He looked at the tattoo. “I have others on my back. I hope you will be comfortable with them. I know they are not something polite society approves of, but I wear them with pride.”
She leaned in and placed a tender kiss on the tattoo on his shoulder. “You have never struck me as a man who makes his decisions based on what polite society dictates. That is one of the things I love about you,” she replied, her fingers tracing over the lines of the tattoo. The colors of the ink were as fascinating as the muscles which they covered. She chortled.
“What?” he asked.
She met his gaze, smiling. “I think that no matter where you or I are, I will be mentally undressing you. If you look at me when we are dancing, or even in company, and you see a soft smile on my face, know that I am thinking of you as you are right at this very moment. And wishing I could do this to you.” The fingers of her right hand traced a long trail over the muscles of his chest, down his stomach, before finally coming to a halt at his hard cock. It jutted proudly out to greet her. She took him in hand and began to stroke the length of him.
He took a shuddering breath. “Lavinia. I need you.”
“Let me love you first,” she murmured. She kneeled in front of him and took his cock into her mouth. He speared his fingers into her hair as her tongue ran over his sweet spot, just below the tip. His hips bucked against her mouth, and he let out a low growl. She had him just where she wanted.
Tonight, would be different from their other moments together; she was determined to set the pace. She teased him and brought him to the edge, then pulled back and let him relax. Once his breathing had slowed, she began the sensual assault all over again. Slowly, but surely, she brought him under her command.
When she released Reid’s cock for the third time, she sat back on her haunches. His eyes were closed, his chest rising and falling as he sucked in air. It was time.
She got to her feet and took a firm grip of his manhood. He bit gently on her lips, holding her bottom lip in his teeth before releasing it.
“Is there something you want, Reid?” she purred in his ear.
“I want you. I want my fiancée,” he replied, his voice strained.
She blew a hot breath in his ear, then nipped at his earlobe. “Haven’t you learned from your lessons, Lord Follett? You need to ask your teacher for exactly what you want.”
He swallowed. “Of course. Madam teacher, may I please fuck you until you scream my name?”
“Only if you take me hard.”
When he pulled her against him in a searing kiss and thrust his tongue into her mouth,
she knew she had taken him to the edge of his control. Reid tossed her onto the bed and followed her down.
The fevered look in his eyes matched his movements. All manners and polite behavior were now thrown aside. He pushed her legs open with his knee. Then, with one long, hard thrust, he buried his cock deep inside her.
Lavinia lay back in the bed and exalted. This was utter perfection.
Reid began to ride her. Every stroke built more and more pressure within her. He ground his hips against her, and she dug her fingers into his arse.
“Harder,” she pleaded.
He buried his face in the base of her neck and she felt the sting of his teeth. This was a new sensation, but the pain made the whole encounter even more exquisite. His thrusts now became a frenzy. She had one moment of wondering how much more her body could handle before her whole world exploded.
“Reid!”
At the sound of his name, he rose above her and thrust in deep, one last time. Then he stilled. She opened her eyes. His mouth was open on a silent scream; his eyes held closed. The passion etched on his face was a divine sight.
“I love you,” she said.
He bent his head and opened his eyes. He studied her for a moment, his gaze roaming over her face. Then he softly smiled.
“I’ve spent my entire life wondering what love looked like, and now I see that it is you. I love you, Lavinia. Thank God I found you.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Lavinia was true to her word. After Reid took Jonathan to the market to buy their breakfast the following morning, she made him take his singing lesson.
Unlike other mornings, Jonathan sat and watched. Having been informed that Lavinia was to marry Reid, he was reluctant to let his new father out of his sight. He sat quietly on a chair, chewing on his fruit bun as Reid worked his way through the vocal scales.
“I have business matters to attend to this morning but will come back later today when you have finished with your other students and bring the two of you to my home so you can see the house. I would like very much for you to meet my sister, Eliza. In the meantime, I will inform her of our happy news,” he said.
“Will you come and live here?” asked Jonathan.
Lavinia bent down and took hold of his hand. “We will be moving to live with Reid at his home in Windmill Street. He has a big house with a garden. And you shall be able to attend school.”
Jonathan’s eyes grew wide. Reid watched with interest as the prospect of a new life dawned on his face. He would have to stop thinking of Jonathan as just being Lavinia’s son. He wanted to be a full father to the boy, to do more than simply honor the memory and sacrifice of Peter Jones.
It was odd; he had never imagined himself having paternal feelings, but he was now possessed of a fierce need to protect Jonathan. To see him happy and flourish.
Reid collected his coat and headed for the door. The sooner he went home, the sooner he could start to make arrangements for Lavinia to become his wife. He waited for her to finish with Jonathan.
She rose and came to his side. “I shall have a little talk with Jonathan before you return. There will be a lot of changes in his life once we marry, including having servants. I need to explain to him about where I come from. I am sure at some point in the future he will meet people who know me, and I want him to be prepared.”
