“Thank you.”
He got to his feet and offered his arm, but before she left the room, Viola spoke to Val. “Indeed, I beg your pardon for not thanking you properly and appearing more grateful. I do thank you and I will be forever under an obligation to you.”
“Oh, not forever; never say that!” the incorrigible Val said. “I shall probably make my way back to town with Julius, as there is a promising young fighter I’m anxious to see at the cockpit.”
Viola shuddered at the mention of cockfighting. It was not her idea of a good evening’s entertainment. Nobly, she said nothing. After all, she owed Val a great deal, despite his brushing her obligation aside.
Upstairs, the maid helped her out of her clothes. She lay down in what was admittedly a very comfortable goose feather bed, but she was sure she would not sleep. She had agreed to come upstairs, aware she would be no company for anyone in her current state. Best to stay here and bite her nails until news came.
She had not slept much last night, and she feared tonight would be the same. Worry and unaccustomed frustration at not knowing bore on her nerves. If she closed her eyes for a moment she could at least rest them.
She awoke when the bed sank as someone sat on it.
Flinging the bedclothes aside, she hurled herself into his arms. “Marcus!”
He closed his arms around her, holding her tight. She burrowed in, hearing his chuckle, feeling it reverberate through her. She would never let him go. Ever. “Oh, Marcus, I should never have let you go!”
“What is this?” he said, drawing her away so he could gaze down at her face. “My love, you surely did not worry about me?” But he appeared pleased, for all that.
“Yes, of course I was! What happened?”
“They attacked us on the heath and we captured one.” He paused. “Well, at least Alconbury did.”
“Alconbury?” Tears forgotten, her jaw dropped open.
“He said the act was nothing he wanted to be involved with and wished to prove it to us. I think there was more to it than that, but I have no idea what that might be. One fled, and he scooped him up. The man told us nothing, but we were too eager to secure him and deliver him to Julius. In any case, he babbled in Italian, talking about the true king and other such nonsense. It seems clear he was part of the Pretender’s contingent. The Young Pretender. We now have a useful weapon,” he said with much satisfaction. “I wonder what the Old Pretender would think of his son’s activities?”
She had not considered that. “You think the old man would take it amiss?”
“I know so. He’s a wily bastard. He will use any tools he can find. That, my love, includes you. A shame I spoiled his ambitions by marrying you. But not for me.” Cupping her face, he kissed her.
He’d washed, and he’d removed his outer clothing and was now wearing a robe of a dazzling crimson color.
“What time is it?” she said when she could.
“Nearly nine. I did not wish to disturb you, though I sent a maid to sit with you and to fetch me the minute you awoke. Julius has gone, taking his prisoner to another place. Probably London, since we will have to clear up the mess from the Heath. I’m afraid we left a few bodies behind us.”
She should feel sorry, she really should, but she could not. Not when her husband was safe in her arms.
“I have something for you.” Reaching behind him, he drew out a rose and handed it to her. A yellow rose.
Viola caught her breath. “Where did you get that?”
“In the garden, here. Julius has a yellow rosebush. He gave me permission to take one. He’s going to instruct his gardeners to send a graft for us. We may plant it in the house I’m taking you to, our private residence.”
Tears misted her eyes. She brought the rose up and smelled the sweet, heady fragrance. “Thank you.”
Gently, he took the rose from her and dropped it into the bud vase by the side of the bed.
She watched him, wide-eyed. “We have the house to ourselves?”
“Except for Tony and Imogen. Val, Ivan, and Darius took off with Julius. But Tony and Imogen have decided not to return to town, but to their house in Cheshire. I prevailed upon them to defer their trip for a few days, so you may get to know your sister.” He regarded her tenderly. “How do you feel about gaining siblings?”
“I always thought there might be some. The Old Pretender was not known for celibacy, after all. Rumors of his affairs reached even us.” Even now she could hardly believe her good fortune. For she counted it so when she could regard herself as not alone in the world, as she’d feared.
She patted the pillow next to the one she’d used. “I want you, Marcus.” So happy she could express what she wanted to this wonderful man, she touched him. He was hard, his breeches not concealing how much he wanted her. But he wanted her more than physically, she realized with a surge of her spirits. He truly loved her, as she did him.
“You are not hungry?”
She laughed. “For you.”
Without further delay, he released her and undressed swiftly, while she did the same, removing her shift, which was all she had left on. She left the covers where they were, half tossed down the bed. Unashamed, she displayed herself to him.
“Where are the breeches you wore?” he said roughly, a harsh edge to his voice.
“I don’t know.” Belatedly, she recalled he had asked her to keep them.
“It matters not. We will find you another pair. You will wear them for me, will you not?”
Wonderingly, she blinked at him. “You found them exciting?”
“Immensely. I cannot explain it myself.” He threw his last garment, his shirt, aside and stood before her as blatantly naked as she was.
Sliding into bed, he took her into his arms and rolled over her, surrounding her with his heat. “Then we are to celebrate. But I insist you eat something.”
Playfully, she bit his shoulder. “I could eat you.”
