LADY NORTHAM’S WICKED SURRENDER
by
VIVIENNE WESTLAKE
Book 1 in the Rekindled Passions Series
*****
PUBLISHED BY:
Vivienne Westlake
Lady Northam’s Wicked Surrender
Copyright © 2011 by Vivienne Westlake
Cover by Jaxadora Design
Edited by Lorena Streeter
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
LICENSE NOTES
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to the original vendor and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.
DEDICATION
To Rachel Jones, whose friendship and support made this book possible. Thank you for being there.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
It is important for me to acknowledge the following people for their support, understanding, advice, cheering and sometimes, tough love.
A warm hug and special thanks goes out to Eden Bradley and K.B. Alan who spent many hours with me talking bout this book, giving me advice, and being the best friends a writer could have. I love you.
Thank you to the four people who made this book shine: my editor, Lorena Streeter, Rachel Jones, Kate McKinley, and KB. Also thank you to the two Romance Divas who beta read for me and the many other Divas that offered suggestions on the book title and blurb.
I appreciate the kindness and support of Jax Cassidy who designed my book cover and gave me lots of advice during this process. There are also six women who mentored and supported me at various stages of my career: Crystal Jordan, Jennifer Haymore, Sabrina Darby, Madelynne Ellis, Belle Scarlett and P.G. Forte. Thank you!
Nadia Lee, I want to give you a special acknowledgement because I would not have become an Indie author without you. It was your honesty, openness, and willingness to educate yourself—and pass that knowledge on to other authors—that prompted me to take charge of my career and publish this book. Thank you so much for inspiring me and giving me the push I needed.
I would also like to thank my family and Kelley G. Lastly, thank you to my godmother, Sheilaa, and my beloved, Stephen. Your emotional support and willingness to listen mean more to me than you know.
Chapter One
Cheshire, England, March 1816
The wind whipped around them, lashing Rowena’s hair and making her gray wool cloak fly up and ripple out behind her. It was a dark hour, rather late to arrive for a country visit, but Rowena despaired at the thought of another night at an inn. The inclement weather had already delayed the visit long enough.
Rowena tucked the wild, dark brown wisps of hair under her bonnet. Her hair was too fine and straight to hold a curl the way her sister’s hair did. Even after so many hours of travel, Delphine’s black curls were neatly arranged under her bonnet and her blue pelisse had nary a wrinkle. Thank God no one but Alice, Lady Chilton, was there to see them. Discounting the servants helping them with their things, of course. On a country estate, no doubt they were used to worse.
Three servants shuffled about helping the coachman with the trunks. As she wiped her foot on a stone to get the mud off her boot, she overheard a footman say, “No, it isn’t him. ‘Tis her ladyship’s guests come from Town. But Lord Rutherford is due any day now.”
Rowena spun her head around. No. NO. Simon was in India. He couldn’t be on his way to Cheshire. She dug her nails into her hands as she gripped her fingers into a fist. She had no desire to see Alice’s brother. Six years had not been nearly enough time to forget the way he’d cruelly jilted her then ran off to India when she’d later married his friend instead.
She went to Delphine and gripped her forearm tightly. “Did you hear that?” she whispered. “Lord Rutherford is due here any day.”
A tightness spread through her chest and she rubbed her gloved fingers over her heart for a moment.
“I thought he was still in India," Delphine whispered.
Rowena tipped forward. Her stays were constricting. She needed to lie down. “Apparently not. God, why did he have to come now?”
“Perhaps the storms will hinder his arrival. If it took us two days, perhaps he may get delayed at sea and you won’t have to see him at all.”
Rowena prayed her sister was right. Please let him be at sea and not already in England. Because God help her, she could think of nothing worse than having to spend two weeks trapped at the Chilton estate with Simon.
They were ushered inside and shown to the parlor while their belongings were taken upstairs. A fire was lit and they warmed themselves beside the huge stone hearth. The charming 16th century country manor was impeccably maintained. Even in the golden glow of the fire, she could see that the settee had been reupholstered in a blue and gold damask and the wallpaper looked new. The furniture was classic, yet made the room somehow feel warm and inviting. Alice’s impeccable taste never failed to impress.
As Rowena removed her gloves, they heard a voice calling to them.
“How lovely to see you both.” A very round Alice gracefully walked toward them. Blonde tendrils peeked from her thin cap. She was still dressed for evening, wearing a pretty, lavender gown that had a sheer overlay, embroidered with gold dots, and a full satin gown underneath. Even out here in the country, with no one to impress but the local farmers, Alice managed to look regal. Rowena admired the lovely gold rope, which trimmed the bodice, empire waist and sleeves. Her white gloves were also trimmed in gold.
