She nodded. "I understand, and agree with you, Randall. As you say, the children cannot be blamed for the decisions of their parents."
He smiled down at her in sheer relief. "Good. I'm glad we're in such accord. You don't have to take a direct interest in them, but I would be grateful for your support. I would most definitely like your opinion of what should be done for their futures."
She nodded, searching his handsome face for any sign of dissimulation. But he seemed perfectly calm and at ease, not secretive at all.
Isolde decided that she simply had to trust him. It was not the worst thing in the world he could have ever done, deciding to raise the children decently rather than cast them off. She would think far less of him if he had just rogered the poor women and denied his responsibilities.
Though in point of fact he had sworn he was not even responsible. It was yet another of his strange contradictions that would eventually be resolved.
"Anyway, never mind about us," Isolde said sincerely. "How are you feeling today?"
"All the better for having heard your news," the dowager replied with a broad smile.
"Well, let's see what we can do to make you more comfortable, and help you break your fast."
"Aye, food all around would be an excellent idea," Randall agreed, rubbing his hands heartily, before moving over to the bell pull.
She tended to Randall's mother carefully for a few moments, and at the end of that time they all had, not a late breakfast, but an early dinner.
They were joined mid-meal by her brother, who had finished writing the letters to his family and friends as requested, taken tea, and toured the house whilst they had been busy.
He was most kind and deferential to Lady Hazelmere, and Randall could not fail to be impressed with his future brother-in-law.
"I decided to stay to see the lay of the land here and advise your servants, rather than make the trip down and back again on the same day." He grimaced. "Even with good roads, I get a bit queasy."
"A very sensible plan," Randal said without any trace of amusement. "Is everything to your liking?"
"Oh indeed. Very fine stables, and the excellent are lovely too."
Randall and Isolde both laughed at his sense of priorities.
"Feel free to choose any of the mounts except Blazes. He's a bit too much of a handful even for me at times, like when the weather is thundery."
"Some amazing pieces of horseflesh there," the young man said with obvious admiration. "They must have cost you a small fortune."
The dowager shook her head. "No, indeed. We breed them. People seek out Randall for our colts, and stud."
Both brother and sister turned to him with renewed admiration in their gazes. But Isolde could see that for some reason the subject was not one he wished to discuss.
Did it have something to do with her strange visions, the people in the stable, the fire....
"So by my calculations, your family will be here in about five hours, if we give them time to pack, so if you don't mind, we might as well start getting on with the preparations here. Mother and I have agreed that I'm going to take Isolde out shopping. Would you care to come, or is there anything you need?"
Stephen flashed him a grin. "I told them to bring their best wedding clothes, and my finest suit. I know I'm young, but thanks to your kind offer of assistance, I have no need to wait any longer to tell everyone the truth, and I am determined to marry Fanny immediately."
"Very good. All shall be perfect then."
"Don't forget your grandmama's jewels, darling."
He nodded, "No, Mother. I'm looking forward to bestowing them upon my own wife in the very near future. Tell Hopkins to get them out of the safe, and fetch out the wedding set."
He gave Isolde such a warm smile, she turned breathless with desire. Her eyes glowed and sparkled, and hot desire scorched her cheeks.
Randall could not fail to interpret her look, and said gruffly, "Well, if you will excuse us, we need to bathe and shop. We shall see you later. Stephen, I hope your chamber is satisfactory?"
"Very fine. May I avail myself of your fine library whilst I am here?"
"But of course. Please make yourself at home."
"Then I shall see you later at supper?"
"I'll look forward to it," Randall said sincerely.
Isolde nodded, so with a kiss on his sister's cheek and a cheery wave for everyone else in the room, the bookish young man vanished.
Randall bent to kiss his mother. "Will you be able to sleep, dearest?"
"Yes, darling. Go off and buy her something trimmed in green for luck."
He looked surprised. "Green? I thought it was the colour of jealousy? Or perhaps spring."
"Green for certain. It's perfect for an Irish lass like her."
"Partly Irish," Isolde corrected politely.
"Aye, that's the part that counts. I am too, on my mother's side. I'm sure you even have the Sight."
Isolde started and stared at her.
Randall stiffened perceptibly and looked from one woman to the other. No, there was no such thing...
But it might explain why his mother had always been so good at reading him. Even as a grown man she had been able to sense things about him that no one else could possibly have known, things he hardly even knew about himself.
Isolde could sense the dark flicker all around him again. Whatever he was trying to hide, it was enormously important. It was no threat to her so far as she could see, or at least not a direct one. But if it wasn't resolved, he would still stay frozen, frozen in that stable...