It had never occurred to Reid that Lavinia would have kept her past a secret from her son. But, on reflection, it made sense. Growing up in reduced circumstances because your grandfather thought too little of your sire would have been hard on the boy, if he had known. Lord Bray’s refusal to have anything to do with his daughter was his loss. His grandson would be raised under Reid’s roof, and be given the love of a family that he so richly deserved.
He put on his coat, stealing one last kiss from Lavinia before he stepped out into the hall. At the bottom of the stairs, he donned his hat and nodded good morning to a passerby.
Life was good.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
With a spring in his step, Reid walked home. His head was too full of plans for him to take a hack. The fresh morning air and the busy bustle of London appealed to his happy mood. By the time he reached Windmill Street, he had a long list of things which he needed to address over the next few days, the first order being to secure a marriage license.
Would Lavinia want a full church wedding? He doubted she had been given much of a service when she married her first husband. The question of what to do about her family would have to be dealt with, but he would let her take the lead on that matter. Whatever she decided, he would support her.
Then there was the matter of a betrothal ring. Would she want one of the Follett estate pieces or a new setting?
The weeks ahead would be very busy with both wedding and concert preparations. He couldn’t wait to tell Eliza of his and Lavinia’s engagement.
“Ah, just the person I need to see,” he said, stepping through the front door of his home.
Eliza was standing in the foyer. She had her coat and hat on and looked like she was headed out. “Where the bloody hell have you been?”
He came to an abrupt halt. Callum appeared from out of the ballroom. He too was dressed to go out.
A jolt of surprise hit Reid when he saw Callum’s face. It was morning, and Callum appeared to be stone-cold sober.
“Where the bloody hell ha
ve you been?” asked Callum.
He looked from Callum to Eliza. “I went to see my singing teacher,” he replied.
Callum rolled his eyes. “We meant last night. You left the party before the Noble Lords were supposed to play. Then we couldn’t find you.”
Reid frowned. Callum was in no position to take anyone to task over missing a performance and letting his fellow Noble Lords down.
“I told Owen where I was going. I went to see Lavinia to straighten some things out. Why didn’t he tell you?”
“Because Owen started a violent brawl with one of the Italians over the favors of a young lady. Then he managed to get himself arrested. He is in prison. The Noble Lords didn’t play last night because Kendal and I spent the evening trying to find someone who could get Owen released,” replied Callum.
Owen was the son of an earl; his arrest didn’t make sense. At worst, he should have been given a stern talking to by someone and then told to go home. For all their at times, reckless behavior, Reid, and his friends had never seen the inside of a prison.
Until now.
All the gaiety and lightness of mood fled Reid. He would have to leave his grand announcement until after they had sprung Owen from jail.
Callum looked at Eliza, and an odd look was exchanged between them. Eliza huffed angrily at him. “Don’t tell me what to do. You don’t have the right.”
“No? Well then, when you have a moment, Liz, you, and I should have a private discussion about rights and promises. You may find that my opinion differs somewhat to yours,” replied Callum.
Reid frowned. There was something at play here and he didn’t like the sound of it. The idea of Callum and his sister having any sort of private encounter set his nerves on edge. If anyone was going to be having a private conversation with Eliza, it was himself. But first, they had to get Owen released.
Callum headed for the front door, holding his hand up in warning as Eliza made to follow. He kept his gaze on her. “Reid, you need to speak to your sister. Tell her that prison is no place for a woman of gentle birth.”
“I haven’t heard you complaining when I have come to haul your carcass off the streets of St Giles at four in the morning,” she bit back.
The rookery of St Giles was the home of thieves, murderers, and every dangerous villain in London. Had Eliza been travelling those dangerous streets in the wee hours of the morning to bring Callum home?
With the addition of a levelheaded woman like Lavinia in the house, perhaps he could save his sister. The lovelorn look on Eliza’s face told him he was in for a major battle if he tried to tackle the problem on his own.
“Eliza, you are to stay here. Callum is right; prison is no place for a woman of your standing. We will get Owen released. Once it’s done, you and I need to have a private discussion,” he said.
Fortunately, Eliza remained behind without further protest. Reid and Callum climbed into the Follett town carriage. Reid stared out the window, watching the midmorning bustle of London as they made their way toward Newgate Prison.
Callum at least had the good sense not to attempt any further discussion about himself and Eliza. A sober Callum was a rational man. It was a pity that the occurrence was a rarity.
“What exactly happened last night?” asked Reid.
“Well, Owen had been bleating about one of Marco’s friends. I think the chap’s name is Antonio, but his English is very limited. From what I understand, the blackguard is only friendly with women, and he lets his hands do the talking for him,” said Callum.
Reid waved a dismissive hand. He couldn’t care less about Antonio. He wanted to know how the son of the Marquess of Lowe had ended up in jail, and why he was still there.
“Owen, as you know, has had quite a thing for a particular young woman of late. Not that anything can come of it, mind you, since he already has a fiancée and the lady in question is married. Anyway, he saw Antonio talking to her last night and his brain seems to have exploded.”
“Yes, I saw her. Pretty thing. Not the usual sort of woman Owen chases after,” Reid replied.
