Regency Historical Romance, complete at 100,000 words

The below excerpt is the hero / heroine first meeting. For set-up info about the characters and plot, click here.

Derek took in his surroundings in one quick glance.  Intricately-painted walls graced the oval entrance to the ballroom and finely crafted pieces of Hepplewhite furniture were scattered about.  Above the music of the orchestra he could hear voices, laughter and the clinking of crystal.  Now that the moment was upon him, he felt a tingle of excitement that he was finally putting his plan into action.

No one could find fault with his attire for it was as formal as Stephen’s, but the differences, some subtle and some not, were there.  He had opted for skin-tight black trousers with shiny black Hessian boots, the latter being certain to set him apart from the aristocrats in their dancing pumps.  His lawn shirt was practically transparent, denoting the fine quality of the cloth, and the simple tie of the cravat was an American style he much preferred over the immense, flowery bows worn by so many Englishmen.  Forgoing the waistcoat, he sported only a black dresscoat, double-breasted and cut high in the front and with long tails in the back.  His thick, longish dark hair was caught loosely in a black silk ribbon at the nape of his neck, a slightly outdated style, which, nevertheless, lent him a rakish air.

Stephen had chosen to dress more conservatively, for though Derek was to exhibit a devil-may-care attitude, it was imperative that Stephen maintain the appearance of respectable nobility as was expected of the Earl of Aster.  While the ton might certainly enjoy the excitement of socializing with an American privateer, they would never do so without the pretense of respectability that Stephen’s position in society could offer.  Stephen’s presence meant the difference between acceptance and ostracism and both men knew that.

The entrance hall opened onto a raised dais, and as Derek stepped closer he could see down the sweeping staircase into a crush of glittering guests against a backdrop perfectly suited to the event.  The soft light from a thousand candles reflected back from the highly polished oak floor, casting a glow on the pale yellow damask wall coverings.  The strong odor of beeswax mixed with smoke and perfume took him back in time.

He smiled, remembering his antics as a boy of fourteen, home after his last expulsion from school, when he had hidden under a serving table during a ball given by his parents at Dorrington Hall.  He had passed the evening in rapturous delight, watching from underneath the tablecloth for tantalizing glimpse after glimpse of trimly-turned ankles.  His fun ended quite abruptly when his father’s shoes appeared and the tablecloth was snatched up.

But the looks directed at him by some of the ladies as he slid out from under the table to his full height and strode arrogantly from the room had made the evening’s escapades and the punishment worthwhile.  Even at that age he was aware of the ladies’ interest in a good physique.  Lady Danders had winked at him in a most sultry manner when he nodded at her in passing.  One week later she taught him the art of seduction.

Ah, the innocence of youth, he thought nostalgically.  He turned his attention back to his surroundings and stepped up onto the dais for a better look.

He searched the crowd.  Dark eyes under a fringe of red curls caught his gaze.  Lord, she was a beauty—a pouty beauty.  As he began to look away, he noticed the girl wetting her lips with her tongue ever so slowly, and he realized from her provocative stare that the performance was for his benefit.  She was little more than a schoolgirl, but her expression told him that all of her experience hadn’t come from the schoolroom. 

Remembering the rogue he was supposed to be, he returned her flirtatious gaze and then casually looked her up and down, lingering for a long moment on her breasts.  Finally moving his gaze back to her face, he was amused to see that her skin had become the same shade as her hair.  Yes, she was young.  Young enough to think she could handle what she had started and much too young to go through with it.  He gave a small shrug of boredom and looked away from her.  It was then he realized he was the center of everyone’s attention.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Stephen hanging back, ensuring that nothing would distract the guests from their first look at the American privateer of whom they should have heard so much.  And Stephen’s plan was working.  Guests turned toward the staircase, conversations dropped to murmurs, and dancing couples slowed their movements as everyone stared unabashedly up at him. 

