The Rakehell Regency Romance Collection Volume 2

by MacMurrough, Sorcha

  "Good afternoon, Alexander."

  "This is a wonderful bed. A very fine mattress."

  She laughed with delight at his little joke, but gasped as he moved deeply within her. "Oh, Alexander, you can't..."

  His last lovemaking had been desperate and urgent. Now he moved leisured and slow, with long, deep sensual strokes which drove her to new peaks of delight. Torrid kisses and his magical hands soon reduced her to a quivering mass of need.

  She clutched his buttocks, writhing her hips, urging him to touch just that right spot, the elusive seat of sensation which set her soaring.

  He found it easily, as she knew he would. He forced himself to hold back as she surrendered to the overwhelming pleasure. When she had quieted, he began all over again.

  "My love, are you sure?"

  He moved his hips by way of reply. Rising up to meet him, they matched kiss for kiss, stroke for stroke, until finally, they both gasped and gave way to the ultimate release.

  "I love you, Sarah," he panted.

  "I love you, Alexander."

  At last he was able to move. He rolled off her, laughed shakily, and swung his legs out of the bed. "Goodness, I hate to think what Caleb and Jenny are going to say about this." He felt around the furniture, and vanished behind the screen in the corner.

  "They care about both of us. They won't mind," she said, crossing her fingers and praying it would be true.

  She rose and found her wrapper, then handed him his silk robe. "I'll go down and get the boiler lit, and come up with some food."

  "No, don't bother. I'll eat downstairs in a minute. I just want something to drink." He emerged from behind the screen and smiled at her.

  "Coffee?" she asked, giving him a peck on the lips.

  "Mmm. And yes to the coffee too."

  "Get back in bed and rest. I'll return shortly."

  She padded down to the bathing chamber for a moment to perform a quick morning toilette. Then she took a deep breath and steeled herself to enter the kitchen.

  To her infinite relief, Caleb and Jenny acted as if her spending half the day in bed was the most natural thing in the world.

  "Good morrow to you, Miss."

  "And you, Jenny."

  "Coffee for you and Mr. Alexander?"

  "That would be lovely."

  "The water is hot. I've had the boiler on for a while."

  "Thank you, Caleb."

  "Jenny and me are going to go out back for some vegetables for dinner, so we'll leave you and Mr. Alexander alone. Can he manage with his bath, do you think?"

  She blushed. "Yes, I think so. Thank you."

  "There is a pot pie in the oven, just about done, and some potatoes in the warmer, and fresh bread and cheese all waiting for you in the dining room."

  "Thank you, Jenny. You're a treasure."

  The old woman smiled at her and vanished out the back door.

  Sarah chuckled to herself, and went up to give Alexander his coffee. He drank two cups thirstily, then pulled her to him for a kiss.

  "Were Jenny and Caleb upset, do you think?" he asked quietly.

  "Quite the opposite. They have everything ready for us downstairs, and have gone out into the garden to give us some privacy."

  He chuckled. "How sweet."

  "Mmm, sweet." She savored the kiss. "The water is hot."

  "I'll let you go first."

  "We can go together."

  "So long as you promise me you won't, well, soap me all over."

  "Complaining already?" she said with a light laugh.

  He shook his head vehemently. "Not in this lifetime. I just don't want to hurt you. Overdo things, or not be sensitive to your delicate state. I fear I've already overdone things for you."

  "I've discovered muscles and parts of me I never knew I had, but you certainly didn't hurt me. You won't. I adore every minute we're together, every inch of your flesh, especially when it's inside of me."

  He shuddered with barely suppressed desire. He had all to do not to drag her back into the bed and fill her once more. She stripped the bed of its sheets, which showed ample evidence of what had been lost and found last night. She took them down with her to wash and hang to dry anywhere but on the line outside the vicarage.

  Then it was their turn to be washed. They soaped each other everywhere, but a different kind of hunger beckoned despite the fleshly temptations, so they dried each other off and promised they would continue the eager exploration of each other's bodies later.

  Once Sarah was dressed, she went out to put the food on the table while Alexander shaved. As they dined, she tried to keep the conversation on neutral topics. She had promised not to pry, so she wouldn't.

  "I still have that pile of letters to read through, and we ought to go visit the Millers, to reassure them that you're fine."

  "Good. After we eat. For now I just want to sit here and bask in the warmth of being with you like this." He took her hand.

  "Like what?" she whispered, squeezing his fingers lightly.

  "So warm and happy. So in love with you I feel like I'm going to explode from joy."

  "Funny, I feel the same way too. It's wonderful."

