A Ravishing Night With The Mysterious Earl (Steamy Historical Regency)

by Olivia Bennet

  Her father smiled sadly. “You are not the only one who must apologize for their actions, Jemima. If I had made you wed Lord Beaurgant, I dread to think what sort of life you might have led. I should have listened when you told me of him. I should have heeded your warnings. If I had done that, then perhaps you would not have run, and I might have spared everyone.”

  “Can you ever forgive me?” she said quietly.

  “That depends.”

  “On what?” She looked at him with sorrowful eyes.

  “On whether or not you can forgive me?”

  She smiled faintly. “There is nothing to forgive. In truth, there is so much that I must thank you for. None of this would have been possible, if you had not taken it upon yourself to investigate Lord Beaurgant.” She took in a shallow breath. “Thank you, Father. Thank you for listening. Thank you for believing me.”

  “I should have done so all along. It may have been true that you lacked suitors, but I should have known that they were not worthy, if they could not take you for the young lady that you are.” He paused. “It took speaking with Lord Burhill to realize that. As soon as he told me that he loved you, I realized what a fool I had been. The right gentleman was always out there, but your mother and I were too impatient to allow you to find him.”

  “Then it is fortunate that he found me, and that you saved him.” Jemima’s heart swelled as she looked upon her father. She had never intended to wound him, or her mother, and she would always be sorry that she had.

  And yet, from the ashes of everything that had happened, she hoped that they could emerge with a better relationship. One that could continue to overcome everything, including the actions they had both taken.

  * * *

  The carriage rolled to a halt outside the pillared entrance to Cowden Manor. Simon took a breath and opened the door, stepping down onto the gravel. He had taken a single step forwards, when he felt a mighty force collide with him.

  “You are here,” Jemima whispered, wrapping her arms around him. “I have been so worried, my love. You cannot know how worried I was.”

  Instinctively, he put his own arms around her, and pulled her close. “I have your father to thank for my freedom,” he replied. “And I am glad of this opportunity. Whilst I was trapped in my cell, I thought only of you. I thought of embracing you again and holding you in my arms. Even now, I am not sure if this is real, or just a fevered dream.”

  “It is real, my love. It is real. You are here, and I am here, and nothing can ever stand between us again.” She grasped him tighter, her body shaking as she sobbed into his shoulder.

  “I pray that it does not.”

  “I am sorry that I lied, my love.” She pulled away, looking deep into his eyes. “You must hate me. How could you not, after my deception?”

  He brushed his thumb across her cheek. “I could never hate you, my sweet.”

  “I only lied because I know how honest you are,” she explained. “If I had told you I was a Lady, and I had family that were worrying about me, you would have returned me to England. You would have been duty-bound to do so. And, rather selfishly, I feared that you would not feel free to be yourself with me, if you discovered that I was titled.”

  It was something that had plagued him, ever since her true identity had been revealed to him, by Peter. And yet, now that she was explaining things, he found he could understand her perspective. She was entirely correct. If he had known she was of the peerage, he would have had no choice but to bring her back. And he would certainly have kept his distance. If he had done that, he did not know if they would be standing here right now.

  “I am glad that I know who you are now,” he said softly, cupping her face in his hands. “The future is all that matters. If we are to proceed, we must leave the past behind us.”

  She smiled. “Not all of it, I hope?”

  He chuckled. “No, there are some things that I am keen to remember. Speaking of which, there is something I must discuss with your father.” He caught her horrified expression. “Not that, my love. Never that. That is between you and me, and the love we share. No, I wish to ask him for your hand in marriage.”

  “You still desire to marry me?”

  He nodded, leaning in to kiss her forehead. “That will never change. Having you as my wife will make me the most fortunate gentleman in all the world.” He paused, chuckling. “And, besides, the Evening Star is due to set sail in a few weeks. If we are to be upon it, we must hurry things along, so that we may begin our adventures together.”

  Epilogue

  Two Weeks Later

  Simon waited anxiously at the end of the aisle, with his steward, Asher, standing beside him. Now that his former friend was in prison, for the crimes he had committed, Asher seemed like the natural replacement. It had been a fortnight since he had asked for Jemima’s hand in marriage, and the day he had longed for had finally come.

  They had chosen a chapel close to Westport, so they could board the Evening Star as soon as the reception was finished. The ship had a schedule to stick to, wedding or no wedding, and it could not be delayed any further than it already had. They had already been forced to gain a special license, to expedite the wedding.

  Despite the haste, it excited Simon, to know that they could embark on their future life together, as soon as they had fulfilled their obligations to one another, becoming man and wife at last. He had asked her if she might like to let the Evening Star sail without them, on this one occasion, but Jemima had refused. She wanted to embark as soon as possible, just as he did, so they would not miss a moment of the world’s waiting beauty.

