Captivated by His Kiss: A Limited Edition Boxed Set of Seven Regency Romances

by Cheryl Bolen

  Gower would forfeit everything.

  Marcus suddenly noticed her presence and gave her a slight smile. She noted the strain on Prendergast’s face and she began to pray. Could her victory come this quickly? She followed the cards as they were played and noted Marcus and his partner inching ahead.

  The next smile Marcus gave her one was filled with triumph and she knew they must be winning.

  She could barely keep her breathing stable; her feelings were running amok with the tension. Her eyes began to search for Gower among the crowd in the tent. She wanted to see the look on his face when he realized he was ruined. As if pulled by an invisible force, she looked to the left and there, in the far corner of the tent, was Gower himself. His face was ashen. She could see beads of sweat trickling down the sides of his temples.

  She allowed a victorious smile to break over her lips as his eyes met hers. His eyes narrowed in return and his look of despair changed to one of intense fury. His face grew dark red in rage and she could see his fists clenched tightly at his sides.

  Sabine didn’t care. It took only a few more minutes for a hush to descend on the tent when Prendergast pushed back his chair and shook Marcus’s and Bottomly’s hands in acknowledgement of defeat.

  Marcus’s eyes sought her out immediately and she mouthed the words thank you before taking Judith’s hand and leading them both out of the tent.

  “How marvelous, Lord Wolverstone has really caused an upset.” With a wink she said to Sabine, “I told you he was good.”

  Sabine didn’t quite know how she felt. She had had her revenge, at last. She’d ruined Gower as she had so ardently desired, but somehow the victory seemed flat. She had not experienced the much anticipated sweetness of success. She began now to understand more clearly that when she had approached Marcus for help, she hadn’t been solely hoping to avenge her parent’s deaths. She’d hoped for—well, she didn’t really know what she’d hoped for.

  Marcus. She realized she wanted Marcus to love her again. She almost doubled over in agony. Could this be her new beginning?

  Fear invaded her body. If Gower was run out of England due to his inability to pay his debts, she’d have no excuse, no reason not to tell Marcus about the past. How would he react? Would he even care? It was both terrifying and exhilarating that soon she might be able to regain the happiness she’d been so sure of ten years ago.

  Overcome by her conflicting emotions, Sabine slipped away to gather her thoughts. She walked toward the lake and peace flowed over her as she noted the King’s deer frolicking in the brilliant sunshine from across its shining surface.

  She raised her face to the sun and whispered, “I’ve done it, Papa. You and mother can rest in peace now.”

  Suddenly life was full of possibilities. A ray of hope burst within and warmed her cold and tired soul. She didn’t fight the happiness that flooded through her, not this time. It was her turn to walk in the sun.

  “You look rather pleased with yourself. I wonder why?”

  A dark shadow descended over her bright day. She swung round at the sound of her nemesis’s voice and took a step back. Gower looked utterly enraged. He was standing far too close. Keeping calm, she replied, “It’s a beautiful day. Why would I not be happy?”

  His mouth tugged on a cheroot. He blew the smoke insolently into her face before adding, “I think it has something to do with Marcus Danvers knocking Prendergast out of the tournament.” His eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared. “I couldn’t understand why Marcus would suddenly enter.” He moved closer. “It was you. You asked him to.” He towered over her threateningly but she refused to cower, not to this man, not ever again. Marcus’s victory had given her sudden strength.

  He spoke through clenched teeth. “Do you know what else I’ve learned today?” His voice dropped to a menacing his. Flicking the cheroot away, he grabbed her by the shoulders, his fingers biting into her flesh. But Sabine refused to acknowledge the pain. “A certain lady has been buying up all my vowels.” She peered over his shoulders. “Marcus won’t save you this time. He’s still playing.”

