Reckless in Innocence ~ A #Free Historical Romance story ~ Part Three

Reckless in Innocence

© Jane Lark

Publishing rights belong to Jane Lark, this should not be recreated in any form without prior consent from Jane Lark

Reckless in Innocence

Read the earlier parts one , two

Part Three

Elizabeth

Awash with Marcus, Elizabeth felt his chest rise and fall slowly beneath her fingers. Her pulse beat at her temples, and in other places, as he took control of the simple kiss she had begun and taught her a rhythm of caress. But his hands remained at his sides.

She wanted more.

She wanted what a man offered his wife.

She wanted to be enfolded in his arms as she had been in the dance, to feel his hands slide across her skin and the sparks his touch could ignite. She loved Marcus Campbell, the Duke of Tay, the most notorious and handsome rake in the entire ton and she wanted to have everything he could offer.

“Touch me.” Her lips parted their kiss and his open mouth caught the breathless words.

Pulling away, Marcus’s palms lifted to her cheeks, embracing her face. She felt the warmth in his skin from the coals of desire.

“Elizabeth, you don’t know what you’re saying. Have you any idea of my reputation, sweetheart? Do not tempt me. If I take a sip I will want the cupful.”

His mouth was still close to hers and every word was resonant, sending shivers across her skin. “Contrary to belief, even rakes may have morals, Elizabeth. I will not take your innocence.” The deep tenor of his voice reverberated through her soul.

Elizabeth broke their contact, moving away from his touch, gambling everything on his words, if her own thirst was any measure of desire and a sip was not enough – then if she took the cup away – perhaps his need to quench his thirst would be too great to deny.

She turned her back to him, not moving far away but willing him to reach for her, watching their reflection in the darkened glass opposite. He leaned back against an ironwork table, his arms folding across his chest, as if he wished to secure them away from her. But she also saw his gaze trail across her figure. He was tempted; all she had to do was lure him into letting down his guard.

“I was naive when you first spoke to me, Your Grace, but not innocent. We have been playing for weeks. I am merely showing you my cards and calling for you to lay down your hand. Which hardly makes me innocent. I am not innocent. I am the one who is raising the stakes between us.”

He said nothing then. His answer was silence. But she could see that he watched her still.

Marcus

The reflection of the pale fabric of her gown, clinging to her slender figure, kissing the edge of her hip, her buttock and her thigh… glimmered against the dark onyx glass showing their reflection.

She was ethereal.

Touch me. Her words… A shaft of desire raced through him, even though his blood already ran as heavy as molten lead with need for her. He had not seen this coming, but he was sorely tempted to accept. She looked delicious in that dress and luxuriously sexual with her lips reddened from his kiss.

She was obviously inexperienced; but innocent?

I am not innocent.

His heart thumped, a slow steady thud of building tension. Is she not then? Was I entirely wrong about her? She had openly encouraged him for weeks with her eyes. Tonight she had leaned against him in the dance and ruthlessly directed him to bring her here – and once she’d got him alone, kissed him senseless.

Perhaps she was not as innocent as he’d believed. It was an enticing thought, to touch her. Desire thickened in his throat and his body stirred.

She must have seen the dark, wanting expression on his face because when he met her gaze in the black glass she whispered again, “Touch me, Marcus.”

It sounded like a siren’s call. Instinct and thirst pulled him forward, and he reached for her as heaviness gripped his groin. His hand slipped about her waist and drew her back against him.

He took a sharp breath. It shuddered through his limbs. A similar breath echoed from her mouth. He brushed kisses against her neck and her body melted back against him.

When he looked up, he caught her watching their reflection in the pane of glass darkened by night. His dark hair was strikingly different to her pale complexion and towering blond curls. “Touch me.” Elizabeth repeated her desire, her voice crying out the longing of his body. He wanted to touch.

He released his grip at her waist and his fingers instead slid up to her bare shoulders, then traced the low neckline of her gown. He took a breath, as longing surged through his blood. He had never wanted a woman as much as this. His fingers slipped into her bodice and cupped her breast. His thumb stroked over the tight bud of her nipple. Locks of her hair touched his neck and his ear as he kissed her shoulder and continued to touch, he trailed his kisses up to her neck to feel the tremor of her pulse beneath her skin.

She laid her head back on his shoulder.

He gripped her shoulders, pressuring her to turn to him.

She did.

He took it as complete consent and his lips pressed to hers. The woman was about to discover what she had been playing with for months. His fingers clawed, gripping the sheer muslin fabric of her gown and sliding it up. Her thighs shivered as the fabric rose, along with her thin petticoat. Her fingers trembled a little as they held his shoulders, clinging not caressing, yet her mouth answered his with a beautiful hunger, searching and reaching for more of everything he gave, as if she tried to forget all else.

