Return of the Runaway (25 page)

He negotiated the last of the stairs and the doorway into the bedroom. A small fire was burning in the hearth, sufficient for Cassie to see that the room was sparsely furnished, but her only concern was the bed, and that looked wide enough for two. Without ceremony Raoul dropped her on to the covers, but her arms were around his neck and she dragged him down for another deep, passionate kiss.

Raoul could not stop the sense of urgency that overcame him, but it was not just his blood that was heated. Cassie moaned in his arms; she was already plucking at his shirt, as eager as he to feel flesh on flesh. They scrabbled to discard their clothes while all the time those hot, frantic kisses continued. They were consumed with a need to touch, to kiss. At last they fell back together on the bed, a frenzied tangle of limbs. Their coupling was as fierce and urgent as the first time, their cries a mixture of laughter and tears until they collapsed, sated and exhausted, to fall asleep in each other's arms.

* * *

Cassie stirred. She did not want to leave this dream, for she was in a comfortable world where she was lying with her lover. Slowly the truth dawned. She was not dreaming, this was not her bed but Raoul's and he was asleep beside her, one arm thrown possessively across her body. It felt so peaceful, so
right
. It was very dark, but she could feel a slight chill on her naked skin and she reached down to the tangle of sheets and blankets they had pushed aside during their fevered lovemaking. Smiling at the memory, she pulled a thin coverlet over them. Raoul stirred, reaching for her, and she went willing back into his arms, kissing the line of his jaw, rough with overnight stubble, before sinking once more into a deep slumber.

* * *

When she woke again it was to the delicious sensation of a hand gently caressing her breast. Raoul. She gave a little sigh as she stretched luxuriously. The hand moved down over the curve of her waist. When Raoul's fingers slid through the curls at the apex of her thighs her body arched. She was offering herself to him, inviting him to explore her core. She opened her eyes. It was still dark with a sprinkling of stars shining in through the window.

‘Do you have to go to the hospital in the morning?'

Raoul's lips grazed her neck.

‘I do, but we have plenty of time yet.'

‘Are you sure?' She held him off. ‘I want to be a good wife to you, Raoul. I do not want you to say I am keeping you from your work.'

‘I will not let you do that, my love.'

He kissed her mouth and she felt her body liquefying with anticipation. She put her hands on his chest, revelling in the feel of his skin with its covering of crisp hair against her palms. She smoothed over the hard contours, tracing the muscle. She trembled as his fingers began to move again, slipping inside her and slowly, gently stroking until her body began to respond. She moved her own hands down over his torso, exploring his aroused body, watching his reaction and repeating any touch that made him groan with pleasure, sliding her fingers across the silky skin, feeling her own power over him.

His caresses were growing quicker, deeper, rousing her own body to frenzy with the sweet torture of his questing fingers. Suddenly she threw back her head, giving a little scream as she lost control. She shuddered, her whole being rocked with ripples of pleasure evoked by his remorseless stroking. She writhed, arched and cried out as wave after wave of sensual delight coursed through her. And still his gentle inexorable pleasuring continued, until her body was a trembling mass of sensations and she thought her mind would explode. Even when at last his fingers stilled the spasms continued, but she was not afraid because Raoul was holding her close and he continued to hold her until the last shudder of ecstasy died away.

‘Oh, Raoul that was...exquisite,' she breathed, when at last she could command her voice.

She heard him laugh softly, felt it rumble deep in his chest.

‘I am glad you enjoyed it, milady, but I am not done with you yet.'

She sighed and snuggled closer. ‘I think you are. I do not think I could endure anything more.'

Another soft laugh reverberated through him and she felt his hands begin to move again.

‘Raoul, no, I cannot...'

She trailed off with a sigh of sheer pleasure. Her body was giving the lie to her words. It was softening, yielding, her skin supremely sensitive to the lightest touch. When he began to kiss her breast she pushed against him and when his kisses moved down over her belly she almost swooned with the delight of it. Gently he eased her thighs apart and she felt the gentle rasp of his stubble as he brought his mouth upon her. Then he was kissing her, his tongue flicking, stroking and setting her body on fire all over again. The swelling wave of excitement was building and she reached for him, driving her fingers through his hair, wanting him to stop, to go on.

