A Lady for Lord Randall

by Sarah Mallory

  ‘I could not leave,’ she whispered, when at last he raised his head. She rested her cheek against his coat, breathing in the dear, familiar smell of him, mingled now with the faint aroma of brandy and cigars. ‘When the time came I could not quit Brussels, knowing that you were still here.’

  ‘Mary—’

  She raised her hand and put her fingers against his lips.

  ‘Do you remember, you said that everything will change when war comes? I could not bear the thought of it happening without seeing you again, without feeling your arms around me.’ She cupped his face in her hands, saying quickly, before she lost her nerve, ‘I want you to make me your mistress, Randall. I want you to take me to your bed.’

  He looked down at her, his eyes dark as the night sky in the dim light. Then he lowered his head and took her mouth. Her lips parted and she felt his tongue burn her, disordering her senses, and she responded hungrily. With something between a growl and a groan he picked her up.

  ‘You shall have your wish, Mary. I cannot resist you any longer, I shall take you to bed this instant.’

  ‘But there is no light on the stairs,’ she protested, laughing in spite of the passion that raged within her. The look he gave her sent that passion soaring even higher and the laughter caught in her throat, leaving her breathless.

  ‘You will have to carry the candlestick,’ he muttered. ‘Can you do so without spilling wax all over us?’

  Giggling like schoolchildren, they made their way through the dark hallway and up the stairs, Mary directing Randall to her room.

  When he set her on her feet she stood before him, feeling suddenly shy. Gently he took the candelabra from her hand and put it on a chest of drawers, then he turned and placed his hands on her shoulders.

  ‘Are you sure you want this, Mary? There can be no going back.’

  She knew it. She was risking everything for a brief spell of happiness that she might regret for the rest of her life. She smiled up at him. Tonight at least she had no doubts.

  ‘I am very sure, Randall.’

  He kissed her again, gently this time, while his hands worked loose the ties of her bodice. She did not question how he came to be so adept at undressing her or his familiarity with female clothing; instead she gave herself up to savouring every moment. His hands caressed her skin as her gown fell silently to the floor at her feet. He turned her around and began to unlace her stays. He laid a trail of feathery kisses across her neck and shoulders while his fingers pulled out the ribbons. As the constriction around her body lessened so desire flowered, filling her. At last she stood before him clad only in her stockings and chemise. She had never felt so vulnerable yet so alive. As he turned her back to face him she glanced up and found him smiling down at her, allaying her fears. He gathered up the soft lawn shift and drew it over her head, then he pulled her into his arms. The cloth of his coat was rough against her bare skin and suddenly she wanted him to be naked, too. She wanted to feel his skin against hers. She fumbled with the buttons of his coat even as he swept her up and carried her to the bed.

  The covers were cold on her back but her body was already burning with desire. He eluded her arms and she watched him hastily shed his own clothes. The dim light of the single candle gleamed on his broad shoulders and across his chest with its shield of dark hair. Her throat dried, she ached to touch him and silently she reached out as he lay down beside her.

  He pulled her into his arms and kissed her, long and deep. His tongue tangled with hers in a slow, sensual dance that sent little arrows of desire through her whole body. His hand slid down to caress her hip, but instead of slipping over the soft mound of her behind and pulling her close she felt it moving over her belly and sliding down to the apex of her thighs. She gasped as his fingers slipped inside her, slow and gentle. Her limbs began to relax, to soften beneath his caresses, but at the same time the pooling desire deep inside was growing steadily.

  She sighed when he stopped. He pulled away, just enough to look at her. His face was no more than a shadow against the gloom.

  ‘This is your first time, Mary,’ he said, gently brushing the hair from her face. ‘I do not want to frighten you.’

  She reached up and cupped his cheek. ‘I am not frightened, Randall. I want this. Truly.’

  He kissed her again. She felt him hard and aroused, pressed against her body and her kisses increased in fervour. Instinct took over, she wanted him inside her and she allowed her body’s movements to tell him so. He shifted above her and she responded, lifting her hips, offering herself, hot, moist and ready. Gently he slid inside her. When she flinched he paused, but her arms tightened.