  He glanced over his shoulder, to find the rest of his crew amongst the congregation. They had all been shocked by the revelation of Captain McMorrow’s treachery, but were more than happy to accept his replacement—a seasoned veteran of the seas, Captain Isaac Bastian. In truth, they had been more shocked to discover that Mr. Barton was in fact Lady Jemima Livington, but they had taken it in their stride. After all, they were sailors, and there was not a great deal that they had not already seen.

  Simon thought back to the conversation he had with Asher the previous evening, where he had revealed all about Jemima, and how they had come to meet.

  “I still can’t believe it, My Lord,” Asher had muttered. “All that time, when you thought her a gentleman, she was a young lady instead. Having seen her briefly, I am surprised nobody suspected, but I suppose if one isn’t looking for these things, then it may be impossible to see.”

  Simon had laughed. “She fooled many of us, Asher. But we have all been able to forgive her, and I am sure that all will be well. Her reasoning made a great deal of sense, especially now we have discovered the plans of my cousin. He was not the sort of gentleman that she ought to marry.”

  “No, but I daresay you are, My Lord.” Asher had smiled. “I have never seen you so at peace, nor so cheerful. I’ll just be sad to see you depart again, though at least I shall know you are not alone on your next voyage. A wife is a wonderful thing, and I believe you will be happy together, from what you have told me. She seems to be a rare sort of young lady. The very sort I hoped you might discover, one of these days.”

  “I think so, too.” Simon had chuckled merrily.

  A fiddle began to play a sweet tune, disturbing Simon’s reverie. He turned around, in time to see Jemima appear at the top of the aisle—a vision in a simple white dress, reminding him of an angel. The congregation rose, the crew staring in admiring disbelief as she walked towards Simon. He stifled the urge to laugh, for their eyes were bulging out of their heads. They were used to seeing her in gentleman’s clothes, not a gown of pretty muslin.

  He smiled as she approached, before coming to a halt in front of him. Through the gauzy fabric of her veil, he could see her beautiful face, those sapphire eyes staring up at him. She was smiling widely, in visible excitement. He wished she might have had a bouquet, and her family present, but there had not been time for that. They had barely mana
ged to acquire a suitable gown and a fellow to play the fiddle, but at least they had more than the required number of witnesses. The crew had made that possible.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, if you would be seated, we will begin,” the vicar announced. He turned to Simon and Jemima and began to recite the vows. One at a time, they repeated the words to one another, vowing to honor and obey, love and cherish, until death they did part. Simon had been worried about stumbling over his words, but they came out confident and clear, spurred on by his love for her.

  As the vows came to an end, and the vicar pronounced them man and wife, Simon looked down at the ring on Jemima’s finger and felt an overwhelming sense of contentment. This was all he had ever wanted—a young lady who was not afraid of adventure, and who desired the same things as he did.

  “You may now lift the veil and place a kiss upon your bride,” the vicar said.

  Simon took the gauzy fabric in his hands and lifted it over her head, a gasp of appreciation rising from the congregation as they saw the blushing bride in her full beauty. Leaning forward, Simon placed a tender kiss on his new wife’s cheek, letting it linger for a moment, to assure her that there was more to come. Once they were alone, of course.

  * * *

  Jemima stood in front of the mirror in Simon’s bedchamber, within the Captain’s quarters of the Evening Star. It was a place that brought back thrilling memories, despite the nasty turn that their last voyage had taken. She gazed into the mirror, watching Simon close the door and turn the key in the lock. A smile turned up the corners of her lips.

  “Might you care for a bath, my love?” he murmured, as he crossed the room meet her.

  She chuckled as he slipped his arms around her waist and nuzzled into her neck. “Perhaps later,” she replied.

  She closed her eyes as he kissed her neck, tracing kisses across her shoulder and along the length of her arm. She knew she ought to be worried about what was to come, but she was not. Simon would never do anything to harm her, and he had already shown how important her pleasure was to him. What did she have to fear, knowing that?

  Guided by his hands, she turned in his arms until she was facing him. He smiled down at her, leaning in to kiss her passionately. She sank into his embrace as he moved his lips in a sensual rhythm, his tongue gently caressing hers as they melded into one another. This was precisely where she wanted to be.

  Looping her arms about his neck, she kissed him deeper, pressing her body flush against his. Already, she could feel him stirring, beneath the fabric of his trousers. It thrilled her, to know that she would soon experience all of him, in a way she had never done before. As if sensing her thoughts, Simon reached behind her and began to unbutton her wedding gown, painstakingly undoing the seed pearls that held it all together.

  All the while, he kissed her, moving along her throat, and across her jaw, and over the smooth skin of her chest. Before long, he had completed the task, his fingertips edging the sleeves to the tips of her shoulders. Helping them down her slender arms, she listened to the hiss of the muslin and as it fell to the floor in an almost liquid pool of white.

  Wanting to feel the touch of his bare skin on hers, she reached for his shirt and unbuttoned it, casting it aside to reveal his muscular torso. Brushing her palms across the firm contours, she let her fingertips drift down to his trousers, where she made swift work of the fastenings. They dropped to the ground, and he stepped out of them, entirely naked before her.

