The Rakehell Regency Romance Collection Volume 2

by MacMurrough, Sorcha

  "Is the snow as bad as he says?" she asked after a time.

  "Aye, it's deep."

  "We have shovels. We'll just have to dig."

  "James can barely stand, and Mr. Greengage is in no fit state-"

  "I meant you and I. Get James warmed up, put him back on the box, and press forward. We haven't come all this way to perish now."

  "No one is going to perish," Blake said firmly. "Please, Belle, you've been very brave up until now. Try not to panic at this stage."

  "I'm not. We're so close. Mr. Greengage needs help. Either your driver didn't get through, or no one is able or willing to help us. They've probably given us up for dead. It's only another two or three miles at most and then this whole ordeal will be over. We dig a trench just wide enough to pass through, and head for the next village."

  Blake looked at James. He was still shivering uncontrollably, but he nodded. "I'll do it if you will. And at least the wind seems to be dying down." He drank in her appearance as if trying to memorize it.

  "Check through the bags. Yours too, Belle. We need every single piece of clothing on us that we can fit. Woolen stockings can be used as mufflers, even as mittens if need be. Get all those bottles heated. We head out in fifteen minutes. We have nothing to lose at this stage by trying. If we get through, hot food and warm beds await us. If we don't, one of us can run for help as soon as the sun is up."

  "You could do that now. Take the horse," Belle suggested.

  "It's tempting, but I don't want to risk it. If anything happens to me, then everything would be on your shoulders, Belle. I don't want to risk it. It's a third option, but we're better off sticking together at this stage. It may only be two miles, but anything can happen when you're on your own. We have food, shelter and warmth. I'm not going to risk ending up worse off. If you don't mind digging, then we dig."

  "I'm almost ready," she said, hauling on the last of her petticoats, which she put on right over her dress. She was relieved her linen was so pristine thanks to the auspices of her housekeeper Maggie, whose motto was ‘cleanliness is next to godliness.'

  She saw Blake staring down at her, and tried not to blush. But that kiss they had shared before made it hard to look him in the eye.

  What on earth must he think of her? A lone woman journeying to London by herself? How was he to know that her usual two chaperones, her nanny and housekeeper, had been unfit to accompany her to see her step-brother? He must think her quite an experienced woman of the world judging from the questions he had asked.

  But she had spoken the truth--the kiss had been the most marvelous thing she had ever experienced in her whole life, as warm and wonderful as a summer's day. She had had a vision of them rolling in a newly mown field, happy, laughing, the sun shining, as if they hadn't a care in the world. It had been pure magic.

  She started at the sound of Blake's voice.

  "I said, are you ready?"

  "Oh, yes."

  His tone was sharp. "You can't fall asleep out there, Belle."

  "No, no, I won't." She gave him her bravest smile.

  His heart turned over. He kissed her lips fleetingly and then covered her nose and mouth with her makeshift scarf consisting of a dark blue linen shawl she had wrapped around herself several times.

  "Let's go. We'll be back for you in fifteen minutes, James. Stay warm in the meantime."

  The perspiration soon began to run down her back in irritating trickles as they worked side by side to clear the path, she throwing the snow to her right, and he to his left. She had to take two shovels of snow to each of his one to keep up, but it was fairly loose and powdery in places, and they only removed about two feet of it.

  "The horse can get through that depth, I'm sure. Press on," Blake said as he moved ahead.

  Her ribs ached like mad, but she was not going to give in. The prospect of warmth, safety and a good bed were too tempting for her to quit now. Drat and blast, she thought to herself.

  All this trouble to avoid a guardian she was afraid she would despise, and she had nearly ended up dead. Crushed to death in the carriage, or frozen to death if Dr. Sanderson hadn't saved her.

  If ever she had ever had doubts about guardian angels, they had been removed by the presence of the handsome doctor beside her. For she felt that as long as he was by her side, she could never come to any harm.

  It was a foolish notion, she knew, for once they were at the inn, he would go his way, and she hers. Still, he was a most respectable and eligible gentleman…. No, he had wife and ten children at home, she was convinced of it.

  But then, he had kissed her. Well, she had kissed him, if she was being completely candid about it. She had not been able to help herself…

  He surprised her again by starting to sing hymns to keep the rhythm going as they worked. She joined in with ‘Amazing Grace' and continued their duet with ‘Abide with Me' and ‘A Mighty Fortress is My God'.

  At the end of it, he said, "Look, it's a lot clearer in this next section."

  "But it's uphill. The horse's feet will never-"

  "Do we have any more lamp oil?"

  "Yes, nearly a full bottle."

  "Come on, Belle. Hurry."

  She looked at him questioningly for a second, and followed on. "Get James up on the box, now."

