He didn't laugh with her, just waited. She knew then how much she'd hurt him and her heart ached.

  "I think I'm scared," she whispered.

  Humor flickered in his darkened eyes. "Imagine I'm a wall to climb, love."

  Portia laughed and dashed under the covers. He immediately pulled her crushingly close. "I love you. Deeply, irrevocably. Remember that." He looked into her eyes. "I meant my wedding vows. This is for all time."

  She kissed him. "For all time, this life and after..."

  As they kissed, he eased her on top of him, his hardness nestled between her thighs.

  Portia pulled her mouth free so she could shower kisses all over his face, his neck, his shoulders. "I love you, too. I'll try not to be so rash."

  His touch was gentle, cherishing skill. "Oh, some forms of rashness I like," he teased.

  She grinned and twisted to delve beneath the covers and assault the River Thames, but he seized her. "No, not today. This is our marriage bed, and today is for simple love. No tricks, no cleverness, just you and me in blessed harmony."

  Even in her inexperience, she could tell his touch was just that—an expression of love, not an attempt to dominate her senses. Portia allowed herself to do the same. She explored his body with no intent other than to satisfy her desire to know, her need to touch him—learn him—with mouth, hands, and every portion of her skin.

  She pushed back the covers so that her eyes, too, could feast. "You are so beautiful."

  "As are you." His lips played on her breast, and she stilled to take in the pleasure he could bring.

  "That feels wonderful," she murmured.

  "Mmmmmm."

  She was laughing when he sucked, and the sweet pleasure became wild. Portia squeaked, then stopped the noise.

  He grinned at her. "Just one squeak? Surely we can do better than that."

  And he proved he could.

  "What if someone hears?" Portia gasped.

  "You'll be supporting my reputation as a mythic lover."

  "What?"

  "Our demonstration at Mirabelle's was much admired. I had to marry to avoid a pack of salivating ladies."

  Portia had other questions, but he was demonstrating that he could raise wild cries by touch as well as mouth. "This isn't fair," she gasped, her body dancing beneath to his tune. "I want to do this to you."

  He smiled into her eyes, his own dark, his cheeks touched with the color of desire. "You will. If you don't discover how by natural genius, I'll teach you. But let me pleasure you now, love. I've never done this before—lain with a beloved in innocent joy and trust." His hand slid firm between her thighs. "Rise up my beloved, and open to me. And that," he added with a smile, "is almost from the Bible, too."

  So Portia did rise up and open to him, closing her eyes to savor his skillful touch, then the blessed relief when he slid in to ease her desire. He was slow this time, so slow she moved restlessly to meet him, to hasten their joining.

  "Open your eyes, love," he whispered.

  She did, and gazed breathlessly at him as he filled her with heat and power.

  "To think I could have lived my life without this," he murmured and moved subtly in a way that made her gasp.

  "Exactly what I was thinking," she said. "But with even greater fervor."

  They burst into laughter as he moved in her, and the laughter blended with their release, so they rolled together afterward, still chuckling as they kissed with joy.

  Epilogue

  "So, the canal will go through to the Mersey, Francis?" Bryght poured coffee for the duke, who had just arrived at Candleford Park, which lay some four miles west of Winchester.

  "Aye," said Bridgewater with satisfaction. "But it was a devil of a trial to get the Bills passed and the money raised, particularly when Walgrave took a hand."

  "My fault, that. He'd not have interfered if I hadn't been involved."

  It balanced out, for it brought Rothgar in. I'm still not sure why he took such an interest, but I'm grateful."

  "It became a family affair. But when do we see some profit for all our efforts?"

  Bridgewater laughed. "Well, that's another matter. I'm so sunk it debt it's ceased to worry me. I'm glad you weren't tempted to sink your windfall into my business though. Candleford is a prime estate, and it suits you."

  "Like a new coat?" Bryght queried.