Derek could guess at the thoughts of some of the women who stared boldly at his crotch, but he reminded himself that he wasn’t here for that.  Then, as he began his descent down the staircase, something caught his eye.  A glimpse of palest pink silk, the slender curve of a young woman’s gloved arm as she set a drink on an offered tray.  He stopped and stared while the room fell into silence.

As guests followed the direction of his gaze, the hush gave way to whispers, but Derek was powerless to tear his eyes away from the lovely vision before him.  He could not seem to move at all, and then he could not keep from moving in her direction.  Many of the guests stepped back in confusion, giving him a clear path to the object of his attention.  As the music of the orchestra died away to a few false notes, the whispers grew ever louder to a crescendo, and the vision in pink turned fully in his direction.

He was stunned by her pale, dark beauty.  The translucent glow of white skin kissed by pink, the contrast of dark hair pulled up and back in a cascade of soft, silky waves, and the innocence of wide eyes graced by arched brows as gentle as doves’ wings, made her seem somehow totally vulnerable and completely untouchable at the same time.  He knew it was improper behavior to approach her this way but he couldn’t stop himself.  And then he realized he didn’t have to obey the dictates of English society. 

He was, after all, an American privateer.

With each step, there was a fresh assault to his senses.  The girl’s gown was but a mere blush of color and he knew it signified her purity.  But she needed no such symbol.  No one could look upon her and not realize instantly that she had never known the touch of a man. 

But dear God, she was ripe for it.

The soft glow of her skin, the full, slightly parted lips, the graceful curve of her neck that gave way to a fuller curve of young, firm breasts just waiting to be suckled.  A moan escaped him as he stiffened with arousal.

The girl’s eyes were mesmerizing, and they pierced his soul.  They were an amazing shade of blue—the startling blue of the cornflower fields at Dorrington Hall—and fringed with long, black lashes.  There was no doubt he could lose himself in those eyes.  They were so beautiful and huge and...scared.

Scared?  She was scared?  Her reaction baffled him, but even as he pondered the question, he realized she must have heard the rumors, or at the very least the whispers circulating around her now.  From every direction he could hear the words seduction and plunder and fortune being bandied out.  If she believed even half of what she must be hearing, she could swoon.  From the look on her face it was entirely possible that she might.

Sophie stood frozen in place.  The most magnificent looking man she had ever seen was headed straight in her direction.  He had a splendid build from head to toe, displayed to perfection in expensively-cut, form-fitting clothes.

Tall, and undoubtedly strong, he moved with uncommon grace, yet he exuded a dangerous sensuality quite unlike any gentleman she had ever seen.  She knew he must be the American captain that Caroline—indeed all of London—was gossiping about. 

He commanded a certain respect simply by his countenance.  It wasn’t merely his physical attributes that were so captivating, though his wide shoulders, narrow hips and trim waist were certainly exceptional ones.  It was more his demeanor, the power that could be sensed simmering just beneath the surface.  He looked to be a man who knew what he wanted and if need be, took it, though it was hard for her to imagine him being refused anything he desired. 

His face was tanned and handsome, his jaw firm.  His features denoted intelligence, determination, and more than a little arrogance.  But it was his eyes that captivated her.  His eyes were arresting, their intensity searing.  He seemed to brand her with his stare.

Her heart hammered more with each step he took in her direction.  She couldn’t swallow; she wasn’t even certain she was breathing.  Her legs seemed to be both paralyzed and trembling wildly at the same time, and she wondered what had come over her while she sought to gain control of her emotions and her body.  Never before had she reacted in such a manner to a man, but then, she had never before seen such a man as this.

Her mind was whirling.  It was unbelievable that he would approach her this way, and there could be no doubt it was his intention.  Had he no manners whatsoever?  They had never been introduced.  It was unthinkable.  Her reputation would be in shreds.  Even as the thought formed, she realized the irony of it, since ruining her reputation was what she wished to do.

He stopped but inches from her, his tall presence overpowering.  There was a faint scent of wood-spiced cologne and starched linen and something else that she knew was his scent alone.  His eyes had a ravenous look as though he had hungered for her all his life and was now about to sate that hunger.  For the first time in her life she thought she might swoon.

