Realm 03 - A Touch of Cashemere

by Regina Jeffers

  Marcus laughed lightly. “You will have years to look upon me.” He tapped the bed as if directing where he wanted her and then walked leisurely toward the screen. “And who said anything about dousing the candles.” He winked at Cashé.

  “Yes, my Lord.” Cashé smiled broadly.

  Within a few minutes, they were once again in each other’s arms. Marcus could not keep his hands still. They roamed at will across her breasts, her arms, her legs. “Not so many minutes ago, you called yourself flawed, but you are pure perfection in this manner.” He sat back to look his fill.

  Then he touched her breasts–massaging gently and stroking her nipples. His mouth followed his thumbs across her breasts, sucking gently at first, but then more demanding. Soon excitement had constricted his breathing, but when Cashé arched toward him, Marcus knew it was time. His fingers stroked along Cashé’s cleft, spreading the wetness. Marcus worked her very much as he had done that day in the Scottish midlands. He had meant to give Cashé the familiarity of their intimacy before sharing more. When she climaxed, Marcus moved between her legs. “Are you ready, my Love?”

  Cashé opened her desire-filled eyes. “I want to be yours forever, Marcus.” Their gazes locked, and he positioned himself to enter her. Slowly, he slipped into her wetness.

  “You are so hot...so wet,” he groaned. Cashé arched again, welcoming his strength, and Marcus gritted his teeth to keep from exploding immediately. He lifted her hips and pushed deeper. Feeling her barrier, he leaned forward to kiss her again, and then with a hard thrust made her his own. Cashé stiffened for a second, but she soon joined him in a rhythmic coupling. Hard strokes buried him to the hilt, but Marcus continued to pound his body against hers. “Let it happen again,” he growled. And Cashé’s body tightened around him–muscles contracting; Marcus snarled his release–a shudder and a pulsing, and he filled her with his seed.

  Marcus held himself above her, gazing down on the woman he loved.

  “Is it often like this? Like flying without wings?” she asked innocently.

  “I cannot speak for others, but never in my experience until now,” he rasped, his heart, pounding in his ears. “Perfection again,” he whispered as he gently withdrew and rolled to his side, scooping Cashé into his embrace.

  They lay together, arms and legs entangled for some time before either of them spoke. “Did I hurt you?” he asked as he brushed a sweaty curl from her face. Mindlessly, Marcus removed the pins from her disheveled hair.

  “Only for a moment.” She looked a bit embarrassed. “I did not disappoint you? I could not bear it if you were disappointed with me as your wife.”

  “How could you disappoint? Did I not just tell you that you are perfection?” Marcus suspected it would be some time before he could convince Cashé that he required nothing but her. Aldridge had left his mark on her. “May I tell you how I know that you will never disappoint me?”

  Although she buried her face into Marcus’s chest, Cashé agreed with a mumbled, “Yes.”

  “When I was a twelve, my twin sister Margaret...Maggie and I holidayed with our parents and older brothers. Trevor has learned some civilities, but in those days, Father allowed Trevor to do what he wanted...with few restrictions. On this one particular day, we were in the Peak District. Father had thought to take Myles into the earth, so to speak, to teach his heir about the land, but also about courage, as Myles was deathly afraid of small enclosures. They were to descend the one hundred-five steps to the submerged basin of Speedwell Cavern.” Marcus mindlessly stroked her back, and Cashé snuggled closer.

  “Although I was quite keen on the idea at the time, there was no way for the entire family to make the trek. Being the youngest son, I always wanted to prove myself to the Earl. Trevor, however, would create havoc for everyone. So, Maggie and I were left to fend for ourselves under the less than watchful eye of our mother’s maid. So, as Myles fought his demons below the surface, I foolish fought with Maggie above. It was over something completely childish. I had teasingly told Maggie that the color of her dress had made her look yellow. It did not, but young boys always tease their sisters. In anger, Maggie had stormed away with Trevor in tow.”

  When Cashé moved to where she could see Marcus’s face more clearly, he breathed easier. She understood that this was an important part of his life.

