The Rakehell Regency Romance Collection Volume 2

by MacMurrough, Sorcha

  "Yes. Like our love, which will last forever, if we just take things one day at a time. Share everything we can."

  The gold bracelets around her wrists seemed to vibrate with a hidden flame. Her palms almost ached for the feel of him, and she reached out to embrace him, touching his left shoulder.

  He flew back against the sofa, almost toppling right over it until she caught him by the arm and pulled him to her.

  She stared at him in alarm. "What is it?"

  "I don't know," he said with a shaky laugh. "I think it's my shoulder. It pains me a great deal sometimes. The shell fragment is buried so deeply within they thought it best to leave it. I suppose it just spasmed again."

  He took a shaky breath and smiled at her concerned expression. "Whilst we're on the subject, can I just warn you now that I'm not a pretty picture like Parks or Stewart without my clothes on. I made my way up the ranks from Private, and took my fair share of punishment from a vicious sergeant."

  She blushed and looked away. "I understand. It doesn't matter. I love the man you are, all of you, no matter what's happened in the past."

  His heart soared at her words. He knew he ought to tell her about his first wife, his past, but the blood pounding in his veins demanding some sort of solace impelled him onwards.

  "I think our ten minutes is almost up, so if you don't mind not talking for a few minutes…"

  "Of course not. I need to thank you for the lovely gifts." She handed the ring box back to him for safe-keeping and flashed him a warm smile. "And I think it only fair to warn you now I've left off my stockings and drawers."

  Will nearly swooned as she raised her skirts to show him and pressed herself into his arms. Their desire was like a shower of white hot sparks swirling around them.

  Their hands roved everywhere, their caresses even more thrillingly intimate than in the cave. Will thrilled her with his fingers deep inside her. It took every ounce of his willpower to hold back from completing himself within her lush body.

  His desire was raging so badly he simply had to get some relief. He grasped her hand and squeezed it over the top of him. She stroked the velvety head eagerly as they both shuddered to climax.

  He had enough presence of mind to mop their palms with his handkerchief and stuff it back in his pocket as they heard footsteps approaching.

  But when she raised his hand to her mouth to lick and suckle both of their still-damp fingers he lost his sanity completely.

  Parks had to almost pull them apart when he entered a short time later, alarmed that he had not got an answer to his repeated taps at the door.

  "I say! Steady on, you two!" He covered his eyes before he saw more of his friends than he wanted. "One more day, I promise. No, stop that."

  Will released her at last, shook his head, and looked at Elizabeth in confusion.

  He had no idea what demon gripped him when he so much as touched her, but it drove him mercilessly.

  Elizabeth had felt a new sense of her own power as she'd kissed hard him, and was most disappointed when her innermost desires were once more thwarted.

  Finally they managed to get themselves into some sort of order and calm. But just to be on the safe side, Parks kept them at arm's length all night before the rest of the household was treated to such an ardent display.

  She tried to behave, but her flesh crackled with desire. "The cave, tonight," she whispered as Will was leaving. "At eight. Just for a little while."

  "No, love, no," he murmured urgently. "We must wait. I'm not having my wedding night there. Not for your first time. Please darling, forget about the cave."

  "On the beach then."

  "No, darling. One more night is all I'm asking. Please."

  She pouted, but once he kissed her, she nodded. "I shall see you tomorrow morning, then."

  "Aye, my love. This time tomorrow, you shall be my wife in every way."

  Elizabeth knew she was only imagining it, but it was almost as if the gold bracelets winked.

  Chapter Twenty

  The following morning dawned bright a clear, an late summer's day in Ireland which bathed everything in a warm glow.

  Elizabeth rose early to have a long soak and some toast and tea to soothe her nerves. She also wanted some private time. Everyone was trying to be most helpful, but if one more person offered to brush her hair or help with her train she would scream.

  She dressed herself carefully, and only then did she call Charlotte and Vanessa in to survey her appearance.

  Elizabeth's wedding gown set off her beauty to perfection. It was pure white muslin with lavender embroidery on the bodice, hem, and sleeves. The sleeves were frothy confections in their own right, split and tied with matching lavender ribbons. Her hair was a shimmering mass of jet ringlets in a simple pearl and gold filigree diadem, her jewels a small pearl choker with matching gold and pearl earbobs. She was about to pick up the gold bracelets Will had given her, but put them back in the box and lifted her pearl ones instead.

  She shivered as his gifts sparkled at her sensually, almost demanding to be put on. She shook her head at the fanciful notion and turned away from the dresser.

  Her brother's gift to her had been a lavender silk reticule decorated with seed pearls, and matching slippers and gloves.

  "They were intended for your birthday," he told her with a fond smile when he arrived a short time later to see if she was ready. "But somehow I think that you'd like to have them today instead."

