The Rakehell Regency Romance Series Boxed Set 1

by Sorcha MacMurrough

  "Really, there's no need to carry me. The road is paved here. I can walk."

  "Nonsense, we're nearly at the carriage. A little further will not inconvenience me, and you certainly would not want to run away, as it were, with a turned ankle."

  She wondered if he was not holding her a bit more tightly than the occasion warranted. Her bosom was pressed against his broad chest most intimately. One simple movement of his head would bring his finely chiseled, sensuous lips down upon hers.

  She wondered if what happened next was her fault for staring at him so. If the wish gave birth to the deed. For as he strode to the waiting vehicle and swung her up into the open carriage door, his mouth swooped down upon hers, stifling any cry of surprise or outrage she might have made.

  His kiss was warm and thrilling, gentle and exploring one moment, hotly seeking the next. It was like being devoured. Yet she felt as if she too were trying to take all of him into her as she opened her lips and lightly sucked on his sinuously probing tongue. She grasped him around the neck to pull his head even closer.

  She heard a gasp, and felt herself being fitted even more snugly to him. One part of her mind screamed that this was utter madness, allowing herself to be kissed as though she were some light-skirt.

  The other part wondered why she'd ever thought she had been kissed before. The pecks on the cheeks and lips that Herbert had given her were as nothing compared with this act of... possession.

  An apt word, possession, she thought wildly, as the questing mouth made her bones turn to jelly. Even if she had wanted to struggle against his embrace, she was powerless to do so. Her whole body arched up to meet his with a reckless abandon she had never even suspected within herself.

  But she didn't want to struggle. She wanted more, so much more. Her arms crept up around his neck, caressing the silken dark hair, and his smooth, lightly tanned cheek. She touched his ebony eyebrows, thick jet eyelashes, stroked his soft earlobes, fascinated.

  She tore off her gloves the better to revel in the sensation, and moved on to the strong muscular neck. Her bare hands made a frenzied exploration of any naked flesh she could find. Or create. Her fingers probed his shirtfront, delving as if trying to touch the very heart of him.

  Her own cloak being draped back from her shoulders only made her quest more urgent and frenzied as she tugged at his cravat and stock, ruining their snowy perfection as she sought to press kisses down the marble column of his throat.

  He nipped and teased at her lips playfully, before descending lower to kiss the pulse in her throat and one shapely shoulder. She pressed against him and was so lost in the moment that she did not realise the carriage was moving, indeed, was already near the village of Brimley.

  It was the Duke who came to his senses first, shocked at this unexpected turn of events. Oh, he knew he desired her. Who would not? She was young and beautiful, and intelligent.

  But he had not know the true extent of his passion until Charlotte kissed him with a responsiveness which he'd never encountered before, not even in women who earned their living in such a way. He'd never intended to allow himself such liberties, anything more than one heated kiss when her father arrived to make the whole thing look credible. His only aim had been to protect her and prevent her from throwing her life away on a worthless scoundrel.

  Now he had to reassess the situation anew. For while the need to protect her was still there, he was not so sure that he could save Charlotte from herself, or from him. Was the woman a wanton, to give away so freely that which ought to be treasured and saved for marriage? Had Herbert already gone so far that he had ruined her? Turned her into a woman as debauched as he? Or perhaps...

  No, surely it was not possible. Could it be that God had actually given him the one thing he had always longed for, true love, in the most unexpected way?

  All of these possibilities swirled through his head as he nibbled her warm neck and she stroked his chest and shoulder with her small delicate fingers. She was either the most consummate actress he had ever met, or the most innocent and naturally sensual girl imaginable. He could not help noticing the way they fit so well together as he moved backwards on the seat, leaving her prostrate on his chest, his hands stroking her back but not holding her so tightly that she could not pull out of the embrace if she chose.

  Thomas wondered how far he should let Charlotte go. After all, she was only going to hate him on the morrow. He suspected the extent of her hatred would be in direct proportion to the degree of embarrassment and shame she would experience at the recollection of her passionate behavior tonight.

  Unless of course she really was a ladybird, in which case he was going to have an entirely different set of problems to contend with. Either way, his life was going to be anything but peaceful when she at last realised what she was doing and broke off the kiss, and confronted him with his seeming perfidy. If he was any judge of her character, Charlotte was going to be furious, and very, very bitter at having been thus thwarted in her attempt to run off with Paxton.

  He stroked her cheek soothingly, tenderly, willing her to see that he did care about her, no matter what little drama was about to be played out in front of her whole family. He had to use every ounce of willpower not to roll her under him and press his attentions further, but she was doing an admirable job enough for them both. So much so that his body felt tremblingly hot and cold, and his longing for this to be a real elopement hammered in his head. And loins.

  But no, here at last was the sound he had been half-listening for during the last few minutes, galloping horses approaching at a breakneck pace, making the whole carriage vibrate under them.