  "Perhaps. You certainly look comfortable enough in it. I can't wait to meet my godson. He must be beyond lying still and blowing bubbles by now."

  "He's assuredly that. He is nearly two years old, Francis."

  "Is it so long? Damme, in that time we should have made further progress with the canal."

  Bryght laughed and then heard other laughter. He went to the bay window that looked out over the mellow lawns of Candleford, lawns dotted with spreading trees, and scattered with small daisies. Francis followed him.

  Zeno came to rise up by Bryght's side, and gave a plaintive woof.

  "Yes," said Bryght, ruffling the dog's fur. "It is certainly our duty to go and make sure they are safe. Come along, Francis, and meet your godson and namesake."

  For out on the lawns Portia ran laughing through the sun, hair escaping its pins, pursuing a merry, twinkle-legged lad with the same bright curls.

  The End

  Want more from Jo Beverley?

  Page forward for a special

  Author Note about the Malloren World

  Followed by an excerpt from

  AN ARRANGED MARRIAGE

  The Company of Rogues Series

  Book One

  Author's Note

  Tempting Fortune is about gambling—risk taking—with money, with property, and with lives. It is a suitable theme for the mid-eighteenth century when a seething love of risk consumed everyone. Its most obvious feature was the high-stakes gaming that absorbed so many people, but it also led to the decadent abuse of drugs, alcohol, and sex, and to the exhilarated exploration of new philosophies, technologies, and lands.

  To the visionaries of this time nothing seemed impossible, and they had no doubt that the new would be wonderful. They had not learned as we have that progress inevitably brings costs. Or perhaps they simply did not care.

  The Duke of Bridgewater was such a visionary.

  It is hard to tell now what drove Bridgewater, though the fact that he had grown up a sickly youth called the Poor Duke may have spurred him on to success. Love certainly had something to do with it, however, for it was after his betrothed wife jilted him that he devoted all his energies to construction.

  Elizabeth, Duchess of Hamilton, was one of the famous Gunning sisters who took London by storm in the 1750s. As with modern pop stars, people couldn't get enough of them. When they walked the streets of London, the king had to order out an escort of the Guards to keep back the adoring crowds.

  Maria, the elder sister, married Lord Coventry but died young, poisoned by the lead in the makeup she wore to make her beautiful face fashionable pale. Apparently her poor husband, knowing the dangers, scrubbed the stuff off her whenever he saw it.

  Elizabeth married the dissolute Duke of Hamilton but was soon left a rich widow. Bridgewater, just back from his Grand Tour and still a young man, fell deeply in love, proposed, and was accepted. Elizabeth, however, changed her mind and married a Colonel Campbell, who would one day be the Duke of Argyll.

  Thus, Elizabeth Gunning married two dukes and jilted a third. In time she was the mother of four.

  After this blow, Bridgewater turned his back on Society and matrimony and became entranced with canals.

  Like many great events in history, the Bridgewater Canal came about almost by accident. The duke owned a coal mine in Lancashire, but it was in a poor location and transportation costs made the mine unprofitable. He came up with the idea of using the drainage channel from his mine to float the coal along part of its journey.

  This worked so well that he decided to send the coal by water all the way to Manchester. Manchester was a new city, growing rapidly as the spinning and weaving of cotton became an industry. Development there was being held back only by the high price of coal. If the duke could get his coal there at reasonable cost, he'd make a killing.

  Bridgewater's original plan was merely to link up with an established river-route which used the rivers Irwell and Mersey. The Mersey and Irwell Navigation Company, however, thought they had a monopoly and demanded an extortionate rate to use their system. That pushed Bridgewater into taking the bold leap and planning a canal all the way to Manchester. There was one obvious problem, however. The River Irwell was in his way.

  So he decided to build an aqueduct to carry his canal over his competitors' river.

