Regency Romance Omnibus 2018: Dominate Dukes & Tenacious Women

by Virginia Vice

  “It is something I have given deliberate thought. Though it is only a marriage of convenience, I will treat you with the utmost courtesy and respect.” He was still reeling from the erotic vision.

  “Robert.” She was afraid it showed too clearly. How did she know such fear?

  “And I give you my word that I shall sign over total control of Mossford to you. I have no need of your dowry.” Everything she had ever wanted was so easily found. She was still wary. Maybe she was dreaming.

  “Robert—this is sudden.” A token protest. She was embarrassed. She was reduced to being flustered. He had offered to save her. An offer of marriage from him was the only one she would consider at all.

  “I have given this deliberate thought. I cannot bear the thought of you losing your land.” He soldiered on with a keen resolution.

  “Marriage is not to be taken lightly. Think on it again.” She offered him an escape. For some reason that annoyed him. Any female would be ecstatic, just not her. Not his Amelia. His Amelia?

  “We have friendship which is more than several Society marriages have.” He pointed out with a patience he was far from feeling. Friendship be damned, he wanted her.

  “Indeed we do.” More?

  “Will you think on it then?” At least she did not disagree.

  “I will.” But she already knew what her answer would be. She felt strongly for him. He understood her. The two of them were hard done by Society and that formed a bond of some sort. She found comfort in their alliance.

  “I am pleased. Will you take me to another place you enjoyed in your childhood?” He wanted the day to continue.

  “Alas, I cannot take you climbing,” she said primly.

  “I have never done it. You will have to tutor me,” he replied easily, with a deadpan voice.

  “I doubt you could grasp the mechanics now.” Her voice was snotty.

  “All my tutors claimed I was apt. Perhaps they lied then?” She wondered all the things he had ever been taught and her body was wrapped by a thin thread of heat. His raised eyebrow told her he had an inkling of the direction of her thoughts.

  “Robert? Why do you insist on teasing me mercilessly?” The blush she couldn’t hope to hide flushed her cheeks.

  “I confess it is your blush,” he said with a conspiratorial smile.

  “My...” Her cheeks burned with additional heat.

  “It blazes quite beautifully but it is a rare sight.” He continued as if she had not interrupted.

  “Only my father can bring it up and only in chastising me.” She confided to him, then cursed that instinct.

  “Then I am infinitely pleased that I am the other.” The crooked smile came alive.

  “Robert, you beast!” She swatted at him, small ineffectual hits that made him laugh out loud. “Stop this minute or I shall throw you in the pond.”

  “I shall love to see you try.” He retorted even as he moved out of her reach.

  The horses left grazing around the stream neighed and the couple suddenly remembered their surrounding. Somehow they had fallen into a camaraderie that filled then with a sense of wonderment and had eyes for each other only. Even the sky was ignored and it had turned a dark cast. Amelia looked up, after the storm the night before she doubted the sky would release rain so soon.

  “I love your favorite haunt, have you another?” He interrupted her avid perusal of the sky.

  She startled softly and smiled at him. “I found a fox hole once.”

  He had her attention immediately. “Did you see the fox itself?”

  “Only its kits.” Even more dangerous, but then she was no conventional miss.

  “Hmm,” he grunted.

  “I still recall the area,” she offered sheepishly.

  He looked at her then, remembering the comment that caused the fight. “I did not know you would be taking me on a fox hunt.”

  “Hunting? No one is hunting,” she reiterated with another smile. Now he looked at her and she looked positively on fire.

  “Do not be so fierce,” he said with not a little amusement at her and gestured towards the grazing horses.

  They turned back to their horses. This time she allowed him to help her up and he acknowledged her sacrifice. “There miss, you are safely ensconced on your high horse.”

  “Robert, you beast!” She tried to swat him with the reins in her hand but he danced out of reach.

  He mounted his horse and they turned away from the bubbling brook. Less than a furlough away lightning cracked through the skies with a sudden gust of damp wind.

  “Ah. The storm has come.” Then the first heavy drops started to fall. She spurred her hose and started off towards the stables with him in hot pursuit. They had hardly gone a short distance before she realized it was a futile thing to aim for the stables. The sky was dark, almost like night, and the heavy rain fell in heavy sheets that obscured the road. At this pace they could be easily lost or have a horse fall into a divot and throw one of them. They couldn’t stand in the raging rain either, not with the wind whipping like a mad thing.

  “Follow me!” She suddenly turned on the conviction of a recent memory.

  “Amelia, wait.” She was going in the wrong direction, that much he knew, but the rain stole the words and he had no choice except to follow her as she rode away. He tried to catch her attention and in his haste almost lost his seat. A suddenly looming shadow explained her pellmell dash down this road. Shelter.

  They abandoned the horses at the front of the simple lodge and scrambled in quickly. They were already drenched but it was a relief to escape from the freezing rain. Teeth chattering, Amelia pushed the door open and walked in. The room was cold but an improvement to the rain.

  The gamekeeper’s lodge was clean and dry, though it was sparsely furnished. He was glad to find wood stacked in the fireplace with a bit of slightly damp kindling which could be coaxed to burn with careful handling. He snagged the flint stones from the mantle, and bent down to build a fire.

