The Sweet and Spicy Regency Collection

by Dorothy McFalls

  “You continually confound me, my lord.”

  “Nigel,” he said. “My name is Nigel. I insist you use it.”

  He held out his empty palm. “Place your hand in mine.” When she hesitated, he said, “I insist.”

  She was quick to comply.

  He was acting the part of bastard, he knew. But if she’d only give him the chance, he knew he could make her happy.

  “Good.” He led her back to the settee. They sat side-by-side holding hands like a pair of naïve youngsters. “Now tell me, Elsbeth, specifically how do I vex you?”

  “Specifically?” She chewed her bottom lip. It was an excruciatingly erotic act. “I do not wish to be fond of you, my lord.”

  “Nigel,” he corrected.

  “I do not wish to be fond of you, Nigel.”

  “And you are fond of me?” He could only hope.

  “Yes.” She tore her gaze away.

  “A certain degree of fondness for each other is beneficial in a marriage.” With a gentle caress of her cheek, he coaxed her gaze back to his. “I am more than a little fond of you, Elsbeth. I do love you, you know.”

  “No, do not say that.” She pulled from him and fluttered her hands in the air. “Do not say that.”

  “But it’s true. Perhaps you will never be able to return my affection. But Elsbeth, believe me when I tell you my love is genuine.”

  “No…no…no,” she said, shaking her head. “You cannot.”

  He caught her fluttering hands in his. “Kiss me, Elsbeth. Let your heart hear what your ears refuse.”

  “But I refused to tell you the name of the smuggler.”

  “I know.”

  “You have a mistress—”

  “I had a mistress.”

  “And a child. I-I cannot give you a child.”

  “Yes, I love my son. But I also love you. Kiss me, Elsbeth. Just one small kiss.”

  She stared deep into his eyes. Her throat tightened as she swallowed hard. “Just one kiss.”

  It took all of his control not to pull her into his arms and kiss her. But no, this was something she had to do for herself.

  She leaned forward. She closed her eyes just as her lips brushed his. It was a chaste kiss not unlike one he would give an aunt. Her lips were hard and firmly sealed.

  He despaired at his failure to reignite the passion he knew lay buried deep within her. He had seen that passion come alive several times now and had witnessed the miracle of her pleasure. He groaned deep in his throat from the memory.

  She responded. Her lips parted as she heaved a tender sigh and sought his with a hunger he’d not dared to hope for in the light of day.

  She clasped her hands at the base of his neck and clung to him while she deepened the kiss, swirling her tongue in his mouth with a courtesan’s skill. Gradually, she pulled back. Her sapphire eyes were darkened with a lusty haze. A rosy glow colored her finely formed cheeks.

  She kept her fingers clasped around his neck.

  “So, where do we go from here?” she whispered.

  “Hmmm.” His mind filled with thoughts a gentleman should not share with the gentler sex. “I suppose you should tell me, Elsbeth, do you truly find marriage to me so distasteful?”

  A sparkle brightened her eyes. Her lips curled into a delightfully wry smile. “I think I shall have to kiss you again.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  She didn’t want to love him, but it seemed the harder she fought against it, the deeper she fell. He’d woven a spell around her, one that made her heart pound heavily in her chest every time he was around.

  When she kissed him, she tasted what she’d missed in her life for far too many years—a home. Not just a roof over her head but a safe place where she could rediscover herself, where she could live and grow. And love. A life with a man she could trust. Oh, she so dearly wanted to trust.

  He traced his finger along her tear-dampened cheek. “I love you,” he whispered. “Let that be enough. Let me love you.”

  With her mouth she told him how she was willing to share her life with him. She wanted—no, needed—the confidence he gave her more than she needed to breathe. Nigel touched her, caressed her, encouraged her while their tongues played a prelude to how their bodies would touch.

  He eased the bodice of her gown off her shoulders and freed her breasts so he could put his mouth to its swollen bud, suckling and teasing her until her whole body was throbbing with desire. His hands roamed lower and he parted her thighs.

