Scandalous Regency Secrets Collection - Кэрол Мортимер Mills & Boon e-Book Collections

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Bonaparte fled the field that last day, since I hadn’t conveniently died in battle, I was scooped up and whisked back to England, to meet with the Prince Regent and his cronies. You know the rest.”

      “The title, the estate. The threat that accompanied them. Yet what else could you have done?”

      “I could have died in battle, and His Royal Highness could have merely commissioned a statue in some far corner of Green Park or somewhere, and spent far less money. Still, I like to tell myself I made the only sensible choice in the circumstances. I wasn’t about to open my country to ridicule and censure. I wasn’t quite ready to spend my days waiting for some sort of fatal accident. I reluctantly allowed myself to become the famed and feted hero of Quatre Bras, and Prinny basked in that reflected glory. I think it was another good fortnight before any oranges were flung at his carriage when he went out and about.”

      Now Dany did raise her head, to smile at Coop, to see her smile returned.

      “And that’s the whole of it?”

      “That’s the whole of it, yes. Strangely, I feel better, having told you.”

      “I’m glad. Will you tell the others?”

      “Never, no. You’ll have to keep the secret with me.”

      “I will, I will,” she vowed fervently. “Not because you weren’t brave and honorable, but because you were brave and honorable. You do know that, don’t you? At the end of the day, you saved those children, that woman, at great danger to yourself, and with no expectation of reward. You’re a hero, Cooper Townsend. Don’t ever forget that, please.”

      They were back at the gazebo now, and Coop held her elbow as he assisted her up the three steps to the interior, hung with gauzy white draperies and sporting padded benches along its eight-sided perimeter, with a large white linen chaise at its center, a soft yellow blanket draped over the back.

      Dany imagined Darby had personally designed the interior, and the placement of the gazebo itself, to his own specifications.

      And here comes another blush to give away my thoughts. Shame on me for even thinking about such things in the first place.

      Still, she tugged the coverlet half onto her lap as she semireclined on one side of the chaise. She bounced twice, testing its softness. It was very comfortable.

      And secluded.

      And...convenient.

      “Dany?”

      She looked up at Coop, blinking.

      “Yes,” she said. She didn’t ask, inquire, question. She said yes.

      Hopefully he would understand...

       CHAPTER SIXTEEN

      HER INDIGO EYES were wide with wonder, anticipation, a hint of humor only slightly shadowed by apprehension.

      He wondered what she saw in his eyes.

      He wondered if she was having as much trouble breathing as he was, as if his body had turned that responsibility solely over to him, and if he didn’t concentrate he would not breathe at all.

      She didn’t know. She’d never questioned.

      Or she’d never doubted.

      Did it matter?

      She was his, convenient betrothal be damned, the ring be damned, the world be damned.

      She was his. From the moment she’d first looked into his eyes. Then. Now. Forever.

      Her mouth was warm beneath his, her skin soft and silky as he kissed away her clothing, his senses fired by her tentative touch as she returned the favor.

      Stroke. Touch. Learn.

      With all the time in the world, with all the care he could hope to convey through each new gentle advance.

      Always ready to stop. A constant prayer in his head that she wouldn’t ask that of him.

      That he wouldn’t ask it of himself.

      She moaned softly as he took her nipple into his mouth, raising herself so that he could cup her, hold her, introduce her to the world of sensual pleasure.

      He moved to kiss her again, keep her at a level of pleasure unmixed with pain as he managed to somehow unbutton his breeches.

      Advance. Retreat. Kiss, and kiss again. Taste and touch and swirling passion mixed with a tenderness that threatened to bring him to tears.

      God. Thank You, God. What did I do to deserve such a precious gift?

      Coop lifted his head, to look down into Dany’s face as he slowly slid his hand down her perfect body. He pressed his palm against her lower belly, and watched as her pupils went wide and dark.

      She licked her lips with the tip of her tongue. He watched as her throat worked when she swallowed, blinked up at him.

      His heart pounded. With the rapid beat of life, of the exquisite pain of love he hadn’t known existed.

      He moved his hand, slipping it between her thighs even as he claimed her mouth once more with lips and tongue.

      She opened for him. Flowered for him.

      He mimicked his motions, tongue and exploring fingers. Cajoled. Comforted. Knew the moment when apprehension was replaced by pleasure. Pleasure he was giving her, longed to give her.

      She moaned quietly, moving her hips as if she thought he’d leave her.

      He dared to become more intimate, but she immediately stiffened, her thighs tensing.

      “It’s all right, it’s all right,” he soothed against her mouth. “I’ll stop.”

      She shook her head. Rather violently actually.

      He couldn’t help but smile.

      What had he been thinking? Dany would never call a halt at the first fence. It wasn’t in her nature.

      Slowly, as he levered a leg between hers, he began whispering in her ear. “I don’t want to hurt you. I never want to hurt you. But just this once, I will, I must.”

      She wrapped her arms around his back and lifted her lower body against him. No words. No fear. Just a silent yet definite yes.

      “But quickly,” she told him, her fingertips digging into his back.

      “No going back,” he warned.

      “No going back,” she agreed on a sigh.

      That was all the encouragement he needed. He felt her tense; he knew the moment he’d broken beyond the thin barrier. He held her close as he gave her everything, as she took him in.

      He wanted to be gentle. He had every intention of being gentle, slowly introducing her to what he hoped would be a building pleasure, at least enough to give her the promise that next time, and all the times after this, there would be nothing but pleasure.

      But he hadn’t counted on Dany.

      Somehow, amid the tangle of clothing and the soft, sun-warmed cashmere throw, she managed to free her legs, bringing them up and around his back, keeping him close as he began to move inside her.

      Her courage lent him courage. Dany was a woman now, of her own free will, her own free choice.

      She could walk away once this business of blackmail was settled, and Mari was settled. He could walk away, both of them having agreed this was only a sham betrothal.

      Yet she’d given herself to him. Without a backward glance, without demanding anything of him. And damn the consequences.

      Or did she trust him that much? Was there even more there than trust? He dared to hope.

      “Dany...” he breathed, claiming her mouth

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