Forbidden Valentines by Isabella Hargreaves

Author:Isabella Hargreaves
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: lost love, secret valentine, spicy Regency romance, heart-warming Regency romance, Valentine's Day
Publisher: History in Focus
Published: 2016-06-10T04:00:00+00:00

George

13 February 1815

James Marsden, Viscount Carthoy, stood in the dressing room of his Albany Chambers residence. “Help me off with my coat, George. It’s so tight I can’t shrug my shoulders. Weston has outdone himself, but I’m not used to good tailoring anymore after so many years on the Peninsula.”

His dark-haired valet climbed on a chair behind him and tugged at the wide lapels as James attempted to ease the material from his limbs. The coat peeled from his arms and George clattered down from the chair with it in hand.

The valet crossed the dressing room and hung the jacket in the oak wardrobe at its far end. A new hat lay on the upper shelf above a stack of pressed and starched cravats. James’ equally new walking stick snuggled up to his cavalry sword in an elegant stand in the corner.

Returning to normal life in England after so many years in Wellington’s army would involve a lot of changes, not the least of which was his clothing.

James fiddled with his cravat pin, attempting to remove it. George hurried forward and slapped his fumbling hands aside. George’s nimble fingers removed the pin and loosened the neck cloth.

Instead of discarding it on the floor as James himself would have done, George wound it neatly over one small hand until it resembled a bandage, then set it on a neat pile of laundry.

“Our world will change from tomorrow, George. Will you miss army life and our old ways?”

“Oui, I shall miss many things about it. We’ve seen some sights, but I’m not sorry that life is over.”

James held out his arms and George flicked open the waistcoat buttons, then pushed the garment down his shoulders, deftly catching it as it slid from his body.

James stood in his shirtsleeves and breeches while George’s fingers worked on the ties holding his shirt closed at his neckline. The shirt came free and George grasped the material at his waist, jerking it from his breeches before pulling it over his head.

James undid the buttons at his waist and peeled the breeches from his long legs until he stood in just his drawers. George watched him in silence.

James grinned. He loved to tease his valet. He tossed the breeches to George and strode to his hip bath, already full of hot water. There, James stripped off his remaining garment and eased his large form into the water’s soothing embrace. Its warmth caressed his tanned skin.

“George, bring a washcloth and scrub my aching shoulders, please.”

George obliged. For long, sensual minutes, the coarse material rasped James’s skin, then George’s skilled hands kneaded his back. Their trek across that naked, scarred plain soothed his taut muscles, but caused an entirely different response between his legs.

George held out the washcloth and James took the proffered flannel and completed his ablutions.

James tossed the cloth onto the floor and stood in the bath. Water cascaded from his body. “Better than Spain, eh, George?”

George held open a large towel for James to step into, and folded it around his hips.

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