“May I have the pleasure of a dance?”  His voice, seductive and melodious, seemed to caress her, even as his eyes ravaged her.  With a start she realized his eyes were gray—or were they silver?  Whoever in the world had silver eyes? 

She knew she should turn away, or at the very least, drop her gaze.  For the life of her she could do neither.  Instead, she had an insane desire to reach out and touch him, to assure herself that he was real.  What in God’s name had come over her?

At that moment she was startled to hear another voice say, “Ladies, what a pleasure to see you again.  May I present my friend, Captain Derek Wainright.  Captain Wainright, may I present Lady Sophia Barrick and Lady Caroline Wharton.”

Sophie jerked her gaze from the American captain to see Lord Aster standing beside him.  Where he had come from she had no idea, but judging from the harried look on his face, he must have raced like the devil to reach them in time for introductions.  A moment passed before she realized that Caroline, whose face was lit up with excitement, would not break convention and speak first, she being the younger of the two girls. 

Sophie forced her mind to the situation.  Trying desperately to gain her voice, she began with a croak, “Yes, Captain Aster...I mean, er...Lord Wainright...oh, my goodness...”  Her voice gave way to embarrassed silence as her face flushed with heat.

Before she could think or say a thing, the American pulled her onto the dance floor and the orchestra began to play.  She knew the eyes of every guest in the ballroom were upon her and consequently she stumbled, stepping soundly on his foot.

The privateer raised a dark brow, his silvery eyes glinting with amusement.  “Ouch.  I hope you don’t mean to trod on my toes throughout the dance, this being my first one and all,” he said.  “I do need to keep them in good order for the rest of the night.”  He smiled down at her, all roguish good looks and easy manner, as she stared up at him, tongue-tied.  “Come now.  I can’t be as bad as all that,” he went on.  “I won’t ravish you here on the dance floor, whatever you may have heard of me.  But if I did, you just might enjoy it.”

Sophie gasped.  Of all the impudence!  Just who did he think he was, this American privateer?  How dare he speak to her in such a manner. 

She glared at him and summoned her iciest tone of voice.  “I doubt if you were to ravish me on this floor that I would enjoy it, Captain.  I am hardly an exhibitionist, and I prefer to take my pleasures in private.”  There.  Let him think about that.  Of all the arrogant conceit.  But wait; she mustn’t anger him, not if she wished to be caught in a compromising situation with him next week.  Confound it!  Why couldn’t she think straight?

“You’re a woman after my own heart,” said the privateer, “but I would never have imagined that you were thinking what I was thinking.”  He dropped his gaze, and she followed it to see her breasts fairly bursting from the neckline of her gown with every breath she took.

“Oh!” Sophie said as she snapped her head upright.  “You...you...”  She was aghast.  Did the man actually believe she wished to be alone with him or was he only pretending to mistake her meaning?  As she put her mind to a retort, she realized he was maneuvering her closer and closer to the terrace doors. 

She tried to think.  An unlit terrace with a privateer might be exactly the thing.  Or should she create a scandal by leaving him on the dance floor?  No, that wouldn’t be scandalous enough to deter Lord Harlech from marriage, but it might cause her aunt to cancel further invitations.  Oh, for goodness sake.  She was not cut out for this scheming.  If only he would stop looking at her as though he planned to gobble her up, she might be able to decide.  “Sir, please do not think—”

“That’s the good thing about me.  I try not to think at all.  I just do,” he drawled as he expertly danced her through the open doors and onto the darkened terrace.

The moment they were out of sight of the others, he stopped dancing and pulled her into his arms in a crushing embrace, his lips capturing hers in a devouring kiss that left her weak and wanting more.  His kiss gentled as his lips strayed to the softness of her cheek, her neck, her ear, his breath warm and urgent against her skin.  He groaned, his hands slipping down to cup her bottom, lifting her up, rocking her gently against him.  The kiss became ardent as he once again claimed her lips, running his tongue lightly between them, until they parted of their own volition, giving him access to the recesses of her mouth.

