In five months they would have a child too, but they had not told their friends yet. It was Wilton’s and his parents’ day.
She continued telling her unborn babe about its cousin, how he’d wailed during the christening, much to his mother’s consternation, but you could tell Rufus was proud of his son’s lung capacity.
She spoke about how wonderful her life was, regardless of the continuing cruel taunts from the spiteful members within the ton. However, society was finally beginning to believe that Richard had chosen his wife over Lady Sarah and that the broken hearted Lady Sarah had left England to stay with a distant cousin in Boston.
They could not dispute the attention Richard lavished on her in public, and with an inward smile, Maddy took pride in the fact they had no idea of the loving they were sharing behind closed doors. The extended household staff she had employed with Richard’s blessing also enjoyed the happy house they lived in. She herself had never imagined being so settled and content, especially now she was living her life fully within society. She was learning society was not so scary after all. Her fear had been her own. She’d even made friends with some of the wives and debutantes. It had turned out many of them had had the same fears, and had just wanted to be accepted as she had.
She rubbed her belly again and told the precious child she carried how lucky it was to have Richard as its father.
“I should imagine this is a very one sided conversation.”
She laughed gaily and blushed. Not from embarrassment, but from the look in Richard’s eyes. He stood in the doorway with his arms folded over his muscled chest. Desire, longing, and love shone brighter than the light from largest the lighthouse from deep within his eyes.
“Don’t you get any ideas, husband of mine. As godmother, I am not going to be late to my godson’s ball.”
He moved slowly toward the tub dipping a finger in the water as he trailed along its side. “The water is still hot and I’m so dusty from my ride with Rufus. Shall we see if there is still room for me in the tub before you get too big and round?” His words were accompanied by a mischievous grin, and with the discarding of his cravat.
“Will you still love me when I’m big and fat with your child?”
He leaned over the tub and cupped her face, placing a kiss on her lips. “Absolutely. I love you more with every passing day, if that is possible.”
He moved back and began removing the rest of his clothes.
“You’ll scandalize Fiona—again.” Fiona was her long suffering lady’s maid, who was used to having to disappear quickly, and also used to walking in on her amorous employer. Richard couldn’t seem to leave Maddy alone. She was surprised it had taken her this long to get with child.
“Fiona saw me enter the bathing chamber and I may have suggested she come back in an hour,” was his cocky reply.
Excitement rose as Maddy watched her gorgeous husband undress. “I knew there was a reason why I love you.”
His grin widened as he slipped into the tub behind her, pulling her back to settle between his thighs. He began massaging her shoulders. “Rufus is still filled with euphoria. Rheda came through the birth well, and he has a son he can’t stop talking about.”
She pinched his thigh under the water. “I suspect when you have a son, you’ll be impossibly smug too.”
“Of course.” He kissed her cheek. “But only if his mother is well.” He reached round and placed his hand on top of hers as it lay on her stomach. “If you hadn’t wanted children so much, I’d have tried to stop you getting with child. I never want to lose you.”
“Since when did you become such a worrier? I’ll be fine. I’m healthy and strong. And don’t think that I will settle for only one. I want a large brood. So do you. We both remember what it was like to have a lonely childhood.”
Richard stroked lower. “We shall see. I’m making no promises until after this little one safely arrives.”
A sigh escaped her. She loved how Richard worried about her, but on this occasion she knew she would have her way. She would not be stopping at only one child.
Richard continued to be her White Knight, and she knew he always would be. For instance, unbeknown to her at the time, Richard had secretly dealt to Timothy Chesterton not long after their return from Deal, for his sin of accosting her. Richard publically challenged him to a boxing match at Gentleman Jack’s, and then proceeded to beat him to a pulp. She’d only learned of the boxing match at a ball the following week, when she came face to face with the new Marquess of Wrentham and he had two black eyes and a broken nose. Timothy had not appreciated her smirking smile.
She closed her eyes and laid her head back on her husband’s chest, very content. Her dreams of the large happy family set firmly in her head. She’d bring Richard round as soon as he held their first born in his arms.
“Oh, by the way, Mother sent more of my trunks yesterday from Hascombe. I found all the letters you wrote me, along with the sari you sent me from India. I’m thinking of wearing it to Lord Portobello’s costume ball.”
“I don’t think so, my sweet. No man is seeing your delectable midriff but me. Besides, I bet you have no idea how to wear it. There is a knack to how it winds round your body.”
“I’d wager you’re more expert in how to take them off than put them on,” she said dryly.
Richard laughed wickedly against her ear. “I shall enjoy wrapping you up in the sari and then taking my time removing you from within its silken folds.” His fingers found the edge of her thigh and sought access to the little hidden jewel between them.
The spark of desire ignited into a roaring fire as Richard’s fingers stroked her intimately under the water. She emptied her mind and gave herself over to the rising passion.
His touch, combined with the warmth from the water, kindled her longing for him to a higher level. He caressed her with his long, skillful fingers; his touch both gentle and firm. He turned her to face him, pulling her into his lap, her thighs tucked firmly between the tub, and Richard’s hard thighs.