"I said, darling, are you ready for a bath?"
"Oh, um, yes. We'll see you later," she said with a wave at the older woman.
"I do hope you too will call me Mother, Isolde. Come and give me a kiss before you go?"
She nodded, surprised and pleased at the request. She was usually shy and reserved with strangers, but a naturally affectionate young woman, and so embraced her warmly.
The older woman held on to her, and Isolde could feel his mother's bones pressing into her arm and back.
"Trust him, with your life, as he will come to trust you. If you have trust, all the love in the world will be yours for the asking," his mother whispered against Isolde's ear.
"I will, I promise."
Randall watched the exchange with unease. He wished to hear what his mother had said to Isolde, but the words were indistinct.
He was relieved when the embrace ended and Isolde stood up straight and looked at him with undiminished warmth.
He took her hand, lacing their fingers together most intimately, and led her back to his blue and gold room.
He did his best to control himself in the bathroom, but the sight of her buoyant breasts bobbing in the bubbles made him decide that an hour or so of lovemaking would be the perfect way to get ready for their shopping trip.
For he wanted his bride to look radiant. With her well-kissed lips, flushed features, and glowing skin, he was sure everyone who met her would proclaim her a marvel.
From the tub to the bed without even drying themselves, they left a passionate and damp trail. At last he shoved himself off her and insisted they had to go shopping.
"I don't need-"
"Mother wants you in a new white and green frock, so that is what you shall have. There's a good modiste not far away. Now come, darling, into the tub once more to rinse off, and on with the chemise and gown. And I suppose you'll have to put on the rest of the undergarments," he said in a dejected tone. "We don't want to terrify the old biddies. As it is they will be scandalised by your lack of corsets."
"They will be scandalised anyway if you keep looking at me like THAT," she said with a wink.
When she came out of the bathroom her auburn hair was billowing down over her shoulders and down to her waist.
"Hopkins found some of your hairpins," he said, moving over to the dresser to fetch them and his hairbrush.
He came up behind her and planted a wa
rm kiss on her cheek. She moved her head to touch his lips with her own, sliding her hand down one hard-hewn thigh.
"I adore your hair," he murmured against her shell-like ear. "Will you let me brush it?"
"If you like," she said, moved by the tender and intimate gesture.
"Tell me if I do this wrong, pull too hard."
He tugged down her thick coil of hair which she had bundled on top of her head for her bath, and stroked the brush down her long tresses.
Isolde nearly went on fire as his hand and the bristles worked in conjunction, massaging her scalp until she was sure she was on fire. She was so thrilled she almost purred.
The dewy moistness built within her in a sudden flood, and as Randall re-coiled her hair she thought she would explode right there even though he was standing an arm's length away from him.
"Randall."
"Mmm?"
"If you keep stroking me like that, I shan't be answerable for the consequences," she said in a husky tone.
"Oh, indeed." He grinned, and let his bare hand travel down her fall of hair, and then around to her belly. "What about stroking you here?" he asked as his long hard fingers began to insinuate themselves most intimately against her tender peaks and valleys.
"So long as I can do the same to you," she said, returning the favor with a bold caress of her own.
"You most certain can, my love, once we're wed. But for now, time is passing and we need to get to the shops."
He turned her around to face him, and gave her a kiss that left her in no doubt of his desires. "Later, my love, I promise," he vowed, as her hips began to thrust against him of their own accord.
"I had no idea I could ever be so wanton," she said with a bemused shake of her head.
"Not wanton, darling, a natural woman just ripe for loving. There's no shame in that. But come, the dressmaker awaits, and your family thereafter."
"All the more reason why we should make hay as the sun shines," she said with a pretty pout. "Or is that a roll in the hay?"
He grinned. "Plenty of that once we are safely wed. For now, put on the gown I've been doing nothing but taking off you ever since we met, and we'll go."
"Yes dearest," she said meekly. "But when we get back home, I'm going to---" She whispered the rest in his ear shyly, causing him to roar with laughter.
"Are you now?" Well, I can't wait. And I'm going to--"
He whispered until her eyes widened.
"You wouldn't dare! she gapsed.
"Try me, darling. All of me," he grinned as he put on his waistcoat and flung his cravat around his neck carelessly. "After we get your wedding gown, of course."
He twitched the skirts of her frock so it covered her decently, stooped to help her don her shoes, and then took her hand. He practically skipped out the door and down the hall to the waiting carriage, Isolde running along behind, caught up in his whirlwind of passion, and wishing she never had to come down to earth.