  "Thank you, Thomas. They're so lovely." She kissed him and smiled. "Now I know why Charlotte recommended that I wear this gown."

  "Yes, clever, isn't she." He winked at his wife. "Every happiness, my dear." He embraced her and patted her back for a few seconds, and finally let her go.

  "Thank you, Thomas, for everything. You have been the kindest brother a girl could ever wish for."

  He kissed her hand. "My pleasure, dear. Anything you ever need, you have only to ask."

  Charlotte and Vanessa shooed him out of the room so they could put the finishing touches to her ensemble. As they worked, Vanessa said in a low whisper, "Is there anything you'd like to ask us about tonight?"

  She shook her head. "Not really. Just how to not make a fool of myself. When he touches me I practically swoon."

  Charlotte laughed. "That's always a good sign. But do try to be enthusiastic. Pamper and spoil him a bit, ask him what he likes. Your pleasure and his are completely intertwined. If you truly love him, then there are no boundaries, no restraints, no shame. You'll crave each other and want to be together always, day and night."

  "Even every month, or when I am expecting?" she asked in surprise.

  Vanessa grinned. "If you're anything like me, then especially when you're expecting."

  Charlotte nodded.

  She looked from one to the other. "Thank you. I'll keep it all in mind."

  They both kissed her, and looked around the room one last time to make sure they had everything they needed.

  They were just about to head downstairs when there was a tap at the door and Vevina came in. "Everyone is ready downstairs. You look lovely."

  "Thank you."

  She kissed Elizabeth warmly. "I just wanted to say how thrilled I am to have a true sister at last. You're so good for Will. I've never seen him so happy. So in love. I never thought he would never be happy again after everything that happened last year, well, these last few years, really. I'm glad you can see beyond appearances to the true man underneath."

  Elizabeth smiled. "It was easy. His heart spoke to mine," she said, recalling their brief but fateful encounter in the cave.

  Charlotte signalled to her eagerly. "Come, my dear, it's time."

  Elizabeth took a deep breath, threw her shoulders back, and gathered her train. She swept out of her room and descended the stairs, pausing when she got outside the ballroom where all of the guests were assembled.

  Thomas was waiting for her, took her arm and led her into the room and down the aisle formed by the two
rows of chairs for all their guests.

  Will was standing at the top of the room with the vicar, dressed in civilian clothes. Stewart and Parks stood as his groomsmen, both resplendent in their full dress uniforms.

  Thomas escorted her up to the altar, placed her hand in Will's, kissed her, and stood to one side.

  Elizabeth felt her mouth go dry at the sight of Will and the enormity of what she was about to do. But when he smiled down at her, his aquamarine eyes dancing, Elizabeth felt an inner peace and absolute certainty that everything would be all right. That all of it had been meant to be.

  She gazed at him with open admiration. In his dark blue coat, fawn trousers and waistcoat, crisp white linen and dark blue cravat with a fine gold pin, Will was nothing less than awe-inspiring.

  Suddenly she didn't care about all of her unease and unanswered questions any longer, only about being with him, making him happy. After all, it would make her happy too.

  She gave him a dazzling smile. He could not resist a warm peck on her cheek which earned him a frown from the vicar.

  The ceremony began, but she could scarcely follow it. She felt as though time were whirring past at ten times its normal speed. She made it through her vows without stumbling or faltering too badly. Then she blinked and it was all over.

  The vicar declared, "I give you Sir Wilfred and Lady Elizabeth Joyce."

  Will and Elizabeth bowed and curtsied according to form, before he pulled her into his arms for a most sensual kiss.

  Elizabeth finally had the strength to drag her lips away. "Darling, the guests!" she whispered shakily.

  "Aye. I'm sorry. I forgot where I was for a moment."

  "Quite all right. It happens to me whenever you touch me."

  He beamed down at her, proffered his arm, and conducted her to the dining room, where the wedding breakfast had been laid out.

  They struggled through all of the formalities of the occasion even though they wanted nothing more than to fall into each other's arms. The toasts, the food, the cake, the dancing, were all exquisite tortures as they gazed into each other's eyes and clung to each other's hands.

  Finally waltzing together some time later, Elizabeth having had a turn with most of the men in the room, she begged, "Can we please go up now? I can't bear this any more."

  "It's broad daylight. That doesn't bother you?" he murmured in her shell-like ear.

  "Not at all. I want nothing to come between us any more," she said truthfully.

  Her words struck him forcibly. Lord, in all this time, he had told her none of the things he really ought to have…

  As her midnight blue eyes sparked with desire, he told himself there would be plenty of time. He would make her his, then explain what he could about his past.

  "I'll give you a few moments to ready yourself, then come up to our room."

  "I'm ready now," she whispered urgently.

  He nodded. "I just need to say goodbye to a couple of people, and thank them and your brother."

