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21.1.08

To Regency or not to Regency by Emma Wildes


To Regency or not to Regency…from Emma Wildes

Sex: Is it polite, or improper? Hmm. That is a question, isn’t it?

My answer is, well, I think it can be deliciously both. Not everyone is a historical fan but the sentiment transcends time. Man meets woman and determines to have her. Or (more likely, because they haven’t a clue) woman meets man and determines to have him. Sparks fly, propriety goes out the window, and let’s face it, in bed there is no rank, no title, no social status.

There’s nothing like a little intrigue to get a romance going.

I write a lot of different genres but this remains my favorite. Maybe because the difference of what happens in the bedroom and what is the protocol out of it is so dynamtic.

So, well, read on:

Less Than Honourable by Emma Wildes. Unedited excerpt:

The ball flew across the lawn and landed in the pond amidst shrieks of laughter. From the terrace overlooking the rolling lawn, Jason Culver, the eighth Marquess of Romley, watched as his young son attempted to dive in fearlessly to retrieve it, captured at the last second by his attentive nanny. Miss Alton carried him a safe distance from the water, set him on the grass and ruffled his dark curls in a reassuring gesture. She proceeded to remove her shoes and stockings and lift her skirts to reveal dainty ankles and smooth calves and waded in to get the errant ball herself.
Fascinating.
“Is it too early for a brandy?”
Sprawled in a chair by an ornate iron table topped with glass, Jason glanced up and saw his younger brother stroll across the flagstones. Vincent expertly balanced two glasses in one hand and held the decanter in the other, a talent that undoubtedly came from much practice.
Dryly, Jason acknowledged, “You must have read my mind. Actually, I was rather thinking I could use a stiff drink. Good afternoon, Vince. It’s a lovely day, isn’t it?”
“It is indeed, but it isn’t like you to notice the weather.” Vincent dropped into a chair and poured amber liquid into two glasses. “Usually you stay cooped up in your study all day.”
“I’m just taking a small break. You always harp at me that I work too hard, so here I am, enjoying a few minutes of leisure while I watch the children play in the sunshine.”
Only a year apart in age, they knew each other very well. Vincent’s eyes narrowed at his sharp tone and he took a small sip of his brandy. “Don’t get defensive. I know managing your different financial interests takes a lot of time and I do think you work at it at little too diligently. I’ve said so many times. My observation was not a criticism. Why would I object in any way to you sitting in the sun for a few minutes?”
Bloody hell, he had sounded defensive, and that would never do. Jason idly lifted his drink in an effort to seem nonchalant. “Sorry if I sounded edgy.”
His brother lifted a dark brow. “Can I venture a guess as to what might be the cause of both your current state of tension and your presence here on the terrace?” His gaze went pointedly to where Miss Alton stood in attendance as both boys, Trevor, who was four, and, Carlton, a year younger, wrestled in the grass. Nearby, Patricia sat on a blanket with her doll and miniature tea set, her long dark hair drawn neatly back in a bow and her pink ruffled dress primly around her.
His daughter, at seven, was at least sweet-tempered, where as the two boys were positive hellions. Jason had no idea how the remarkable Miss Alton managed to keep them from constantly damaging each other and everything else in their path.
He was very lucky she applied for the position, even if it had plunged him into a small personal hell.
“No,” he said, lifting his glass to his mouth, and murmuring over the rim, “you may not venture a guess.”
Predictably, Vincent ignored him. Sinking lower in his chair and crossing his booted feet carelessly at the ankle, he watched as the young woman in question separated the two boys and distracted them by tossing the wet ball across the lawn. “She’s very competent.”
“Yes.” Jason couldn’t argue that.
“And damned beautiful.”
Unfortunately he couldn’t argue with that either. “Yes.”
“I thought you might have noticed.” Vincent rubbed his lean jaw and said thoughtfully, “Rarely do you see women that slender with such full breasts. Her hair also, is such an unusual color, not blond and not red, but something in between. Throw in that creamy skin and those beautiful blue eyes—”
“I doubt somehow she would appreciate us sitting here analyzing her physical attributes.”
“I was being complimentary.”
Vincent’s smile was intended to be innocent, but since Jason knew full well when it came to women his sibling was less than angelic, he gave him a sour look. “I doubt somehow she would feel that way if she knew you pointed out the size of her breasts.”
“Like you haven’t already noticed. Let’s face it, Jason, you want to fuck her.”
“That’s enough, Vince.”
“Don’t you?” His brother’s grin was unrepentant over the crude word.
He did, that was the problem. Fantasies about being between those long lovely legs he glimpsed just a few minutes ago kept him awake at night. Jason pictured her glorious breasts his hands, her nipples in his mouth, his cock buried deep inside delicious wet heat as he moved in long, hard thrusts…
Jason growled, “For God’s sake we are talking about my children’s nanny. An innocent young woman living in my household, essentially under my protection. The subject is closed.”
“Although she’s properly deferential and demure, she looks at you the same damned way, if you haven’t noticed. You’ve lived like a monk since Sarah died three years ago. It’s no wonder you’re tense as a bowstring since the arrival of our beauteous nanny.”
“I’m not tense,” he snapped.
Vincent chuckled. “No, not at all.”
“Did I ask for this lecture?” Jason finished his brandy and immediately reached for the decanter. “And even if I am tense, there’s not a damned thing I can do about it.”
“There certainly is.”
“Are you advising me to seduce the undoubtedly pure Miss Alton?”
Vincent looked over to where she chased the two boys, laughing, her gold-red hair shining in the afternoon sun. “You be a damned fool if you didn’t, brother.”

http://www.emmawildes.com/


http://www.emmawildes.com/

4 comments:

lyntaylor said...

Oh I love a good regency Emma! I think the contrast between social etiquette of the time and what happens in the bedroom is so dynamic.

Summer Jordan said...

Lovely story, Emma! I'm not a regency readers, usually, but you could make one of me.

Lisabet Sarai said...

You've hit the nail on the head, Emma. The gap between desire and propriety generates a huge amount of sexual and emotional tension. Consider a contemporary scenario. Woman meets man in a bar; half an hour later they are going at it in some dark alley. This could be excitingly told, but it would be neither shocking nor surprising. In a Regency, the social obstacles preclude immediate fulfillment. As a result, the tension builds to fever pitch before it can be satisfied.

Then there's the costumes! Even the clothing becomes an obstacle.

danetteb said...

Regency is a seductive genre. The Duke's remind me of alpha werewolves and I agree all that clothing for a lady makes for some hot scenes.