  Her eyes widened as she gazed upon his member, engorged and far larger than she had anticipated. As she had done before, she began to worry that she would not be able to accommodate him within her.

  “This hardly seems fair,” he said, with a grin that dispelled her concerns.

  “I quite agree,” she replied.

  “May I?” he asked.

  She nodded. “You may.”

  He turned her around and deftly unlaced her half-corset, before tossing it away. She smiled as she felt him kiss her back, working his way down her spine, where he sank to his knees. Hooking his thumbs within the band of her pantalettes, he moved them down her thighs, and let them fall. Trembling with anticipation, she stepped out of them and let him turn her back around.

  She had expected him to stand up once more, but he remained on his knees. Sliding his hands up her thighs, and making her shiver with excitement, he leaned into the soft down of her mound and placed a kiss there. She gasped in surprise, lacing her fingers in his hair, as he moved further down.

  Her breath caught in her throat as he parted her, his tongue caressing her sacred bud in the most shockingly delightful way. Her hips bucked as he made the same motion over and over, applying an intense pressure that sent shivers of pleasure through her veins. At first, she had wanted to pull away in alarm, but now she wanted anything but. This was unlike anything she had ever known.

  A few minutes later, he stopped and kissed the inside of her smooth thighs, working his way back up her body. She giggled as he scooped her up into his arms and carried her to the bed, where they had shared that first, sensual moment, what felt like a lifetime ago. Gently, he lay her down onto the covers, and smoothed back the errant strands of her raven hair.

  “I love you,” he murmured, smiling down at her.

  She smiled back. “And I love you.”

  He dipped his head to kiss her, moving slowly as he maneuvered himself between her thighs. She kissed him back, her fingertips raking at his broad shoulders as she felt a sudden pressure against her sweet sex. He did not enter her immediately, but rested himself against her entrance, allowing herself time to prepare.

  “Tell me if you want me to stop,” he whispered.

  She grasped his face and kissed him hard on the mouth. “I never want you to stop.”

  He smiled against her lips, a quiet gasp escaping his throat as he pushed his hips forwards. She clung to him as he entered her to the hilt, though it was not as painful as she had anticipated. There was a slight discomfort, but she supposed that was due to the newness of this feeling. He paused for a moment, allowing her body to accommodate him.

  And then, with slow sensuality, he pulled his hips back. This time, she gasped as he pushed back inside her, her body wracked by an overwhelming sense of pleasure. He kissed her again and again, devouring her, as he thrust gently in and out, giving her time to grow accustomed to these new sensations.

  “I love you,” she cried, her breath ragged as he plunged into her depths.

  He kissed her, nipping lightly at her lower lip to draw a gasp from her mouth. “And I love you. More than you know.”

  His hips began to move slightly faster, his member sliding effortlessly in and out of her welcoming sex. Pulling him closer, she arched her back as the ecstasy began to intensify. As though sensing the needs of her body, he let his hand slide along her stomach, his fingertips finding the throbbing bud of her lotus. In time with his increasing thrusts, he brushed his fingertips across her most sensitive place, prompting a delicious tension to build within her.

  As she moved her own hips against the drive of his member, she knew it was only a matter of time before a wave of pleasure crashed over her. A moment later, it sparked through her body, jolting like lightning and seizing hold of her every muscle, making her shake and shiver as she gave into the exquisite explosion.

  With her body still trembling, Simon moved ever faster, his breaths coming in short, sharp gasps as he lost himself in her. She wrapped her legs tighter around him, moving her hips back and forth, arching herself upwards so he could drive himself in to her deepest depths. A few moments later, he cried out in ecstasy, his body still as he spilled his seed within her.

  He thrust slowly twice more, before collapsing onto Jemima with a contented smile upon his face. She reveled in the weight of him against her, her arms wrapping around him as she clutched him tight. He nuzzled into her neck and grinned, kissing her throat tenderly.

  “You are remarkable,” he whispered, propping himself back up on his ar
ms.

  She shook her head. “No, you are the remarkable one.”

  He laughed. “Let us agree to disagree.”

  As he gently pulled out of her, he rolled to the side and drew Jemima into his arms, cuddling her close. Delirious with happiness, she nestled into his chest and pressed her ear to his skin, listening to the furious beat of his heart. It pounded out his love for her, creating the most beautiful percussion she had ever heard.

  Feeling sleepy after the excitement of the day, she closed her eyes and listened to the rush of the water as it sloshed against the sides of the ship. They had already departed England, and she could feel the faint rock of the vessel as they cut through the water.

  Here, in his arms, aboard this ship, she was finally at peace. Here, she was safe and protected, where Lord Beaurgant could never harm her, ever again. Her mother and father would be waiting for her when she returned, but they had already begun to rebuild the bridges that had been torn down by their mutual actions. Now she could look forward to the future, with her husband at her side, and a whole world of adventure, just waiting to be explored.