No Earls Allowed

by Shana Galen

  “What? No! I only meant she wouldn’t agree to marry you or any man.”

  “I’ll marry him,” Julia said, just managing to squeeze the words out of her paralyzed body.

  “What?” her father said.

  She kept her gaze on Neil, who didn’t look surprised in the least. “If he asks me.”

  Neil gave a crooked smile. “With your permission, my lord?”

  St. Maur could only nod, apparently struck speechless.

  Neil took Julia’s ash-streaked hand in his own sooty one. “Will you marry me, my lady?”

  “I think the better question, Mr. Wraxall, is will you marry me?”

  “Come again?” her father said.

  Neil just waited for her explanation.

  “I come with a large retinue, sir. A teacher, a cook, and a dozen orphans.”

  “Don’t forget the rats,” Neil said.

  “I was just coming to them, and to the fact that we have nowhere to live. I fear your accommodations will be too small for all of us.”

  He squeezed her hand. “Then we find new accommodations.”

  “In a safer location,” the earl added.

  “She’ll always be safe with me,” Neil said.

  “And even more so if you use a portion of her dowry to build the orphanage—this Sunnybrooke—in a better area of Town.”

  Neil raised a brow. “Dowry? I don’t know much about this dowry.”

  Julia smiled. “There’s quite a lot you don’t know about me, Neil Wraxall.”

  “Right now, all I want to know is whether you will consent to marry me.”

  “I will, Mr. Wraxall.”

  “Shall we ask the lads and the rats if they consent?”

  She smiled. “The boys, yes. The rats’ opinions don’t concern me.”

  From above came a loud cheer. Julia looked up to see the boys leaning over the stair banister above them. Robbie gave her a nod of his head while Billy crossed his arms and smiled. Charlie jumped up and down, yelling, “Yes! Yes!”

  “I think we have our answer,” Neil said, then leaned down and kissed her in front of everyone.

  * * *

  Neil didn’t know why he should be nervous. Yes, he was a virgin on his wedding night, but wasn’t the bride supposed to be the nervous one? The groom was supposed to be eager.

  And Neil was definitely eager. He’d been pacing Juliana’s bedchamber at her father’s house for the better part of an hour. He hadn’t been quite so nervous when he’d first come in here, but the longer he waited, the more his hands shook and his insides did loops and tumbles.

  It had been two months since the fire—enough time to call the banns, for Juliana to ready her trousseau, and for the both of them to find a location and a building suitable for the new Sunnybrooke Home for Wayward Boys. The building had needed repairs and Neil had hired men to do the work, paying them from his own pocket. Juliana’s dowry was far more than he had ever imagined, but he wanted to feel ownership in the orphanage. Her dowry might pay for the boys’ upkeep and the monthly expenses, but he’d contributed to the building’s foundation.

  To their foundation.

  He was thinking about the best location for the schoolroom when the dressing room door opened and Juliana stepped into her bedchamber.

  And then all thoughts of orphans or schoolrooms fled completely.

  She wore a lace-and-silk night rail, much like the one he’d admired before, but this one was somehow even more provocative. The lace bodice fit tightly over her breasts, then flared into a silky skirt that was nearly transparent. Neil felt his mouth go dry.

  Juliana patted her shiny, copper-colored hair, which fell about her shoulders in a straight shower. “Do you like it?” she asked.

  “Come here” was all he could manage.

  She walked toward him, her hips swaying slightly in a movement that made him dizzy with desire. At the wedding today, Draven’s men had congratulated him on his beautiful bride. Jasper had said he had the luck of the devil. Rafe had said the two of them were too pretty to look at. But Neil could look at Juliana all night.

  And he would. They were married now. The papers were signed, the ceremony completed. She was his, and when he took her to bed tonight, he would not have to force himself to stop just when his body wanted more and more. She was his wife. Any offspring would be legitimate. He would always be born on the wrong side of the blanket, but the shame he felt had lessened over the past weeks. Juliana loved him. The boys looked to him for guidance. He was not a mistake. He deserved a home and a family.