He brought her to the crest again, but before she splintered he drew away and shifted his body over hers. She took him into her, wrapped her arms about him and lifted her face to his kiss. Her body flexed and gripped him as they moved together, faster and more urgent until, with a triumphant shout he gave one final thrust and they shuddered against one another, minds and bodies joined as one.

* * *

Cassie woke as the first grey fingers of dawn crept into the room. Raoul was lying on his side, watching her.

‘What time must you be at the hospital?'

‘Not for a few hours yet.'

She snuggled closer.

‘Oh, Raoul, it has been five months! I have missed you.'

‘And I you,' he muttered, covering her face with kisses. ‘How soon can we be married?'

‘Within weeks. As soon as the banns are called.' She felt the familiar knot of desire unfurling again as his hands moved over her body. It was difficult to concentrate. ‘Grandmama would like us to be married in Bath, but I told her that would depend upon your work.'

‘I am sure I can be spared for a little while.'

‘Good.' She sighed with satisfaction as he began to nibble her ear. ‘Then Grandmama and I will organise everything.'

‘Everything?' Cassie opened her eyes as he stopped his delicious onslaught and held her away from him. He was regarding her with undisguised suspicion. ‘It will be a very quiet wedding, I hope.'

She lay back against the pillows, smiling up at him. ‘Why, yes, of course,' she murmured, her eyes shining with love and mischief. ‘That is, as quiet as a wedding can be for the daughter of a marquess.'

‘Cassandra...'

She laughed at him. ‘Do not fret, my dearest love, there is not time to arrange a vast ceremony. And once it is over we may return here.' She put a hand up to his face. ‘I am impressed with our marital bed. It is extremely comfortable.'

‘It is not the bed that is important,' he growled, rolling on top of her. ‘It is how one performs in it, as I am about to demonstrate. Again, if milady is willing?'

‘I thought you would never ask me.' She sighed, gazing up at him lovingly. ‘Yes, Raoul darling, milady is
very
willing!'

* * * * *

This is the third story in
Sarah Mallory's exciting Regency quartet,
THE INFAMOUS ARRANDALES.

Already available:

THE CHAPERON'S SEDUCTION

TEMPTATION OF A GOVERNESS

And look for the last book in the series,
coming soon!

Keep reading for an excerpt from
BOUND BY ONE SCANDALOUS NIGHT
by Diane Gaston.

Get rewarded every time you buy a Harlequin ebook!
Click
here
to Join Harlequin My Rewards
http://www.harlequin.com/myrewards.html?mt=loyalty&cmpid=EBOOBPBPA201602010003

Get rewarded every time you buy a Harlequin ebook!

Do you want to earn
Free Books
and More?
Join
Harlequin My Rewards
points program and earn points every time you shop.

You can redeem your points to get more of what you love:

Free books
Exclusive gifts and contests
Book recommendations tailored to your reading preferences

Earn
2000 points
instantly when you join—getting you closer to redeeming your first free book.

Don't miss out. Reward the book lover in you!

Click
here
to sign up
Or visit us online to sign up at

http://www.harlequin.com/myrewards.html?mt=loyalty&cmpid=EBOOBPBPA201602010001

We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Historical.

You dream of wicked rakes, gorgeous Highlanders, muscled Viking warriors and rugged Wild West cowboys from another era.
Harlequin Historical
has them all! Emotionally intense stories set across many time periods.

Enjoy six new stories from Harlequin Historical every month!

Connect with us on
Harlequin.com
for info on our new releases, access to exclusive offers, free online reads and much more!

Other ways to keep in touch:

Harlequin.com/newsletters
Facebook.com/HarlequinBooks
Twitter.com/HarlequinBooks
HarlequinBlog.com

Bound by One Scandalous Night

by Diane Gaston

Chapter One

Early hours of June 16th, 1815
—Brussels, Belgium

B
russels was in chaos.

