A Lord’s Desperate Love Part Twelve – A Historical Romance Story

After all the excitement over sharing The Scandalous Love of a Duke’s prequel scenes – back to normal… 😀 and to the next part of…

A Lord’s Desperate Love

A Historical Romance Story

Part One

Part Twelve

WARNING!

This excerpt is a little passionate 😉

“A rogue who thinks we ought to consummate our engagement.”

She tipped her head to one side and then shook it. He thought she was saying no but then she smiled in that swift sudden look of appreciation which was all her. Her eyes burned just as he’d remembered them doing the very first night she’d walked up to him.

“You are irresistible, Geoff.” She laughed again, then kissed him.

It was a slow kiss, one of longing and love. He wished to reiterate that things had changed between them. He pulled away, lifting his eyebrows. “I love you, Violet. This is nothing more or less than that, the need a man has to show a woman he loves her.” She smiled and tears brimmed in her eyes as they widened. “And just to make this very clear, I am always going to love you. I am never going to look elsewhere. We will be a pair from now on. I will always expect you to warm my bed, even if it is only to sleep.”

Her smile lifted higher. He could see she recognised this was him taking the reins she’d always held. “I’ll not play master to you. We’ll be a partnership.”

Her smile suddenly tilted and shone in her eyes, then she said, “I’ll let you,” before pulling his mouth back to hers.

He laughed, the moment before his lips touched hers.

They went upstairs as they had gone upstairs the first night, with her leading him by the hand. Then in her small humble room, which bore nothing of Violet’s nature, she stripped off his neckcloth as he began undoing the buttons at her back, and then she pushed his morning coat from his shoulders and his arms.

When he exposed skin, he worshiped it, with his fingers, tongue and lips. It had not been that long since they’d last done this, yet it felt so different. She loved him, he knew that now.

She said, “I do love you, Geoff,” as she stripped off his shirt, as if she thought the same. “I have for weeks,” she continued,when his shirt fell on the floor. “I have known it, but been afraid of it. I thought it would grip you with horror.”

He laughed as she raised her arms, then he lifted off her chemise. “Horrified, Violet?” His voice had lowered an octave or two, with need. “Look at you, why would I be horrified…”

His gaze dropped to the outward curve of her stomach. The back of his fingers ran across it. The skin was stretched, and beneath there was no give, just a hard little bump. His child. Theirs. What a fool not to have noticed in London? Emotion welled inside him and his fingers trailed upwards as his gaze met hers.

With an odd smile, as though she thought he might change his mind about taking her to bed, she unbuttoned his falls.

He was in her hand, aching and throbbing with need as she touched him.

He knew exactly why Violet had favoured him in the beginning because of his looks, his size and his prowess in a bed. He smiled down at her as she looked down, her slender hand, now bearing his ring, ran upward, then her thumb brushed over his tip. His stomach muscles clasped, in a sudden sharp spasm of need.

Bracing her face in both his hands, he lifted her gaze, then kissed her, deeply, his tongue slipping into her mouth. When he broke it he whispered over her lips. “Do you wish to go on top? Would it be easier with the child?”

She shook her head. “We only did this a few days back, Geoff, it is no different.”

Her eyes shone with the emotion that churned inside him too. “And yet it is very different. Isn’t it, Vi?”

Her breath came out on a sigh. “Yes.”

In a moment they were on the short narrow bed. She with her legs splayed wide as he knelt between them, leaning over her with one palm pressing into the mattress beside her shoulders.

Looking her in the eyes, he said, “Violet Rimes, I shall warn you, I consider myself bloody lucky to have won you. I am not having any hide-it-away wedding. We shall be married in St George’s. I shall get a special licence and we’ll plan it all as soon as we get back to London, but I wish my family there and our friends. I am going to make a statement, Violet. You have chosen me over anyone else and I you.”

Her fingers brushed through his hair. “Do you feel threatened by others, Geoff?”

It was the sort of question she would have teased him with in the early days. This wasn’t teasing though, he saw it, she wanted to know.

Honestly. “Yes.”

Her fingers brushed through his hair again, then rested against his cheek, one of them baring the ring he’d chosen for her. “You should not be jealous,” she said quietly. “No one compares to you. You have been all since the first night I met you. I have been in denial about that too.”

He smiled, gripping the back of her knee with his free hand and slid slowly into her, looking down to watch. His senses reeled at the engulfing warmth.

He looked up, “Violet.”

She’d closed her eyes. They stayed closed as he moved.

This was heaven, being in her body like this, but he dare not press deep, he was afraid of touching the child in her womb.

She bit her lip, then her fingers slid down his arms as her legs lifted to grip his waist.

With more vigorous strokes he took them forward. Her fingernails cut as her mouth fell open. She was never quiet. Her breath was hot heavy pants.