  Ah…this was the way life should be. She prayed that this wasn’t just another illusion as she lost herself to the moment…to the feel of his mouth on her body…to his love…

  “Edgeware!” The gold parlor’s narrow door swung open and cracked against a marble top cabinet. An expensive Wedgewood jasper and ivory colored vase plunged to the plush gold-tinged Persian rug. The vase bounced but didn’t break.

  Mr. George Waver, his clothes rumpled, his face smudged with black soot, charged into the room. Gainsford trailed close on his heel, wringing his hands in a helpless gesture.

  “Oh my,” she heard Gainsford mutter. He was no longer looking fretfully at Mr. Waver, but he was now looking at her and Nigel and the erotic positions of their bodies on the sofa. A shocked expression quickly turned to one of satisfaction, softening his furrowed brows while bright spots of color stained his cheeks.

  Nigel sprang to his feet and with his arms spread wide to put himself physically between her and Mr. Waver. “Whatever quarrel you have with me, George, I demand you leave Elsbeth out of it. I will never forgive you for dragging my wife out into the middle of a storm and nearly killing her.”

  “Is that what she told you?” Mr. Waver charged.

  She tugged on her gown’s bodice, desperately trying to get the crumpled material up around her torso, to cover her breasts that were displayed for all in the room to see. It had been so easy for Nigel to get the cursed gown off her shoulders, she couldn’t figure out why it should be so difficult to set herself to right again.

  “She told me nothing. Damn you!” Nigel grabbed Mr. Waver by the cravat and shook him. “You bloody bastard! You coerced a vow out of her! You turned my own wife against me!” He shook Mr. Waver again.

  Elsbeth had just gotten her sleeves back into place when she realized Nigel had finally cracked. His shell of control was gone, and if she didn’t act quickly, he might actually kill his friend. She certainly wasn’t going to let that happen. She rose quickly from the sofa.

  “Nigel!” she shouted and sharply clapped her hands. “I demand you stop this right now! Honor your bonds of friendship with Mr. Waver. Listen to what he has to say before you kill him!”

  Nigel dropped Mr. Waver and rounded on her. His dark gaze glittered with fury. Amazingly, she stood her ground. Amazingly, she didn’t fear that he might raise his hand against her.

  “You know I am right,” she said much quieter. “Ask him, why is he here? If it is to kill you, where is his weapon?”

  “Gainsford.” Nigel’s voice was deadly smooth. “Escort my wife from the room.”

  “No, Gainsford,” she countered and matched her husband’s determined glare with one of her own. “I will not leave.”

  Gainsford appeared too mortified to move from his spot in the doorway.

  “Elsbeth, what do you think you are doing?” Nigel whispered.

  “Protecting you from yourself. You will not kill Mr. Waver.”

  “Kill him?”

  “I will not permit it. You will listen to him.”

  “Kill George?”

  “You will listen to me.” She leaned in closer; her nose nearly touching his. “You will listen to me.”

  “I say, Edgeware, are you planning to kill me?” Mr. Waver drawled. He sounded…amused?

  What was going on?

  “I was planning to beat your bloody head into the bloody ground,” Nigel answered without releasing Elsbeth from his heated gaze. “If you did indeed try to kill me, it would put a te
rrible strain on our friendship. I trusted you. And if I learn you harmed even a hair on my wife’s head, I will have to put a bullet through you.”

  “Gainsford,” Elsbeth said, her head spinning, “please fetch a pot of tea. I believe Mr. Waver, Edgeware, and I shall sit down and discuss this matter in a civilized manner.”

  “Civilized,” Mr. Waver said with a light chuckle. “Now there’s a thought that makes me shiver.”

  “Take a seat, George.” Nigel ordered and then took Elsbeth’s hand in his. He pressed her open palm to his lips…in front of a grinning Mr. Waver. Elsbeth’s cheeks flamed. “Though I might not always agree with you, I will always listen to you, dove.” He smiled then, his dimples deepening. “And please don’t look as if you think I might eat you. It’ll scare George.”

  Gainsford returned with a piping hot pot of tea and three delicately painted floral patterned cups. Elsbeth served.