  He turned once to look at her, teeth chattering and pale eyed. “Go search for other coverings. I am sure there is bound to be some in this place, wherever it is.”

  “It is the gamekeeper’s lodge. Unused for now. We dismissed our last man for poaching.” She was standing in the middle of a widening puddle on the floor.

  “Damned nuisance he must have been. Regardless, you must shed your drenched clothes if you don’t want to suffer a head cold.” He advised her and turned back to sparking the flint stones together.

  “True, let me see if this place offers more than the promise of fire.” She stood, dripping hands curled on her arms, to trudge up the side of the room. After only a few minutes she discovered two things. One, that the place was kept in excellent condition per her instructions, and the other? There was not a single stitch to be found anywhere. But there was a bed tick without linen and that brought a blush to her cheeks for some reason. She waded down to the fireplace to report her findings.

  Robert was nowhere to be found but his coat was hanging by the fireplace. There were not a lot of places to hide so she waited, warming herself by the fire. He would not venture very far without his coat all in this rain. The slamming of the door announced his arrival.

  “Robert you are drenched. What were you doing in the rain again? Look at you!” He was a magnificent sight. His drenched linen shirt molded to his body, followed every roll of muscle. His breeches were glued to his thighs and afforded her a view that was much too titillating. She was suddenly warm in the cozy room, something she could not entirely attribute to the warm fire burning in the grate.

  “I had to unsaddle the horses, poor things,” he explained. He tried to wring the excess water from his hair and wipe his face.

  “Oh.” She was ashamed she had not thought of that, and they were her own horses. “Thank you, Robert.”

  “Come closer to the fireplace.” He pulled a wooden chair close to the fire but not too close.

  “There is not a single pie
ce of cloth to be found here,” she confided as he tried to get her situated in front of the now eagerly burning fire.

  He looked balefully at her and back at the fire “And this is the last of the firewood, just enough to burn through the night.”

  “What shall we do?” Wait until the rain was over. She was a fool to even ask the question.

  “We will not perish of cold, I promise.” She looked worried. He turned to his coat by the fireplace and turned it.

  “This promises to be a daylong squall for which this countryside is infamous for,” she continued.

  “And your grooms will surely come looking for us,” he tried to reassure her even if he did not feel too assured of the situation himself.

  “The rain would have washed our trail away. This isn’t normally where I ride. In the morning we can find our way back by ourselves,” she retorted. With that despairing note she subsided into her chair, shivering badly.

  She looked so tired and defeated. His Amelia was unused to being thwarted. “This would never do. You must remove every stitch of clothing.”

  “Robert!” Shock had her sitting up and glaring at him. Good.

  “This is not time for false modesty Amelia. I, for one, will not allow you to perish from the cold because of your sensibilities. Remove every wet stitch and put on my coat. It is woolen, and quite warmed now.” His tone was brisk and business like. After the initial shock subsided she saw the sense in his suggestions.

  “And you?” she challenged lightly.

  “Let me tend to you first.” He had her love from that moment. Any man would have politely said he would come after, or that he would take care of himself. But not her Robert, he wanted to tend to her. Something no one had done for her willingly all her life. Servants, no matter how genial, were paid to fuss.

  The emotion came, strong and emboldening. It gave her the courage to begin undressing, something she would have never considered before another man. Then she bent down and pried her shoe off her leg or she tried to. He was suddenly there to push her hands away softly and take over the task.

  Her stockings were light and damp, not any kind of protection for the heat of his hand on her ankle. She gasped and he continued without looking up at her. The second shoe thudded much too loudly and startled her. “Thank you, Robert.”

  “You can take care of the rest without my help,” he offered, and walked back to turn the coat. It was quite warm now and dry. “Here, don’t forget to take it with you.” He passed it to her.

  “Of course.” She stood up, eager now to remove her clothes. The warmth of the fire on her ankles was delicious. She took the offered coat and went to the bedroom area. It was not exactly hidden but it afforded her a bit of privacy.

  Away from his immediate view, she nuzzled into the warmth of the coat. It filled her nose with the slight hints of smoke and a scent she would come to associate with him. It was clean and brisk. Soap but with something underlying, more potent, exciting. A coil of heat danced in her belly, making her lift her face from the warm wool. It wouldn’t do to behave wantonly. Her foolishness brought a surge of shame to her face.

  She dropped the warm coat on the bed and struggled with her clothes. The tiny buttons clung to the wet cotton, making an already hard job close to impossible. “Robert.” She called for help, the sound muffled by the rain and her mounting shame. “Robert!”

  He came running as if he was afraid something had gotten hold of her.

  He had been caught in the heavy sound of rain, he found it particularly enjoyable. A storm this wild with the dramatic flashes of lightening and deafening thunder was something he enjoyed very much. The raw display of power and unbridled chaos soothed something primal in him. More than anything he needed soothing this night.

  It had taken all of his restraint and reminding himself that he was not a cad, or a green boy to leash his increasing desire. The drenched clothes had revealed her form in full. It showed the lines and curves or at least followed them in a most tantalizing display. Her ankle protected by a thin damp curtain was a sight, but he had shuddered when she gasped, the proof of his desire growing eager.

