She was deeply shocked at his forthright words, but titillated as well. "I cannot believe this. I'd heard you were a rake. No one ever mentioned you were a madman."
"I AM mad, darling Isolde," he said, taking her hand to kiss it once more. "Mad for you to be my wife, to give yourself to me in every way. And to let me give myself to you the way I've never given myself to any woman."
Randall reached for her waist now, but she suddenly grew fearful of the raving passion that tore through her with his slightest touch.
"This is too much," she said, cowering away from his questing hands. "Please. Just let me go. I want to go home to Surrey."
His face fell. "I can't be responsible for your ruin like this."
She shook her head. "You aren't. Howell will be if he bruits it about. But you cannot be given a life sentence for a crime you did not commit."
"What if I want to be prisoner to your charms, Isolde, without any hope of parole?"
"Please, Randall, this is no laughing matter, and I would not want you condemned to a life of misery."
"But what if that's all I deserve?" he said under his breath.
She stared at him now, stunned. "You want to be miserable?"
When he remained silent, she pressed on. "Are you saying that you, what, want to, to punish yourself by marrying me? What on earth-"
He reached for her with desperate eagerness, desire shining in his lapis blue eyes. "No! No, not at all. I know it sounds mad, but I want and need you, Isolde, in a way I never imagined it was possible to need anyone. I would be lost if you walked out that door now without giving me a chance to redeem myself. And to, well, perhaps to learn for the first time what it really means to love someone unselfishly."
"You don't need redemption through me, Randall!" She rose to pace in front of the fire once more.
"Perhaps I do, through you and your family. My one chance to do a truly good and selfless deed."
She folded her arms across her chest. "If you feel that strongly about it you can help my family without taking me in marriage."
"Darling, I know you're trying to be noble for all or sakes, but do you not see the danger you're in?" he said heatedly. "I'm telling you, Isolde, Howell will find some other hapless victim to manipulate, accuse me of rape, of goodness knows what else. You saw how he tried to dupe your own brother. The cynical bastard would have sent your innocent sixteen-year-old brother to his death for the sake of whatever it is that he has up his sleeve!"
Her heart lurched in her chest at that. Randall was not exaggerating. It was all true....
"He will marry innocent young Fanny for her money, treat her like dirt, or worse, and make all your lives a living hell!"
She bit her trembling lip, knowing any protest she might make would be no more than blind optimism.
"And truth to tell, my dear, you need to help us all here just as much as I want to help you. You have no idea what's at stake here."
"Oh, I think I do, my future and that of my whole family," she said wearily.
"More than that, now that Howell's got a head of steam on him. It's also the future of my whole family and the earldom."
"But if I just leave--"
He shook his head. "That would be an unmitigated disaster for us all."
His sharp tone made her stare. "How so?"
"Don't you see? Howell is nothing if not a cunning liar. So if the authorities accuse me of rape, and we don't put up a united front, they will pull us apart and your reputation will be even more tattered. You'll be in a more precarious position than you were before you came here.
"And I'll be powerless to help, don't you see? If I go to prison for rape, you'll be left unprotected, your standing in good society completely gone. Then Howell would harm you in whatever manner he wished, and we might never see each other again.
"And think of my mother," he pleaded. "Who would tend to her were I in jail for sucha foul crime? I know you have no reason to trust me, Isolde, but will you please believe me when I say I don't want my mother to suffer any more than she already has. And I certainly don't want to ever see you hurt or lose you. I couldn't bear it if you left. Not after the magic of last night and this morning."
Isolde saw the bleak expression creep over his face again, and his aura began to swirl again, now more fiercely black than red. His devastated expression moved her far more than any rational arguments for or against wedlock ever possibly could. Once again, she saw the visions. They were shadowy still, but more clear: a horse, death, blackness.
She began to reconsider anew all he had just said. What he had admitted to her. That her visions were not wrong....
Whatever hell Randall had been through, he deserved some happiness. For some inexplicable reason, he was telling her that he had found it in her.
She did not know what kind of women he had encountered in his past, but it was evident that they had never cared about anyone's happiness other than their own.
And she could see now that he had not understood joy, not since he had lost his childhood. Whatever he felt guilty about had consigned him to a living hell for years. The darkness clung to him palpably, no matter how much he tried to escape from it in dissipation. It held such power, it could not be run from. The only thing to do to dispel such darkness was confront it, combat it with the light she had seen whenever they made love.
As for her own happiness, well, why not? He was a most remarkable man, even beyond being an earl with an impressive fortune. He had character, decency, and did not seem to think women were mere chattel, or all whores. The very fact that he had offered to educate her sisters told her that.
She stepped over to where he was sitting, and said quietly, "Kiss me. Then I shall give you my answer."