Sophie’s entire body was a mass of shivers and she wanted the feeling to never end.  She wrapped her arms around him and held on for dear life.  She knew it was scandalous, and she didn’t care.  She wished he would take her there, then, not knowing exactly what that meant, but knowing that whatever it was, she wanted it.  Badly.

Behind them came the sound of someone clearing his throat.  It hardly registered with Sophie, but the privateer began to release her, sliding her against his full, hard length.  Sophie fought him, tried to hold on, and pressed herself against him, not wanting the tantalizing sensations to end.

He chuckled.  “You’re a passionate young lady, aren’t you?  I do believe you weren’t telling the truth when you said you wouldn’t want me to ravish you on the ballroom floor.”

Upon hearing the smugness of his tone, Sophie’s ardor dissipated as embarrassment and shame replaced lust.  Lightning-fast she raised her hand and slapped him hard across the face.

“It would appear I arrived just in time,” Lord Aster said as he hastened to them.  “Please forgive my associate, Lady Sophia, for he is unfamiliar with English society.”

The expression on Lord Aster’s face was kind, if a little sheepish.  Behind him she saw Caroline, standing in the shadows.

“We followed you out immediately,” he said.  “Let’s hope no damage has been done.  Lady Caroline will escort you back inside.  If you would like a few moments to recover, the captain and I will hurry around to the other side and make our entrance.  Your reputation should not suffer on his account.”

“Thank you, my lord.”  Sophie’s trembling voice was almost a whisper.  She was still shocked by the captain’s actions and by her response, and she was desperately trying to shake off the feelings, to regain some control.

The American bowed low, and with a knowing look said, “Till we meet again, my lady, and I’m sure we both hope that will be soon.”

“Oh!”  Sophie stamped her foot and turned her back to him.

Caroline was instantly at her side.  “My goodness,” Caroline whispered as soon as the men departed.  “I suspect you’ve made quite a stir inside.  I daresay there are men who will look at you differently now that you’ve been singled out by the infamous Captain Wainright.  Come now, you must give it up.  How does he kiss?  Was it wonderful?”

Sophie stamped her foot again, infuriated by her response to the captain and by Caroline’s questions as well.  “Is that all you can think about?” she blurted out.  “He-he stood here and took advantage of me and all you can do is ask if his kiss was wonderful?” 

Sophie glared at Caroline, realizing how ridiculous she sounded in light of her plan, but she was unable to quell her anger.  Then Caroline began to giggle and so did she, as an almost-hysterical silliness overtook her other emotions.  A moment later they were both gasping for air.

“You’ve gotten exactly what you wanted,” Caroline said, wiping a tear from her eye.  “He can’t be forced to marry you, and he certainly doesn’t care if he ruins your reputation.  As you said, he’s the perfect pawn for your scheme.”

Sophie sobered up at Caroline’s words.  In the back of her mind was a niggling apprehension.  Somehow she didn’t think this captain the type of man to be used in anyone’s scheme.  Quickly reviewing her sketchy plans for ruination, she tried to imagine any possible way things could go awry, but she could not foresee it.  Still, the uneasy feeling persisted.

“I don’t know, Caroline.  I’m worried.  He doesn’t seem the type to be duped.  And we never discussed the compromising situation.  Shall I have to be ravished by him or shall I devise a way to make it appear so?”

Perhaps it wouldn’t be so terrible to be ravished by the American, she thought.  It was an experience she might never have otherwise, if she truly never married, and the man was very handsome and exciting.  Would it be so bad if she had to actually seduce him to be caught?  At least she would find out what all the talk—or rather, secrecy—was about.

“What do you think?  Must I let him ravish me?” she asked hopefully.

Caroline laughed as she smoothed Sophie’s hair into place.  “My dear, you are a delight.  We’ll see.  If you must be ravished, then you must.  But for now, let’s go back inside.  I fear Mama and your aunt are calling for hartshorn by now.”