Capturing The Earl’s Love Part Fourteen ~ A Historical Romance Story

A #free short story…  I’ll be telling it here, and it can also now be downloaded from Amazon.

© Copyright Jane Lark; Publishing rights owned by Harper Impulse; Harper Collins UK

Capturing the Earl’s Love

Capturing the Earl's Love High Res

A Historical Romance story

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Part Eight

Part Nine

Part Ten

Part Eleven

Part Twelve

Part Thirteen

~

Part Fourteen

Warning* this another passionate part 😉 

~

When Rupert came into Meredith’s room later, she felt just as nervous as she had the night before. His mother had made it clear she was unhappy with her son’s marriage and would never offer Meredith respect  – but seeing as Meredith had forced them all into this predicament, she was to ensure she made Lord Morton a good wife.

With those words ringing in Meredith’s ears, she had dined with him with what seemed a mile between them as they sat at opposite ends of the long table. Then in the carriage, on the journey to the Foley’s, he and Rowena had sat next to each other, facing her, silent.

Meredith had longed to speak. She wished to swear to them she had not intended this, but she had not been able to hold herself back from grasping the one thing she’d wished for when the opportunity was there, within her reach. She had wanted to be with Rupert.

At the ball he’d danced with her once, at the start, a country dance, which meant he had no need to speak to her. Then he’d stood speaking with his cousin while she’d danced with others. It had not even felt as though they were married. Everything had been as it was before, except she’d lost Rowena’s friendship.

Meredith had cried in her room until the maid came to help her undress. Now she was in her nightgown, sitting in bed. She hadn’t known whether to stand, or sit, or how to wait for him…

She smiled at him, desperately wishing to be the wife he wanted.

He said nothing, but walked towards her, undoing his dressing gown as he said, “Take off your nightgown.”

She began unbuttoning it, without rising, her fingers shaking as pain burned the back of her throat and tears stung her eyes.

But then he was naked, and leaning over her, and his presence and the beauty of his body overwhelmed her as he moved her fingers away and took over the task.

Her heart beating, her eyes watched his face.

Once the buttons were loose, one of his hands slipped inside and clasped her breast as his mouth came down on hers.

They had crossed the bridge which stood between them in the day, again. He did not feel cold and distant anymore. He felt warm, and he was close, and she felt loved as he touched her.

After a while, he took off her nightgown, and as he did so, a spasm clasped in her stomach, anticipating him there.

He had been there last night. She still ached a little from his invasion.

Once they were both naked, he lay beside her and touched her, his hands stroking everywhere, and hers caressed him, touching his skin and feeling the muscle and sinew beneath.

When he touched her between her legs, she parted them and touched him too.

He broke their kiss and looked down at her.

He’d left the candles burning, as he’d done the night before. She could see his face clearly. His eyes shone bright.

“Meredith,” he said, before kissing her again. She did not understand his pitch; it was half question, half statement. She continued to touch him and he continued to touch her.

The sensation, which had overtaken her last night, stole her senses away again before he was even within her, and when it did, he moved over her. She looked up into his eyes, holding on to his shoulders.

She held her breath as he entered, but it did not hurt tonight. It was blissfully completing.

He moved with determined strokes, watching her too.

She wanted to speak, but she was afraid to, in case it broke the bridge, and he became distant again.

Her fingers cupped his face, and for the first time she thought of him as truly hers. He was her husband. He was hers.

His hazel eyes shone as he moved steadily and watched her, watching him.

She ached with love. She ached with need. Then he stole her wits, and her mind reeled, while he worked harder for a moment, then pressed deep and cried out.

Her arms slipped about his neck, and she clung to him, as his weight lay more heavily on her.

She did not want him to leave her body when he withdrew and pulled away – she did not want him to leave her bed. But she had to let him go; she could hardly force him to stay with her. Yet she wanted to keep standing on this bridge with him, and not let him put distance between them again.

He rolled on to his back, and lay beside her, his forearm falling onto his forehead.

She wished to lie on her side and hug him but she did not dare. Looking up at the canopy of the bed, she said to the air. “I did not intend anything to happen that night…”

His arm lifted and he turned on to his side.

“Rupert… I have—”

His fingers covered her lips. “Let’s not speak about it. What is done is done.”

He lay back, then set his arm about her and drew her head to his shoulder. “Sleep now, Meredith. I’ll be waking you in a little while.”

She did sleep, cuddling up against him, held as she had never been held.