  Nearly everyone thought him mad. No one had constructed a canal in England since Roman times; there had never been an aqueduct in England; and his engineers—Brindley and Gilbert—were largely self-taught. He couldn't find many investors. But Bridgewater at only twenty-four proved determined. When he couldn't raise money by other means, he sold or mortgaged just about everything he owned and went around soliciting small loans from anyone with money to spare.

  Money, however, wasn't his only problem. Canal construction required acts of Parliament for each stage, and those proved hard to get. Many MPs regularly sold their vote to the highest bidder. Others believed canals would ruin the countryside. In addition, there were honest doubters who thought the plans, particularly that for the aqueduct, simply could not work. In order to persuade the committee of Parliament to approve the act permitting the aqueduct, Brindley had to build a working model in front of them.

  And after all that, the real one began to fail as the first water ran through it. It was a minor flaw, fortunately, and the engineers fixed it, working without sophisticated plans, almost by string and sealing wax. Soon people were making special trips to see this modern marvel, to watch ships seem to sail through the air.

  And beneath, the proprietors of the Mersey and Irwell Navigation Company gnashed their teeth and feared the future.

  Though there were many years of struggle still ahead for Bridgewater, it was the beginning of a new age, the new age Bryght foresees. By the end of the century, England was crisscrossed by canals facilitating rapid industrial expansion. England was poised for the Victorian age, when it would be the richest and most powerful nation on earth.

  The result of all this was to make the Duke of Bridgewater an extremely wealthy man by the time he died, still unmarried, in 1803. The profit from his coal mines had risen from £406 per annum at the time of this book, to £48,000 at the time of his death. In addition, he had the income from fees for the use of his canals, and from many other ventures such as land purchased on the new dockland in Liverpool. I'm sure Bryght became just as rich in the process, but great wealth was never really his motivation. It was the fascination of new opportunities and ideas that stirred him.

  You may have noticed that in this book I have used precise figures for many costs. Such things fascinate me. In a time when a workingman was pleased to get a shilling a day, a gamester could lose a hundred guineas and hardly notice it. A man like Prestonly could lose ten thousand and shrug it off.

  The value of money is never simply a matter of how many shillings in a guinea. (Twenty-one, by the way.)

  I hope you enjoyed Tempting Fortune. It is the second of a series of books about the Mallorens, which continued into what I call the Malloren World. They are all available in print and e-book.

  The first in the series was My Lady Notorious, about Bryght's youngest brother, Captain Lord Cynric Malloren (Elf's twin), and Chastity Ware, Fort Ware's sister. This novel won a prestigious RITA Award.

  The rest, in order, are:

  Something Wicked

  Secrets of the Night

  Devilish (RITA Winner)

  Winter Fire

  A Most Unsuitable Man

  A Lady's Secret

  The Secret Wedding

  The Secret Duke

  An Unlikely Countess

  A Scandalous Countess

  Seduction in Silk

  Dare to Kiss ( A Novella)

  Thanks for enjoying Tempting Fortune. May you, too, find happiness and a place in the sun.

  Jo Beverley

  www.jobev.com

  Page forward and continue your journey

  with an excerpt from

  AN ARRANGED MARRIAGE

  The Company of Rogues Series

  Book One

  Excerpt from

  An Arranged Marriage

  The Company of Rogues

  Book One

  by

  Jo Beverley

  New York Times & USA Today

  Bestselling Author

  AN ARRANGED MARRIAGE

  Awards & Accolades

  Best Regency Novel, Romantic Times

  RITA, finalist

  Bookrak Bestseller

  "A splendid love story.... This immensely appealing pair of lovers will utterly captivate readers, while Ms. Beverley's commanding ease with the Regency period provides a veritable feast of delight for the true connoisseur. Bravo!"

  ~Romantic Times

  Nicholas has arranged for his friends, the Company of Rogues, to keep Eleanor company, but when she holds a small party, he attends to keep up appearances...

