“Think on it, Charlotte. Think how happy we have all been. Tom and Henry carry themselves with a pride they never had before, because Lord Montrose has never condescended to them or made them feel inferior for their handicaps. Katie adores him. Even Artemis has a grudging like of him.” Gwen’s voice became breathless as she chased Charlotte up the stairs. “It wasn’t an accident that I went to his room that night. I wanted him to find the secret door. I wanted him to know to look deeper.”
Charlotte halted on the upper landing, her breath coming in heaving gasps. She spun around. “Beg your pardon?”
Gwen held out a hand and leaned against the railing, catching her breath. “When Tom and Henry told me about the earl, I thought he might be the one. When Katie told me the story about the pitchers, I began to think of how I could be certain. And when I saw your face with its rosy glow and bright eyes, I knew he was the one, and Artemis did, too. Why you cannot see it is beyond me!”
Shocked, Charlotte could say nothing.
“I have admired you for as long as I’ve known you, Charlotte. Please don’t take that away from me.” Gwen moved past her and disappeared around the corner, leaving Charlotte with a tear-ravaged face and far too much to consider.
Charlotte pushed aside the sheer curtain that covered the window and looked out upon the winter scene below. Her heart thrummed a restless rhythm as she watched Hugh and Lucien Remington walk their mounts back to the stables, the horses’ hooves leaving clear tracks in the snow.
As Hugh disappeared from her view, she turned and gazed at the room around her, a room in which she’d spent most of the last twenty-four hours deciding what it was she wished to do with her life. Her trunks were packed and waited by the door. She was leaving today, and once she departed she knew there would be no turning back. However, before that happened, she was willing to make one last, desperate bid.
She’d discovered something about herself over the last sleepless night, something she should have acknowledged long ago—she was a coward, just as Guinevere had said. A coward who was afraid to believe that someone would care for her, worry about her, and wish the best for her. To give control of anything into the keeping of another was difficult for her, a woman who had cared for herself with no assistance almost since birth. But she was a coward who was more afraid of losing Hugh La Coeur forever than she was of placing her fate and the fate of her dependents in his hands.
The hands of the clock on the mantle moved with torturous leisure. It seemed forever before a half hour passed. Once it had, she left her room and traversed the winding hallways until she came to the wing where Hugh’s suite was located. She paused at the door to his room, her hands shaking, her breath coming in unsteady pants. Before she lost her courage, Charlotte reached for the handle and walked right in.
“Go away,” Hugh said curtly. “I didn’t send for anything.”
Her eyes filled with tears at the sound of his voice. She’d missed it, missed the way it spoke to her in the darkness, embracing her as surely as he did. Soft and encouraging, or husky and raw, it had offered her a lifetime of joy, and she’d thrown it away like a fool.
He stood by the window, looking out at the rear lawn. He’d removed his coat and waistcoat, his broad shoulders covered in a white linen shirt, his powerful legs encased in breeches and boots. For a moment she simply absorbed the sight of him—the firm curve of his ass, his wind-tousled hair, the graceful arc of his arm as it held the curtains back. She’d missed him so much, she thought she would die of it. Even now her throat was so tight, she doubted she could speak.
He glanced over his shoulder and froze. For an instant, she glimpsed raw pain in his dark eyes, but it was quickly masked with the studious impassivity of a seasoned gambler. “What do you want?” He looked away.
Charlotte stepped into the room and shut the door behind her. “Lord Merrick has informed me that you’ve arranged for me to travel with him to the West Indies.”
Hugh said nothing.
“He says you’ve paid for my journey and financed an expedition.”
“I told you I would help you without any obligation on your part.” He snorted. “But I suppose with your lack of faith in me, your surprise is to be expected.”
She bit her lower lip and took a moment before she could reply. “I deserved that.”
“Aren’t you departing today?” he asked gruffly.
“Yes. Gwen and I shall be leaving in just a few hours.”
“Godspeed.” He waved his hand over his shoulder in a gesture of dismissal.
Charlotte’s chin lifted. His anger was her due, and she would bear it. She would pay whatever penance he required if he would find it in his heart to love her again.
Taking a deep breath, she stepped closer. “Don’t you wish to say good-bye to me, Hugh?”
“We’ve already done that.”
“’Tis apparent you’ve said farewell, but I haven’t. Not properly.”
That spun him about. He’d removed his cravat, leaving his throat bare and revealing a light dusting of golden hair in the slender opening of his shirt. His gaze raked from the top of her head to her slippered feet. She made no attempt to hide her longing or desire.
He gave a bitter laugh. “Ah, I’m untrustworthy and have no self-restraint, but I can fuck well. What a relief to know I’m good for something.”
Charlotte winced. “You are good for a great many things, Hugh La Coeur. And I am a thousand kinds of fool for making you doubt that.”
His jaw tensed. “I’m not in the mood for your games.”
She stepped close enough to smell him, a rich combination of the scent of his skin, horses, and the wild outdoors. His nostrils flared as she neared; his gaze narrowed.
“I’ve missed you,” she whispered. She reached for his hand, but he backed away quickly, an action she took as a positive sign. He couldn’t be as indifferent as he appeared, or he wouldn’t fear her touch. “I didn’t believe Glenmoore. Not even for a moment. He simply provided the excuse to be a craven I was looking for.”