Bugles blared in the streets, their sounds echoing off the huge buildings of the Grand Place, repeating, over and over the call to arms. All officers and soldiers must report for duty!

For battle.

Wellington had learned that Napoleon and his army crossed into Belgium and were marching towards Brussels. Wellington's soldiers needed to mobilise quickly to stop him.

Lieutenant Edmund Summerfield of the 28th Regiment of Foot wound his way through townspeople of all shapes and sizes and well-dressed gentlemen and ladies still waiting for carriages to bring them back from the Duchess of Richmond's ball. Everywhere men were shouting, women wailing, children crying. Soldiers in uniforms of all colours rushed to and fro. British and Hanoverians in red, Belgian and Dutch in dark blue, British light cavalry in light blue, Rifles in dark green, Highlanders in plaid kilts. The array of colours mimicked a carnival, but the mood was tense, a tinderbox that with one spark could turn to riot.

Edmund forced himself to remain calm. He shifted his bag from one shoulder to the other and wished his head were clearer. He'd spent the evening in a tavern, drinking and playing cards with fellow officers too low in rank and importance to be invited to the Duchess's ball. The bugle's repeated call, still resounding through the tension-filled air, had sobered him greatly.

He pushed his way to the curb of the rue du Marais. Horses, wagons, carriages, men and women dashing on foot, blocked his way. Through the kaleidoscope of colour he spied a vision in white across the street, an angel amidst the tumult. While he watched, a man in labourer's clothing grabbed her around the waist. She beat on the man's arms with her fists and kicked his legs, but this man, rough and wild-eyed, dragged her with him.

Edmund bounded into the busy street, heedless of the traffic, narrowly missing being run down. He made it to the other side and chased after the man abducting the woman. Her shimmering white gown made it easy not to lose sight of her. The man ducked into an alley between two buildings. Edmund reached the space a moment after.

‘Let me go!' the woman cried. Her blonde hair, a mass of curls, came free of its bindings and fell around her shoulders.

The man pinned her against the wall and took the fabric of her dress in his fist.

‘Vous l'aimerez, chérie,'
the man growled.

‘No!' cried Edmund. He pushed his bag like a battering ram at the man's head.

The man staggered and loosened his grip.

Edmund dropped his bag and slammed his fist into the man's jaw, sending him sprawling to the cobbles. ‘Be off with you!
Allez!
Vite!
'

The man scrambled to his feet and disappeared into the dark recesses of the alley.

Edmund turned to the woman. ‘Did he hurt you?
Vous a-t-il blessé?
'

She looked up and the light from a street lamp illuminated her face.

He knew her!

‘Miss Glenville!'

She was Amelie Glenville. Her brother, Marc Glenville, was married to his half-sister Tess.

Her eyes, wide with shock, looked past him.

‘Miss Glenville?' He touched her chin and made her look at him. ‘Do you remember me? I am Tess's brother, Edmund. We met at your parents' breakfast two days ago.'

Her face crumbled. ‘Edmund!' She fell into his arms. The beautiful Amelie Glenville fell into his arms. Who would believe this?

When Amelie entered the room that morning, for one heady moment he'd been caught in the spell of her unspoiled beauty. Fair of face. Skin as smooth as cream. Cheeks tinged with pink. Eyes as azure as the sea. Hair, a mass of golden curls, sparkling in the light as if spun from gold. Lips lush and ripe for kissing. Innocent. Alluring.

And smiling at him during their introduction.

The next moment, though, he had been introduced to her fiancé, a most correct young man, a Scots Greys cavalry captain and son of an earl. Reality set in and Edmund had instantly dropped her from his mind. Even if he wanted to court some young woman—which he did not—a viscount's daughter like Amelie Glenville would never do for a bastard like him.

And here she was embracing him.

‘What are you doing here?' he asked her. ‘Why are you alone?' She'd obviously been to the Duchess of Richmond's ball. Her white gown must have been lovely before it had been so roughly handled.

She drew away and tried to sort out her clothing. ‘Captain Fowler left me here.'