  She stopped before him, the scent of roses on her skin light and teasing. “Here I am,” she said with a coy smile.

  “Are you nervous?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “Should I be?”

  Of course she wasn’t nervous. She was the bravest woman he’d ever known.

  “They say it hurts for a woman the first time.”

  She lifted one pale shoulder. “You’ll make it right.”

  He gave a brief laugh. “I’ve never done this before either.”

  “Is that what’s troubling you?”

  He straightened. “I’m not troubled.”

  “You look as though your tumbrel just arrived at the guillotine.”

  “I hope the night doesn’t end that badly,” he said.

  “It won’t.” And then she leaned forward and brushed her lips over his. The barest touch of her mouth was like a white-hot brand. He forgot his nervousness and gave in to desire, pulling her into his arms. The feel of her body beneath the flimsy silk intrigued him. He knew how soft her skin was, how generous her curves, but the silk sliding over it made it that much more tantalizing.

  Her mouth opened slightly, and his tongue slipped into it, stroking her tongue and showing her what he wanted to do to her body. She trembled in his arms—not from fear but pleasure—and his lungs seized. He had to pull away to catch a breath. But his hands did not cease moving—up and over her bottom, around her slender waist, cupping her generous breasts.

  “The bow,” she said, her voice thick.

  Neil frowned. Juliana took his hand and placed it on the small white bow centered in the valley of her breasts. “I want your hands on me. I’ve been wanting this for weeks.”

  They’d had only a few stolen minutes together since the fire, when she and the orphans had come to stay at her father’s town house in Mayfair. Neil had missed the days at the orphanage when she hadn’t been so well chaperoned. The handful of moments they’d had alone since were not nearly enough to satisfy either of them and had left them frustrated and unsatisfied. But that was all at an end now. In a few months, they’d be in their new home—their own home—one they’d share with the twelve boys and, Neil was sure, however many more Juliana took in.

  To his surprise, he didn’t mind. He’d spent most of his adult life molding young men into soldiers. Now he would mold boys into honorable young men. Funny how he’d spent his entire life hiding from his status as a bastard, and now he embraced it and others like him. He would offer safety and love to the boys and to Juliana, and together they could make a new family to replace the ones they’d lost.

  Neil tugged the bow, and the lace over her breasts parted. He loosed the next bow and the next until the lace fell away, revealing her lovely curves to him. He pushed the silky skirts over her hips and took a shuddering breath when she was naked before him. “I’m afraid this night might be over all too quickly.”

  “Perhaps the first time,” she said, parting the robe he wore to reveal his bare chest.

  “The first time?” His mouth felt dry.

  “We have a long night ahead of us, Major.”

  He put his hands on the curve of her hips and drew her close. “Yes, we do.”

  “And you’re wearing too many clothes,” she chided.

 
; “That can be easily rectified.” He pulled the tie on the robe and let it drop. Then as naked as she, he scooped her up and carried her to the bed. “I’ve had my fill of couches, parlors, and broom closets,” he said, laying her down and then coming down beside her. “I’ve wanted you in a bed, and now I plan to take full advantage of it.”

  “Please do.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, her mouth lifting to meet his. As soon as their lips touched, it felt as though lightning had struck between them. The urge to take her then was overwhelming, but Neil battled back his impulses and drew their kisses out until they were slow, languid caresses. When he’d explored her mouth to his satisfaction, he pressed his lips to the column of her neck, her rounded shoulder, the curve of her breast, the hard tip of her nipple, and the gentle swell of her belly. He wanted to take his time learning the shape of her silky legs, but he would have to save that for later. His fingers had dipped between her legs, and once he’d felt how wet she was, how ready, his desires could no longer be ignored.