Chapter Thirteen
Once safely in the carriage with Isolde, Randall breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm sorry, darling. I just can't seem to help myself."
She smiled at him dreamily. "Don't apologise. I've been right with you every step of the way." Then she sobered. "But I suppose once a rake-"
"No, love, don't even think it," he said in clipped tones. "Nothing I've ever shared compares with the past day and night with you."
"Well, I suppose I shall just have to trust you, then," she said in a small voice, recalling his mother's advice once more.
"Would it be safe to say that you're having doubts again?" he asked with a sigh.
She shrugged. "Not really doubts, so much as concerns as to how huge a step this is."
"I know what Mother told you about me is upsetting, the raking, and the children, though I swear to you, they are not mine. What else did she whisper to you?"
She shrugged one shoulder. "Oh, just a bit of good sound wisdom about trust in a marriage. I'm sure I will be hearing a great deal of that from my own mother when she gets here. Forgive her if she lambastes you over what has happened."
Now it was his turn to shrug. "She only wants what's best for you. As do I. So would anyone else who loved you. I'm only glad Howell overplayed his hand. The thought of you being in his clutches..." He shuddered.
"It's all right. He never.... Not to say he didn't try, but-"
He looked at her sharply. "I find that hard to believe."
She shrugged. "I was never foolish enough to ever be alone with him for more than a minute or two, and we have some burly footmen."
"And you never will be alone with him."
"Never with any other man once we are wed," she promised.
"Now, some suitable new gowns and other essentials, and then back to the house," he said as he settled her on the seat and snuggled against her.
"But Randall-"
"Please, allow me to indulge my bride. You have no trousseau prepared, and you must have clothes."
"I don't need much."
"And because you have said that, you shall have it all," he vowed, kissing her hand as though she were a princess.
She tried to enjoy herself at the boutique, and could not fail to be impressed with his generosity and attention to detail. But Isolde also could not help wondering how many other women he had showered with gifts like this.
She risked voicing the question when he observed her perturbation and asked what was troubling her. He could not imagine any woman not being utterly thrilled with new clothes.
"Buying gifts for women?" he echoed blankly. "Only one. My mother."
She let out a sigh of relief.
His face was the picture of earnest appeal. "I would not have brought you here if I thought it would bring disgrace upon you. That is not to say I have not occasionally been asked my opinion about a gown or two by some female friends, but I never ever showered women with gifts.
"If they offered themselves freely, I said yes, we had an enjoyable time, and I sent them on their way. Or they were professionals who wanted hard cash. I never bestowed any material things, for women are apt to view symbolism or sentiment where there is none."
"I see. And how many ladies did you pay?"
He shrugged. A slight hint of color tinged his cheekbones as he answered honestly, "At least half. Again, no entanglements. No regular mistress. And no consequences."
"No intimacy either," she guessed.
He nodded, surprised at how quickly she had grasped it. "Just so."
"I am sorry. I don't mean to sound like I'm judging you, or want to be harsh. It's just that this is all so sudden and--"
He nodded. "I know. It's only fair to want to get to know more about each other, and I for one don't blame you for your reservations. After all, not everyone would like to have one of the most notorious rakes in England as their husband," he said quietly, flicking through some muslins.
Isolde bit her lower lip and sighed. "Oh, Randall, I'm sorry if I seem less than grateful. I know you're only trying to make me happy. But you don't need to buy me things to do that. I really don't need anything more than the gown, at least not at this point. I have a whole wardrobe in Surrey."
"No, sweetheart, a married lady and the wife of an earl needs to cut a bit of a dash."
He spoke to the proprietress Mrs. Jenkins, who came over to ask about his mother first, and then inquired as to what they wanted.
"Seven of each of the stockings, drawers and chemises, will be ample. Plus that brocade gown, the two woollen ones in wine and sable, the two sprigged muslins, and, if I may, that white and green, and that emerald and gold evening gown there."
Isolde's face fell.
For a moment he thought she detested his choices, until she protested, "But Randall, we're both still supposed to be in mourning."
His face fell, and he sighed. "How true. I had forgotten. I will take those for some happier time in the future, if I may, Mrs. Jenkins, but can you please get together a few black dresses for my wife-to-be.
And some grey. And you can never have too many changes of linen," he said, piling up the lacy drawers and chemises until she blushed and begged him to desist.
He instructed the modiste to wrap the clothes and make a couple of alterations on the gown she was to wear for her wedding, and he found a matching reticule and slippers for it.
The Rakehell Regency Romance Collection #4 Page 16