The fiancé? ‘Left you? Why?'

She huffed. ‘We had words.'

‘He left you because of a quarrel?' No gentleman, under any circumstance, would desert a lady on a city street in the middle of the night, especially not on a night like this. ‘What about?'

‘It does not matter,' she snapped.

She sounded more angry than alarmed, at least. That was fortunate. Did she even realise what had almost happened to her?

‘And I have no idea how to walk back to the hotel,' she continued in a peeved tone. ‘Could you direct me?'

Good heavens! The man had abandoned her without her knowing the way back? ‘I think I had better escort you.'

She rubbed her arms.

He shrugged out of his coat. ‘Here, put this around you.'

‘Might we go back now?' Her voice wobbled a bit. ‘It is the Hotel de Flandre.'

She'd be better off staying angry. ‘I remember what hotel it was.'

He picked up his bag and offered her his arm, which she readily accepted and held with an anxious grip.

They stepped from the relative quiet of the alley back into the cacophony of the street.

‘Hold on tight,' he cautioned, and she squeezed his arm as people bumped against them, the soldiers hurrying to battle, the others to somewhere safe.

What on earth had possessed Fowler to abandon her on such a night? This was not an afternoon stroll through Mayfair. It was after one o'clock in the morning, and the soldiers on these streets would soon be facing battle; the townspeople, possible occupation by the French. She'd already discovered what could happen to a beautiful, unescorted woman when emotions were so high.

She was lovely enough to tempt any man. Even him.

But he must not turn his thoughts in that direction.

‘Do you not have to go to your regiment?' she asked as a company of Belgian cavalry rode by, the horses' hooves drumming on the stones of the street.

He did need to reach his regiment as soon as possible, but why stress her with that knowledge? ‘I am more in fear of what my sister and your brother would do to me if I left you alone on the street. My sister would draw and quarter me. Your brother would probably do worse.'

‘Why would they ever know, unless you told them?' she retorted peevishly. ‘I have no intention of speaking a word of this night to anyone.'

So much for trying to use levity to counteract this nightmarish episode.

‘Then blame my conscience,' he said. ‘I would think very ill of myself if I abandoned you.'

‘Unlike some gentlemen,' she muttered.

‘There will be plenty of time for me to reach the battle.' He hoped. ‘I doubt Napoleon will disturb his sleep.'

Fine words, but who knew how close Napoleon was to Brussels? Edmund had heard varying accounts. One thing was certain, though. Men would fight soon. And die.

He concentrated on getting her through the crowd without further mishap. The streets cleared a bit when they reached the Cathedral of Saint Michael and Saint Gudula. It rose majestically into the night sky, its yellow stone glowing against the black sky. Men would be stopping at that Gothic church for a few prayers before battle, Edmund would wager. It could not hurt to pray a little.

Pray not to die.

Edmund shook his head.
Don't think such
thoughts
, he told himself, but he'd seen too many battles on the Peninsula, seen too many good men die while he survived. Soldiers always talked of having only a finite number of battles in which to remain unscathed before it was their time to die.

Miss Glenville swiped her gloved fingers across her eyes. Was she weeping? If only he could have prevented this ghastly night from happening to her. She was too lovely and unspoiled to have been so roughly treated. To think what that ruffian had in mind to do to her made him tighten his hand into a fist.

He needed to distract both of them from their thoughts. ‘So what did happen with Captain...Captain Whatshisname?' He only pretended to forget.

‘Fowler.' She spoke the name as if it were a term of contempt.

‘Captain Fowler.'

‘We quarrelled and he walked away and left me.' She turned her head away.

The scoundrel. ‘What sort of quarrel would make a man abandon you?'

The doors of the cathedral opened, revealing the glow of candlelight inside. A man in uniform emerged, head bent. Edmund hoped the man's prayers would be answered.

He turned again to Miss Glenville. ‘Tell me what you and Captain Fowler quarrelled about.'

She swiped at her eyes again. ‘I certainly will not.'

He persisted. ‘Is that what is making you weep?' He feared it was the other man's mistreatment of her.

