Regency Scandals: Touch Me, Tempt Me & Take Me Box Set

by Lucy Monroe

  “What do you mean? I have done nothing to warrant such sarcasm from you. I am not reckless.”

  “You left the ruin.”

  “I had no choice. There was a note telling me to meet Thaddeus Brandon further up the path.”

  “You chose the wrong alternative. You agreed you would not leave the original meeting place.”

  “If I had not, we would not know about Thaddeus Brandon.”

  Lucas did not consider that sufficient reward for the risk she had faced and told her so.

  “I was safe at all times. You and my brothers saw to it.”

  “The man held a gun to your back.” The feeling of desperate fear he had experienced when he realized she was in such peril came back.

  Irisa’s anger suddenly drained from her countenance and she laid her hand on his chest in supplication. “But he did not have the opportunity to use it. I am fine.”

  “And you will stay that way.”

  She surprised him by nodding. “Yes. I will. May I have permission to leave the house with my family?”

  The quick about face disconcerted him, but he appreciated it. “If Ravenswood or Drake is with you, yes.”

  She smiled and patted his chest. “Thank you. Now about the matter of having someone with me at all times while I am home...”

  He shook his head. “I cannot compromise on that, little one. Will it be such a sacrifice to spend a great deal of time in my company?”

  Her smile dazzled him. “Will it be in your company, Lucas?”

  “Yes.” And feeling the way he did right now, much of that time would be spent in bed.

  He wondered if Irisa would show herself to be as adventurous in this aspect of marriage as she had shown herself to be in so many other ways of late.

  A man could only hope.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Irisa wasn’t thinking of her wedding night the following morning as she prepared for her marriage ceremony. There were too many other worries filling her thoughts.

  Aunt Harriet had taken her aside early that morning to give her the talk, believing her mother would have neglected it because of the strained relations between the two of them. Irisa had not had the heart to tell the dear old thing that Mama had indeed already done her duty. Her aunt’s advice had been much like her mother’s, with one alteration.

  She said a woman must always consider her duty in the marriage bed to be sacred despite the discomfort and embarrassment a lady faced when her husband exercised his conjugal rights. According to Aunt Harriet, things did not improve upon practice when it came to the passionate side of marriage.

  Irisa was sure she was wrong, but trepidation toward the consummation of her marriage grew inside her with each moment that drew her closer to becoming Lucas’s wife.

  Then, much to everyone’s surprise and Irisa’s personal dismay, Mama had arrived two hours ago to oversee her daughter’s toilette. So far she had managed to route Thea from the bedchamber, made Pansy re-dress Irisa’s hair three times, iron her petticoats, and apply rouge and powder to Irisa’s strained features.

  “You look like you are going to a funeral and though under the circumstances it is understandable, we can’t have the ton believing you are anything but pleased about your marriage.”

  “I am pleased about my marriage,” Irisa replied.

  Her nerves had nothing to do with the fact that she didn’t want to marry Lucas.

  “How you can be when you know it will bring certain ruin to your family’s standing amidst the ton, I cannot fathom. That I managed to raise such a selfish, willful daughter with so little concern for her family’s honor is a blow no mother should be expected to face.” Mama dabbed delicately at the corner of her eyes with an embroidered handkerchief.

  Irisa refused to be goaded into an argument. She hadn’t wanted her marriage to bring grief to her family, but surely it would be better for the secret to out when she was a Countess than if she were still the unmarried daughter of a moderately placed earl.

  She had tried to protect her family and catch the blackmailer, but her plan had failed. Just as her attempt to leave Town had failed. The best she could do for them now was to follow through on her plan to marry Lucas and rely on the protection of his title when the tittle-tattle started. She only hoped Lucas would not regret his insistence on going through with the wedding overmuch.

  Thea came back into the room, looking absolutely beautiful in a gown of peacock blue silk. She took one look at Irisa and walked to the water pitcher where she wetted her own handkerchief. Coming to stand in front of Irisa, she began wiping at the powder and rouge Pansy had applied.

  Not deigning to speak to Thea, Mama glared at Irisa instead. “One would think that as your mother, I would have the final say in your toilette the morning of your wedding. Some people have absolutely no manners or sense of social courtesies.”

  Irisa clenched her teeth in an effort to hold in her temper.

  “Some people would do better seeing to their own appearance than worrying about that of a lovely young girl,” Thea retorted, “For instance a mother’s tears might cause the smudging of her kohl and render her ridiculous.”

  Irisa stifled a hysterical giggle as her mother gasped and spun to face the mirror. Seeing that Thea was right, she immediately set about repairing her cosmetics.

  Taking advantage of her preoccupation, Irisa went with Thea and Pansy to the other side of the room to don her white silk gown. Gold ribbon accented her neckline and the fashionably high waist, while the hem had been tucked in scallops revealing an underskirt of gold as well. She pulled on long white gloves and slipped her feet into the white kid slippers fashioned to match the dress.

  Thea stepped back and surveyed her with a smile. “You do look lovely, sister-mine.”

  Pansy nodded and sniffed. “That you do, milady.”