He made love to her tenderly and demandingly. He knew how to make her body cry out with her need for him. He cherished her with his mouth, hands, and body, arousing her to the burning point, the point of ecstasy.
When he finally lifted her and she slid slowly down the hard length of him, Madeline sighed with utter bliss at the surge of feelings sweeping through her. She felt love, desire, and need. She craved everything about him and everything he could give her. They fed off each other.
She moved with Richard in perfect unison, arching into him, her breasts within easy reach of his hot mouth. When he suckled her, she cried out his name as he claimed her, filled her, possessed her. And when the shattering explosion came, they melded together, two hearts beating as one.
Afterward, she lay on his broad muscled chest, their breaths mingled, and she relished the blissful sense of entwinement they had achieved. Holding Maddy close, Richard felt a contentment so rich it vibrated deep into his soul.
This was joy. The kind of joy that made his heart beat faster, so he reveled in the ecstasy of being alive with such a woman by his side. This was all he needed in the world-Maddy wrapped in his arms, eager for his love. He knew he was the luckiest man in the world to have found what his soul had always ached for. That one special person who filled his world, who had given him a friendship that had blossomed into true love, and who now owned his soul.
He said softly, “I kept all your letters and your gifts. I haven’t told you this before because I thought you might think it silly.” At her kiss on his chest, he added, “I don’t know why I kept them all this time.”
“Because you knew. Deep down inside, you knew.” Maddy looked into his eyes, as hers welled. “We can curl up in bed during the long winter nights and read them to each other and to the babe I carry. It’s our story.”
“And here we are about to start a new chapter in our lives, and with a babe coming too. I can’t believe how wonderful our life together has
become.”
Maddy finally stirred and sat back in the tub. “Speaking of babes, we have a christening ball to get too,” and she rose from the tub.
Richard watched his beautiful wife with her soft curves, her long legs that he loved to run his hand up, and her fuller breasts, as she reached for a towel. He finally understood that it was all right to love, and that loving others was rewarding. However, what was truly rewarding, what really made life a journey to be savored, was finding the person who was your one true love. God, he was the luckiest man on earth, because with absolute certainty he’d found his.
She turned at that moment and gave him a look so filled with love it brought tears to his eyes. “Come on, handsome, if you keep looking at me like that we will never make it to the ball.”
Summoning up his strength, Richard stepped from the tub, his eyes never leaving her beautiful face. He offered her a bone-melting smile, “And would that be such a bad thing?” He moved toward her and pulled her into his arms, heedless of the water dripping everywhere. Bending, he touched his lips to hers, his voice lowered to a rough whisper. “I’d make it worth your while and I’m sure little Wilton won’t mind. When he’s older, he’ll understand.”
She laughed gaily and reached to stroke his powerful erection. “How can I refuse a friend when he’s in need?”
He swept her up in his arms and carried her into his bedchamber.
She was friend, his wife, his lover, and his world—his everything.
The End
Read on for the first chapter of Invitation to Desire – book #4 in the Invitation To series…
INVITATION TO DESIRE
Prologue
The Greek Isle of Mykonos, August 1800
Alexander Smythe, the Earl of Montford, on no account considered himself a hero. In all his twenty-three years, he’d never rescued anyone, let alone a young girl. Her sorrowful cry filled the still night air, unsettling creatures both great and small. That haunting sound, which drifted down the stairs from the rooms above, had fear imbued in every note. It was as if she was desperate to be heard over the din of the drunken men in the tavern below.
Her father’s gratitude for Alexander’s accepting of this rescue mission was unwanted. He was here for his own vengeance. He knew who would be coming for the girl.
Slowly, so as not to draw attention to himself, he moved his head, easing muscles now corded with tension as he lay on the stained tabletop, pretending he was comatose from drink. His tattered clothes were soaked with sweat. At three in the morning, the cicadas haunting the night air were adding to the night’s disturbing symphony. The smell from the nearby dock was overpowering. From under half shut lashes, he studied the activities within the tavern. To any casual observer, he appeared to be just another seafaring pirate well into his cups.
It wasn’t until dawn had begun to set the sky on fire that Paval, the tavern owner, began dispatching all the patrons from the bar. Alex was counting on the Greek being too lazy to bother moving the drunken sailor—him—from the back pew. Paval glanced Alex’s way, took in his drunken snore, and walked past him to lock the door out onto the dock. Alex silently heaved a sigh of relief: so far, so good.
Within seconds of the door closing, Sultan Murad Bayezid, accompanied by two of his fierce Turkish warriors, entered through the back.
Alex swallowed the bile threatening the back of his throat, and let the deep hatred at the sight of Murad dressed in his white flowing robes infuse his soul. His hands itched to bury the dagger he had hidden previously in his palm, deep into the empty cavity of Murad’s chest. He knew from first-hand experience that the sultan had no heart. He would never, for as long as he lived, ever forget Murad’s cruelty, reflected now in his cold dead eyes. Alex had a score to settle with the sadistic sultan, and the opportunity to do so had been a long time coming.
His nemesis gestured towards the stairs and one of the warriors bounded up them two at a time. He heard the sound of dragging feet overhead, a muffled slap, and a small piteous cry. He swallowed his fury, the thought of what could have already happened to the young girl clouding his mind.