He groaned. “You do not know what you’re saying, my love. Or perhaps you do.” He devoured her with a kiss, but she responded in full measure, eagerly opening her mouth for the invasion of his tongue.
Pausing to test her readiness, he guided himself to her and plunged deep, giving a deep-throated groan. “I love you, Viola. I always have, and I always will. I was merely foolish in not knowing it before.”
“I always knew it,” she said. “And I will love you for the rest of my life.”
After his first thrust, he made love to her gently, making it last a long time. They were in no hurry. They had all the time in the world now.
She dropped her head back, letting him see every change in her face, keeping her gaze firmly fixed on his. “Will I drive you mad, as your brothers suspect?”
“I daresay you will. I doubt we will always see perfectly in harmony.”
He groaned as she gasped and held on to him, her body quivering with aftershocks as an orgasm took over.
They lost themselves in kisses, their hearts and minds as one while they loved each other. Every time he came down to touch her, her nipples came into contact with his chest, adding further stimulation to her sensually saturated body.
The first pulse of his shaft inside her triggered another heated peak. Viola shuddered in his arms as he came, hot and deep.
When they had finished, he kissed her, and still kissing, still inside her, he rolled her with him. They lay side by side, lost in each other.
He stroked a lock of hair away from her face. “My love, at this rate we will give my father his heir in no time,” he murmured, his lips close to hers.
“I’m a few days late,” she confessed. “That means nothing,” she added hastily, “Especially with the worry you’ve caused me.”
He touched her lips, smiling when she kissed his finger. “It’s a good sign. We have time, sweetheart.”
She sighed in happiness. “Yes, we do.”
Meet the Author
Lynne Connolly was born in Leicester, England, and lived in h
er family’s cobbler’s shop with her parents and sister. She loves all periods of history, but her favorites are the Tudor and Georgian eras. She loves doing research and creating a credible story with people who lived in past ages. In addition to her Emperors of London series she writes several historical, contemporary and paranormal romance series. Visit her on the web at lynneconnolly.com, read her blog at lynneconnolly.blogspot.co.uk, find her on Facebook, and follow her on Twitter @lynneconnolly.
Keep reading for a special sneak peek of the first Emperors of London novel
Reckless In Pink
Like the royals for whom they were named, the Emperors of London family have enemies and rivals of their own…
As a soldier for the Crown, Dominic is charged with locating the Young Pretender to the British throne so he can be tried as a traitor. But his mission is altered when he meets Claudia Shaw, an intriguing young woman who has inherited a house of ill repute. In an effort to protect Claudia from her own recklessness, Dominic finds himself allowing the Pretender to slip away…
Claudia is one of the Emperors of London, but her family despairs of her impetuous behavior. And try as he might, the disciplined Dominic cannot quite curb her excesses. In fact, she soon drags him into her adventures—and toward a passion neither can resist. But when a deadly secret comes to light that puts their lives, and their love, at risk, Claudia won’t allow Dominic to sacrifice himself. She is determined to have him—even if it means getting the Young Pretender out of the way herself.
“Lynne Connolly writes Georgian romances with a deft touch. Her characters amuse, entertain and reach into your heart.”
—Desiree Holt
A Lyrical e-book on sale now!
Learn more about Lynne at http://www.kensingtonbooks.com/author.aspx/31603
Chapter 1
“Are you sure you do not wish to return, Major?” General Court asked. “Now your family business is concluded, I would have welcomed you back. Your conduct was exemplary on the Continent.”
Dominic shook his head. “I would hardly say my family business is concluded. I am the only male left to continue the line.”
The general brightened, his ruddy face glowing. “Then once you beget an heir or two, we may expect you back?”
“Once I marry, perhaps.” Dominic could see that in his future—marrying a suitable woman, begetting an heir, and then leaving her in peace to continue his career.
The general harrumphed. “Then hurry up and do it. We need experienced officers like you.”
Dominic recalled a number of times when his superior officers had intimated otherwise. He glanced around the splendidly appointed room, with its display of silver on the sideboard and fine spirits in the glittering crystal decanters. If he didn’t know better, he’d assume the General lived in this luxury all the time. However, he’d seen the man thigh-deep in mud, bellowing instructions to his men, refusing to leave the field until they were all safe.
He was no longer one of the general’s officers and hadn’t been so for six months. Ever since his parents had begged him to come home and find a wife. He’d done the first part but had yet to achieve the second.
He blamed himself. His two male cousins had been the heirs to the title, after him. Now they had died, and he was the only hope for his house.
Restlessly, he got to his feet. “If that’s all, General…”
“No. Sit down.”
Sometimes the man forgot that Dominic was no longer under his command. He let it pass and sat back down on the hard wooden chair provided for visitors. The full skirts of his woolen coat padded his arse somewhat, but he’d known worse hardships than this. Not recently, though. “May I be of further service, sir?”
The General gave him a hard stare before picking up a piece of paper and tossing across the desk. “Take a look at that. Tell me what you see.”
One side was travel-stained, obviously a letter, with a seal hanging off one side. The address was a house in the City, Spitalfields to be exact. He turned it over and read.
“This is from Charles Stuart? The Pretender?”