  “Let go of me, you bastard.” Anger flared and she gave him a back hander across the face. He didn’t see it coming and it was enough to knock him off balance and for Sabine to break free of his hold. “You’re right! I did buy up your vowels. I hold your very existence in my hands. How does that feel?” He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe away the trickle of blood where her rings had caught his lip. Emboldened, she pushed on. “If you don’t leave England by the end of this week, I shall call in your vowels and let everyone know you’re bankrupt.” She leaned in closer, overcome by a surge of confidence. “I’ve always known how morally bankrupt you are. Now you’re going to be financially bankrupt too.”

  He didn’t attack her as she’d expected—or perhaps even hoped. Her pistol was in the pocket of her skirt and she was prepared to use it unhesitatingly.

  Instead, he snarled, “I don’t think so.” An evil smile broke over his lips. “You don’t want Marcus to know what happened ten years ago. That’s why you came up with this silly plan and got Marcus to enter the tournament, isn’t it? You get your revenge and no one has to know what a little slut you were back then, especially not Marcus. You don’t want him to know under any circumstances because you understand what he would have to do.”

  An icy uneasiness chilled her warmth. He moved closer once more. “What would you do to keep Marcus from learning the truth?” A finger roamed down her neck heading toward her bosom. His touch made her stomach heave. “You know what he’d do if he ever found out, don’t you? You also know that I’m deadly with a sword and if he issues a challenge, I get the choice of weapon.” He leaned in and spoke into her ear, his breath making her recoil in revulsion. “You will sign over all the vowels to me. And then you will leave England and go back to Italy where you belong. Besides, think of Alfredo. What if something were to happen to the boy…” He bit down hard on her ear and she had to bite the inside of her mouth to stop herself from screaming. Horrid memories of the past blazed to life again, paralyzing her with fear.

  He stepped forward, viciously squeezing her breast. “And for all the trouble you’ve put me through, I think I’ll give myself a bonus. You are to come to my bed.” He laughed at the look of utter horror on her face. “Why should Marcus have all this deliciousness?”

  Sabine simply stood mute, all her dreams evaporating like a ghost racing the dawn. She stood shaking her head, unable to believe what was happening. Her brilliant plan lay in tatters at her feet.

  He moved away from her as voices floated near them on the breeze. “Friday, it’s to be then. You’ll bring me the vowels on Friday. I’ve a house near Holborn, which I use for entertaining. We’ll make a night of it.” He bent and kissed her hard on the lips. “I’ll be waiting.” With that he turned and left her standing alone in Richmond Park, a quaking mess of jangling anger and fear.

  Her one moment of glory had been annihilated in a split second. Her enemy knew her too well. She had three days. She drew in a shuddering breath. Tears welled in her eyes. She would not let Gower win again. But she had to do this on her own. She would not risk Marcus getting hurt. She’d already hurt him enough.

  She angrily wiped the tears from her eyes, pulled herself together and calmly walked back to where Judith waited for her with her band of merry followers.

  There was only one thing to do. Give the vowels to Gower and then flee England, get her son to safety and protect Marcus from the truth.

  Gower would be able to carry on with his life as if nothing was amiss once she left England, as she could never call in the vowels from Italy. He’d simply ignore them. Worse, far worse, she would have to give up her tentative hope of a life with Marcus. But then she didn’t even know if she stood a realistic chance of any life with him. Henry St. Giles was right. Marcus would be perfectly happy with Amy Shipton.

  She didn’t know what devastated her the most. Knowing that she’d failed to
inflict revenge on Gower or the fact that she’d never see Marcus again. She drew up short to re-consider her position.

  She had three days only. It would take a bit of organizing to pack up her house, to cancel the lease and to book a passage back to Italy.

  If she knew Marcus, he would call on her to make good on their wager tonight. He would not wait to taste his revenge.

  She placed her hand over her heart, trying to control its fluttering. She squeezed her eyes tight. She could have one night at least.

  Excitement replaced the pain; the sensation racing its way through her body like a raging river. It made her long to be in his arms and experience the delight she was certain she’d find there. Just for once, she wanted to make love with the man who’d owned her heart and soul for the last ten years.