The warrior arrived back downstairs with the girl slung over one shoulder like a sack full of grain. Without ceremony, he dumped her on the floor at the sultan’s feet.
Dressed in what had been a virginal white nightgown, but now dirty and torn, she looked up from the floor, her eyes filled with dread. He watched as she gathered herself together and, with more grace and pride than he’d expected from a girl of only five and ten, she rose up from the floor like an opening flower to stand tall and erect. Terror was clearly visible on her exquisite features, but what really captivated him was her look of courage. The intake of breath in the room was audible.
He watched Murad’s evil smile break across his thin lips, causing his thick moustache to twitch comically in his fever to possess her. Alex’s hatred for the perverted sultan almost choked him.
The sultan approached the girl and viciously wrapped his hand in her flowing ebony tresses. Her silky hair hung so long it looked as if she was wearing a protective mantle of blackened plate mail down her back. Cruelly, the sultan tilted her head into the light. His accent was more pronounced in his desire. “Paval, you have outdone yourself. She is indeed a rare beauty. But a face can be misleading. Let us see the rest of her.”
Dropping his hand from her hair, he gripped the top of her white nightgown and ripped it from top to bottom, then he threw back the edges, leaving the torn pieces to flutter to the floor.
She gasped in horror and tried to cover herself, cringing where she stood. She attempted to flick her waist-length hair forward to cover her small breasts, but Murad maliciously pulled it back.
Her eyes swept the room before coming to rest on him slumped in the shadows. Lifting his head for just a second, he hoped that his sympathetic look of support would give her strength. Her beauty made him believe, for just a moment, that there was a God. Only a heavenly force could have made something so innocent and so lovely.
Apparently, Murad had had the same thought.
“Don’t be shy, my beauty. Let us see what exquisiteness Allah hath wrought on you.”
With hands at her side, she stood trembling, her head lowered in shame, while Murad walked slowly around her, touching her shamelessly.
“There is no need to be scared, little one.”
At the word scared her shoulders straightened and she lifted her head against the dishonorable onslaught of the sultan’s intrusive hands.
The image of her with her head held high despite her nakedness, her small pert breasts heaving in her attempt to hide her fear, sheen from the heat making her fine porcelain skin gleam, and the curl of disdain on her lips, would be forever imprinted on his brain. He had never seen anything more magnificent.
But Murad’s next words chilled his heart.
“Men would kill to possess one such as you. I am going to have to guard you well. Paval tells me you’re an innocent, and he wants a great deal of money for you.” Murad reached out and squeezed her nubile breasts. It must have hurt because he caught the grimace that flickered in the depth of her fiery sapphire-blue eyes.
The spoiler of innocents moved closer to his prey.
“Perhaps I will take you here on this table to ensure I’m getting what I will be paying for. You’re welcome to fight. I like a girl with spirit.” Murad was practically drooling now.
His stomach heaved. The rage brewing in him at the thought of the man raping the girl almost overwhelmed him. He unclenched his fists but waited; the time for action was not quite here yet.
Suddenly, the sound of a hand slamming hard against flesh resounded around the shadowed room. His admiration grew. She’d slapped Murad’s face. Her voice when it came caressed him like a cool breeze, swirling around him until he was completely off balance.
“That’s the only fight you’ll get from me, you piece of filth. You may be able to take my body, but you’ll never take my soul.” And then
she did the unforgivable. She spat on her would be rapist.
Alex’s body coiled ready for action, but it was too late to stop the instant backhander Murad dealt her. The force sent her sprawling unconscious across the drink-littered tables. With a cry the sultan fell on her, one hand gripping her face, hunting for her mouth to receive his slobbering kisses, the other fumbling within his robes.
Frantically, Alex looked around. Where were his men? Yet, even without them, he had to act. If he didn’t, Murad would take the girl on the table, right in front of him.
Without thinking, he stood up and called from the shadows, “So the mighty Murad first has to steal his women and then has to knock them out in order to take his pleasure. It goes to show women have excellent taste.”
At his words, Murad swung to face him. A smile began to play across his cruel lips. “What a—pleasant—surprise, Alexander. I did not know you were back on Mykonos.”
“Forgive me. You weren’t top of my calling card list.”
With an evil laugh Murad gloated, “Quite so, but how quickly you forget. I don’t need to knock my conquests out, as it doesn’t take me long to have them begging for my touch.” His leer grew as he added, “You, of all people, should understand my power. As I recall, you would have done almost anything for me—once.”
Alex shuddered as repressed memories, both disgusting and degrading, flashed before him. Out of the corner of his eye, a movement to his left showed the warriors moving to Murad’s side. With a relaxed smile, he leaned against the back wall; they would not take him from behind.
“How long has it been, Alex? Far too long I think. I have missed your beauty in my palace.” Murad’s tone became cajoling. “I never thought I’d have the pleasure of seeing my altin kole—my golden slave—again.”
He snarled. “Don’t you call me that or I’ll forget my manners. I’m not your slave, not any longer. All I want is the girl.”
Invitation to Passion Page 29