  He swallowed hard before continuing. “What happened exactly no one knows. Later, Trevor could not tell us. But after ten minutes or so, Trevor returned without Maggie. When the maid and I asked where she was, he simply said, ‘In a hole.’ It probably took us another ten long, excoriating minutes to find her at the bottom of a walled-up well. She treaded water, but was exhausted. I attempted to reach her. Really I did. Used the abandoned boards to make a flimsy platform from which to dangle. Surprisingly, somehow our fingers touched, and I pitched forward to catch Maggie’s hand.

  “My sister’s eyes spoke of her fear, but I kept telling her that I would save her. That I loved her. That I was sorry for being an idiot and teasing her. That she was my other half.” He paused to let the emotions settle. “I pulled, Cashé, with all my might. I swear I did! Attempted to lift her from the water. Maggie’s wet fingers clawed at my hands, but I was not strong enough to hold her. The maid, and even Trevor, held my legs to steady me, but the wood cracked, and then everything happened so fast. Maggie fell back into the water, her head hitting the brick wall, and, just like that, she was gone. I mean they found her...Father and some other men, but she was gone. I had failed her. It was my fault. I should have gone in after her. Should have died saving her.”

  Cashé eyes remained glued to his face. “Oh, Marcus, it was not your fault. Do you not see that?”

  He turned his head towards hers. “I do now. I learned to master heights, you see, and I have saved many others. My time with the Realm gave me those intangibles. Yet, none of them mattered until I saved you. You are a person that I love, and I was able to save you. Part of it was because you fought so hard to survive, but mainly, I was now strong enough mentally and physically to save a person that meant the world to me. I know it sounds ridiculous, but it changed everything.”

  “I would go through it again if it made a difference in your life,” Cashé claimed. “Every hair-raising second if it gave you peace.” She clung tightly to him.

  Marcus kissed her softly and then more passionately. “I plan to make love to you, Ma Chère. Let us make beautiful children together. A dozen of them.”

  “A dozen?” Cashé smiled amusedly.

  “A little girl who we will name Margaret...Maggie,” he whispered into Cashé’s hair as he pulled her closer.

  “Twins,” she corrected. “We shall have twins...a boy and a girl.”

  Excerpt from Book 4 of the Realm Series

  A Touch of Grace

  Tired of being a spectator in life, Gabriel Crowden had ridden leisurely, but with a new determination to find his own future. He had crossed Midlothian and Peeblesshire and was likely in Dumfriesshire when the shot rang out. Despite the pain in his chest, he had jerked on Balder’s reins, turning the stallion in a tight circle. He had searched from where the bullet came, but he found nothing unusual. He thought to find cover, but another bullet whizzed by his ear so he had kicked Balder’s flanks and tried simply to hold on.

  Minutes later, the blood still squirted from the wound. He had ridden a mile or more before stopping to examine it. Now, with his back to a large boulder, he held a second blood soaked handkerchief to the wound and prayed to stop the flow. He had cursed himself for not considering the possibility of a highwayman’s attack or even of Jamot seeking revenge. He had been so consumed with the idea of finally finding happiness that he had not listened to the knell of his own death’s bell. Putting more pressure against the gaping hole, Crowden closed his eyes and prayed for a second chance.

  *

  “I do not let rooms to unchaperoned ladies,” the innkeeper asserted as she protested his lack of understanding. “You be welcome to w
ait in the common room with the other travelers.”

  Grace Nelson considered continuing the argument, but it would be useless. She accepted the man’s objections. If the innkeeper wanted to run a legitimate business, he had to enforce the rules, but that did not mean that she would enjoy sitting up all night. Grace certainly would not allow herself to fall asleep. It would be too dangerous. Someone could steal what money she had or do something worse. A woman was defenseless in such matters.

  Frustrated, she stepped outside into the busy inn yard. If the mail coach had stopped in a village, she might have sought the pity of a widow or a newlywed couple to spend a night on a chaise or even a pallet before the hearth. But they were between villages so she would have no choice but to wait with the others for the morning coach.

