Lady Linley sushed her daughter, but Susan laughed, "Windbag, windbag! He is a windbag!"
"Come, girls. We can talk about this some other time."
"Surely you don’t agree with them, Mother?" Isolde asked quietly.
"For my own part, no, I don’t. But I do have these two little ones to consider. You can always come see us, but Oxnard is a small village. It will be scandalised enough by what Howell will be reporting back to them. Any more unconventional deportment on your part, even if your husband is an earl, could well ruin your sisters’ chanced in the marriage mart."
"That is years off, I hope!"
"I hope so too. But between that and Father dying intestate, we need to be careful. I laud your decency and loving nature, and wish you much joy with your new family. But please try to understand." She gave a small resigned lift of her shoulders, and then Randall and Isolde were alone once more.
"Darling, I’m sorry, but I have to agree with your mother. What you are proposing is unthinkable."
"You wanted a new family. It will either be my own, or ours."
"Your own then. We can just leave things as they are and—"
She shook her head. "Sweep them under the carpet, you mean? I’m sorry. I can’t be that much of a hypocrite. If you have done nothing wrong, why make those children suffer?"
"But I have done wrong. I can’t go back to Somerset."
She saw the red and black vision, and shook her head. "You’re right, of course, my dear," she said, and for a moment his wary expression relaxed. "You can’t back, because you’ve never left. You’ve been frozen there all these years. We will get your mother well enough to travel, and then you’re going home."
He shook his head. "I refuse to go. And you as my wife will obey me," he said angrily.
She met his lapis gaze with complete calm. "You can’t keep me in London if I do not choose to remain."
"You’re not leaving me!"
"No, you’re leaving me. Or was that the plan all along, and this is just an excuse?"
"No, damn it, no!" he protested vehemently. "You’re not putting this on me. If you’re the one who has changed your mind—"
She shook her head and sat back against the sofa cushions with a sigh. "But I haven’t. I love you and want to be with you. I want you to be happy, Randall. You aren’t at the moment, and haven’t been for a long time. I can’t bring back the dead. I can only restore to you the living. And the joy of living. Please, for both our sakes, say you’ll think about it."
He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand as though it ached unbearably. "But my mother and eight children? And all my duties? It is more than any sane person can bear."
"Lucky I am mad, then. Mad about you."
He sighed, and kneeling in front of her, hugged her close. "I don’t want to argue with you. It’s too soon to be making decisions like this."
"Perhaps, but it’s the right thing to do. Tell me you will think about it, at least."
"I am sure, little wife, you’re not going to give me the chance to think about much else."
She stroked his chest. "Oh, I don’t know. I’m sure I can give you a few more interesting things to contemplate."
"Oh no, I am not going to let you wheedle me like that!"
She stiffened and stepped up off the couch and out of his embrace. "I’m not trying to wheedle, as you call it. I’m not a whore. I’m just fondling you because I miss you."
"I’m sorry!"
But she was already out the door and heading for the green and gold chamber. She sat with his mother for a time, and the Dowager Lady Hazelmere chatted and ate some soup and was happy to take the soothing herbal tisane Isolde prepared for her.
Randall could see Isolde was upset, but was the soul of kindness to his mother, so that he doubted the older woman had a clue as to the turmoil in her daughter-in-law’s breast.
At last his mother lay back on the pillows and closed her eyes. Randall gave her a kiss goodnight and took his wife’s hand. He escorted her to her door, and began to run his hands up and down her arms.
Her skin scorched, and she stepped back.
"I didn’t mean--"
"No, it’s all right. I can’t blame you for the way my body feels when you touch me."
He stared. "If you really want me, darling, what’s holding you back?"
"Lingering confusion, fear, doubts. I’m sorry. I don’t know the rules to your games."
"No games. Just a man and a woman in love."
She sighed. "I think I love you, really. Just give me a bit more time."
"Very well. I won’t even beg you for a kiss."
"Drat. I was hoping to ask you for one."
"Gladly."
He entered the room and took her in his arms. They broke apart shakily a minute later.
"What is that expression about playing with fire?" Isolde asked with a dazed look on her face.
"I don’t even have to play, darling. One look from you and I burst into flames."
They both laughed shakily, and Isolde walked him to the door.
"Listen, I’m sorry about the argument before. What I said. I was a fool. I will think about all you’ve said."
"That’s all I ask. Even if it is a lot to ask, Randall."
"You have no idea how much."
She stroked his shoulder. "I think I do. But as I've said, you can't move on unless you go back."