  Then he heard her screaming his name.

  He stumbled in his haste only to find her standing still in her drenched clothes and blushing furiously.

  “I...I cannot get out of this without your help. I am sorry for asking, I tried but the buttons are a blasted nuisance.” She turned her back and gestured at the troublesome piece of clothing.

  He did not think anything of her request. The sudden fear at her raised voice had banished the slight fog of desire in his head. He moved closer and fumbled with the pearl buttons, then the ties of her stays. A body in motion tended to remain in motion. When he had helped her pull off the last layer of clinging cotton he had automatically reached for the next and encountered soft clean flesh, the scent of lemons filling his nose.

  If she closed her eyes she could pretend it was Mary, even if her maid could not go about her duties without gabbing. She pushed off each layer as soon as he unlaced it. Just enough to make space for him to reach for the next. She was not quite prepared for the shock of his hand on her skin. A callused finger brushing her ribs. She held her breath.

  When she did not protest he placed the flat of his hand on her back. His middle finger traced the upper indenture of her spine. He knew it was improper to take such liberties but he could not deny himself. Her delicious flesh was bared and beautiful. He would move away, and apologize for his forward manners—soon. Not yet, her creamy white skin was a sight and he had to touch it, had to trace the soft curvature of her ribs, skim the top of her shoulders—soon he would...

  She leaned into the touch with a soft gasp. “Robert.” He had not, in his visions, matched the beauty of the tortured, raspy, aroused sound that spilled from his throat. His softly throbbing member drew to its full length desiring, demanding, her. Only her.

  Her body first warmed, then a wave of desire so strong flowed through her. She was dizzy, then it left her unbearably heavy. The heavy clothes on her body sailed to the ground as her hands lost control and fell to her sides, leaving her naked.

  He tried, but he couldn’t stop his hands from slipping lower. He palmed the curve of her firm derriere. His finger slipped between the two globes. He felt the urge to cup the two semi-circles. His other hand banded across her waist, holding her firm while his curious finger probed her. She was hot, slicked with her desire and aching for him. Her moan filled the room.

  The sudden crack of lightening filled the room with a glow that startled them. It returned a bit of control to him. He curled his hands away from her body and moved away one step. Then another step. He shook his head to bring a bit of his senses back. He closed his eyes, and tried to banish the hot visions in his mind. Images that urged him to claim her.

  She missed him immediately. His hands stopped tracing her skin. When his hands had moved away from their initial path and brushed lower, she had stilled, afraid he would stop. She was afraid that the spell would be broken if she moved or said a word. Then she would never really know, never understand, that delicious ache that filled her with traitorous heat. He did not stop. One hand had curled along her waist holding her, claiming her. Then the other had slipped between her two legs. Its way was slicked by the liquid seeping from her private place. Then he touched her center. She could not have stopped the moan, her arching into his touch, as if her life depended on it. He satisfied that craving in her.

  She turned to look at him and he knew that she was far gone. Her eyes were bigger and the plea in them was impossible for him to ignore. It wouldn’t do, to take her in the haze of desire and have her regret their union. He had to hold on to his restraint even when the peaks of her breast were raised and tight, demanding his touch. Even when her shallow rapid breaths lifted them like a pagan offering to his lips. They were two perfect globes of moon quivering softly. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips and retreated, drawing his eyes back to her face before he st
eeled himself and looked down.

  He looked at her like he was a man starved and she was a meal like no other. His eyes were heavy on her skin. She could almost felt the intensity of his gaze. He looked at her again and started to look away. He was not going to touch her, the realization came to her. The ache in her lower belly went rabid. A gasp was driven from her lips and she pressed a hand down there, at the center of her ache, nestled at the apex of her thighs. His eyes stopped and she, with a boldness and wanton seduction she did not ever think she was capable of, cupped her sex, hoping to relieve herself. The blush started from her belly to her breasts before reaching her cheeks but she didn’t look away from the eyes that flicked to her face in shock. Even in her privacy she had never been so bold.

  It drove him to his knees with the force of blasting cannons. She stood like Aphrodite in all her glory. Her body was arched with desire, breasts lifted and hand cupping her Venus mons. Her fingers were cupping, covering herself in that place he wanted to touch. He wanted his hands cupping her instead.

  “Robert, please. I ache so much. Help me with this pain. Touch me again, please.” What man would not want the sight of her begging lips upturned? Breasts swayed slowly at a mesmerising pace with her fingers buried between pink petals. He knew she was slick with desire. And her pose was too much of a temptation, innocence tempered by an all-consuming desire. Her words ruined every hope he had of restraint.

  “You don't know what you are asking of me.” His voice was hoarse and he hated that, despite his protestations, he wanted nothing more than to claim what she was offering so sweetly.

  “I do,” she insisted and moved closer.

  Discretion was clearly the better part of valor. If she touched him, he knew he would not be able to check his white-hot desires. “Do you?” he challenged.

  One more step forward and her hands loped around his neck. “I am no child, no wide-eyed ingénue,” she insisted. “Touch me, Robert.”