  Neil hadn’t asked for conjugal advice from his friends at the Draven Club, but they’d given it anyway. The consensus seemed to be that a woman’s first time was less painful if she was fully aroused. It had been some time since Neil had done much more than kiss Juliana, and now when his fingers slid between the slippery folds of her sex, raw hunger and longing suffused him. He glanced at her face and saw her watching him with those beautiful eyes. Her lips were red and her cheeks pink.

  “I want you,” she whispered. “I love you, Neil.”

  “I love you,” he said as he bent to taste her. Her climax seemed to ripple through her without warning. He’d barely touched his tongue to her before she writhed on the bed and cried out, shuddering. Neil liked the sound of that cry and immediately decided they needed thicker walls and doors on their bedchamber at the orphanage. He intended to see that she made many more of those lusty cries.

  Now he rose and positioned himself between her legs. His cock seemed to know what to do, even if he didn’t, and he was an inch inside her heat before he could stop himself. Juliana didn’t help. She bucked against him, urging him, trying to pull him deeper. Gritting his teeth, Neil moved inside her slowly. She was tight and hot, and he wanted to thrust hard and deep. Instead, he recited the names and numbers of every cavalry unit he could think of. He stroked her with his fingers, pausing when he heard her gasp or when her eyes widened in surprise.

  “Am I hurting you?” he managed. Seventh Queen’s Own Hussars. Eighth Light Dragoons. Ninth Light Dragoons.

  “A little, but it also feels wonderful,” she admitted. “Very strange.”

  “Yes, that was the effect I wanted,” he said through clenched teeth. “Strange and painful.” Tenth Prince of Wales’s Hussars. Eleventh Light Dragoons.

  “That’s not what I meant. Neil, I—”

  She gasped on a moan as his fingers teased her again, sliding up and down over her sensitive flesh and circling that small, sensitive nub. He felt her contract around him, felt his own control slipping, and then she arched her hips, and he couldn’t hold back any longer. He thrust inside her. She cried out, even as her body continued to climax. Her muscles gripped him several more times, and he was almost undone.

  Fifteenth King’s Hussars.

  He closed his eyes and remained as still as possible. Finally, what seemed like months later, he felt her fingers stroke his cheek. “Are you hurt?” she asked.

  He laughed and opened his eyes. “No. I’m attempting not to hurt you.”

  “I feel quite wonderful,” she said, her gaze hazy and unfocused. “A little strange with you…well, there.”

  “Could we possibly cease using the word ‘strange’ for the time being?” he said.

  “Of course. Should we—Oh!”

  He’d moved, and her eyes widened.

  “Did that hurt?” he asked, concerned.

  “A little, but it felt”—he gave her a warning look—“pleasant.”

  He moved again, and she did not cry out in pain. He thrust deeper, and that was when she moaned. “Oh yes. I can see how that will feel lovely next time.”

  Next time. He could barely fathom what was happening this time. It was both better and worse than he’d ever imagined. She was wet and tight and impossibly irresistible, but he felt like a schoolboy who had no control.

  And perhaps that was as it should be—the two of them learning this dance, this new part of their lives together. As Juliana had said, they had a long night ahead of them. They had a long marriage ahead as well.

  Later, after Neil had succumbed to the pleasure of his wife’s body, he held her against him. Her warmth and scent enveloped him just as his arms surrounded her. This was a new beginning, a new world; together, they would explore it. If they were together, their love could conquer anything.

  * * *

  Everything had gone as planned. Neil had gathered the surviving members of Draven’s troop and given orders like he had in the old days. It had felt damn good, giving an order that wouldn’t get anyone killed. It had taken finesse, charm, bribes, and royal intervention, but he had finally prevailed.

  “Ready, sir?” Mrs. Dunwitty asked from the other side of the coach. The child slept peacefully in her arms after his long journey.

  “Yes. Hand him over, will you?”

  Mrs. Dunwitty obliged, and Neil took the baby, surprised at how solid he was for only ten months. He had wispy, dark hair with hints of auburn and chubby, pink cheeks. His eyes were brown, much like his aunt’s, and he smiled now in his sleep. Neil wondered what he dreamed of.