  They heaved the young man on board and got the horse moving. He ploughed stolidly through the trench they had dug. They got enough momentum to get partly up the hill, but the carriage began to slide.

  Blake jumped out, bottle and tinder box in hand. He sprinkled the oil on the snow, and set it alight with a burning ember. It flared brightly, and began to melt the snow, until the dirt track below was visible. He continued on up the hill, burning a path for the horse to struggle up with his burlap-clad hooves.

  A rumble in the air alerted them to another storm on the way, but Blake noted with relief that the temperature was a great deal warmer than it had been, and not just because of the physical exertions he had been undergoing digging and trudging through the snow.

  Now large drops of rain spattered down, washing much of the snow away.

  "Thank God."

  "Blake, come inside!" she called.

  But one look at James told him the lad was just about done in.

  "Give me the Macintosh fabric, Son, and get inside with Belle and Mr. Greengage," he instructed.

  James made a token protest, but he was shivering as if with the ague. Blake got up on the step and grabbed at him before he fell.

  He lifted the rubberized cloak from over the man's head, settled him back into the coach, into the arms of Belle, he noted with another stab of jealousy, and got back on the box once more.

  The chilling rain ran down in him rivulets and the road was still icy and craggy in places, with large drifts.

  After another hour, he blinked, and blinked again. Swiping the rain from his eyes, he was almost certain he could see…

  "It's the village," Belle called up to him.

  He turned and saw she was perched on the window opening, and handed him a wrapped hot water bottle, which he took gratefully. "Be careful. If we slip-"

  "James has me by the ankles. Here, take another one."

  She handed up the other bottle, and went back down, shutting the window before he had time to thank her.

  It was only when he tucked them in around himself that he realized that he had been freezing. His trembling grew so bad he dropped one or the other of the reins several times, and had to press his hands together right on top of the bottle in his lap to steady himself.

  God, it was so cold. Only a bit further, please. I need to keep them safe.

  He replayed the kiss he had shared with Belle hours before. Her kiss was honey-sweet, and made him forget for a moment even his own terrible past.

  He could taste dew, smell freshly mown grass, feel the glorious sunshine upon his face, the warmth penetrating his bones, his soul… A new life.

  Spring was the season, flowers, bees, pollen, everything f
resh and new, like her skin, her hair…

  Unbound, flowing over Blake's bare body like a river as it cascaded down her shoulders, covering her voluptuous breasts, which peeped through the raven tresses. It was a stark contrast, the pink, white and black. Then she was cradling his head against her, one nipple sliding unerringly into his mouth to nurture him, fill him with longing…

  He could hear the shouts, the sound of running feet, the flinging open of the coach doors. He felt a little hand upon his shoulder, a delicate caress of his face.

  "Come, Blake, it's over now. You're safe. We're safe. I'll look after you."

  Then he was moving, sliding downwards, stumbling, his arms around her shoulders…

  Her bare shoulders, so creamy and soft, her slender throat.

  He kissed them all, then her rosy lips as his legs moved over hers. He moved inside the warm circle of her arms, her body, and the sun blazed anew in all its glory, blinding him with its brilliance as she shimmered all around him, hot, wet, loving, a taste of heaven on earth as he poured out all his pent-up yearnings into her…

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Blake had never been so warm in his life. He stirred sleepily, almost too comfortable to move. But the enticing smell of food emanating from the kitchen below was enough incentive to lift his head from the pillow. Not to mention the overwhelming ache in his loins. It really had been too long. He toyed lazily with the idea of--

  His eyes flew open with a start as his descending hand met a bare leg draped over his waist. The sun pouring in the window was almost perpendicular. It had to be the middle of the afternoon. The window was not his own. Had he-

  He turned his head to look at the beautiful raven-haired woman slumbering peacefully by his side. Surely not a whore. He had never…

  He had never seen anything so lovely in his life. Upon closer examination, however, he observed the mottled and chapped skin on her face and lips, and on the small delicate hand resting on his chest atop the covers. Her arm was clad in snowy white night flannel with tiny pink ribbons on the sleeves, both virginal and arousing.

  At last he remembered. The coach wreck, the journey to safety…

  How she had ended up in his bed he had no idea, for he could not recall anything clearly after spotting the lights of the inn in the distance, and Belle giving him the hot water bottles.

  He shivered at the memory, and she stirred and opened her eyes.

  "Are you well?" she asked quietly.

  "I think so. You?"

  "It's gone cold again. You're still shivering." She reached up to his throat and joined the gaping edges of the nightshirt he had been put in.

  She pulled the covers up to his chin once more, placing her own arm under the blankets and upon his chest. "Better?"

