isolde is no quitter. She has strong principles and passions, which I'm sure carry over into her personal, more intimate relations. You have no cause to ever doubt her fidelity, I'm certain. Nor her honesty. She's fiercely loyal and protective of those she loves, and will make an admirable mother in time."

  Randall nodded, and began to escort his guest back down the hall to return him to the rest of the family. "I'm looking forward to it, and dreading it as well. For then I shall never have her to myself."

  "Hmm, you won't anyway with your mother. And I believe there are children?"

  "Yes, but they are in the country, and I had not thought-"

  Antony grinned. "You mark my words. Isolde does nothing by half measures. Prepare to have your life transformed."

  At Randall's warm look, he added, "Even more than it already has been."

  Isolde wondered at the complete transformation in her life as she lay staring up at the canopy in her new chamber, a fresh, almost girlish looking room in white with lavender accents that reminded her quite a bit of her old chamber back home.

  She had had a short, refreshing nap, but the longing to see her husband again was almost more than she could bear. It was like the ache of a lost limb.

  She told herself to stop being so absurd, but the nagging sensation persisted no matter how much she tried to tell herself all was well, that he was no doubt just down the corridor, and she could get up and see him in a moment.

  But her languid limbs seemed locked to the bed, and with some sense of shame she stroked her stomach, pressing it. She could still feel the imprint of his body on hers. She tried
to tell herself this was wrong, that she was a wanton who should never have done one half the things she had. But it had been so blissful....

  Randall popped his head around the door a short time later, and smiled broadly when he saw she was awake. She moved her hand away from her tingling flesh with a guilty start.

  "Did you sleep, dear?"

  "I did. But, well, I missed you."

  "I'm glad to hear it." He came over to the bed and got in on top of the covers, swearing inwardly that he was going to try to exercise a modicum of restraint. "I was with Mother and Antony. He said the same as you, rest and care, and no more cupping and purging."