The hem of her gown breached the top of her thighs and his fingers touched skin. Desire gripped hard in his groin as he gripped the back of her thighs, and pulled her body closer, so she could feel what she did to him. Her fingers clawed into his shoulders pushing him back, but she did not speak when he obeyed.

He met her gaze and saw uncertainty there. The heat had faded a little. “Are you sure about this?”

She nodded, but it was a shy sort of nod. The girl maybe not be innocent but she was no wanton either. He brushed a loose curl behind her ear. “You are certain…”

She nodded again biting her lip, her blue gaze clinging to his.

But he was not certain. He would have turned away. but she caught hold of his arm. “Please, yes. Touch me… I want you to.” He held her gaze for a moment, reading the plea in her eyes as well as her voice.

She had feelings for him.

Feelings he’d never known before shifted in his chest too, and his head bent to kiss her again, his other hand returning to her bare thigh. His thumb stroked her skin there as he continued kissing her.

His kiss teased her lips until they parted and began to play, reaching up for his, if he lifted a little away. Then he breached them with his tongue, penetrating her mouth, and catching at her parted teeth. She had not kissed another man like this that was obvious, but she learned…

Desire raged in his blood as he gripped her thighs harder and lifted her up onto the table. His fingertips slipped down and up her thighs, just to feel the silk of her soft skin. Oh God, she was beautiful. He pulled her legs about his waist and rocked against her, penetrating her mouth and playing games with her tongue as it tentatively played with his.

Her stocking clad shins curled about the back of his thighs urging him on.

His hands lifted to her shoulders, his thumb resting over the pulse in her neck. It pounded out a sharp beat, and her skin was warm and damp. Her fingers slipped into his hair as the strength of his kiss leaned her back a little. Soon… But first.. He slid her dress from her shoulders and lifted one breast from its snug cradle in her bodice. Then he broke the kiss, lowered his head and devoured it, sucking hard on her tight, pale, pink nipple.

“Marcus.” Her fingers gripped in his hair as her soft thighs tightened their grip about his hips.

When he did not stop, her breathing fractured, but he gave her no chance to regain it, as his fingers traced a path up her inner thigh. Her legs let the grip about his hips go, and fell to hang from the table.

He slid his fingers in to her and he touched her with his thumb. Her breath became more hesitant. He let her nipple slip off his tongue and lifted his head to kiss her again…

Her inexperience made every experience new for him. He was used to grasping women. They would have touched him by now. They would be hurrying him, hungering for a quick escape, relief and then a return to the ballroom as though nothing had taken place. But then he should not allow this to go on too long. They still had to return to the ballroom, and people must not know what had occurred here… or even have cause to guess. This was too far. This would be ruin for her…

Still touching her between her legs, his fingers playing a game of enchantment he broke their kiss and whispered over her lips, “You’re beautiful.” A well of emotion swelled up into his chest as well as gripping harder at his groin. “I have always thought so.” She was losing the knowledge of where they were, focusing only on the tunes her body played and not those they could hear seeping from the ballroom. But someone could come here any moment, he could not leave this longer.

“You’re sure?” he said over her lips, looking at her. Her eyes had been closed, but now they opened and looked at him with a hundred questions. Was she sure? “No change of heart?” She took a breath that shuddered into her lungs, and shook her head, but her hands shook too as she leaned back a little and gripped the edges of the iron table. “You must tell me if you change your mind?”

She nodded.

His head bent to kiss her again and a tremor shook through her dangling legs as his fingers slipped from between her thighs, then reached to fee the buttons of his flap.

With her legs parted about his, she was open to him, ready, and hot, wet. Desperately wet. He looked down to the Eden of her juncture and touched himself against her nectar. Her fingers did not lift to touch him, but merely continued gripping the iron table as he angled himself, watching with a blissful hunger for what was to come, and a sense of awe for this beautiful young woman who was giving herself to him so humbly.

He thrust. The Devil. The damned Devil...

His breath hissed through his teeth as hers echoed about the glass expressing her pain and her muscle tightened in sudden shock.

She had been a virgin. She was not inexperienced. She had had no experience.

Her whole body shuddered as he stayed still within her and met her gaze.

He could not ask the questions… What was there to say… It was too late…

He held still as he felt her pain. She had become rigid and her passage had lost its slick coat.

Internally he used every curse he knew as he dropped his forehead to rest against hers, breathing heavily, his own desire had not waned, it had increased, the girl was pure novelty. But why the hell had she chosen to give herself to him – he was not worthy of this. Her fingers released their grip on the table and instead gripped and clung to his shoulders with a desperate hold.