‘I am not weeping!' she cried. ‘I am angry.'

Anger was better. Good for her.

Better for him, too. He was caring too much, caring about never seeing a beauty such as Amelie Glenville again if he lay dead on the battlefield.

‘It is really none of your business, you know,' she snapped.

‘No doubt,' he persisted. Ungentlemanly of him, but it distracted him from morbid thoughts. ‘But you say you will not speak of this, say to your brother or my sister. You should talk about it with someone, since it is plaguing you so. I am unlikely to say anything to anyone.'

After all he might soon be dead.

‘Why would I talk to you?' she responded in an arrogant tone.

He'd almost forgotten. He'd been talking with her as if she'd consider him her equal. ‘Yes, wise not to tell the likes of me.'

‘The likes of you?' She sounded puzzled.

Need he explain? ‘Surely the scandalous details of my birth were whispered into your delicate ears.'

‘What has that to do with it?' she asked, then smiled wryly. ‘But you are correct about the details of your birth being whispered in my ear.'

He gave her a smug look.

‘Your sister told me more about you,' she went on.

He laughed. ‘What did she tell you? That I was a horrid boy who teased her and played pranks on her?'

‘Did you?' She glanced at him but quickly glanced away.

This was better. Who would guess that he'd think talking about himself was desirable? It kept them both from more painful thoughts, though. ‘Tess could not have informed you of my wayward activities in the army. My sisters know nothing of that. Their ears are delicate, too, you see.'

She batted her eyes at him. ‘Wayward activities? Are you some sort of rake? I have been warned against rakes.'

‘Oh, be warned, then,' he joked. ‘I am a shameless rake.'

‘Are you?' Her voice lowered almost to a whisper.

Had he gone too far in this bantering? Had he reminded her of the ruffian who'd accosted her? ‘You are quite safe with me, Miss Glenville.'

She glanced at him again, and her good humour fled. She turned away. ‘Yes. Safe.'

If only he really were a rake, he thought. He would steal a taste of her lips and take the memory with him into battle.

They walked in silence until they reached the Parc de Bruxelles, its main paths lit by lamps. The
parc
looked almost as busy as it did in the daytime, but now other couples were not leisurely strolling on the paths. They were either hurrying into the shadows or clinging to each other.

‘Shall we cross through the park?' he asked. ‘It will be safe enough tonight. Or would you prefer we walk around it?'

‘We may cross the park,' she responded.

She was still lost in her own thoughts. Edmund wanted her to talk to him again. Seeing so many sweethearts clinging to each other affected him. How many would be torn apart for ever? He supposed they were trying to grab one more moment of feeling alive. Perhaps that was what she and Fowler quarrelled about. Perhaps Fowler asked her for more than she could respectably provide. Soldiers leaving for battle often wanted one last coupling with a woman.

As they walked through the park, he heard faint sounds of lovemaking coming from behind the shrubbery. Surely she had noticed, too. Surely she could hear the sounds.

‘I have a suspicion that your Captain Fowler might have asked for liberties,' he tried to explain. It did not excuse Fowler's abandoning her, but maybe it would help explain his behaviour toward her. ‘Men often want a woman before battle.'

She stopped. ‘You think he propositioned me?'

Now he was not so certain. ‘That was my guess, yes.'

* * *

Amelie kept walking. He really could not be more wrong. Fowler had not propositioned her. But he had left her.

‘He put you in danger by leaving you,' the lieutenant went on. ‘That was unforgivable.'

Could he not talk of something else? Anything else?

Was it possible to grow older in an instant? Because that was how it felt to Amelie. One moment she was young and in love; the next...

‘Unforgivable,' she repeated. But his leaving was only part of his unforgivable behaviour.

Not that it mattered to Fowler.

They continued across the park, heading to the gate on the other side. As they reached it, another couple entered, a plainly dressed young woman and a tall, red-coated infantryman.

The young woman halted. ‘Miss Glenville?'

Amelie stared at her. ‘Sally?' She glanced back to Edmund. ‘My maid,' she explained.