“It is. Rallying his supporters in England.”
“Have you visited the address?”
The General grunted his assent. “I sent someone last week pretending to be a seller of pots and pans. All this damned sneaking about makes me itch. Army intelligence is one thing, but this cloak and dagger stuff isn’t what a gentleman should occupy himself with.”
If the world were well organized and everybody told the truth, a military man might prefer to see the enemy and engage with him rather than run around lying. However, the man’s professed bluster hid a devious and intelligent mind, so while the General’s speech amused Dominic, it did not fool him. A gentleman didn’t skulk around and spy, but somebody had to.
“Nobody seemed suspicious,” the general continued. “It was the premises of a silk weaver and his family. The man did business from the house, but he had no reason to side with the Stuarts. His family were Huguenots, and they believe in pursuing the Protestant cause.”
“Stuart converted to the Anglican church a few years ago,” Dominic felt obliged to point out.
The General nodded. “For all the good it did him.” He finished the glass of port he’d poured for himself when Dominic had refused refreshment. “The house is owned by the Duke of Northwich.”
Dominic sucked in a breath. The Duke, the head of the Dankworth family, had long been a thorn in the side of the Crown. Long-time supporters of the Stuarts, the Dankworths had nevertheless evaded serious charges. Dominic reminded himself frequently that intrigue was none of his business, anymore. However, he did find himself wondering what the devious family was up to now.
“Why should that be a surprise?” He took another look at the letter. It referred to mysterious events, full of phrases like “our business” and “the parcel.” Nothing new.
“The parcel referred to in that letter is a person. The Young Pretender, no less. Are you interested now?”
Sunlight streamed in through the dusty windows across the desk. The air was redolent with lavender and spices used by the housekeeping staff no doubt to clean and add fragrance to the air.
The world was normal and continued the same way, except that it had shifted a little to one side. Dominic began to understand the general’s intent, and he didn’t like it. “Why would I be interested?” he said smoothly. He put the letter down gently. He had affairs of his own to deal with, much less government concerns.
“We would like you to look into the matter. The government would be extremely grateful to you.”
“I’m sure they would.” Because he had seen the Stuart pretender when he was still a serving officer, so he would know him again. Dominic hadn’t been wearing his uniform at the time and had choked down his distaste of subterfuge long enough to discover what his superior had wanted to know. He obeyed orders, but he hated the work. Lying stuck in his throat. He had particular reason to dislike it.
The General indicated a neat pile of papers stacked on the desk. “You are in a position to help us now.”
Dominic had had enough. He had better things to do than listen to the general sidle around the subject. “What do you want?”
None of his London acquaintances would have recognized the sharp tones, the decisiveness, but they hadn’t known him in the army. He hadn’t served in a fashionable regiment, nor had the public honors he’d received been any more remarkable than many others. When he returned to London, he became someone else. Not the officer, but the aristocrat and the man of fashion.
The General didn’t appear surprised at Dominic’s incisive tones, but then he was better acquainted with Dominic the officer. “I want you to locate him. It shouldn’t be beyond your capabilities. This time we have had enough of his dancing around London. We want Stuart in custody, and if necessary we will bring him to trial.”
Dominic sucked in a harsh breath. “If you will forgive me for saying so General, that is a mistake. He
is flaunting himself in order to get arrested. It’s just what he wants.”
“If he had heirs, if his brother weren’t a Cardinal in the Catholic Church, we might agree with you.” The back of the General’s comfortable leather padded chair creaked alarmingly when he leaned back. Since he’d returned to London, he’d gained quite a lot of weight. The sedentary life obviously didn’t suit him. “However, the hope of the Stuart Cause rests on him. We would prefer to put an end to that. It works both ways, St. Just. The line effectively ends with him, so if we take him, we have the family.”
That made alarming sense. But a trial would encourage the kind of support the country could well do without at a time like this. With an aging king and a young and inexperienced heir in thrall to an unpopular advisor, the time was ripe to tip the scales back in the Stuart family’s favor, if a person had a mind to do it. “If I see him, I’ll inform you. Will that do?”
The General regarded him in silence for a full minute. Dominic knew better than to interrupt him, and he hoped General Court knew better than to press him further. Both men understood what that meant. Dominic would go hunting, and he’d find his prey, but if anyone asked, he’d never met Stuart, not even heard of him.
Eventually, the man nodded. “Very well. I appreciate your help.”
“I hope you do.” He would not forget the favor. Dominic would make sure of it.
Dominic left the room. He hurried down the stairs, more than glad to put the dust of this building behind him.
Someone calling his name interrupted him. “St. Just!”
Damnation. Pinning an affable smile to his face, he turned, letting the skirts of his coat swing gently around him. “Why, Malton, what a pleasant surprise! Do you come here on a visit, or business?”
Lord Malton grimaced. “Business, but nothing vital, as it transpires. I was merely surprised to see you.”
He waved carelessly in the direction of the stairs, taking care to keep the movement elegant. “A social call. A man I used to serve under has returned to London. Paying my respects, don’t you know.”
Dilemma in Yellow Silk Page 25