Though Alice was in a ‘delicate condition’, she moved with barely a hindrance. She hugged Rowena warmly, and gave each of them a kiss on the cheek. The playful look in her blue eyes and the wide smile she gave reminded Rowena a bit of Simon. Both had high cheekbones, blond curls, and mischievous smiles. The only difference was in their eye color: Rowena caught her breath at the memory of Simon's blue-grey gaze, heated when he looked at her. Until the last time. Quickly she banished the image of blue-grey steel and brought her attention back to Alice, who was reaching for the bell pull by the fireplace.
“Shall I order anything for you?” Alice asked, not waiting for an answer before tugging at the tasseled cord.
“Refreshment would be appreciated,” Rowena said to her friend.
“And perhaps if you have a little bread remaining?” Delphine added. “We supped so long ago.”
Rowena hoped Delphine would not insist on a full meal as she had no wish to put out their hostess so late in the evening.
“Of course.”
A young woman arrived and Alice walked over to her, giving detailed instructions for
their meal and the arrangements for their rooms.
Looking at Alice only reminded Rowena of Simon. Why should it bother her now? She’d visited her friend several times in the three years since Paul’s death and she’d never had this kind of a reaction. Rowena had managed to forget Simon—or so she’d told herself—but tonight only proved that nothing had truly dulled the hurt of Simon’s abandonment. Not even her marriage.
Her sister interrupted her thoughts. “I suppose he’s come now that his degenerate uncle is at death’s door.”
“Delphine!"
Her sister whispered in her ear. “Don’t tell me you will be sorry to see that old Crow, Waverly, gone?”
Certainly not. The Earl of Waverly was irresponsible at best, and at worst a reprobate who reputedly spent more time in gaming hells and brothels than a nun spent in prayer.
“Hush.” Rowena stood and gently put a hand on her sister’s mouth. “Do not speak ill of the earl. The man is, as you say, at death’s door. It is quite impolite.”
“Well, he’s not here is he?” she said. “The earl’s loss is Rutherford’s gain. I would have bet a thousand pounds that Simon would never inherit. Not with three cousins and an uncle in line ahead of him. It’s a pity you didn’t marry him. I heard the title is worth at least forty thousand a year.”
While she had a face as angelic as a porcelain doll and she dressed to the epitome of elegance, Delphine had the tact of untamed dog. How could she be so callous about the earl’s demise? Worse, she had to be so insensitive as to bring up the horrid affair with Simon.
Alice returned to them and sat down. A couple minutes later, a servant arrived, carrying a tray with three steaming cups of tea and a baguette with butter and slices of cheese.
“I trust you had a safe journey?” their hostess inquired.
“As well as can be expected with wind and rain and a driver who couldn’t find his way across a shallow pond,” Delphine replied.
Thou shalt not kill thy sister. Thou shalt not kill thy sister, Rowena repeated to herself. It had been two days, but her little sister had already tried the end of her patience.
“How unfortunate,” Alice replied. “I hope you will recover quickly from your journey. I regret to tell you that with the heavy rains yesterday, the east wing of the house suffered several leaks. Since the nursery is not quite finished from the renovations, I shall have to put you in different accommodations than I had intended. Would one of you be so kind as to take Millicent’s room?”
Alice had an eight year-old daughter and five year-old son named after Simon. With Alice's confinement, they were off to visit their grandmother, leaving the house to the adults. That was unfortunate. If Simon was indeed on his way here, the children would have been an excellent distraction.
“I should be happy to take Millicent’s chambers,” Rowena replied. It was best to volunteer straight away as Delphine would make things difficult if she felt she was given the inferior room.
“Please forgive the un-hospitable welcome.” Alice blushed. “I—”
“Do not trouble yourself. We are only too happy to be in such good company.” Rowena smiled.
“Speaking of which. I believe your footman said that Lord Rutherford is to join us?”
Delphine could not have waited until tomorrow to discuss such unpleasantness? Rowena closed her eyes, so no one could see that she wanted to roll them instead.
She sipped her tea, concentrating on its flavor rather than her own disquiet. She favored peppermint over the traditional black tea, and Alice had been kind enough to remember.
“He will arrive any day,” Alice informed them. “With the baby coming and Lord Waverly not expected to survive the summer, he thought it prudent to come now. I am looking forward to his return.”
Placing her hand over her friend’s, Rowena leaned closer. “I am sorry to hear that your uncle’s illness has progressed to such a state.”
“It is done. Lord Waverly was never the type to encourage genuine affection in his relatives. But I shall be elated to finally have my brother home.” Her gaze lingered on Rowena a moment.
Though it had been such a terrible disaster, somehow Alice had become Rowena’s dear friend in her brother’s absence. Had circumstances been different, they would have been sisters.
“Lord Rutherford has yet no wife?” Delphine inquired.
When Alice wasn’t looking, Rowena pinched her. For Delphine’s sake, she had best not be thinking of reacquainting herself with Simon. And if she was inquiring on Rowena’s behalf, it was immaterial as Simon’s marriage plans were the last thing Rowena wanted to know.