  Irisa tried to smile in return, though her stomach was knotted with tension. “Thank you.”

  Thea turned to Pansy. “Help Lady Langley finish the repairs to her appearance and I will take Irisa to the drawing room to wait for the coach.”

  When they reached the drawing room, Thea poured Irisa a glass of brandy. “Here. I think you need it.”

  Irisa took the snifter without a word of protest. Her sister was right. She needed something.

  Taking a large sip, she immediately started coughing. “I didn’t realize it would burn so much.”

  Thea made her finish the brandy, but she drank it in much smaller sips. Her insides, which had felt chilled with nerves, began to warm. “Mama is angry with me for going through with the wedding.”

  “Lady Langley is too concerned with her place in the ton. She is foolish if she thinks that now the secret is known it will remain private. She should be grateful you are marrying someone as well placed as Lucas. When the scandal hits, his consequence will help to mitigate it.”

  Irisa nodded and took another sip of her brandy. “That is precisely what I was thinking this morning.”

  “Then why are you so upset?”

  “Who said I was upset?” Irisa hedged.

  “Before your coughing fit over the spirits, your face was as white as the Elgin Marbles before they came to England and you’ve got a wild, desperate look in your eyes. Don’t you want to marry Lucas?”

  “I want it more than anything in the world,” Irisa admitted, “but I’m scared. What if he comes to hate me as Papa has done because I am a source of embarrassment for him?”

  Thea squeezed Irisa’s arm. “You know, I have never once regretted marrying Drake.”

  “You are not like Lucas. The mores of society mean very little to you.”

  Her sister shrugged. “This is true, but I still think you are silly to worry about Lucas coming to hate you. He is nothing like our father.”

  “You are right.” She took another fortifying sip of brandy. “May I ask a rather personal question?”

  “Of course.”

  “Mama has intimated that initiation into lovemaking i
s not always pleasant...”

  Thea bit her lip. “It can hurt the first time.”

  “That is what Mama said.” But she’d hoped that her mother had been wrong.

  “It is nothing to worry about. I’m sure Lucas will take good care of you.”

  Irisa hoped her sister was right, but her fears on that score were far from vanquished.

  ***

  Lucas helped Irisa down from the carriage and then swung her up in his arms and carried her up the steps to her new home.

  Nerves and embarrassment beset her. “Really, Lucas, I don’t think this necessary. I can walk.”

  His face taut with some undefined emotion, he held her with a grip of iron. “Hush, little one.”

  His command for silence came out sounding like a caress and he did not stop to greet the assembled servants.

  She gripped his shoulder and tried to shake it. “Lucas. Put me down. It is time you made me known to my staff.”

  He stopped, his expression pained. “You are right, but this is the final delay I will tolerate,” he growled.

  His tone and words so surprised her that she did not protest when he kept her anchored to his side after he lowered her with obvious reluctance to the floor. Although his impatience was palpable in the tense line of his body against hers, he did not hurry through the introductions, taking time to make every servant feel their worth in the household.

  Irisa had met some of them before on her stay at Ashton Manor, footmen and a valet that traveled with Lucas, but the majority of the men and women standing in the hall were unknown to her. She took pains to commit each face and name to memory, wanting to make a good impression on her staff in the days to come. She liked the round little housekeeper and smilingly accepted her invitation to tour the townhouse, but when Irisa went to pull away from Lucas in order to follow the other woman, he did not let go.

  “There will be plenty of time tomorrow for your new mistress to become familiar with her home.” As Lucas spoke to the housekeeper, he once again swung Irisa into his arms.

  She caught her breath in surprise and automatically clutched at his shoulders for balance. “Lucas, what are you doing?”

  The question was rather moot as his intention was obvious to her and everyone else in the hall. Lucas was taking her to bed. And somehow, in this intense mood, she could not see him taking care of her as Thea had said he would.

  He’d mounted several stairs before stopping to turn and instruct the now grinning housekeeper to have dinner delivered to his bedchamber later. “Until then, I will expect you to take care of all household issues with your customary efficiency.”

  The housekeeper bobbed her mobcapped head.

  Turning toward the austere butler, he said, “In the event that anyone should have the temerity to call upon a new bride and groom on their wedding day, we are not at home.”

  That elder personage nodded without a hint of emotion.

  Irisa buried her face against Lucas’s neck in mortification. She could not believe her husband had made his intentions so clear to the staff and her earlier embarrassment returned tenfold. He might as well have stood on the top step and shouted his aim to bed her to anyone within hearing distance.

  She hissed as much to him as he continued his ascent on the stairs.

  “Irisa, it is our wedding night. The servants expect me to share your bedchamber.”

  She pulled her face back and glared at him. “It is not our wedding night. It is still our wedding day and I’m not at all sure we are supposed to engage in this sort of activity yet.”

  He stared at her as if she were the one behaving like her brains had gone to let. “We are married now, sweeting. We can engage in this sort of activity anytime we please.”

  “But Pansy was supposed to ready me for bed.”

  “I’ll help you out of your clothes.” The look in his eyes when he gave that promise made her shiver.