  Thomas opened his eyes to make sure that her breasts were still confined within her low cut gown. There was no sense embarrassing the girl more than necessary.

  Now he tugged at the gold ribbons laced in her jet-black hair. Her complicated coiffure tumbled down her back, making her look a complete wanton. He rasped his lightly bristled chin against her delicate face and neck to give her a thoroughly kissed look. He slid one sleeve of her shoulder and nuzzled there as well. A tug of her frothy white silk skirts and petticoats to bring them up over her knees and bunched about her waist would be the final apt touch.

  There, that would convince them all, he hoped. Enough to get her father to force her to marry him.

  Woe betide them both if it didn't.

  CHAPTER TWO

  By the time the Duke's carriage, with its prominent coat of arms, was halted at the Brimley Market Cross by Charlotte's outraged father and cousins, she had rendered Thomas a most disheveled-looking gentleman, a far cry from the impeccably groomed man of Society everyone had previously known him to be.

  Mr. Castlemaine was appalled at the thought of his daughter eloping after all the care he had given her. But it was no real surprise given her looks and fortune that some young buck should try to pluck her out of the nest when his back was turned.

  The true shock, not unmingled with a tinge of delight, was the identity of her beau. For the young man trapped under his daughter's passionate embrace turned out to be Thomas Eltham.

  The Duke of Ellesmere, of all people. The most eligible bachelor in the County. If not five counties! He could not have been more surprised if they had sprouted wings and flown to the moon.

  "Charlotte, what is the meaning of this!" Mr. Castlemaine demanded, leaning forward to open the carriage door and then dismounting to confront the fleeing couple. "Eloping! After all the trust we placed in you."

  "But Papa, I can explain..."

  She looked at her furious parent, and then to the Duke, who was calmly adjusting his clothing with a Devil-may-care air, as if they were in a drawing room discussing the latest poetry.

  She became conscious of her own wild appearance, her hair tumbled about her shoulders, lips throbbing, bosom heaving, and stared at the Duke again. What on earth had happened here? How had she allowed herself to behave so wildly?

  "You will come back to the house this minu
te, young lady, and start packing your things. No daughter of mine can ever be forgiven for behaving in such a disgraceful manner."

  "There's no harm done. It was all an honest mistake," she protested.

  Her father looked black as a thundercloud. "Mistake, yes, but not an honest one."

  "But His Grace the Duke and I weren't eloping. I was going..." She clamped her jaws shut as she realized what she was about to say would only damn her further, and indeed completely irreparably in the eyes of society. She had been caught in a most passionate embrace with one man. She could hardly admit that she had been trying to elope with another!

  She looked up at the Duke with confusion, fear and anger.

  "If you will allow me, dearest," he said, placing a reassuring hand on her bared shoulder that was like a red-hot firebrand of passion.

  "I'm sorry I've caused you all this trouble, sir. The plain truth is I love and admire your daughter. When I saw her looking so lovely tonight, like an angel, I couldn't wait a moment longer. I knew I had to have her for my own. I could not be bothered with the tedium of marriage settlements and long engagements and the interminable months of waiting for a trousseau to be made.

  "Charlotte evidently feels the same, for she consented to come with me. Honest marriage has always been my intention, sir. So if you will kindly allow me to come back to the house with you, I would like to request formally Charlotte's hand in marriage, and ask for your blessing."

  Charlotte turned abruptly to refute his words. She saw the warning glance he gave her. Despite the terrible feeling of entrapment squeezing her heart, she remained silent.

  Mr. Castlemaine stood staring, caught in a paroxysm of anger and relief not unmixed with pride.

  "Please, sir, no harm has been done," Thomas urged. "If we head back to the house now, all of your guests at her birthday party will think she tore her gown or went to fix her hair. Only you and her cousins shall know what has taken place here. I will certainly never speak of it. I care about Charlotte too much to wish her name to be bandied about in a disparaging manner. She will be my lawful wedded wife, and I shall never allow any scandal to touch her. I give you my word, there will never be any seven-month child. My solicitors can call in the morning, and the marriage can take place without the tedium of delay."

  Mr. Castlemaine looked at his nephews Samuel and James, both strapping young men with dark hair who would quite happily pound the Duke into dust if requested to do so.

  They seemed to be as astonished as he, but both nodded to their uncle and assumed a more relaxed position.

  At length the older man nodded, satisfied. "Samuel, you go back in the carriage with Charlotte. You, sir," he said, directing a sharp look at Thomas, "come with me. We will all act as if nothing is amiss in front of everyone at the party. Samuel and James will keep an eye on Charlotte to ensure she does not do anything foolish to give herself away. The Duke and I shall meet in the study in half an hour."

  "Thank you, sir."

  "But Father, I-"

  His brows knit fiercely. "Be thankful I don't have the pair of you horsewhipped. I can't believe any daughter of mine would be such an ungrateful minx. And you, sir, have abused my hospitality and trust most shamefully."