  After everything she’d endured, she deserved it.

  They both deserved it and perhaps it would allow Marcus to find peace.

  That would be her parting gift to him.

  Pleading a headache, Sabine arranged for Lord Cornwall to escort Judith home, her friend’s appreciative smile indicating her pleasure with that arrangement, and left. She had much to accomplish before tonight for it was her intention to make her part of the wager a night that would last her a lifetime.

  CHAPTER NINE

  It had been a long day and an even longer night. It was close to midnight before Marcus finally won the tournament. The pressure had eased off him once he’d ensured Gower was ruined at the end of round three.

  He and his sixth round partner, were victorious—the outright winners. Although he’d won one-hundred thousand pounds, he didn’t care about the money. He was satisfied that Sabine had been able to avenge her parent’s treatment by Gower.

  Yet he felt uneasy and somewhat troubled. He should be feeling elated. He’d won their wager and Sabine would be in his bed very soon. A sharp pang of regret rocked him as he made his way toward his carriage, undoing his cravat as he walked. His victory felt hollow. He’d forced her to come to him like a whore—bought and paid for.

  “Bloody hell,” he muttered.

  A sharp pang of regret sliced through him. What he wanted was for her to come to him of her own accord. To tell him she’d made a mistake all those years ago and that he was the only man she’d ever loved. Then he wanted to start to learn how to believe in her and trust her again.

  He laughed at himself. He wanted a fantasy.

  He wearily climbed into his carriage, uncertain of his next move, when a movement flickered in the darkness and caught his eye. “Who’s there?”

  A vision of beauty suddenly leaned forward, visible in the moonlight spilling in from the open carriage door.

  It was Sabine.

  “I thought I’d save you the bother of hunting for me. Don’t say I never pay my debts. Thank you, Marcus. Thank you for today.”

  He didn’t say a word. His decision was made the instant he locked eyes with Sabine. He closed the door and banged on the roof. The hatch opened. “A change of plans, Jeeves; take me to Roberson House.”

  “Aye, Sir.”

  Marcus leaned back against the squab, cursing the rapid beating in his chest. He was almost giddy from desire. The woman who’d haunted his every waking moment and pleasured him in his dreams was his to take.

  When he entered and found Sabine seated inside, the impact of all he’d won hit him like a rampaging bull.

  She was finally his.

  He wished she’d stop licking her lips, it was driving him insane.

  Giving into his need he said, “Come here,” and a thrill raced down his spine as she readily obeyed. He pulled her onto his lap. “I can’t wait.” He kissed her passionately. He hadn’t meant to admit his craving for her, or to succumb to his body’s driving need. “I’ve thought of nothing but undressing you since I saw you that first night at Lady Somerset’s ball.”

  “Marcus…” She shivered at the desperate desire that swept over her body when his mouth settled on the swell of her bosom.

  “I promised myself that when I entered your body it would not be a rushed coupling. I’d savor you until I’d had my fill. But God help me, you are driving me to the brink…”

  With a curse, he rose and placed her on the seat opposite and went down on his knees before her.

  He slid his hands up her limbs, pushing her skirts up as he went. His lips found the inside of her thigh and he seared her skin with his searching kisses. She could barely sit still. Her breath came in small rapid pants.

  The sensuous path he made up the inside of her leg spoke of pleasure beyond imagining. She’d heard whispers about a man’s intimate kiss, but she had never experienced it. Sabine had no idea that it would feel so exciting, and yet so wicked, all at the same time.

  “We don’t have enough time for what I’d really love to do to you, with you, but I can’t wait to taste you.” His voice was intoxicatingly sensuous. “I swear I’ll have you screaming my name before we reach Roberson House.”

  Desire played over her skin in ascending ripples of response. When she looked into his eyes, their color dark like molten honey, her legs parted of their own accord, allowing him greater access. His groan only inflamed her passion.

  He used his hands to part her even further, until she felt open and exposed. He kissed higher up the inside of her leg, his lips setting her on fire. A soft moan escaped and she didn’t care.

