“I understand that you work hard at your politics, David.
You think that’s the best way to save the world from its sins. But sometimes
the world is saved one person at a time.”
Warmth entered his chest. Nothing could have pleased him
more than to hear his own thoughts on his dear wife’s lips. “Yes, perhaps that
is correct. You did save me that first day.”
“You saved me in turn.” Her eyes lit with love. “You are a
kind, compassionate, giving man and I love you. You drove yourself too hard and
it made you ill. You cannot keep doing that.”
“What do you mean?”
“You are getting too old, David.”
She sounded so serious, he had to chuckle. “Too old, eh?”
“Almost forty.”
“Almost thirty-nine,” he corrected.
“Same difference. I, too, am a selfish woman. I do not want
to see you kill yourself by age fifty in the name of your crusades. I want to
have you for more years than that.”
He pressed her hand closer and his gaze became even more
tender. “But the world is relentless, my love.”
“Yes, this is also true; however, we could focus more on
saving individuals.”
“You have a plan, do you?”
“Yes, I think you should found an asylum, one run with a
heart.”
“Yes.” He smiled, broadly. Once again, her thoughts were
mirroring his own and he couldn’t help but believe that was the best possible
omen for their marriage. Despite the hardships of her common birth and their
age difference, they had every chance of building a strong and successful union.
The House of Somerville would be redeemed and renewed for all future
generations. “
We
should found an
asylum. Maybe purchase some land near my estate in York.”
“So far north?”
“The farther away from London and the more secluded, the
better for everything, I think. I shall likely prove a stubborn man to reform.
I will need to be far away from the House and the temptation to become too
deeply drawn back into politics.”
“Goodness.” She studied his open, sincere expression. “This
isn’t the first time you’ve thought of this.”
“No, it is not. I started toying with the idea of a change
once my bill failed to pass the House of Lords, but other events caused me to
be distracted.”
“I am so sorry I distracted you from your work.”
“You didn’t distract me. You woke me.”
“Woke you?”
“Yes, you woke me to all the other possibilities in life. I
possess vast wealth and a good deal of power. I have always thought that
politics was the best way to utilize that wealth and power to create change.
Now I see that change may be best brought about through direct, personal
effort.”
“I woke you to this?”
“Yes, you woke me to this that first day when you saved me.”
“I suppose you have woken me as well. I did not realize how
I had focused my memories of Papa only upon the most nightmarish aspects at the
end. I forgot the years before. You awoke me from my nightmare of that.” She
sighed. “Oh, David, I cannot promise that I shall ever be comfortable doing as
you do, touring asylums and interacting with the insane like that. I do not
know if I shall ever be as socially facile as you are either. I am, I fear, a
very private person.”
“It will be fine. I love you just as you are. I need you
just as you are.” He bent and kissed her, long and lingering.
When he lifted his head, she stared back at him with eyes as
brilliant blue as the sky above. “I love you too. I have for a very long time
now. I want to entwine my life with yours and my home is wherever you are.”
He cupped her face. “I hear the ‘but’ in your tone. What are
you so worried about?”
“Is our love enough? I don’t want to disappoint you or shame
you or—”
“Listen to me. We’re going to live a very different life
than I have here in London, serving in Parliament. We shall spend much time on
my estate, filling our nursery. And you shall have all the time you need to
write or do anything else that takes your fancy. You shall take things at your
own ability to do so.” He stood and reached a hand down to her. “Come, my love,
it is time we went home.”
* * * *
As she lay on her back, Jeanne closed her eyes and recalled
her first impression of the Elizabethan-style house with its many, large
mullioned windows and stepped gables. They had just arrived a few hours before.
The huge bed rocked. She opened her eyes to meet David’s
clear, emerald eyes as he sat beside her.
“This is no cottage,” she said.
A glimmer of a smile teased at his sensual lips, and from
the window the setting sun shone in blue lights on his coal black hair. He took
her wrists into his hands. “It seems very cozy to me. Believe me, after the
summer at our estate, you shall see it that way too.”
“Our estate?”
“Yes, our estate, my Duchess of Hartley.” He pulled her legs
together and up. Then he took her arms and wrapped them under her thighs and tied
them together with silk rope. It left her cunt exposed and made her feel
confined in a way that caused her heart to race. He traced her outer lips. “How
do you like it?”
“This position?”
“No, I can tell by how wet you are that you like the
position just fine. I want to know if you like this house.”
“I adore it.”
“And I adore you.” He kissed her quickly.
“I adore you too, David.”
“It’s yours, you know.”
“Is it?”
“Yes, it is not entailed. I had the deed changed to your
name about a month ago. You should have something real that you own outright.”
“Thank you, David.”
“My lovely, naughty girl. I have neglected my duties. You’ve
been too long without discipline, eh?” He laid a hearty smack on her bottom. “I
am glad to hear you like this house because I intend to keep you here,
sequestered for the whole month, whilst I tie you up and do all sorts of
wicked, wonderful things to your gorgeous body.”
The End
Author’s Note
The Duke of Hartley and his bill to improve the treatment of
the mentally ill are fictional creations of the author.
About The Author
Natasha Blackthorne writes emotional, evocative, erotic
historical romance featuring non-traditional and unconventional situations. Her
stories are most frequently about the internal journey of the characters as
they learn to open their hearts to love.
Her heroines are not perfect ladies. They are wildflowers and
wallflowers who enjoy flirting with the forbidden. Whether they are bold or shy,
her heroines' strong desires and deep emotions drive the plot and drive their
heroes to the point of no return.
She is married to her own hero and they share their life with
a very quirky calico cat. She holds a BA in History and loves to read, both romance
and scholarly history and listens to a variety of music from classical to
reggae. But mostly she is hard at work researching and writing her next story.
A Measured
Risk by Natasha Blackthorne
A MEASURED RISK features a shy, intellectual, strong-willed
widow with real life curves (Rubenesque/BBW) and a protective, possessive
Dominant, alpha male hero. This is a story of Dominance and submission with
light BDSM, emotional healing, trust and love.
He is her most dangerous temptation and now he is demanding
her submission. Dare she take the risk?
Book one in the Regency Risks Series
Emotionally scarred in the horrific accident that took her
husband's life, Lady Cranfield is imprisoned by her lingering terror of horses
and carriages. She longed to be closer to the fascinating Earl of Ruel. She
sensed intuitively that he could teach her how to overcome the terrors that
held her in bondage.
And now she's willing to risk almost anything-her reputation,
even her virtue-to find out. But what he proposes startles her.
When the shy, studious and socially awkward young widow
approached him, Ruel instantly sensed she would be the sweetest, most
submissive experience of a lifetime-if only he can gain her total and complete
trust. He makes her a non-negotiable offer. His help in return for her
submission and obedience.
But Lady Cranfield grew up neglected by her ducal parents,
raised by servants and then later ignored by her handsome, charming husband.
She's learnt to protect her heart at all costs and she trusts no one but
herself.
How can the jaded Earl of Ruel break through her
self-protective defenses and show her how to love when he has spent his
lifetime avoiding that tender trap?
Reader Advisory: This is a BDSM romance. This book contains
anal sex, spanking, light bondage, D/s themes and brief F/F touching.
This is a work of historical fiction, it is not meant to be
an accurate portrayal of or guide to how people recover from Post Traumatic
Stress Disorder. As a work of historical erotic romance, it is also not
intended to portray modern BDSM or D/s lifestyles.