  "All right, but don't be long. I have a little surprise for you."

  "I'm sure." He grinned from ear to ear.

  "No, I meant—"

  He kissed her hard. "Ten minutes, my love."

  She moved out of the ballroom to go up the stairs. She skirted around a group clustered in the far corner trying to keep out of the way of the dancers. She noted the broad back and blond hair, and for a moment thought it was Clifford Stone.

  She drew even closer, and overheard a snatch of conversation which caused her to listen in with horrified fascination. Who on earth could they be talking about?

  Marcus Fitzsimmons snorted in disgust. "Well, I must say Will Joyce is an example to us all of exactly what the rewards for treason can be. A fine house and estate, a supposed treasure reputed to be worth thousands, and now a wealthy heiress for a bride. A duke's sister no less. And that traitorous whore of a sister of his married to the Duke of Clancar. There's no justice in the world. Last I had heard the pair of them were at Kilmainham Gaol in shackles, about to be hung, drawn and quartered. Now three years later, here they are back again as bold as brass."

  "You're right. There's no justice at all," Timothy Teague grunted.

  "Except for their father. He paid the penalty in the end," his brother James put in.

  They all laughed with grim satisfaction.

  Elizabeth trembled and turned away before she overheard anything else vile about Will. Really, how could they all be so horrid?

  Marcus Fitzsimmons she could understand. It had to be a simple case of sour grapes. But all the others had spoken of her husband and sister as traitors as if the fact were common knowledge.

  She pressed one shaking hand to her temple to try to decide what to do. There seemed only one sensible course of action. She had to tell Will what she had heard. She turned around to retrace her steps, but he was nowhere to be seen.

  Elizabeth went from room to room seeking him. Finally, out of the corner of her eye she spotted all of his Army comrades drinking a toast in one of the small anterooms off the dining room.

  She did not mean to eavesdrop here either, but the quietly spoken words were like an arrow through her heart.

  "All I can say is I hope he can find some peace, some oblivion," Monroe said.

  Parks shook his head. "I hope so too. But I don't think he will ever be able to forget killing his own wife."

  Elizabeth gasped and fled from the doorway and down the hall. The front and back doors were full of guests milling about, the ballroom and dining room the same.

  She fled up the back stairs to her room, almost blind with unshed tears.

  The enormity of what she had heard was almost too much to bear. Will had been married before? And never thought to mention it?

  Well, it was evident why not, if what Parks had just said was true. What sort of monster had she been tricked in to marrying?

  Oh God, it was like Jane all over again. She had fallen prey to some foul fortune-hunting seducer. This would kill Thomas, she was sure of it. Unless….

  Unless of course she could get away and ensure that the marriage was never consummated. She shook with terror, wringing her hands in despair.

  Think, she had to think. Rationally. She had to get her emotions under control.

  If she could get to Dublin, wait for her family there, they could go back to Somerset before anything worse befell her. They had money, power, connections. An annulment, or divorce would be easy for them to secure given the circumstances. Then she need never lay eyes on that foul swine Will Joyce again.

  She dashed into her room, but too late realized that she had broken the lock on the door a couple of days before and neglected to have it repaired.

  Oh Lord! She had told him she could not wait to be alone with him! She had been about to present him with her wedding gift, a set of fine gold cravat pins. He would be there at any moment.

  She grabbed her small jewel box and checked her money, stuffing it into her reticule. Then she looked down.

  Her wedding dress! It was so thin and flimsy, as were her slippers, that she paused. She snatched her boots off the floor of the wardrobe, and practically shredded her gown in her haste to change, yanking it over her head before jerking one of her day gowns off the hanger and shrugging into it.

  It fastened with two simple ties either side, and she checked herself in the mirror to see that she was decent. In her haste to disrobe her hair tumbled down her back to her waist, so she grabbed a handful of ribbons, stuffed them into bosom of her gown, and opened the door to step out into the hallway and run for her life.

  She froze as she heard footsteps coming up the stairs. She fled to the open window, pulled the sash higher, and looked down.

  The guests who had been congregating there had gone back inside and the door was now shut. The trellis and ivy looked old but sturdy.

  As the footsteps came on inexorably, echoing omniously down the corridor, Elizabeth made her decision.

  She threw her boots do
wn from the window and then swung her long leg over the sill. She got her stockinged foot on one of the rungs of the trellis, and was just about to swing her other leg out and climb down to flee for her life when the door opened.

  The groom's warm smile of love became a gape of surprise and horror.

  "Good Lord! Elizabeth, for Heaven's sake! What are you doing?"

  She tried not to panic. "I can't stay here. This has all been a huge mistake."

  Will had heard of women who got the vapors before their wedding night, but never like this. He moved toward the window rapidly, ready to grab her hand.