  “Stretch my legs while it is still light,” she said softly to herself. Having escaped Viscount Averette’s latest rant, she had traveled for two days. Grace had congratulated herself for assisting Lady Averette and Gwendolyn to make a speedy retreat. The viscount’s personal business had become more and more secretive over the past two months, and Grace had easily recognized that it would be only a matter of time before Averette’s world exploded. When she overheard one of the viscount’s visitors threaten Averette’s life, she had come to the quick conclusion that it was time to leave. “Geoffrey will not be pleased to see me,” she thought aloud. “But it will not be for long. I have my letter of reference; I will find another position.”

  Grace stepped off the wooden walkway, which ran across the front of the inn, and turned her steps toward the stable. She loved horses and thought to see what the inn housed. Anything to pass the time.

  Yet, as she reached the main door, it swung wide, and a man in a finely fitted coat staggered toward her. At first, she had thought to turn on her heels and make a speedy escape, but then a face of an Adonis stilled her. She had seen him once before–in London. At a party where she had spoken to Prince George. “Lord Godown,” she gasped, and then she saw the painful grimace as he pitched forward.

  Grace caught him, shoving up on his shoulder. “My Lord, are you injured!” He used his free hand to steady himself against the door. “Let me find assistance.”

  “No,” he rasped. “Can you lead me to the inn?”

  Grace braced him against her frame. “Lord Godown, please,” she whispered hoarsely. His weight pressed her backward. “Allow me to find someone to come to your aid.”

  He continued his heavy tread–another ten feet to the walkway. Finally, she braced his weight against the side of the building. His hair a mess and his clothes with dirt streaks, at first, Grace did not see the wound. “Oh, my God!” she gasped as she reached for her own handkerchief to press to the opening. “Tell me what happened.”

  Head back and eyes closed, he appeared unable to answer, but he finally said, “Trailed my attacker to this inn.” He took a deep steadying breath. “You did not faint from the blood.”

  “No, my Lord.” Grace grabbed a second cloth from her reticule.

  “Do you have a room?” he asked through gritted teeth.

  Grace shook her head in the negative. “The innkeeper will not let to a woman without companionship.”

  Crowden nodded weakly. “Would you share my room?” He caught her gaze. “If you had a husband whom you traveled to meet on the road...” He did not finish his thoughts as the pain wretched his breath away. He caught at her hand. “I do not wish to die alone.”

  Grace knew his proposition to be a scandalous one, but she could not withdraw from the fear she recognized in his stare. This man carried death to this mediocre inn. “Yes, I will stay with you, Lord Godown.”

  “You have called me by name three times. Do we have a prior acquaintance?” He straightened his stance.

  Grace blushed. Why would an “Adonis” remember someone as nondescript as she? “Grace...Grace Nelson. I once worked for Lord Averette.”

  Crowden cupped her face as if seeing it for the first time. “Grace. Of course, just what I need. A touch of grace.”

  Regina Jeffers, a public classroom teacher for thirty-nine years, considers herself a Jane Austen enthusiast. She is the author of several Austen-inspired novels, including Darcy’s Passions, Darcy’s Temptation, Vampire Darcy’s Desire, Captain Wentworth’s Persuasion, The Phantom of Pemberley, Christmas at Pemberley, The Disappearance of Georgiana Darcy, Honor and Hope, and The Mysterious Death of Mr. Darcy. She also writes Regency romances: The Scandal of Lady Eleanor, A Touch of Velvet, A Touch of Cashémere, A Touch of Grace, and The First Wives’ Club. A Smithsonian presenter, a Time Warner Star Teacher and Martha Holden Jennings Scholar, Jeffers often serves as a consultant in language arts and media literacy. Currently living outside Charlotte, North Carolina, she spends her time with her writing, gardening, and her adorable grandson.

  Website www.rjeffers.com

  Blogs http://reginajeffers.wordpress.com

  http://austenauthors.net

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  (Books available from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Books-a-Million, Kobo, Joseph Beth, White Soup Press, and Ulysses Press.)