Beautiful Violet.

Her eyes flew open when he pressed a little deeper, too eager. He thought he’d hurt her, but she smiled – her I-am-enjoying-this-very-much smile, but-not-enough.

He shook is head and lifted the tempo, taking her hand and pressing it between them, holding her fingers to press against the place where he worked, adding intensity for them both.

Her fingers suddenly gripped his, grasping, as she fell over an edge where he was not yet ready to follow.

He parted her thighs wider, forgetting about the child, and thrust in, gaining another inch in his invasion. She was breathless, quivering, aspic, and he was granite, steal and heat.

“God, Violet,” he said as she broke again on a keening cry.

He bent and kissed her, sweeping his tongue into her mouth, before he lifted again. He still held her hand between them.

“Geoffrey, you are –”

“The best man you have ever taken to bed.”

Her eyes opened and she laughed. Then her fingers swept back his hair as he kept filling her again and again, relentless, firm and heavy. He could see she could hardly think and form words but she managed some. “The best man ever… Geoff… ever. But then I am bias because I love you.”

“And I love you.”

She dropped into the well of pleasure again and left him behind.

Pressing her legs even further apart and winning a little more of her ground, he thrust and thrust and thr – God. “Violet!”

A Lord’s Desperate Love is the story of two of the secondary characters from the 2nd book in the Marlow Intrigues Series

‘The Passionate Love of a Rake’

The true story of a courtesan, who inspired The Illicit Love of a Courtesan, which I’ve been telling every Sunday, will continue alongside this, and if you fancy more reading, my lovely, moody, arrogant, fractured-golden-hearted Duke is out now The Scandalous Love of a Duke!

Jane Lark is a writer of authentic, passionate and emotional Historical and New Adult Romance stories, and the author of a No.1 bestselling Historical Romance novel in America, ‘The Illicit Love of a Courtesan’.

Click here to find out more about Jane’s books, and see Jane’s website www.janelark.co.uk to learn more about Jane. Or click ‘like’ on Jane’s Facebook page to see photo’s and learn historical facts from the Georgian, Regency and Victorian eras, which Jane publishes there. You can also follow Jane on twitter at @janelark

The Scandalous Love of a Duke ~ Prequel elements from the Marlow Intrigues Series ~ The fight for John

CONTAINS SPOILERS IF YOU HAVEN’T READ THE ILLICIT LOVE OF A COURTESAN!

Leading up to the release of the 3rd book in

The Marlow Intrigues Series

The Scandalous Love of a Duke

all about John, who has grown up, fractured ~ I am going to share excerpts of John in the earlier books to remind you of his past before his book is released on the April 3rd.

Excerpts from The Illicit Love of a Courtesan

The fight to get John back… (taken from the 1st edition published in the USA)

An element of Edward’s fight

Clearly ignoring his inability to intimidate Edward, the Duke picked up a piece of paper then reached across the desk and set it down before Edward, with a self-congratulating yet distrustful expression. “That,” Pembroke pointed to the paper, “is my final offer.”

Offer? What the hell? Refusing to even look at it, let alone touch the obnoxious article, Edward kept his eyes on Pembroke’s face.

“It is a banker’s draft, Marlow, for twenty thousand. Take it. I am giving you it to disappear, you understand. Use it to take your wife abroad, New England perhaps, where she will no longer be an embarrassment.”

“An embarrassment!” Anger pulsing into his blood, Edward pushed to standing. The man could not even bring himself to use his daughter’s name! God, how can he think I would let him pay me off? “This is not blackmail. All we want is the boy!”

Pembroke leaned back in his chair, visibly surprised by Edward’s anger.

God, Edward felt sick. Pembroke really thought Edward sought money.

Measuring his tone with care, holding back his true ire, Edward spelled out his response bluntly. “Neither myself, nor Ellen, will take it. We will not be bought off. This is not about money, Pembroke.” With that he picked up the single slip of paper and tore it in half, lay one sheet across the other then tore it in half again, before letting it flutter down upon Pembroke’s desk.

“There is one thing, and one thing only, we shall accept, and that is the return of Ellen’s son to her, and,” setting his fingers onto Pembroke’s desk he leaned across it, “to hear you apologize for what you have done to your daughter, Eleanor. And that, Your Grace, is my final and non-negotiable price.”

Saying nothing, Pembroke’s rock-hard gaze denied any response, as he reached for a small bell on his desk and rang it once.

An element of Ellen’s fight

Ellen gripped her reticule tightly, holding it before her at her waist as though it could act as a shield. Her heartbeat was thundering in a ridiculously fast rhythm. She lifted the lion-head knocker and dropped it, then gripped her reticule with both hands again and waited. Was she a fool to have come?