  The coach’s door opened and Neil climbed out and carried the child into the town house. St. Maur was waiting in the vestibule. Silently, he pointed to the parlor, where Juliana liked to see to her correspondence most mornings. The man who had become his father-in-law only a week or so before knocked on the door and opened it.

  “Yes, what is it?” Juliana asked, her head bent over the desk.

  “We have a new resident of the orphanage,” Neil said.

  She looked up, her brows furrowed. “What do you mean? Neil!” She rose. “Where did this child come from? How will we find room for—” She put a hand to her heart, and for a moment Neil thought she might scream. Then she ran to him and all but ripped the child from his arms. Davy fussed, then snuggled against her as though coming home.

  She stared at the child, then at Neil. “Is it really him? Really Davy?”

  “Yes,” he said. “It’s really him, and he’s really yours.” He would tell her all the stipulations and legal agreements later. Lainesborough had not relinquished custody of the boy completely. But in the end, money had mattered more to him than a child he would take no interest in for another eighteen years. Neil hadn’t had to compromise as much as he’d feared.

  “How?” she whispered. “I tried everything.”

  Neil shrugged. “I’m a war hero. You know that.”

  She laughed, her voice shaky. “And all this time you have been trying to convince me you were anything but a hero. Thank you.” She cradled the little boy, tears running down her cheeks.

  Neil caught one. “You are supposed to be happy.”

  “I am. I’m weeping for joy. He’s so beautiful.”

  Neil looked down at the child, his eyes closed so peacefully, and he thought of the dream he’d had of his brother. In the dream, Christopher’s eyes had been closed, his face serene. He was at rest, at peace. Finally, Neil could be at peace too.

  “Papa, isn’t he beautiful?” Juliana motioned to her father standing in the doorway. “Isn’t he the most beautiful boy?”

  The earl nodded. “Our family is complete.”

  Neil couldn’t have agreed more.

  Order Shana Galen’s next book

  in The Survivors series

  An Affair with a Spare

  On sale July 2018


  Read on for an excerpt from book 3 in Shana Galen’s Survivors series

  Coming soon from Sourcebooks Casablanca

  Collette Fortier took a shaky breath and pasted a bright smile on her face.

  Do not mention hedgehogs. Do not mention hedgehogs!

  Collette was nervous, and when she was nervous her English faltered, and she often fell back upon the books she’d studied when learning the language. Unfortunately, they had been books on natural history. The volume on hedgehogs, with its charcoal sketches, had been one of her favorites.

  This ball had been a nightmare from the moment she’d entered. Not only was she squished in the ballroom like a folding fan, there was no escape from the harsh sound of English voices. Due to the steady rain outside, the hosts had closed the doors and windows. Collette felt more trapped than usual.

  “He’s coming this way!” Lady Ravensgate hissed, elbowing her in the side. Collette had to restrain herself from elbowing her chaperone right back. Since Lieutenant Colonel Draven was indeed headed their way, Collette held herself in check. She needed an introduction. After almost a month of insinuating herself into the inner sphere of Britain’s Foreign Office, she was finally closing in on the men who would have knowledge of the codes she needed.

  Lady Ravensgate fluttered her fan wildly as the former soldier approached and then let go so the fan fell directly into the Lieutenant Colonel’s path. Lady Ravensgate gasped in a bad imitation of horror as Draven bent to retrieve the fan, as any gentleman would.

  “I believe you dropped this.” He rose and presented the fan to Lady Ravensgate. He was a robust man with auburn hair and sharp blue eyes. Still in the prime of life, he gave the ladies an easy smile before turning away.

  “Lieutenant Colonel Draven, is it not?” Lady Ravensgate asked. The soldier raised his brows politely, his gaze traveling from Lady Ravensgate to Collette. Collette felt her cheeks heat and hated herself for it. She had always been shy and averse to attention, and no matter the steps she took to overcome her bashfulness, she could not rid herself of it completely. Especially not around men she found even remotely attractive.