He rose with alacrity, then kissed both her hands in turn, before stooping to capture her lips in a kiss which was both tender, and full of sensual promise. There it was again, the white glow pushing back the red and black, and as the kiss deepened, she felt her heart beating in time to his. Her whole body began to tremble, so that it was only with the greatest effort that she broke it off to pant, "Very well, Randall. You shan't lose me. I will marry you."
He stared at her as though hardly able to believe his ears, then seized her around the waist, scooped her into his arms, and twirled her until she laughed.
Then he ran out the hall, amid her breathless protests, and called to Stephen in the study. "She said yes!"
"I say, well done, the two of you!" came the happy reply.
"Hurry up with those letters, there's a good lad. We have a wedding to prepare for. Two weddings, with any luck for you, Son."
"Just putting the sand on the last one now."
"Randall, put me down," she protested. "As you say, we have much to prepare and-"
"That's what good servants are for." He ran to the foyer of the townhouse with his precious burden.
"Sir, is aught amiss," Hopkins asked, wide-eyed.
"Not a thing. Miss Drake has kindly consented to be my wife. Please get the carriage ready for Mr. Stephen Drake to fetch all their family and friends from Surrey, and tell Cook to start preparing a wedding breakfast fit for a princess."
"Very good, sir," the butler said, his pleasure evident in his tone. "Congratulations to you all!"
But Randall was already nearly at the top of the stairs, and hurried along the corridor to his own chamber with a now laughing Isolde, who clung to him with her arms around her neck, and reflected what a difference a single day could make to her whole life.
This time yesterday, her prospects had been as bleak as could be. Now she was well and truly a woman, with the most magnificent lover, who was desperately eager to make her his wife. The fact that he was an earl with a substantial fortune was the icing on an already delectable cake.
But for now, the only thing she wanted to devour was his flesh, and he certainly felt the same, for as soon as the door swung shut behind them, their clothing began to shred. Off went her cloak and gown, while she began
avidly tugging at the belt of his robe.
He grasped her hands to stay them for a moment. Perhaps we should tell my mother first, but I want you so much-"
She was already freeing him from the constraining fabric, avid once more for the joys that only Randall could give.
He stroked up one silk-clad leg and insinuated two fingers deeply inside her, surprising her so much that she gasped and clung to him to steady her reeling world.
He removed his fingers and licked them, causing her to start with shock. "Just gorgeous. Delectable. And soon to be all mine. As this will be all yours."
He pressed her hand against his rock-hard length as he tugged at her makeshift bun and allowed her hair to tumble around her bare breasts. He fanned out her tresses and flicked them over her shoulders. Then his mouth was upon hers, hot and heavy for a moment before trailing down over her breasts and stomach.
"You never did get a bath this morning before you tried to creep away. Maybe I should just wash you now. A bit of a cat lick, you know." He grinned merrily, his mouth working its way lower.
"I know. But I think I would rather wait, if you don't mind. For the bath and the lick. I need you, Randall, inside me, please?"
"Well, since you've asked so nicely, how can I possibly refuse my adorably lovely future wife anything?"
He moved her to the edge of the bed and pressed her knees upwards. Like a child with a new toy he moved her legs further still, marvelling at her lean, lithe strength as her ankles circled her ears. He put a pillow under her bottom, wedging her backside upwards until the lower half of her body formed a plateau.
"I don't want to make you sore with going in and out. Let's try up and down. All of you can be incredibly sensitive, but the first two inches are the most thrilling for you," he murmured as he began to tease her with his fingers in that exact spot.
He traced every hidden peak and valley both outside and within until she begged him to come all the way inside her. He moved over her and slipped in millimetre by teasing millimetre.
She climaxed after only a few moments of him raising and lowering himself rapidly then slowly with the smallest of movements. Finally she grew so desperate for him to fill her completely and take his own release that she lowered her ankles and grabbed one buttock.
He went crashing down on top of her, but she yanked the pillow out from underneath them and moved her hips until his knees buckled. He fell onto the carpet kneeling and drove into her as she sat up and kissed him.
"Isolde, oh Lord," he panted.
He got to his feet long enough to heave them both full-length across the bed and spilled his seed within her with great shuddering sighs. He kissed her over and over again as he came down from his powerful climax, then lunged from the bed to grab the burgundy dressing gown he had already begun to think of as hers.
"Tomorrow, Isolde. As soon as your whole family is here. Not a day later. Promise me."
"I promise," she panted, accepting his powerful kiss as he wrapped his velvet dressing gown around her once more.
He tugged his own silk one on a moment later, and took her hand to lead her down the hall to check on his mother.
"Thank you, my lovely Isolde," he said, beaming, his aura now a mere red. "You won't regret it."