She’d told no-one about her decision, not even Edward. He’d be cross if he knew she was doing this alone—he’d be cross she was doing it at all. But she had spent the morning and luncheon with her sisters and nieces, and constantly she’d thought of Penny’s promise to take John. Ellen could not allow her sister to fall foul of her father’s fury.

Ellen had signed her son away. She should get him back.

She’d let Robert and Edward take over last night and Gainsborough was gone… but last night had persuaded her she must take control. Edward had given her the courage to do so, but she must stand up and fight this battle herself.

Oh but it was easier said than done.

But I want my son…

…her breathing was sharp and shallow and would not catch within her lungs and the palms of her hands felt cold with sweat as she gripped her reticule, she realized she was no longer terrified—she was determined. “I want John back. He is my son.”

“Do you?” He stared at her.

“At least let me see him.”

“He is not here.”

She stepped forward several paces, frustrated by the staircase of steps separating them. “Pa—Your Grace?” There was a plea in her voice she did not like. She was not here to beg. She was here to make him regret what he had done to her. “May I speak with you, please?”…

…“Papa, I did not wish things to end as they did.”

He said nothing, and she pressed on, her voice firm and persuasive. “It was not a choice I had made when you found me abroad.” She stopped, hoping he might turn and comment. He did not. Her chin lifted and her back stiffened. “I am soiled, I know I am. I was when you came for John. But I had no money to feed us. What was I to do? Tell me that, Papa.” The pitch of her voice rose. “Tell me? You stand in judgement of me, but you had turned your back only because I married Paul. What was so wrong with that? We loved each other, Papa. I know you do not understand love, but I could not have married anyone but him. It broke my heart when he died and I wrote to you and pleaded for your help but you did not come. I was forced into the choice I made by you. What else was there? I could hardly have become a governess with a child and I was in the middle of the aftermath of war. Things were in chaos and poverty was rife. Tell me what else I could have done if you must hate me so much for choosing to survive rather than die? Tell me, Papa!”

He had not moved, he still said nothing.

“What could I have done differently!” She could not stop her words, they spilled out of her, anger and regret pouring into the space between her and this man who still turned his back.

“Very well then Judge me if you will. But do not continue to cast my sentence on my son. It was not his fault and I am respectable again now, you have no need to be ashamed of me. I am here, Papa, I am here and alive and you cannot pretend I am not. Edward shall not let you. I will not allow it. Face me! Face me and see who I am, Papa! I am your daughter! The mother of your heir! The woman whom you have treated ill. I am sinful. But you are guilty. Where is the compassion and forgiveness you preached of to us as children? …

…He merely stared, stiff and still.

“Will you let me have John?”

“I cannot.”

“Why?”

“Because—because it is not done.”

Her chin lifted once again, her fingers clasping her reticule even tighter if it were possible. “Say my name. Say it. Admit that I am here, admit you are wrong. You are wrong, Papa. John needs his mother—he needs me.”

“The boy has his grandmother.”

“Mama, is not me. He needs his mother. I love him and I want him back. You took him from me when I was beaten by life and too afraid to argue with you. I am not afraid of you now, Papa, I will argue with you. I will go on arguing with you and so will Edward until we have John back do you understand? I am never going to let you keep him willingly, not now.”

“And so Marlow said this morning.” His eyes shone brighter as if fluid and then he turned away and walked to the decanters which stood on a chest across the room.

He had been silent like this when he’d taken John. Her heart was still racing. Why would he not listen? She watched him fill a glass as she wondered what had happened with Edward.

He would have been angry if her father had tried to pay him to take her away. He would have done what she was doing now, refused to go and promised to fight…

…Ellen felt the world tilt beneath her. She began moving forward to grasp the back of the chair which faced his desk. He continued, looking up and looking at her. “I cannot acknowledge you. I cannot. You have fallen. You are abhorrent to me, how can you raise my heir—”
“My son!” Ellen cried gripping the back of the chair with one hand while her other still held her reticule. “He is my son above anything.” …

… Her anger flying into a rage which was fuelled by disappointment and disempowerment she strode across the room, her teeth gritted not even knowing what she would do, too angry to think anymore. She picked up the glass beside him and threw the liquid in his face.
His arm lifted to wipe it off, but as he did so, she recoiled. She had been hit too many times to prevent her instinctual reaction to a raised hand. He reached to catch her arm but she backed away. “I am not afraid of you and I shall never forgive you unless you give me back my son.”

Preorder The Scandalous Love of a Duke

out

April 3rd

He is all grown up now, my gorgeous fractured, tender-hearted, Duke

Amazon http://ow.ly/uNPDs
Barnes and Noble http://ow.ly/uNPtw
Kobo http://ow.ly/uNPTX~

All my normally blogging stuff will carry on around these excerpts

😀