  She whispered quickly, ‘Don’t stop, Randall, don’t stop now!’

  He began to move, each time pushing a little deeper. She gave a little moan of pure pleasure. The pain had been small and momentary. Now she relished the sensation of having him inside her, those wickedly slow, sensuous strokes causing her body to contract. His mouth sought hers again, his tongue mimicking the actions taking place lower down in her body. He was moving quicker and she was aware of the excitement growing as he thrust into her, up to the hilt, and suddenly she was no longer in control. Her head went back and she cried out, clinging to him as her body rocked and pulsed with an energy all of its own, but even before the last tremors had faded he pulled away and she felt the warm wetness of him on her skin.

  ‘Randall? I—’

  He stopped her mouth with a kiss. ‘I should not have entered you at all, but I could not resist you. But I will not make you pregnant, if I can avoid it.’

  ‘Oh.’ She hugged him against her, blinking away the sudden tears that moistened her eyes. His forbearance touched her and she pushed away the tiny pinprick of sadness at the necessity of it.

  For a while they lay together, wrapped in each others’ arms. Then Randall stirred.

  ‘Are you happy?’ he whispered, kissing her ear.

  ‘Very.’ It was true. She had never felt so at peace. ‘Is that why my married friends have that satisfied look?’

  He laughed softly and she felt its reverberations against her body.

  ‘Possibly.’ He nuzzled her neck. ‘But we are not done yet.’

  ‘Oh, I think I am,’ she sighed and as he began to kiss her neck she put a hand against him. ‘No, Randall, I cannot.’

  ‘You can. You may have forgotten that we have not yet removed your stockings.’

  She shivered delightedly as he ran one hand down her body, teasing her breast, caressing her hip, slipping over the sensitive join of her thigh and down to her knee. He pulled loose the garter and when he sat up she reached for him again, but he gently pushed her back. She lay still, enveloped in a pleasurable torpor and watched as he lifted her leg and began to roll down her stocking, kissing each inch of bare flesh as he uncovered it. Her body tingled, every inch of her felt alive from her head to the tips of the toes he was now laying bare to his kisses.

  Her eyes devoured him, the flickering candlelight imparting a golden sheen to his skin and throwing into relief the taut, muscled lines of his body. He reminded her of the drawings she had seen of classical statues, studies in grace and controlled strength. Randall was all that and so much more. He was living flesh and blood and he was hers, at least for tonight.

  He transferred his attention to her other leg, slowly untying and discarding her garter before rolling down the stocking and kissing the exposed flesh with infinite care until she was completely naked. She should be nervous, this was all so new, she had never exposed herself to any man like this. Instead she felt a glorious sense of freedom and power.

  Randall was giving all his attention to her foot, caressing the ankle, lifting it on to his shoulder before his fingers made their way back to the knee. His hands were followed by his mouth, which trailed lightly, teasingly along the sensitive, tingling skin. Slowly
he inched onwards, smoothing over her inner thigh, his fingers gently moving towards the moist opening and she gasped to feel those same fingers enter her warm core. Her senses were still reeling from their first lovemaking and she gave herself up to the pleasure of his touch.

  Excitement rippled through her, so much so that when she felt him withdraw her muscles tightened as if to hold him within her, but a moment after his fingers left her he was kissing her, his tongue replacing those deft fingers and wreaking even more havoc on her body. She responded by lifting her hips towards him, offering herself up to the pleasure of it. One hand slid over her breast, the touch of his fingers sending a thrilling shiver running through her, connecting directly with the pleasurable sensations he was creating with his mouth. Mary pressed her hands down on the bed on either side, clutching at the covers, unable to prevent a moan escaping her at the almost unbearable delight he was inflicting upon her. She wanted him to stop, to go on, she felt dizzy with excitement, losing control again.