  "Mmm, so is this food. Come, darling, eat up. You need your strength after all the rampaging last night. Or was it marauding?"

  She giggled. "Yes, I do believe the word was marauding."

  As soon as they had eaten, she gathered their outerwear and helped get him ready. He took her arm and held her close. She wondered at the wisdom of going out with him in public looking as he did. Every move and gesture seemed to connote that they were lovers. In the end she put a brave face on it and told herself she didn't care who knew how intimate they had become. While they strolled down the lane, she talked of Bath.

  "Now that the shearing is done, there's no reason why we can't go at the end of the week."

  "No reason except that you've neglected your parish duties because of me."

  "Not at all. We've been busy, you know."

  "But they need you here."

  "You need me too. It will only be for a fortnight or so. Where's the harm?"

  He shrugged. "I suppose."

  "If you don't want to go, you have only to say," she remarked, wondering at the change in him.

  "I would love to go, but I also love it here." He sighed, and added a short time later, "And I'll admit to being afraid."

  "Afraid of what?" she asked softly.

  "Going out into the world, of things changing between us, Sarah. You not being happy with me as I am. Being ashamed of me. Me bringing shame down upon you because of what we've become to each other."

  She halted in mid-stride and turned to face him. She grasped both his shoulders and shook him lightly. "It won't change, Alexander. Except to keep getting better. We don't have to go. But the waters at Bath are supposed to be most salutary. Immersing yourself twice a day, plus good food and walks and company, will do wonders for you, I'm sure. We can go to concerts and lectures, even the theater if you think you will enjoy it.

  "But the main thing is to help your back. We can wait a few weeks if you like. However, you need some new clothes now that you're filling out again, and nothing very important seems to be happening here that Jenny and Caleb can't take care of whilst we are away. And I could never, ever be ashamed of you and what we've shared. I love you."

  His tempestuous expression calmed somewhat. "If you really think the Baths will help..."

  "I'm sure. We have nothing to lose by trying, do we?"

  "No, I suppose not."

  She could still see his doubts clearly written on his face. "I tell you what, we'll talk about it later. Wait to see how you feel at the start of next week. I can write to the Duke's housekeeper at any time."

  After their walk, they went into the village to look in on Sarah's special cases, and to say hello to Mrs. Miller. Alexander gave her a hand with the garden again, and afterwards they went for chocolate at the bakery.

  Quite a few of the women wanted
an introduction to the handsome gentleman they had seen the spinsterish bluestocking Sarah Deveril with a few days before. She spoke with the ladies cordially, while he pleasantly inquired after their health.

  "We haven't seen you for an age, Sarah. Do you want to come with us to look at fabrics?" fluff-brained little Miss Minton asked, looking at Alexander as though she would be more than glad to examine his yards.

  "Perhaps another time," she hedged.

  "Oh, do please join us," Miss Agnews begged, simpering up at Alexander.

  "We might as well, as long as we're here, my dear. A woman can never have too many gowns," Alexander said.

  "Or a man too many shirts and cravats and waistcoats. Though some men would do better without," one of the other women tittered.

  "Very well, Miss Treeves, you've convinced me," Alexander consented with a smile.

  He took Sarah's arm and led her across the street.

  "You don't have to do this, you know," she whispered.

  "I can tell by your voice you'd like to have a look."

  "For you, yes."

  "Very good. You can have my opinion instantly."

  "But in front of all these vultures?" she whispered worriedly.

  He laughed. "If I can pass muster with them, I can pass muster with anyone."

  "But they're going to know, and will gossip everywhere."

  Alexander shrugged. "We'll all just have to get used to it, won't we?"

  "You don't mind?"

  "Not if you don't, dearest. About me being blind, or being your lover."

  "I don't mind anything, my love, so long as you're happy," she said firmly, squeezing his arm tightly against her breasts for a brief second.

  He nodded. "I am happy, darling. Just tell me what to expect in the shop, and I'll do my best."

  "Two steps up. Tables on either side of a long aisle. I'll have to tell you the colors."

  She watched in fascination as he ran an unobtrusive finger over the fabrics as he walked past, and was able to tell her what they were in an instant.

  "Something like this one for the shirts," he said, picking up a gorgeous snowy linen.

  "And these for the waistcoats and cravats," he said, selecting some very fine silks.

  "They are wonderful. And just the right color for your gorgeous dark looks."

  "And some fabric for a new gown for you?" he suggested, moving over to the next table. "I think this spotted muslin, and this jaconet."

  She was startled at how well he was able to identify the fabrics. "The spotted is fine. It's white. The jaconet is primrose, and would make me look rather sallow."

  "This one, then?"

