Deliciously Debauched by the Rake (5 page)
Read Deliciously Debauched by the Rake Online
Authors: Ann Lethbridge
Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Historical, #General
And when she could breathe again, he sat up with her in his arms, rising to his feet like a mighty Poseidon rising from the ocean and carried her to a stool where he wrapped her in towels, while the water ran through the hair on his strong lean legs in rivulets to puddle on the floor. He patted her dry, helping her into a black silky robe. He shrugged into one of royal blue. She felt blissfully warm and pampered and so delightfully sated, she yawned.
“Up with you, sleepyhead,” he said and once more picked her up and carried her through a mirrored door she hadn’t noticed.
The chamber beyond was of the palest green, painted with seaweeds and exotic-looking fish. The bed was carved to look like a shell. Yellow rose petals on the coverlet looked as if they were floating on a blue sea. As he set her down, their perfume rose up around her.
“I was wrong,” she said dreamily. “I do like yellow roses. And I will never see them without thinking of you.”
“So I would hope,” he murmured, stretching out beside her and lifting her head onto his shoulder, holding her close against his side.
She stroked the lapel of his robe. “Thank you for a most wonderful evening.”
He tensed at her words, but said nothing.
“I suppose it is time to leave,” she said regretfully, gazing at the underwater scene. There were mermaids in here, too. And mermen. In naughty poses. She tried not to sigh.
John looked down at her, nestled against his shoulder. He toyed with the ends of her lovely golden hair spread across his chest in long silky strands, steeling himself not to feel guilty.
“Apparently there was still some warmth amid the embers,” he said casually.
She must have heard something in his voice because she sat up with a frown. He piled the pillows behind her back.
She looked a little suspicious. Perhaps even nervous. Good. She deserved to be nervous.
“It was wonderful.” Her eyes misted. “But we cannot go on as before.” Her voice caught and he saw pain in her expression along with the attempt to be brave. “Our time is over. Surely you understand?”
Satisfied he caused her as much pain as she had caused him, he shrugged coolly. “I have no intention of asking you to return as my mistress.”
She swallowed. “No. Of course, not. What was I thinking?” She looked down, running rose petals through her fingers. “I was unkind. I suppose.” She took a breath as if she had an obstruction in her throat, and shook her head as if she wanted to speak but could not.
A twinge of guilt twisted in his chest. He had never seen her so distressed. He slipped out of the bed and stood looking at her, her fingers trailing through yellow blooms, a faint color tingeing her cheeks from their lovemaking, her hair in lovely disarray around her shoulders.
He had never seen her look more beautiful. He squared his shoulders. “I owe you an apology, Elizabeth.”
She looked up then and he saw the sheen of tears. Dammit. He hadn’t intended to make her cry.
“No,” she said. “It is right that you should go.”
“I don’t mean that. I have not treated you well.” Damnation, this was not easy, not with her looking at him wide-eyed and confused. “When you came to me, a noble lady, you were so gentle, so fragile, it never dawned on me you could have more earthy desires.” He closed his eyes briefly. “I put you on a pedestal and worshipped you instead of treating you like any other woman.”
“John, you were wonderful, considerate. I could not have asked for better.”
Always generous. Always giving. “Yes. But it can be so much more, like tonight, not sparks, but fire and flames.”
She smiled sadly. “You need to secure your line. You need a wife.”
“Yes. I do.” He dropped to one knee beside the bed, captured that restless hand in his own, crushing the petals, inhaling their scent. “Darling Elizabeth, my heart, my love, will you do the honor of giving me your hand in marriage?”
“John, no! Please, don’t do this,” she whispered so low he could barely hear the words.
“Lizzie,” he said softly.
She bit her luscious full lower lip and he resisted the temptation to kiss it, fought the growing arousal beneath the robe. She met his gaze. “It isn’t possible. I’m not respectable. You need someone worthy of your name. Someone younger.”
It was now or never. “I won’t take no for an answer. I love you, Elizabeth. Being the other half of a staid old married couple with you will be the greatest joy in my life.”
Looking into her startled eyes, he was sure he saw joy amid the surprise. He prayed he did.
“I mean it. Lady Elizabeth Bentham, I love you with all my heart. I want only you for my wife.”
“What would people say?”
He smiled at her, seeing the longing in her eyes, and hearing it in her voice. “Do you really care what others think? Or are you saying you don’t love me?” He held his breath, the dull ache around his heart sharpening with each passing second.
Tears welled in her lovely eyes. “I love you too well to let you do this.”
“Dear Lizzie, I swear to protect you and love you all the days of my life. And on each anniversary of this day, we will come here, or somewhere like it to renew our vows, with bodies, hearts and souls and never again will I take our love for granted. Nothing less will do. I want children with you. Grandchildren. You are the only woman for me, the only woman I have ever loved. Will you forgive the idiot who kneels before you and accept his promise to love you and cherish you all of our days?”
The most beautiful smile he had seen, tremulous with tears and joy, formed on her lips. “It is wrong of me. I should not, but yes, John. Oh, yes. I love you so much. You make the dream of my heart come true.”
He vaulted onto the bed and kissed her soundly, felt her melt against him and felt contentment fill his soul.
When they finally broke apart, her breathing was rapid, but there was laughter in her voice. “And you promise we will never be a dull married couple?”
He grinned. “Well, we probably will be, when we reach our dotage. But not for years and years.” He cocked a brow and flashed her a devilish smile. “In the meantime, it seems a shame to waste all of these rose petals. There are some new things I would like to try.”
She laughed. “And there were some things in that other picture downstairs I thought looked interesting, too.”
“Were there, now?” What a fool he’d been all of this time, forgetting to treat her like a flesh-and-blood woman. He would do his very best to make it up to her now and all the rest of his life.
“My grandmother is going to be very happy,” he said and kissed her lovely mouth and forgot about everything except the woman in his arms.
The woman who would be his wife.
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Ann Lethbridge
has been reading Regency novels for as long as she can remember. She always imagined herself as Lizzie Bennet or one of Georgette Heyer’s heroines, and would often recreate the stories in her head with different outcomes or scenes. When she sat down to write her own novel, it was no wonder that she returned to her first love: the Regency.
Ann grew up roaming England with her military father. Her family lived in many towns and villages across the country, from the Outer Hebrides to Hampshire. She spent many memorable family holidays in the West Country and in Dover, where her father was born. She now lives in Canada, with her husband, two beautiful daughters, and a Maltese terrier named Teaser, who spends his days on a chair beside the computer, making sure she doesn’t slack off.
Ann visits Britain every year, to undertake research and also to visit family members who are very understanding about her need to poke around old buildings and visit every antiquity within a hundred miles. If you would like to know more about Ann and her research, or to contact her, visit her website at www.annlethbridge.com. She loves to hear from readers.
ISBN: 978-1-4592-0644-1
Deliciously Debauched by the Rake
Copyright © 2011 by Michéle Ann Young
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