“You were a virgin,” he whispered, stating the bloody obvious, as he lifted his head, his fingers gripping her thighs as he still stood between her legs, buried deep inside her.

“Please do not stop,” she whispered, in a voice that urged him to continue, with a desperate tone. “I want this.”

He held her gaze for a moment, she was so young. Why had she done this… But God it was too late now, even if he wished to stop, the damage had been done.

“Please I wish for this…” The words whispered from her lips and he breathed them in.

He wished for it too. A new thought bloomed – he was the first man to be in this precious place inside her. The very first…

Could there be any greater gift given to a jaded rake like him.

If you cannot wait until next week for more of Jane Lark’s writing there’s plenty to read right now 😀

To read the 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 and NOW available to pre-order from Amazon

#3 The Scandalous Love of a Lord

and, yes, there are more to come 🙂

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

Reckless in Innocence ~ A #Free Historical Romance story ~ Part Two

Reckless in Innocence

© Jane Lark

Publishing rights belong to Jane Lark, this should not be recreated in any form without prior consent from Jane Lark

Reckless in Innocence

Read the earlier parts Part one

Part Two

They had waltzed together so many times it was easy for Elizabeth to immediately relax into the flow of the dance, moving her feet in time with his.

Her fingers rested over his evening coat; the muscle beneath tightened and relaxed as they circled among the other couples.

She loved Marcus Campbell, but she knew he would never love her, and she could cope with that. Last night she had thought up a reckless plan, and her reckless plan meant that she would have all of him, just for a moment, to savour and remember and then after that she would let him go, and she would be happy.

She was grateful for the few weeks she had held this beautiful young duke’s attention, for his courting and his flattery, but it was simply a game to him – shallow. It would become meaningless. This could not last.

She had not received the introductions other girls had, her mother was too inattentive, and Elizabeth had hidden behind the plants, or sculptures, for every dance, to avoid embarrassment. Yet then she’d met Marcus.

No one had approached poor Elizabeth Derwent until the moment the Duke of Tay happened to pass her hiding behind the potted palms.

He had thrown her a broad grin, taken her hand and introduced himself as Marcus Campbell, drawing her on to the floor to dance, and he had not parted from her the entire evening after that. He had chatted to her idly, of this and that, for hours and she had felt herself glow in his company. He made her feel beautiful. All the tabbies had stared in horror, and all the other debutantes looked on with envy.

Of course her mother should have stopped it. She should have made some excuse to draw Elizabeth away, but her mother was an ardent gambler, she never left the card room, and of course Elizabeth should never have let him speak to her when they had not been introduced by someone else, but she had been alone too long and those sparkling eyes had been enchanting.

But everyone knew she should not have done what she had, and people had stared and whispered…

If people had not reacted so, then perhaps she may never have spoken to him again, but everyone had looked at her – for the first time in her life she had become visible, envied and in his eyes, beautiful. He had made that very clear.

An invigorating power had surged through her blood, as everyone who had ignored her all season looked at her, wondering why the Duke of Tay had chosen her. She had felt alive, for the first time since her brother had left.

The heat of Marcus’s palm seeped through the fabric of her gown into her back, and his sparkling, dark brown eyes glowed in the flickering candlelight.

From the first night she had ignored everyone’s ill-judgement, lifting her nose up at any whispered comments from the elderly women, the tabby cats, who sat about the ballrooms in their brightly coloured turbans, as though they were the queens of the society. No one but her parents had the right to tell her, no, and her parents did not care, she was not even sure they knew that every time Marcus Campbell walked into a room she stared at him, until he stared at her too, their gazes meeting through the crowd.

She had become shameless with him. When he danced and spoke with others, she watched, waiting. Marcus would always come to her in the end, or call her to him, and they always spent more time together than the boundaries of society allowed.

She did not care.

His interest had brought her to the attention of other men too, and now she danced to every melody at balls.

Thanks to the rakehell Duke of Tay, she had become the fashion.

“You look particularly beautiful tonight..” His deep pitch ran across the skin of her neck.

To be in the company of a scintillating, untamed man, like Marcus was reckless and wonderful.

“I particularly like the fluidity and the translucence of your dress… it displays your figure perfectly…” He had paid her more and more attention as the season had progressed, and his compliments had become increasingly daring, though he’d never touched her in a way he should not.

“Thank you. I love it. Papa bought it for me especially.” Her father saw the garment as an investment. This whole season was merely a business venture to him.

“You may have your season but you must find a husband of means, no on else.” He’d said that the day they had left their quiet, silent little manor house to come to London.