  "A lovely rose damask. Yes, just the thing."

  The women who had invited her to enter watched in fascination and envy as they bought the fabrics they fancied and moved on to the trimmings.

  He felt the lace, and could tell the quality of each of them without hesitation. She chose the buttons for his waistcoats, and pronounced herself finished.

  "Stockings and so on?"

  "No need. Some gloves for you, perhaps?"

  He chose some fine black kid ones in a trice, and an elegant cotton pair for dancing.

  Sarah confirmed that they were white, and had the shopkeeper wrap the purchases. She furtively took the money out of her reticule and palmed it to Alexander. He paid for the purchases without so much as fumbling, and took his change with equal skill.

  Once they had chatted with the other women and the shopkeeper for a short time, they said goodbye, and stepped out into the street.

  "That was a most remarkable performance, Alexander."

  "I have the feeling I've done this before."

  She nodded. "I would say so. The only thing you didn't get was the color. But you got the fabric and the quality immediately."

  "So I suppose I was in trade?"

  "Unless you had an entire harem of mistresses," she said a trifle waspishly.

  He shook his head. "Do I strike you as a rake?"

  "No, actually. Despite all we've shared in bed, no."

  "Glad to hear it," he said dryly, "though some men might be less than flattered."

  "I have no complaints, darling. I'm just trying to grasp who you really are. A wealthy merchant is my best guess."

  "Then why go to war?"

  She shrugged and put her arm around his waist. "I don't know. The same reasons Jonathan did? To be patriotic?"

  "Or because I had a terrible marriage."

  "It could be," she admitted quietly, trying to ignore the jealous surge which nearly choked her.

  "I just wonder, if she's alive, what she's done to try to find me."

  "If she even bothered," Sarah said with a sigh, then immediately regretted how dismissive her words sounded. "I mean, if you were unhappy, and she didn't hear from you for a while, she might assume you were dead, or that you had deserted her."

  "Unless she told me to leave. Or knew why I left."

  "We don't have to talk about this if it upsets you," she said stoutly, her tone betraying her own distress.

  He shifted the parcels he was carrying, and got a firmer grip on her arm. "I only care because I want to marry you as soon as possible, Sarah. The only reason I would want to find the lady in question, if she's still alive, is to get a divorce. Please believe me."

  "Yet you must have cared about her once. Loved her?" she added in a tiny voice.

  Alexander squeezed her arm. "If I ever did, I have no such memory of that sensation. Or if I cared about her, it wasn't love. It might have been a business affair, an arranged marriage. They're common enough.

  "Perhaps I didn't know better, until I realized there was a great deal I was missing in my marriage. I don't have any recollection of warmth, companionship, delight. None of what I've shared with you in the few short days since we met. Since we've become lovers."

  She risked one question. "Have you any recollections of your sons?"

  He paused. "Fun, happiness, then disappointment, anger. Grief, and relief, and shame at being relieved. I didn't blame them, but I hated Marielle for making a fool of me."

  "So you think she tricked you into marrying her?"

  "That's always possible. If I thought she cared about me, or I had compromised her in some way. Then I found out she was unfaithful, with a man her father didn't approve of."

  "But he approved of you?"

  "Of course," he said promptly, with a hint of aristocratic hauteur. "A good Catholic family, a long line of noblemen stretching back for centuries, closely associated with the monarchy. Of course the Revolution changed all that, but we had family holdings in Portugal, Spain and England that we were able to use as bases of operations to help the emigres fleeing from the Terror. Gather information to help the English send them packing back to their own country."

  He shuddered then, as though the information had been wrung from him by force.

  She digested this startling burst of information briefly before asking, "And your wife's lover?"

  "A Bonapartist sympathizer. Glad Spain had allied itself with France to crush poor little Portugal. He had to be got rid of," he said in a cold tone so unlike his usual one that she shivered despite the heat of the day.

  "And Marielle?" she asked in a chilled whisper.

  He clutched his head, dropping their packages. She clung onto him as he groaned, and tried to prevent him from falling into the road. She thanked God that at least they were not in the center of Brimley.

  "Come, darling, sit down on this rock," she urged, dragging him to the side of the road.

  Alexander sat down heavily, panting and gritting his teeth, his head buried in his hands.

  Despite the sun beating down on them, she felt frozen to the bone, and wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing the upper parts with both hands to stop her shivering.

  Well, why not? The Revolution had affected many families. He would have been a small boy when his parents had been forced to flee France. They had made a new life for
themselves in England, had had extensive holdings in the Iberian Peninsula. He had been able to work and live in a number of countries with his language skills. It was logical for him to be a merchant. It all made sense to her now.