~

Capturing The Earl’s Love is the  story of two of the secondary characters from the 1st book in

the Marlow Intrigues Series

‘The Illicit Love of a Courtesan’

~

To read the full Marlow intrigues series, you can start anywhere, but this is the actual order

The Lost Love of Soldier ~ The Prequel

#1 The Illicit Love of a Courtesan

#1.5 Capturing The Love of an Earl ~ This Free Novella

#2 The Passionate Love of a Rake

#2.5 The Desperate Love of a Lord ~ Free here, see  index

#3 The Scandalous Love of a Lord

and, yes, there are more to come 🙂

CompleteCollecvtion_Facebook_Advert

~

 Go to the index

For

  • the story of the real courtesan who inspired                                                 The Illicit Love of a Courtesan,
  • another free short story, about characters from book #2,                              A Lord’s Scandalous Love,
  • the prequel excerpts for book #3                                                                   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

Jane’s books can be ordered from most booksellers in paperback

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The Lost Love of a Soldier – is here! The prequel to the Marlow Intrigues is out Today!

The Lost Love of a Soldier

The prequel to The Marlow Intrigues series

The lost love of a Soldier 300dbi

I am going to share some excerpts from The Lost Love of a Soldier, leading up to the release date July 17th

Dressing Ellen’s first husband in his Scarlet Military coat (The Illicit Love of a Courtesan)

and  adding flesh, blood and bones to John’s father (The Scandalous Love of a Duke)

~

The Lost Love of a Soldier

~

An excerpt

They’d spent a day and another night in the carriage. Paul ached from too many hours of confinement, so they’d stopped again to break their fast and for him to stretch a little. Now they’d eaten, he’d left Ellen to refresh herself and walked about the yard of the Bull’s Head in Leamington Spa. He did not dare take a proper walk and venture out onto the High Street in case Ellen followed. An officer and a dark haired beauty might be remembered. So he kept to the confined space at the inn, walking a circular route a dozen times.

Anxiety raced through his blood. His senses were as heightened as they would be before a battle. But he’d no idea where the enemy was. The Duke of Pembroke could still be in Kent, or he could be a few hours behind them, riding at a gallop, eating up the ground, pursuing them as they lingered here. Paul hated stopping and yet they had to eat, and… Well, they could not simply stay constantly in the carriage.

Bored with walking in a circle he stopped at the stable and moved to a stall where a horse whickered from within; one of those they’d just relinquished from their traces, to be returned to the Black Horse at Bicester, the inn they’d stopped at before nightfall.

“You have a connection with horses, and you ride well. I remember from the summer. Why did you not join a mounted regiment? I would have thought you’d be in the cavalry instead of a regiment of foot soldiers.” Ellen stood beside him.

Her fingers touched his arm as his reached out and patted the mare’s neck then stroked its cheek.

“Because I could not have borne to watch a horse that I’d brought to battle, die. I made my choice to fight. My horse would not have had the same luxury.” He patted the animal once more, denying the images of battles crowding into his head. He did not want to remember. He turned to her and immediately all the memories of war and brutality faded.

She did not answer; perhaps he’d said something too morbid.

Her pale blue eyes held questions. Maybe she had seen the memories in his eyes. He did not wish her to see – with her he wanted to forget those memories. Yet he was taking her to a battleground, albeit not to fight.

Perhaps it was wrong of him.

But he could not regret it. In their hours in the carriage, the attachment she’d planted in his heart in the summer had emerged like a shoot from a seed, germinating and growing to full flower. Ellen Pembroke was the woman his soul chose; he could not leave her behind. Love clutched about his heart, a vine wrapping around it. “I love you.” The words slipped from his mouth without thought.

She was young, she knew nothing about brutality. He did not wish her to, but she would learn.

He was young too, but the experiences of war, and now having her to protect, made him feel much older than he was.

She smiled. “And I you, Paul.”

“Come, we had better go. There is no knowing how much ground your father has gained on us, if he is following.” He gripped her elbow, gently, and turned them both.

When they were back in the carriage he kissed her, desire and need roaring in his blood. He could not wait until they were out of this damned carriage and in a bed. But he did not press her for anything more. She was innocent, and they were unwed, he could wait until the moment came. For now he just revelled in her kisses and her tender, beautiful responses as shallow sighs slipped across her lips and her tongue tentatively entwined with his, while the weight of her arms rested on his shoulders.

This girl was a treasure. He was going to protect her and love her all his life. He would not allow the brutality of war to touch her…

You can buy The Lost Love of a Soldier by clicking on the cover in the sidebar on the right hand side.

Go to the index

For

  • the story of the real courtesan who inspired                                                 The Illicit Love of a Courtesan,
  • another free short story, about characters from book #2,                              A Lord’s Scandalous Love,
  • the prequel excerpts for book #3                                                                   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

Jane’s books can be ordered from most booksellers in paperback

10367596_633268423430916_6741081225667559588_n