  “I have a new nightgown Thea gave me to wear. You aren’t supposed to see it until I have it on.”

  His eyes devoured her like a voracious beast. “You won’t need a nightgown.”

  “If you’re trying to sooth my nerves, you’re not doing a very good job,” she informed him, feeling very much like a cornered fox facing a hound.

  He blinked. “You expect me to sooth you?”

  “Yes.” She really must ask Thea if all men were prone to moments of such thickheadedness, or if it was just Lucas.

  “Why? You know you like what you feel in my arms. There’s no reason for you to be nervous. You’re the one that wanted me to show more passion toward you.” He truly sounded perplexed. And frustrated.

  “Sometimes, you remind me very much of a stone statue.” She muttered the words, not bothering to hide her exasperation.

  His eyes positively burned with wicked amusement. “I assure you, there are portions of my body that feel a great deal like a stone statue at the moment.”

  As the meaning of his words sank in, she went absolutely rigid in his arms. “Lucas.”

  He ignored her outraged exclamation and pushed open the door to his bedchamber. Stepping inside, he shoved the door shut with his foot. He released his hold under her knees and slowly lowered her once again to a standing position, groaning as her body rubbed the portion of his anatomy he had just referred to. Frissons of excitement and fear shot through her in equal measure and she pulled from his embrace, hastily stepping away.

  He turned and locked the door, his action settling on her nerves like a threat, though she was sure Lucas did not mean it as any such thing.

  She moved back toward the window, taking in her surroundings as she went. Lucas’s room reflected his character. The furniture was made of sturdy walnut, his fourposter bed the hugest she had ever seen. Even Jared would fit comfortably in it. The walls, draperies and bedding were muted shades, masculine yet elegant. She brushed against the draperies and stopped, their velvet roughness rubbing against the bare portion of her left arm. Sunlight warmed her back through the window.

  His eyes narrowed at her retreat and he looked even more like a predator.

  “This is a lovely bedchamber, Lucas. Is mine done in the same style?” The question was inane.

  Of course the countess’s chamber would not be done in the same masculine tones and simplicity. Indeed, Pansy had already told her that it was a charming room filled with finely carved pieces and done in light shades of mauve.

  “Perhaps I could see it,” she said with sudden inspiration.

  His answer was to walk over to the door that must lead to her room and lock it as well. The sound of the tumbler clicking into place echoed in her mind.

  She bit her lip and sighed. “I suppose not.”

  He shook his head, but said nothing. She watched in frozen fascination as he began to undress. First, he sat down and tugged off his Hessians. Then he untied the intricate knot of his cravat and removed it, taking time to lay it across the corner of the bed.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to call your man to help you?”

  He shook his head. “You can help me if you like, wife.”

  She swallowed. Help him undress? “I don’t think so, but thank you for offering.”

  She sounded like a twit.

  He began unbuttoning his waistcoat and her temperature rose with each button he slipped through its hole. Soon the garment lay open and he shrugged it off along with his coat, leaving him clad only in his breeches and shirt. She could see the dark hair of his chest through the fine silk and his skin tantalized her where the opening had been revealed by the removal of his neckcloth. She wanted to touch that skin. Taste it. But she could not move.

  She still feared the reality of culmination. He had touched her before. She knew the pleasure she could find in his arms, but in this instance she knew it would not stop at mere touching. He would join her body with his and memory of her mother’s words kept her on the other side of the room from the man who tempted her beyond bearing.

  He began unbu
ttoning his shirt and she held her breath, waiting for a glimpse of the muscular contours of his chest. She had never seen him like this, though she had touched him, had felt the hardened muscles beneath her fingertips. She had not known the mere sight of his male torso would enthrall her so completely.

  “You are beautiful,” she said as the last button came undone and the shirt separated to reveal his body to her heated gaze.

  He smiled. “I think not, little one.”

  She shook her head. He did not understand and she could not explain it, but he had a male beauty she had never expected. Perhaps she should have said handsome, but the word did not convey the richness of Lucas’s attraction to her.

  He put his hand out. “Come here.”

  She could not move.

  “Are you afraid?” he asked, his voice filled with unmistakable desire, but laced with concern.

  Was it not obvious? She’d retreated like the besieged before a marauder.

  “I think a little.” But even as she said the words, she began moving toward the siren’s call of his body.

  When she was two feet away, she stopped. “I’m here.”

  He did not make fun of her whispered statement of the obvious. “I’m glad.”

  He reached out and pulled her the rest of the way to him. She pressed her hands against his chest and immediately regretted the barrier of her gloves. She wanted to feel him. She remembered the sensation of touching the short, curling hair that covered his chest and the male nipples that felt like small pebbles on his heated skin during their time of intimate touching in his carriage.

  She wanted to know that pleasure again. Using her teeth, she drew off first one glove and then the other. He smiled his approval, but the expression held no humor. Then she used her bare hands to push Lucas’s shirt over his shoulders and off his body, reveling in the texture of his skin under hers. She brought her fingers back to his chest in order to rub small circles around his hardened nubs.