  ‘Randall!’ She gripped his shoulders and tried to push him away, but his hands slid around her buttocks, holding her firmly while he continued to work his magic. Her body bucked and pulsed as he licked and suckled at her innermost core. She was shaken by intense waves of pleasure, one after the other. They rippled through her body, stronger, higher until she crested with a scream, and then she was falling, falling, as if in a dead faint, but she was not afraid, because Randall was holding her.

  * * *

  The soft grey light of dawn crept into the room around the edge of the drapes that curtained the window. Mary saw it and closed her eyes again. She had dreamed of this moment, of lying in Randall’s arms. It was no longer a dream. He had taken her again in the early hours and she felt a little sore, her thighs ached slightly, but she was aware of a wonderful sense of well-being. She did not want to move, to disturb him but even as the thought occurred his arms tightened around her and he pulled her close to kiss her cheek.

  ‘Good morning, Miss Endacott.’

  She chuckled and snuggled closer. ‘Good morning, Lord Randall.’

  He kissed her again then raised himself on one elbow and smiled down at her.

  ‘How are you this morning, no regrets?’

  ‘None.’ She felt the smile begin inside her and it was impossible to stop. ‘I feel wonderful.’

  His laugh was more carefree than she had ever heard it. He bent his head to plant a kiss on the tip of her nose.

  ‘I am glad.’ He rolled away.

  ‘You are going?’

  ‘I must. Brussels will be waking up soon and it will not do for me to be seen leaving a lady’s house.’

  She pulled the covers over herself, suddenly aware of the morning chill on her naked skin.

  ‘Am I still a lady, after what we have done?’

  He came back to the bed, his blue eyes glowing hot when he looked at her. ‘You will always be a lady, Mary Endacott.’

  She smiled, warmed by his words. It was not true, of course, but she decided not to contradict him.

  ‘If we are circumspect, it should still be possible to protect your reputation,’ he said as he dressed. ‘And yet I want to show you to the whole world. The Richmonds are holding a ball on Thursday. I will make sure you are invited.’

  ‘I do not think so.’ She sat up. ‘A schoolteacher at a duchess’s ball and invited at Lord Randall’s behest? That would cause tongues to wag!’

  ‘Very well.’ He had finished dressing and now knelt on the bed for one last kiss. ‘Then I shall not go. I shall come here instead.’

  The kiss was a long one, but at last Randall dragged himself away.

  ‘I must leave,’ he said, smiling at her. ‘The longer I stay the more chance there is of being seen.’

  ‘You will return tonight?’ she asked him, as he made his way to the door. She said impulsively, ‘Come and dine with me, I have to go to the market to buy some food, I will buy extra.’

  ‘Oh, and who will cook it?’

  ‘I shall. I am quite capable, you know.’

  ‘I do not doubt it. But what of your servants, what about the gossip?’

  ‘Jacques has been with my family since he was a boy and Therese is devoted to me. They can be trusted to say nothing.’

  ‘Very well, until tonight.’

  When Randall had gone Mary slipped out of bed and ran to the window, from where she could watch him stride off down the deserted street. She remembered his warning, there could be no going back now, but she had no regrets. Not yet.

  * * *

  That evening she cooked for Randall. The servants had been given the evening off so he sat in the kitchen and watched her, and when the food was ready instead of carrying it to the dining room they ate at the big kitchen table, sitting side by side on the wooden bench and feeding each other with small mouthfuls from the delicious ragout she had prepared. Afterwards he took her to bed and made love to her. In the darkness he could feel the desire unfurling within her again, she became soft and pliant beneath his caresses. He was hard and aroused as his head moved to her breasts, where he took first one hard nub in his mouth and then the other, his tongue circling and stroking. She moaned softly, firing his desire to a fever pitch and when his hand slid through the triangle of dark curls at the apex of her thighs she gave a little gasp of delight. He cupped her, feeling her hips lifting as she offered herself to him. She was hot and slick and he slid into her easily, struggling to hold back as she tightened around him, her body stroking him. It took every last ounce of will-power to bring her passion to a head without losing control, but he succeeded, spilling himself harmlessly on the soft skin of her belly.