She had known immediately – she would not even try. Who would take her when her mother was a gambler and her father a penniless drunk, with his head in the clouds of fiction. He was forever speaking of stupid business ventures to make a fortune he could then drink away, and her mother could gamble away.

She had come to London only to enjoy the experience – to live a little – to see this world – and then she would run.

Marcus smiled.

Tonight…

Tonight she intended to reach the crescendo of her adventure. The time had come for her to fulfil the end of her plan, to escape, to find a suitable position, perhaps as a governess or a companion, and leave the selfish obsessions of her parents behind, just as her brother had done.

But before she walked away from this life she wanted to experience one more thing…

Marriage had always been for fairytales, she’d never believed she would marry, her father was a baron, but her parents had destroyed his estate.

But then she had met Marcus and fallen in love. Oh she was not a fool, she knew there would not be a fairytale ending. He had a reputation as black as tar – and he was a duke – he would not settle on a penniless girl of poor family.

But just because she would not marry, why could she not experience the things married women did…

Marcus spun her quickly with a twisted smile. Elizabeth closed the distance between them, a little, feeling the firmness of his chest brush against her breasts. He did not move her away. Instead his fingers slipped a little further across her upper back.

She knew how seductive her dress was, the tight small bodice pushed up her breasts and the fabric was nearly sheer and showed off the line of her legs as she moved. She had watched her reflection in the mirror at home, skimming her own fingers across the low cut bodice, and across her bosom, sliding her hand beneath her breasts to touch the seam of the fashionable high waist.

She did not look like a debutante, tonight. She looked like a woman of experience. Like Lady Caroline Lamb… and the set of wild woman whom Marcus always spoke with. She wanted to be like them… and tonight she would become like them. She would be as untamed and as free as the Duke of Tay now.

Last night his smile had haunted her shallow sleep, and the intensity of her feelings had swelled, she could never cease thinking of him, or seeing him in her mind’s-eye. She loved Marcus Campbell.

He may not love her; yet there was no doubt that he liked what he saw in her – his eyes whispered it as they danced, and they had shouted it across the ballrooms of society for weeks – every time he walked into a room he looked for her.

So why should she not… Why? Why? Those words had played through her mind all through the night.

Just take one chance while you have it.

One moment.

One experience.

Live… Just once…

His expression and the depth in his brown eyes had played through her head for hours… Then she had made up her mind and set upon the most reckless course of action she had ever followed in her life…

She held his gaze, and the look which had hovered with her all through the previous night was there again. The look that said he wished to devour her… Last night she had realized she wished to be devoured. She wanted to know what it would be like to be loved by Marcus Campbell, physically – if she could know nothing else.

It would simply be a brief moment. It could not continue. But this could not continue anyway. In another month or two the season would draw to an end.

In the last of the dark hours she had calculated her seduction; trusting that a man with the Duke of Tay’s reputation would not refuse her. Then in the morning she had looked at her father’s paper, when he’d left it on the breakfast table, and scanned the advertisements for positions, then quickly written and posted a letter replying to an advert for a companion to a woman in London.

Elizabeth smiled at him, opening her eyes a little wider as he gave her a questioning smile.

She knew girls ought be demurring and not look a man full in the eyes. She deliberately held his gaze more ardently, losing herself in the enchantment of the rich, dark brown as he looked back.

She pressed even closer to him. Marcus absorbed the distance as though it was nothing for them to dance so close.

“You know that I lose myself in the turquoise of your eyes, Elizabeth, you do not need to tempt me even more.”

“Am I tempting you…”

“Are you playing seductress tonight? You know I can feel every contour of your body through this dress when you are so close.”

Her upper thigh glanced against his, and his fingers slightly curved moving the fabric against the skin of her back.

His gaze dropped to watch her lips.

She felt so hot, terrified and yet excited – it was going to happen. It was…

She breathed in as he watched and then his gaze fell to her breasts as she breathed out. It lifted to her eyes again, while he turned her in the pattern of the dance, holding her close and making her head spin.

A single strand of her hair fell onto her shoulder.

His gaze caught on that, and then lifted again.

“You enthrall me. In a way no other woman has done. I am becoming your slave.”

Such charming, shallow, but enchanting words.

The music began to soften and gradually the dance drew to a close. Marcus spun her one last time, making her giddy with love and want.

She wanted him beyond anything.

As they stopped moving her body pressed against his. He was warm and solid, muscular and athletic.

She did not pull away. Nor did he – for a moment – his gaze holding hers.

His hand fell from her back she leant her cheek against his shoulder. “I am so hot, Your Grace. Would you accompany me to the conservatory for some fresh air? It is such a crush in here.” She pulled away then.

The stiffness of his body and the look in his eyes implied that his thoughts were entirely attuned to hers.

To read the 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 🙂

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