  “Marcus, oh, God…” she gasped into the confines of the carriage.

  “Don’t hold back. I want to hear your cries.”

  She could feel how wet he was making her and he hadn’t even touched her yet. When the touch of his fingers finally came, the beguiling strokes raised a throbbing need inside her that built and grew until she could barely sit still.

  His tongue traced a molten path closer to the apex between her thighs, leaving a cool trail behind; elsewhere her skin was hot with a feverish need. His unhurried movements fed her impatience. She let out another enraptured moan as his tongue swept closer to the part of her that desperately wanted his attention.

  Just as she felt his warm breath at her core, he suddenly drew back. She looked down. Her skirts were around her waist, laying her feminine flesh naked to his possessive gaze. He reached out and ran a finger over her glistening womanhood and then raised his wet finger to his mouth. She could see it covered in her juices. He sucked it and licked his lips.

  “Ten years. I’ve waited ten years for this. You’re worth it.” He didn’t hide the hint of smug male satisfaction in his voice.

  She should have felt ashamed but she didn’t. She’d never responded sexually to any man before; yet, he only had to look at her and she grew wet. Wet for him alone.

  She spread her legs wider, biting her lip to stop herself from begging him to continue kissing her.

  Finally, after one more lingering look, he leaned forward and touched her with his tongue, just lightly caressing her. Her body recognized the sensation and she pushed her hips forward begging for more.

  His hands encircled her buttocks, pulling her down and then upwards to give his mouth better access. Marcus knew exactly where and how to touch her to prolong her pleasure. She’d never ever felt anything like it and she was sure she was about to faint from the heightened sensations sweeping over her.

  Her breathing grew ragged. She no longer cared whether Jeeves or anyone else heard her cries. She wriggled closer, urging him on. His tongue stabbed deep within her, making her shudder. Her head dropped back to rest on the seat. Her flesh seemed to burn; a heat was consuming her from the inside.

  It was almost too much to endure, yet she prayed he’d never stop. Her eyes widened in anticipation of what was yet to come; then she closed them tightly as her climax ripped through her. His tongue lapped at her, making it last, drawing out each shuddering sensation until she sagged limply against the seat, so satiated that she couldn’t move.

  Before she could gather herself together, he stood over her and took her mouth in a deep search
ing kiss. His tongue swept in so she could taste herself on his lips. Her arms crept around his neck and he pulled her in close to him.

  “God, you’re addictive. I want you more than I’ve ever wanted any other woman. The taste of you drives me wild. I wonder if I’ll ever have enough of you.”

  She stiffened in his arms recalling that this was not real. This was not about a man who owned her heart or one who loved her. She was with a man she no longer knew and it killed her a little to know this meant nothing except vengeance. She’d never experienced this sort of pleasure before. He’d probably done this with hundreds of women. She was simply one more.

  She pushed at his chest and put a little distance between them. “That was incredible. Thank you.”

  He pressed another kiss to her lips. “The night is only just beginning. Take that as an appetizer to the main course. By the time I’m finished with you, neither of us will have the energy to talk.”

  Without thinking, she looked at the bulge in his breaches and asked, “Can a woman kiss you in the same manner that you kissed me?”

  He hesitated and slowly turned to face her squarely. Her cheeks were burning with shame. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what made me think the idea was possible….” She hung her head. “I’ve never done…”

  He eyed her with a look of disbelief. “Did your husband never make love to you with his mouth?”

  She shook her head.

  “Has any man?”

  “No,” she said curtly.

  “Are you telling me this is the first time you’ve experienced the oral congress, my love?”

  She blanched at the endearment he used, but nodded.

  “Christ, he must have been an idiot.” His look turned to one of anger. “Did he ever give you pleasure?”

  Tears welled suddenly. How could she tell him that no man but him had ever given her pleasure? “My husband was quite old. We were always clothed and I simply lay beneath him….” Her words petered out under his stare of disbelief.