“No, he has not yet claimed a wife,” Alice said, looking at Rowena. Their gazes held for a moment. Rowena forced herself to smile, when all she wanted to do was escape.
The baby kicked at that moment and they all fawned over Alice. The conversation then continued casually, as if the past had never been. As if Simon and Rowena had never courted. As if he were merely returning from a short trip rather than years spent in India. No one mentioned that Rowena had never forgiven him for abandoning her or that Simon refused to speak to Rowena after she’d married his best friend.
****
An hour later, Rowena was in bed, although peaceful rest proved elusive. She patted her pillow and turned on her side for the hundredth time. How many days would it take Simon to arrive? Would she manage to get through her visit without having to see him at all? And, if she did see him, what would she say? Could she ask him the question that had burned for so many years in her heart? Why did you abandon me?
She still couldn’t fathom the answer. He’d promised to write to her when he’d gone off to the War in Spain. She thought he intended to propose upon his return, but instead he’d never contacted her at all. His best friend, Paul, convinced her that Simon was a rake, never the type to settle down. That she was one of many conquests. She’d been devastated. Their two months of courtship had been nothing more than an amusement to him. By the time he’d returned to England over a year and a half later, she’d agreed to marry Paul.
Now he was coming back, threatening to turn her entire world upside down again. Could she survive it a second time?
Sighing, she shifted and turned her body to the opposite side. It had been so long since she’d seen him at the wedding. Only a few weeks afterward, he’d taken another post in India. Rowena wondered how he looked now. Did he still wear his sideburns short and neatly trimmed? Was he as tall as she remembered?
With a loud sigh, she turned on her back and stared at the ceiling, invisible in the pitch-dark room. Barely a sliver of light shown through the curtains at the window. There was nothing to distract her from her thoughts. As much as she dreaded seeing him, she couldn’t help her curiosity. A part of her wanted to see his face, to stand beside his tall, muscular frame and—and—What? Yell at him? Strike his cheek? Kiss him? She wanted to…
Sleep. Rowena’s eyelids were heavy and she couldn’t keep them open any longer. Exhaustion overpowered her thoughts, and she fell into a deep sleep, filled with vivid dreams.
Warmth spread over her, across her chest, down her arms and thighs. Despite the chill in the air, Rowena twisted in the blankets, her body flushed all over. Her mind lost in the dream.
She was lying down in her chemise and a tall, broad shouldered man was coming towards her intently. He climbed into the bed and lightly gripped her sides. Little trickles of electricity spread through her skin.
When his fingers spread wide and stroked her from her belly all the way up to her breasts, she forgot to breathe. He palmed them firmly and she wondered what it would be like to have him touch her without the fabric in between.
The man’s touch was bold, hungry and she arched into it, her body curving like a bowstring. Tension spread down to her thighs and she longed for him to push them apart. He leaned down in the darkness and she gripped his hair, pulling him toward her. Their mouths fused and a heady rush went through her as his tongue laved hers, filling he
r even as he demanded complete control.
He pinned her arms to her sides and she melted under him, pliant and willing. Something about the way he stroked his tongue over hers, the low sound he made, stirred a memory inside her.
Rowena looked into the eyes of the man leaning over her and in the darkness, recognized them. Simon. In her dream, he was as she remembered. Intense blue-gray eyes, a strong jaw and a taut muscular chest that she’d always longed to touch.
Before she could speak, he pinched her nipple and rolled it between his fingers. “Ah!” A sharp twinge of pain gave way to exquisite pleasure, which snaked its way down to pool at the juncture of her thighs. He took his time, teasing and pinching, the rough pads of his fingertips grazing her skin in a delicious fashion. Her lower belly clenched under the onslaught.
With ragged breaths, she watched as he freed her breast to suckle it. Though she was now free to move her arms again, she stayed still. The chilly night air spread over her puckered nipple when he lifted his head. She shivered in response.
“I missed you,” he whispered, then lifted her thighs and spread her legs open. He ran his hands under the chemise now, stroking her skin where he had never explored before. The sensation of being spread before him caused a pearl of moisture to drip from her cleft. Her sex squeezed in anticipation. Why hadn’t they done this years ago?
Simon unfastened his breeches. When he lowered himself again, she gripped his shoulders and leaned up to take his mouth. Their tongues danced in a slow rhythm that sent fissures down her spine and warmed her pussy.
She’d longed for this. Waited for years to have his body draped over hers. The solid weight made her feel secure, the way the hard planes of his chest rested over hers made her snuggle underneath him. Her nipples scratching against the fabric between them sent another surge of desire through her.
His mouth moved from her lips, trailing down to lick the edge of her ear before he bit gently on the lobe. His hand reached between her thighs to stroke her sensitive flesh. The feel of his rough thumb over the slick folds made her shudder.
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