  As he settled Mary in his arms and drifted off to sleep, Randall found himself wishing he might stay with her forever. He wanted her at his side for the rest of his life, to be his companion, his lover. The mother of his children.

  He wanted to marry her.

  The revelation unnerved him: she had turned his world upside down and he was no longer in control.

  * * *

  Mary stirred sleepily as he left her bed and began to dress in the half-light.

  ‘Must you go?’

  ‘My staying is like to ruin you.’

  She watched him pull on his trousers.

  ‘Most probably I am ruined already.’

  ‘Do not say that.’

  ‘Why not?’ She sat up, pulling the sheet up to cover her nakedness ‘I knew the risk I was running when I decided to remain in Brussels. Do not think I blame you for it.’

  ‘But I blame myself.’ He had picked up his shirt but now he cast it aside and sat on the edge of the bed. He took her by the shoulders. ‘Mary, I know we discussed it, that you wanted this as much as I, but what you told me of your sister—’

  She put her fingers to his lips, smiling lovingly into his face.

  ‘I am not Jane and you have never deceived me. I know we must part and I am prepared for that.’

  Randall shook his head.

  ‘This is madness, Mary. We have let our passions run away with us.’

  ‘Not quite.’ She tried to speak lightly. ‘You have behaved most responsibly by me.’

  He did not smile. ‘Not responsibly enough. I should have resisted.’

  Even in the gloom Randall saw the pain flare in her eyes and he quickly drew her into his arms.

  ‘Ah, love, I did not mean to hurt you.’ She trembled against him and he dropped a kiss on to her curls, disordered from sleep and their lovemaking. ‘These past weeks have been the happiest of my life.’

  ‘But you would rather they had not happened.’

  ‘No!’ He let her go and turned away, saying in a low voice, ‘You mean more to me than life itself, Mary, but we should stop now, before I hurt you.’

  ‘You won’t hurt me
, Randall.’

  ‘Not yet, perhaps, but I will, Mary. Given time what I feel for you will fade and I shall play you false.’

  ‘You cannot know that.’

  ‘I can, because it has happened before.’ His hands gripped the edge of the bed on either side of him and he stared out of the window at the breaking dawn. He needed to explain.

  ‘I was a young captain, spending my leave at Latymor House in London. It was one of the few times my parents were there together. They had decided it was time I should marry and arranged a match for me with one of Viscount Loxton’s daughters.’ He gave a little grunt of disgust. ‘Any of his daughters, I could take my pick of ’em, they were all for sale to the highest bidder. I shied away from that. I had the notion that I should marry for love.’ He paused, letting his mind travel back to those heady days. He had been such a callow youth. ‘Then I met the contessa. Teresa Carlotta di Rimini. She was a widow, beautiful, dark and exotic. I could not resist her. Within the week we became lovers.’ He rubbed a hand over his eyes. ‘I thought it was love and asked her to marry me. I promised to quit the military because she did not wish to follow the drum. I thought I was the luckiest dog alive. Then one day I called upon her unexpectedly and found another man in her bed.’

  He heard Mary’s soft gasp, felt her sympathy, but he could not stop now. She deserved to know everything.

  ‘He was not the only one. I discovered she had been sharing her favours with several other men in London, including my father.’

  ‘Oh, Randall!’

  ‘I ended it as quickly as possible and paid handsomely for her silence. She had threatened to sue for breach of promise and what defence could I offer? I could not have all the sordid details dragged through the courts.

  ‘My father...’ Randall’s lip curled ‘...my father laughed. He thought it a good joke. He told me I was most definitely his son. “Do not worry,” he said to me. “Latymors are not made to be faithful. In a year from now you will have forgotten her.” And do you know the worst part of it? He was right. I had a succession of brief, heady affairs and soon realised I felt nothing for the contessa. Nor has my interest in any woman since lasted more than a few months. So you see, Mary, I cannot promise fidelity, I am incapable of a lasting passion. It has never worried me. I made up my mind I would never marry, never ask any woman to suffer as my mother has done.’