She smiled back, but as she watched him, the dark umbra swirled anew, leaving her praying with all her heart that his promise would come true, but knowing in her heart that there were forces even a mighty earl like Randall simply could not control.
Chapter Twelve
Randall's mother accepted the news of their engagement with a warm smile and a complete lack of surprise.
"You two look so like we did when your father and I were first married, though of course the hair colour is different in Isolde's case. Tell me, when will your family be arriving, and what are your plans?"
Isolde looked up at Randall.
"They'll be here by the end of the day. We can get married here in this chamber if you don't mind the intrusion, Mother."
The dowager smiled. "No intrusion at all. Send a note around to Jonathan Deveril at once, for he should still be in Town. It will be lovely to have such a dear friend preside at your wedding. Then you need to take Isolde shopping for a gown."
"Oh, no, really, I don't need-"
"Nonsense," she said with a lift of her chin. "Every bride needs a trousseau."
"Oh, but I have a perfectly good wardrobe at home if you'll just let me send for-"
"Besides, a married lady dresses quite differently from an unmarried lady, and I think my son would like to start showering you with attention and presents. Please indulge him. I've never seen him look so excited, not even when he was engaged to Clarissa."
Randall wished the ground would open up and swallow him.
Isolde's eyes reflected hurt. He had lied already?
But the fact was that Randall had never asked Clarissa to marry him. She had come upon him out of the blue and fiddled with his little friend, and as a virgin he had been overwhelmed.
Clarissa had done lewd things to herself and him until he had been cross-eyed with desire. She had then insisted that he had ruined her, and would have to make good. He was a youngest son, true, but his parents had spoiled him so....
But every time he had insisted he wanted to set a date, she had fobbed him off with excuses. Every time he had tried to make her his at last, she had said she was a virgin and feared pregnancy.
Except that it had all been a lie, for he had seen with his own eyes his brother riding her in the stables like a Derby winner....
He had practically choked on his own bile as he had run into the woods and vomited his guts up through his mouth and nose and sworn he would never trust a woman again. He would tell Isolde all this later, but for now he had to undo the damage that his mother's unwitting words had caused.
"She asked me, I never asked her," he said quietly, his eyes never once leaving Isolde's face. "She proved unfaithful and eloped with someone else. One day she was with us, the next she had vanished without a trace, and I never heard from her again."
"You might as well tell her about all the children while you're at it," his mother suggested mildly.
Isolde's mouth dropped open. Oh, Egad, it just kept getting worse....
He saw her face freeze and protested quickly, "They aren't mine, I swear it. As God is my witness, I've always been careful except where you're concerned, Isolde," he said, not even caring at the fact that he was making so intimate an admission in front of his mother.
"Children?" Isolde repeated, stunned.
"Lots of women have boasted they've had me. Quite a few women did, for only a couple of hours. I look after several children whose mothers were friends or proved needy. I happen to like children and did not feel it was their fault. They are all being raised in the country, and given a good life. I'm as sure as I am of my own name they were all conceived long after I had anything to do with them, if I did at all. In two cases I did not. I know I am no Radical, but they should not be blamed for the sins of the parents."
"And you, you approve?" Isolde asked his mother through stiff lips.
The older woman nodded. "My son may enjoy women, but Randall is not a liar, and he's not a bad man. And they are delightful children who have a good set of foster parents who cater to their every whim while he tends to his duties and other pursuits."
"I see," Isolde said, her smile tight. Well, he had said he had several other considerations for marrying her that had to do with family. This was certainly one of them.
"My dear, I know you're a sensible girl who will not let her imagination run away with her and look for trouble where none exists. It is true that my son has had a rather vivid and exciting life since the end of the war, exploring all the Continent has to offer. But I do believe he's ready to settle down and become a responsible family man now.
"I hope you're eager to start a family yourself, my dear, for I would most certainly adore a little grandbaby of my very own after ever
ything that's happened. And I hope you will like the children, and try not to hold their past against them."
"No, I shan't. It's very good of you both to take such an interest," she said in all sincerity.
Randall shrugged as if the matter were not of the least importance. "I will warn you now, there are eight in all. Five boys, three girls. Three of them are legitimate, the children of a friend of mine who was killed in the war. His wife couldn't cope, went bad. She begged me to help them before she died. I would have helped sooner if she hadn't run away in a fit of grief."
"I see," she said with a sigh, shaking her head. "Such a sad story."
"And you have the right to ask, so I shall tell you, I've never had a wife before, nor a regular mistress, nor set any woman up in an establishment, I swear it. None of the children are mine, I give you my word, but turning my back on them and leaving them to the mercies of an uncaring world is unthinkable."
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