  Thomas bowed humbly. "Love and youth can be my only excuses. I hope my abiding regard for your daughter will make up for that in some small way in the future."

  "Humph. We shall see, young Eltham. We shall see. I am prepared to make the best of a bad situation here. But if you ever so much as dare breathe a word of this to anyone, I shall blacken your name from one end of the country to the other."

  "I give you my word, sir," Thomas said, hand on heart, "no one shall ever hear the truth of what happened here this evening from me."

  Mr. Castlemaine nodded, satisfied at last. He tugged down his burgundy waistcoat over his paunch, puffed out his chest, and squared his shoulders. "Very well. Come. We have little time before people start to wonder where we've got to. In case they ask why we rode out, we can say we got a message that there was a fire at another part of the estate, but it turned out to be a false alarm."

  Thomas nodded. "It was rather stormy before. It will lend credence to that tale. A stray bolt of lightning is a common enough occurrence."

  Charlotte had tried to hold her tongue up until this point, terrified and stunned by this unexpected turn of events. She now looked at the Duke and whispered, "Your Grace, you can't mean to persist in this folly."

  "Why not?"

  She stared at him in consternation. "Why not? Because you don't love me! I don't love you! This is all a mistake, a sham," she whispered back.

  He laughed shortly and drew her over to one side, meriting a glare from her father, though he did not verbally protest. "Love is a vastly overrated sentiment bandied about by novelists for the entertainment of unreflective minds, Miss Castlemaine. And people of my station do not marry for love. They marry for family connections, land, property, and fortune. Every man in the County has been after your fortune. I simply got there first."

  She raised her arm to smack the smug smile from his face, but he grabbed her wrist and bowed over her hand as if he were kissing it.

  "You still have time to tell the truth," he murmured with what appeared to be a mocking gleam in his eyes. "Tell them you were going to elope with another man, not me. Where do you think you will be then? Do you think your father will welcome your truly chosen one into the house, into the study, into your family? Welcome him as compared with me, a duke? I think not. You'll lose everything. With me you will have everything you ever wanted, and perhaps more."

  "But not love," she hissed, trying to jerk her arm away, but finding herself completely in his power.

  He caressed her fingers intimately, sending shivers up and down both their spines. "Are you so sure of that?"

  His mouth moved so near that she could not fail to be reminded of the torrid kisses they had shared, kisses she had enjoyed, sought more and more of. Kisses which she had continued even when the Duke had tried to alert her to the presence of her father.

  No, she wasn't sure. She wasn't sure of anything at all, except that she was being manipulated. Bent to everyone's will like a puppet, treated as though she were a mindless piece of property with no wishes of her own, easily handed over from one man to another.

  "Come, Daughter, into the carriage with you," Mr. Castlemaine commanded imperiously.

  "But Father, what if I do not wish to marry the Duke?" she ventured in a tremulous voice.

  He scowled. "Then you are no daughter of mine, and I will lock you away in a madhouse. Surely no decent woman would behave as you have done." He flicked the cloak over her scantily clad bosom as though he could not bear to look at her. "No sane one would refuse the opportunity to marry a peer of the realm such as His Grace."

  "But Father, I was just-"

  "How can you think to back out now after what you've done? This is no trifling matter, a mere ballroom flirtation. You have been alone with him, exchanged embraces, for pity's sake! Has your aunt not taught you the consequences of such actions?"

  She blushed. "Yes, but--"

  "This situation is of your own making. You were in the carriage eloping with him. You were behaving as, er, as a wife would with her husband, and should behave with him only. I saw you with my own eyes, though I can still scarcely credit it."

  "I know I was wrong, Father, but still--"

  "Enough!" he barked, thwacking his riding crop along the side of his silk-clad leg. "If I weren't such a loving parent, I would horsewhip the pair of you. Even if it was a little game of yours that went too far, a harmless flirtation, it's too late to back out now, my girl. You had a choice, and you made it, for better or worse. Now I am making mine. Go back to the house now and await my instructions."

  She found herself actually clinging to Thomas for support in the face of her parent's harshness. "But Father--"

  His normally florid face grew even more flushed. "And don't try to tell me he forc
ed you. Carried you out of the house kicking and screaming. I know what I saw. What we all saw."

  Tears of mortification and shame welled up in her deep blue eyes. "No, Father, he didn't force me," she admitted. "But I can't--"

  Thomas had not relinquished her wrist, but his grip had gentled, and he now took her hand in both his own. "It will be all right, I promise. I give you my word as a gentleman that as my wife you shall never have cause to repine. Never be subjected to cruelty or want. It will be all right, you'll see."

  He kissed her lightly on the lips, causing shivers to race up and down her spine. She actually found herself leaning into the comfort of his huge strong frame for an all too brief moment.

  Then he tugged up the shoulder of her gown and patted her gently. "Go now, go with your cousin Samuel, my dear. I shall see you later."