  “So tell me, George,” Nigel said after making a show of sipping his tea. “Why have you overset my butler and forced your way into my home after hiding from me for nearly a week?” Where he sat, so close to her, his leg brushed up against Elsbeth’s.

  This closeness made her very aware of his body. She could feel his movements, no matter how small. Listening to the conversation, really hearing what Nigel was saying, was turning into a chore as her thoughts kept straying back to the moments before Mr. Waver had burst into the room and to how her body had been even closer to her husband’s. Someone should open a window. The room was surely overly warm.

  “A thousand pardons, Edgeware,” Mr. Waver said. Laughter was still brightening his eyes. “Gainsford had told me you were away from home. But I knew he was lying, and I needed to speak with you without delay.” He did have the decency to blush and murmur his next words. “I hadn’t paused to consider the common behavior of newly wed couples.”

  Elsbeth squirmed with embarrassment. It didn’t matter that they were married.

  Nigel must have sensed her discomfort. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “You have better say what you need to say, George, before I call for a constable to haul you to Newgate.”

  “I suppose you are in the right if you wish to do something so drastic. It is true, I have been running the family smuggling operation from your beach. The whole village has been doing so for generations. But I swear, I have never tried to hurt you or your lady wife.” Mr. Waver sipped his tea. “And I bloody well didn’t kill your butler or that deceiving footman of yours.” The beverage did have a civilizing effect on society. He very carefully set down the cup on a highly polished side table. “What I do know is that someone tried to kill Lord Purbeck this morning. If I hadn’t been following him and if I hadn’t had the opportunity to intervene, I’m certain your uncle would be dead right now.”

  “And why were you following my uncle?” Nigel asked calmly. He still held Elsbeth’s hand, though it was very improper for him to continue such a blatant display of affection in front of guests. Perhaps it wasn’t affection he was seeking in her contact, but strength. He had sought her strength before, though the very idea still astounded her.

  “I’d believed Lord Purbeck was trying to kill you.”

  “Uncle Charles?”

  “He is the heir apparent,” Mr. Waver pointed out.

  “Uncle Charles raised me as if I was his son.”

  “You aren’t his son, though. But apparently he isn’t the one we are after. His life is in as much danger as yours.”

  “With Nigel and Lord Purbeck out of the way,” Elsbeth said, “Mr. Charlie Purbeck would stand to inherit the title, the fortune…and the power.” It was the power Charlie craved most. Elsbeth was certain of that.

  “Charlie wouldn’t want to hurt me,” Nigel was quick to say.

  “I wouldn’t be too sure,” Mr. Waver said. “Lady Edgeware, you know Charlie from his acquaintance with your late husband. Tell me, what makes you believe he is capable of such treachery?”

  “Lord Mercer and Mr. Purbeck were gamblers of the worst sort. They gambled with money they could ill-afford to lose.” She drew a deep breath. “I believe Mr. Purbeck has somehow gotten himself into trouble by betting a fortune on a single horserace.”

  “I see,” Nigel said.

  “The cove was foolish enough to put all of his money on one horse?” Mr. Waver asked.

  “No.” She pulled her hand from Nigel’s grasp and clasped her hands tightly over her knees. She bent slightly forward, well aware of her unladylike posture as she explained what Mademoiselle Dukard had told her. “I have learned that he didn’t use his own money but had borrowed deeply from friends, telling them that they would all come out rich.”

  “This is unbelievable.” Mr. Waver leaned back in his chair.

  “So that is why he has been pressing me for the thirty thousand pounds,” Nigel said. “But he’s gotten himself deep into debt before and has never tried to kill me, or anyone else for that matter. I cannot believe he would do so now.”

  “Within the last week I have interviewed several women.” She paused remembering the string of paramours she had encountered. “With their help I have compiled a list of gentlemen who gave Mr. Purbeck money for that bet.”

  “With whom have you been meeting?” Nigel asked.

  She closed her eyes and shook her head. He wouldn’t approve. What man would wish his wife to be consorting with women of that sort? But she needed to start being honest with him. She needed to trust him to be strong enough to hear what she had to say and to not punish her for it. “I met with Mademoiselle Dukard first.”