He gave a half smile and sighed. "I certainly married a wise young woman."
"I'm trying as best I can. I want you to be happy."
"I know." He kissed her hand. "And you're so generous, I know that you can't be happy if I'm not."
She nodded and smiled. "There, I knew you'd understand."
"I am trying, my dear."
"We're both doing our best, and that's all we can hope for."
He stooped to give her one last kiss, then opened the door. "Good night, love."
"Good night, Randall."
She shut the door behind her, and prayed that he would come around to her way of thinking soon. She wasn't sure how much longer she was going to be able to hold herself from him….
Chapter Six
The next day saw the newlyweds paying visits, dining out at a restaurant, taking a ride in his small open carriage in Rotten Row amid dozens of his acquaintances, and stopping in at the library.
Isolde felt well and happy, if a bit uneasy about her disagreement with her whole family and Randall the previous night.
But she was sure he was never going to be happy if he could not find some way to let go of the past. The aura of dejection around him was palpable, except when he was with her. He looked at her as though he were afraid she was a figment of his imagination, as if she would vanish into thin air the minute his eyes left her.
At one point he reached up to re-tie her bonnet in what he said would be a more flattering manner.
Well of course he would be an expert, she thought with a sigh. He had certainly had enough women. He had never even attempted to disguise the fact. He had said he had never had a single relationship which had involved commitment. Why on earth was she here with him?
The thrumming between her thighs told her why eloquently. Here was a man worth having. She had no idea that what she shared with him was completely unique, but it was not something she could just give up.
Even now, as he pulled her into his arms for a kiss, she could feel how needy they both were. Surely he could not pretend this. She had never looked at any man with such admiration and longing. Surely there had to be some sort of spark between he and a woman, or he would never-
"I can’t get enough of you. Even when I’m inside you, giving you everything I have, I wanted you. Isolde, oh Isolde, what are you doing to me?" he murmured.
"The same as you are to me?" she asked softly, and gave him a tender smile.
His partly veiled lids flew open, and she nodded.
"Truly?"
"Truly."
"I can’t believe how l
ucky I am," he said with a sigh.
"We’re going to make our own luck," she said firmly."No more living in the past."
He sighed. "I’m going to try. But with Mother and—"
"I’ll be there for you, I promise. Every step of the way."
"In that case, we will get Mother well, and I shall write to the children’s guardians explaining the change of plans and head to Somerset to make the preparations. How does six weeks sound?"
She grinned at him. "Make it eight. I'm not so selfless that I want to forgo a proper honeymoon. Once my family leave, that is. And your mother is feeling a bit better."
"Where would you like to go? Paris, Brussels..."
"Brighton will be more than enough."
"Very well. But I had rather hoped to show you the world a bit."
She put her arms around him. "You have. It’s all right here." She squeezed him hard. "It’s all I need, once you’re happy again."
"I’m certainly not unhappy," he hastened to reassure her.
"I know. But I want your heart to sing like mine does when you hold me like this."
"If you rub me like that again it’s going to perform the ‘Hallelujah Chorus’," he teased.
"In that case I’ll join you. Come upstairs. The honeymoon may have been interrupted for a short time, but I don’t want to spend another night without you."
"Are you sure you’re up to it? Physically I mean. We were most immoderate at first, and I wouldn’t hurt you for the world."
She led him to his room and opened the door. "Moderate be damned. I want all the joys you can possible give me, Randall, and I don’t want you to stop until you collapse."
His whole body clenched. "God, Isolde, you have no idea what you’re asking."
She stroked down his chest to his groin. "All of you. And in exchange, you can have every inch of me. In and out. All night, every night."
"You may wish you never said that," he said in a sultry purr.
"Never," she said, freeing him from his trousers and suckling his velvety tip.
He growled in the back of his throat and staggered over to the bed for a joyous reunion which left him wondering once more at the miracle which had gifted him with the most loving and sensual wife he ever could have imagined.
Isolde’s eight weeks were scarcely enough for the newlyweds to enjoy one another. For the first four weeks, they spent most of their time preparing for their exodus from London. They never shirked their responsibilities with his mother, and Isolde also helped him with all of his correspondence and duties as the Earl of Hazelmere.
But their nights after supper, when they retired to bed early, never seemed to be enough for either of them. They were in a constant state of euphoria, and explored the deep wellspring of their passion with tenderness, enthusiasm, and a great deal of imagination.