  Eleanor was pleased to see Nicholas exerting his charm to secure the success of the event, but this also led to bitterness. If he can turn it on and off so easily, she thought, why can't he turn it on for me now and then? She was amused by Peter"s jealous care of Amy until she compared it to Nicholas's casual regard of herself.

  Lord Middlethorpe, standing beside her, said, "Now what in the sight of those sickening young lovers can be making you look so sad?"

  "I'm just worrying about arrangements. This is my first real party, you know."

  But he shook his head. "Won't do, Eleanor. May I try my hand at mind-reading? You were looking at Peter and Amy and wishing Nicholas was hovering over you in the same way."

  She knew she had colored and did not attempt to deny it.

  "He wouldn't be a very good host if he did that, you know. And perhaps he trusts you rather more than Peter appears to trust Amy."

  Eleanor was betrayed into bitter speech. "He wouldn't care, I dare say, if I were to throw myself into another man's arms."

  Surprisingly, Lord Middlethorpe laughed. "You obviously don't know Nicholas, even yet." He looked at her thoughtfully. "Jealousy is a not very attractive reflection of possessiveness, but would it make you happy if he were jealous?"

  "Francis, this is most improper, and very silly. I can't...." Under his gently insistent look she said, "Yes. Yes, it would."

  "Come then," he said and held out his arm. "Show me some particular book in the library."

  Eleanor looked over at her oblivious husband then put her hand on Lord Middlethorpe's arm and allowed him to lead her from the room. "You expect him to come after us? I doubt he will even notice I have left the room, never mind who with."

  "I, however, know I am taking my life in my hands."

  His sensitive eyes reflected all his concern for her. Why was she surrounded by care from everyone except the one....

  "Cheer up, or you'll have me thinking I am very poor company."

  As they entered the darkened library Eleanor said, "Indeed you are not. I don't know what I would do without your friendship, Francis."

  He lit the candles with a taper from the low fire and looked around. "Well, which book are you so anxious to share with me?"

  Eleanor shrugged, and took up the folder of Chinese prints. "Have you seen these? They are exquisite."

  He turned the sheets carefully. "Very fine. I have some similar but none as delicate as these."

  Eleanor relaxed as usual into the pleasure of his company. They were studying the prints, Eleanor seated and Francis leaning over her shoulder, when the door opened and Nicholas entered. He closed the door quietly behind him.

  Eleanor blushed, and Francis smiled.

  Nicholas could not be said to be angry, and yet there had been a flash in his eyes when he first entered. Eleanor had to force herself not to leap to her feet and stammer out excuses.

  He strolled over to the table. "You are admiring these? I think we should have them mounted."

  "Yes," Francis replied, in an equally light tone. "A shame to hide them, but be careful the light does not spoil them. Treasures need to be cherished." He quietly left the room.

  At the click of the door Eleanor looked up in alarm. Nicholas was studying her with careful attention.

  "Has something in particular upset you?" They both knew he was not referring to the state of their marriage.

  "No, nothing at all," she said hurriedly. "We must go back. It does not do for us both to be neglecting our guests."

  "I think everyone is quite content for the moment."

  He perched on the corner of the table beside her chair. It was a more intimate situation than any they had been in for weeks. Idly, he twirled one of her curls around his finger.

  She found she could not look at him.

  His voice came softly in the quiet room. "You are being very brave and very careful, Eleanor. You cannot know how grateful I am."

  There was a magic in the moment, but it evaporated when she remembered what he was doing with the time she was so generously allowing him. She was trying, head still lowered, to decide on her response when he spoke again.

  "Would it help to know that I am finding this time as difficult as you? And, I suspect, for many of the same reasons."

  Surprised, she responded with a slight nod, anger melting into swallowed tears, equal parts grief and happiness. She did not understand what he was saying but his tone of deep concern was balm for her pride. At least he felt something for her.

  But then he stood up abruptly, facing away from her. His voice was rough as he said, "I cannot explain things, Eleanor, and believe me, it wouldn't help if I could. Come, we must go back."

 

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