  "Mmm," he sighed. He closed his eyes again, and moved his hand on her bare leg. He realised her nightgown had rucked up over her thighs. With one final lingering stroke he tugged it back down. It was kind of her to be so solicitous of him, but it was not suitable for…

  It was wonderful. He had never awakened with a woman in bed beside him before. All of his couplings had been quick, urgent, and over. The idea of lingering behind to look them in the face afterwards was just too difficult for him. He didn't know who he despised more, himself for not being able to control his needs, or them for indulging him.

  Leonore he had of course seen more than once over the years, but he had never dared sleep over. That would have lent some sort of permanence to something which had only ever been intended to be a temporary solution at best. Sensuality blinded people to what was important, true, decent… Made them throw all caution to the winds, respectability, caused them to turn their back on duty, family-

  "I said, are you hungry?"

  "Starving."

  She sat up, and he almost wept at the loss of her soft presence in the bed beside him.

  "There's some hot water and towels and whatever was left over in your valise behind the screen. And your things drying by the fire. I'll tell the servants to bring up some food. I'm sorry we had to share. There was no more room and they made the mistake of, well, um-"

  He sat up and looked at her. "What mistake?"

  She blushed. "Thinking we were a couple."

  "I see." He colored as well, suddenly recalling his sensual delusions as he had been led into the warmth of the inn. Surely he hadn't-

  But no, she seemed unruffled, the sheets crisp and clean. As he discovered when he got behind the screen, he was fiercely aroused, but there was no sign that he had been doing anything he shouldn't.

  She took up her midnight blue shawl and went out into the hall to find a servant and then see James the postillion and Mr. Greengage, who had been put in the next room.

  As luck would have it, one of the other travellers who had taken refuge from the storm and was sleeping downstairs by the fire until the storm blew over was an apothecary and bonesetter. He had immediately offered to help. Both men were now resting comfortably, though they were still shivering and a bit feverish.

  Blake's driver John had been badly frostbitten, and they'd had to remove a couple of his fingers and toes. But he was at least alive. He had been found slumped over the back of the horse, it having made its way to the inn with the unerring instinct of a beast looking for food, shelter and the companionship of its own kind. Of course they had had no idea where he had come from, so no help had arrived at the site of the mailcoach wreck.

  Belle shivered herself as she thought how lucky they had been. She hated to think what would have happened to them had Blake not decided to brave the journey to Rede Village.

  Now at last John was conscious, but she doubted they would have lasted twenty-four hours in the coach and still lived to tell the tale.

  The sun was already setting by the time Blake pulled himself from the hot bath she had had prepared for him, and he struggled into his drawers, trousers and shirt. At last he felt warm, if exhausted once more.

  The return of Belle and the arrival of the food soon perked him up considerably.

  "Better now?" she asked.

  "Much. My goodness, I feel as though I've been to hell and back."

  She nodded. "I know what you mean. Eat the soup. It'll make you feel stronger."

  He said Grace and then they both began to devour the food hungrily. She stretched out her bare feet in front of the fire and sighed. "We were very lucky. All ten fingers and toes. Both of us. And James and Mr. Greengage."

  He nearly started up out of the chair. "My God, I'm in such a daze, I nearly forgot all about them."

  "It's all right. Sit and eat," she soothed, patting his hand. "Mr. Samuels is with them. He's an apothecary. They're fine. John too, just about."

  She told him about his frostbite and fever. "You can go look in on all of them when you've finished eating. No, finish. You need to eat. And as soon as I eat, I'm having my bath."

  She rang for a servant to start bringing more hot water. She sat back down, and put more roast beef on his plate.

  "All I can say is thank you, Belle. I don't know what I would have done without you," he said sincerely, his gaze boring into hers.

  "The same here. It was quite an adventure," she said, daring to venture a smile.

  "Too close a call for us all."

  "Aye, I do know it. And I thank the Lord every minute that it was you in coming on the road in the storm. Anyone less than a medical doctor with your skills and bravery, and, well, I doubt any of us would have survived. Most certainly not Mr. Greengage."

  He waved aside her compliments with a blush. "Anyone would have--"

  "I don't think so. I dare say you've seen worse in the war, but still, you were very brave and I owe you a debt of gratitude I can never hope to repay."

  He finished the last of his meat and shook his head. "Nay, no gratitude needed. I was glad to help. But I do want to say, well, all this--' He gestured around the room. " I'm sorry if I've appeared to take advantage of you in any way. You're so young."

&nb
sp; "Not so young that I don't know a cad when I see one."

  His face fell.

  "But you are no cad, Dr. Sanderson." She winked.

  He smiled at her in relief, though why the girl's good opinion of him should matter so much he had no idea. She was a stranger, a passing acquaintance, no more. He would go to Bath, she to London, and never more would they meet.

  Though as he looked at her, with her raven hair flowing down around her shoulders, putting him in mind of the erotic vision he had had of her just before he had collapsed, he admitted inwardly, What a pity. I could get used to looking at her, touching her….