The young woman had been dressed in a green and black striped gown, and while she appeared to be encouraging Antonio’s attentions, she still held herself rather stiffly. All the signs of her being inexperienced in the art of straying from the marital bed were right there in front of any man. Why Owen was toying with such a woman made little sense, as he usually preferred bedding women who were thoroughly experienced in the ways of adultery.
“Well, after you left, he decided to go and have a word with Antonio. When I say a word, I mean he started throwing punches. The evening’s guest of honor took great umbrage at the fact that he had two men brawling in his ballroom. He called for the authorities, some of whom were already present as guests. The next thing any of us knew, Owen was being hauled off to Newgate,” said Callum.
“This was not how my day was supposed to be playing out,” muttered Reid.
Before leaving Windmill Street, he had instructed a footman to go to Craven Street and inform Lavinia that an urgent matter had arisen. He would send further word once he had managed to have it resolved. He sure as hell was not going to tell his brand new fiancée that he was off to Newgate Prison in order to spring another member of the Noble Lords from a cell.
With a motley selection of houseguests currently in residence, he was beginning to wonder whether it might be sensible to hold off on the wedding until the end of the summer. However, the thought of having to wait another month before he could call Lavinia his wife held no appeal. At this stage, it was highly likely he would be throwing Callum out well before the summer was over. Owen may not be too far behind.
Newgate Prison loomed into view. Reid shifted in his seat, ready to alight and go into battle on behalf of his friend. As the carriage slowed, he got to his feet. By the time they came to a halt, he had the door open.
The second his feet hit the cobblestones; he was assaulted by an overwhelming foul stench. Tears came to his eyes. “Oh! Oh! What the hell is that smell?”
Lord Kendal Grant strode over to join Reid and Callum. Unsurprisingly, he looked just a tad out of sorts. “Nice of you to finally join us. That odoriferous joy, my friend, is a mixture of rotten fish, unwashed bodies, and human excrement.”
Reid shuddered. “Have you been here all night?”
Kendal nodded. He opened his coat and revealed himself to still be dressed in his formal evening attire. Knowing Kendal, the rest of them, including the currently incarcerated Owen, would be made to pay for having caused such inconvenience to his night. “I have just come from the main office of the jail. Owen is due to be transferred to the Old Bailey this morning and charged with affray if we cannot get matters resolved. You need to go and sort this out.”
“Why me? Why couldn’t you have paid someone a coin or two last night?” Reid replied. He shouldn’t always have to be the one to clean up other people’s messes.
“Because apparently the terms of him being allowed to walk free include having a member of the nobility vouch for his future behavior as well as paying a small fine to the prison governor. His own father visited here late last night, and rather than resolve matters, the swine left his son to rot. Which leaves you as the only other member of the nobility who we could count on to come to Newgate. They want someone with a title, which means a second son is not enough.”
The Marquess of Lowe had left his son and heir to languish in prison? There went any hope that Reid might have had in getting Owen out of his house anytime soon. “Why would Lord Lowe do such a thing?”
“Because from what half the prison population overheard last night when the marquess took to berating his son, Owen has been a thorough shit and he must be punished,” said Callum.
They headed toward the prison entrance. Reid stopped several times and dry-retched. He was about to ask the obvious question of why anyone would want to live here, but then thought the better of it.
“Here.” Kendal passed a small bal
l of cloth to Reid, who promptly turned his nose up at it. It was taking all his strength not to empty his stomach on the stone flagging. Callum accepted the gift instead and happily held it to his nose.
“What is it?” asked Reid.
“A pomander. You breathe in the scent every time you think you are on the verge of casting up your accounts. They do quite a brisk trade in them on the nearby corner,” replied Kendal. He pointed to a couple of women holding baskets and they waved at him.
Reid looked at Callum who gave him a brisk shake of the head. He would not be handing over the stomach-saving pomander any time soon. Reid was on his own with the foul smell.
Once inside the prison, they were ushered into the prison governor’s office. The governor himself was not in attendance, so a junior official met them. He was polite to Kendal and Callum, noting their previous visit. It was only when Reid introduced himself as Viscount Follett that the man’s demeanor changed. “Ah, Lord Follett. Charles Smyth at your service. That is Smyth with a ‘y’ and not an ‘i’.”
Callum snorted at the pompous man.
Reid shot him an angry look. “Forgive my friend, Mister Smyth. He is lacking in sleep and therefore good humor. I understand you are a very busy man, what with a whole prison to manage, so if you could spare me a moment of your precious time, I would be most grateful.”
The man’s face lit up. “Of course, your lordship. It would be my pleasure,” he replied, dipping into a low bow.
Over Mister Smyth’s lowered head, Reid held a finger to his lips. Kendal and Callum took the clear message and went and sat outside in the hall.
“Now, Mister Smyth, what do you require of me?” Reid asked.
The junior governor raised his head and met Reid’s gaze. It was not every day that a man such as him got to dictate terms to a lord of the land. From the soft smile which appeared on his lips, Reid knew Mister Smyth was going to milk the moment for all it was worth.
Reid: A Regency Rockstars Book Page 19