  Mr. Waver drew back with a gasp of surprise.

  “It is dangerous to go after a killer alone and even more dangerous for a gentle woman such as yourself to go to the places where women such as Mademoiselle Dukard reside.” There was a touch of anger in Nigel’s voice, but it was similar to the kind-hearted scolding he had given Lauretta at the ball. “I don’t want your life put into danger. Seeing you harmed shortens my life. You should have sent me in your place.”

  The mademoiselle had only provided Elsbeth with the most rudimentary of details. It was Nigel’s own Bess who’d introduced her to the other women involved. She’d accompanied Elsbeth on the visits and they had been quite safe.

  “Who I met with and how I was introduced to them is not important. What is important is that someone appears to be very interested in having you dead…someone who could make use of your money.”

  Nigel sprang to his feet. “Not Charlie. He is like my brother. He would never do anything to harm me.”

  Bess also didn’t believe Charlie capable of murder. But neither of them knew Charlie’s true nature. If only Nigel knew…yet Elsbeth could never tell him the full truth about that horrible night, or of how he seemed to relish watching as Lord Mercer tormented her. She could never tell him the pain, the humiliation she suffered when Charlie had joined her husband in the abuse.

  “I still haven’t ruled you out, George.” Nigel shot an accusing finger in the direction of the chair where Mr. Waver was currently lounging.

  “Are you back to that? I suppose I do owe you an explanation. Like I’d said, Edgeware, I have been using your shore to smuggle goods into the country.”

  “Yes? And you lied to me about it. Why? Why not tell me the truth when I asked you?”

  “Why?” Mr. Waver lurched forward. “Because you are so damned innocent. You don’t understand going to bed at night with a burning hunger in your belly. My family is respectable, yes. But there is no money behind that respectable name. My mother and father did the best they could to hold the estate together, mortgaging it several times over just so we would have a place to live, an illusion to preserve.”

  “You could have told me.”

  “I wasn’t looking for a handout, dammit!”

  The two men stared at each other seemingly deadlocked. The calming effect of the tea seemed to be wearing thin.

  “Will you turn me in?” Mr. Waver asked quietly. “If you do, all I
ask is that you try not to involve the rest of my family or the villagers.”

  Nigel clasped his hands behind his back and began pacing again. “Did you drug my wife?”

  Mr. Waver’s jaw dropped as he stared at Nigel, dumbfounded.

  “Did you drug my wife and put her out in the storm to die?”

  “He saved me from the drenching cold, Nigel. He didn’t put me in it.”

  “Is this true?” Nigel asked Mr. Waver.

  “Yes, Edgeware. I am insulted that you have to ask.”

  Nigel gave a small growl and tugged at his hair. The black strands all stood on end giving him a tousled look that Elsbeth thought adorable.

  “Dammit, I no longer know who I can trust. Until this is over, the only person I will trust will be you, Elsbeth.”

  “Me?”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  At three o’clock, the fashionable hour for riding, Severin turned his well cared-for but woefully old-fashioned phaeton pulled by two horses instead of the usual four onto the busy social circuit in Hyde Park. At least his two horses were prime specimens of horseflesh. Nothing at all to be ashamed of in front of the lovely Lady Lauretta.

  This was the first time he’d ridden through Hyde Park for the sheer pleasure of a lady’s company. Lady Lauretta spun an open parasol in her hand, her large hazel eyes never sat still. She appeared to be searching the faces in the park, perhaps searching for someone in particular. Severin worried her heart still clung to that milksop, Sir Donald Gilforth.

  “Oooo,” Lady Lauretta cried. “There’s Elsbeth. And she is with him. She’s smiling at him.”

  Severin turned his head after tipping his hat in passing to an acquaintance who had smiled a bit too lewdly up at Lady Lauretta for Severin’s liking and caught sight of Edgeware riding in a sparkling curricle with the new Lady Edgeware seated beside him. Miracle of miracles, the severe lady was indeed smiling.

  She looked quite beautiful.

  “The Marquess appears to have a positive influence on your cousin,” Severin pointed out.