A few interesting books she received from her more worldly friends as wedding presents had them avidly engaged in some fascinating bedtime reading, and they methodically worked their way through every position until Randall complained that if he had know his wife was raised in a seraglio he never would have married her.
There might well be limits to female passion, but he had yet to discover them. His, however, were more apparent as he lay drained and yet still longed for her warm, enveloping softness.
One bright March morning at the end of their first month as newlyweds, Isolde kissed him awake. He groaned and put one arm over his eyes. "I can’t, dearest. Not yet. I’m sorry. I really need to sleep."
"Silly man. It doesn’t have to be all about copulation, you know. There’s tenderness, affection, too. You can hug and kiss me any time you like. I won’t break."
He pulled her to him for another kiss. "I’m sorry. I suppose I’m just not used to all of your warm devotion yet. It sparks me off all the time. And I wish I could touch you without, well—"
"I’m not expecting anything from you that you can’t give. Now, or ever. I just wanted to tell you I was getting up to go in the bathroom, so you wouldn’t think something happened to me. And you know what today is?"
"Yes, love?" He opened one eye warily.
"Just to remind you were heading down to Somerset."
Randall sat up. "I’ll finish packing."
She pressed him back on the pillow. "You know this won’t be easy. Facing the past, raising the children. Trying to administer everything at such a distance from London."
"We’ll be a team, you and I. And with you by my side there will be nothing we can’t do." He tried to imbue his tone with confidence, though inwardly he quailed at the prospect.
"Tell me about our new accommodations again?"
"I’ve not been there for years, and of course the master suite was my parents’. But you can have any rooms you like redecorated. My only proviso is that we never have separate bedrooms. You can have any décor you like, but you sleep by my side, no matter what."
"What, even when I am ill, or otherwise indisposed?" she asked with shy surprise.
"Even then. I want nothing to separate us. And there is nothing you could ever do or say to me that would upset me. Not if you tell me the truth."
"Not even if I were to say I was with child, or in love with another man?" she ventured to say.
"The first would make me happy. The second would probably kill me." He sighed deeply. "But I need you to be happy too. I would hate to see you ever pining away miserably as my mother has, until she was a shadow of her former self. I just don’t think I could live without you now that I’ve found you."
She cupped his cheeks with both her hands. "Don’t ever say that. You’ll manage because you’re strong. Stronger than you know. And your mother has been improving every day. We wouldn’t be going down to Somerset otherwise."
"Yet I feel as though I haven’t been alive for the past decade or so. More like I was in some sort of limbo or purgatory."
"Well, I want you to be in Heaven now."
He grinned lazily, nibbling her fingers. "If you come back to bed when you finish with your little chores, I shall be."
"I’ll be back soon," she promised.
When she returned, they spent a lazy hour in bed kissing and cuddling, until at last he was fully roused from his slumber and began to stimulate them both in another way. This time was one of his slow, leisurely pursuits of pleasure, with deep penetration and the most subtle of movements, while she tried to move her hips. She beat on his back in frustration with her flattened palms as he teased her maddeningly.
"My, you have quite temper when roused."
"I have quite an appetite too. Please, lift your hips so I can move, or I’m going to devour you."
"What do you want then?"
"All of it. Harder. Please."
"Anything to please the lady. All you have to do is ask."
She whispered a few bold suggestions in his ear, and he laughed heartily and eagerly complied. The pleasure swirled around them as they soared.
At noon she pulled one of his lids open. "Sorry, darling, but if we’re going to head off today, I need to have a bath and pack."
He sat up immediately. "Are you all right?"
She stared at him. "Fine."
He shook his head. "There’s something different about you, though."
She kissed him. "I’m fine. No secrets between us, remember?"
"I know there’s something different about you."
"All right, well, yes," she said shyly. "My feminine indisposition has arrived."
"Maybe we shouldn’t travel today. Come back to bed and—"
"It will be fine. It hasn’t stopped me before, doesn’t trouble me the way it does some women."
"You’re early, though. I thought you said you were regular."
She blushed. "I am, generally. Anyway, it's nothing to worry about. Better than being late."
His brows drew downwards. "I don’t think we should go."
"It will be fine, I promise. We can make ourselves comfortable and drowse in the coach. B
esides, it will be about four days altogether, even if we ride post to get down to Somerset. I wouldn’t want to wait another five or six days to get there."
At his frown, she kissed him on the cheek. "Don’t look so worried. I’ll be fine."
The Rakehell Regency Romance Collection #4 Page 33