“Get out,” he snarled.
“I can’t.” She smiled sadly. “I need you, Hugh.”
Shaking his head, he moved away. “No, you don’t. You can care for yourself; you don’t need anyone to rescue you. I, however, have discovered I require being needed. And for more than just my cock.”
She stepped up to him and placed her hand against his back, flexing her fingers to absorb the feel of muscle and sinew beneath the billowing linen of his shirt. He tensed, and she rested her head against him, trusting him silently not to move away, for if he did she would stumble. “I do need you and want you. You’ve no notion of the torment I’ve suffered these last three nights without you. It’s not merely your body I missed. I’ve missed your voice, your laughter, your smile. I cannot go another day without those things in my life.”
“Charlotte.” His voice was a harsh rasp. “Don’t say any more. Just go.”
She wrapped her arms around his lean waist, loving the feel of him. Splaying her hands across his abdomen, she felt the ridges of muscles shift as he groaned. Burying her face in his back, she breathed him in. “I want to link my future with yours, Hugh. I trust you to be the type of man I can depend upon.”
His fingers laced with hers, and then he pulled her hands away, stepping out of her embrace. He turned to face her, his expression cold. “Why are you doing this?”
There was no room left for pride or fear, not any longer. “Because I love you.”
“Your feelings will pass.”
“I don’t want them to pass.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know what more I can say to you.”
Charlotte held out her hands to him. “Tell me you have no tender feelings for me and I’ll leave. I won’t trouble you again.”
There was no hesitation. “I wish you well in your future endeavors, but that is the extent of my interest.”
She winced as his words cut deep. “You’re lying.”
R
esolved, Hugh moved around Charlotte, then through the open doorway to the sitting room. His entire being ached for her and cried out for her touch, but he forced himself to leave her and kept his face impassive. There was too much at stake. She’d abandoned him so easily due to just a few cutting words from a man she despised. Before he risked himself further, he had to know she was sincere. He had to know it wasn’t simply gratitude for his largesse that brought her here, but her love.
He poured himself a drink. And then another. A moment later he felt Charlotte’s tiny hands caressing his back. He closed his eyes as he savored her touch. When her hands cupped his buttocks and squeezed, he reached down and tore open the placket of his breeches, freeing his swollen cock. He took himself in hand and began to stroke, needing to ease his lust before he reached for her.
Three nights he’d spent alone in this suite, knowing she was close, wanting her with a biting, penetrating need. To have her here, just as he’d imagined, was excruciating. His hunger was too powerful, his desire too great. Goaded any further, he couldn’t say if he was capable of even a modicum of control.
“Allow me,” she murmured, her hands reaching around his waist, her pert breasts with their erect nipples pressing into his back. When she circled his cock with both hands and began to pump, his breath hissed out between his teeth, the pleasure searing in its intensity. She rested her cheek against his back. “I’ve missed touching you, holding you.”
“I am the same man I was three days ago,” he growled, his head falling back, his eyes drifting closed.
“Yes,” she whispered. “The man I love.”
His hips began to thrust rhythmically into her talented hands. Charlotte knew just how to hold him, how tightly to grip him, how fast to take him to the ecstasy only she could bestow. He began to pant, the heat of his lust washing over him, bringing him to the edge of reason. His cock swelled, his balls drew up, a tortured groan escaped as he prepared to come . . .
Her movements stilled, and she stepped away just as he was on the verge of release.
“Damn you.” He slammed his glass on the sideboard. Clenching his fists, he couldn’t stop the tremors that shook his frame. “Is your goal in life merely to torment me?”
Charlotte stepped around to face him, her eyes shining like emeralds and burning with desire. “My aim is to comfort you, Hugh, to please and satisfy you, so that I may prove my love and win you back.”
Her hands cupped the edge of the sideboard, and she jumped to sit upon it. Above the scoop of her bodice, the ripe swell of her breasts was flushed and covered with a spattering of reddish freckles he knew intimately, because he’d licked and worshipped every one.
Gripping fistfuls of her skirt, she yanked the hem of her gown upward, the fevered haste of her movements betraying how desperately she desired him. The length of her lithe, stocking-clad legs was revealed to him first, and then she spread her thighs, displaying the deep red curls that sheltered the plump lips of her sex.
Drawn to her, Hugh closed the distance between them, until her soft floral fragrance swirled through his senses with potent familiarity. Charlotte leaned back carefully until her shoulders rested against the wall, angling her hips to give him greater access. Watching his own movements with ravenous hunger and deep adoration, Hugh parted her lips with one hand while rubbing the tiny nub of her clit with the blunt fingertip of the other.
She gasped, and arched her back, thrusting her breasts toward him. Unable to resist, he bent and licked along her slender neck. “Yes . . .” she breathed. “I’ve hungered for the feel of your hands, the warmth of your mouth . . .”
His skin was burning hot and covered with sweat. Hugh could barely think, could hardly breathe. Shifting his hips, he was there, the broad head of his cock covered in her cream. She was so ready, he slipped the first inch inside her without any effort. The tight clasp of her body welcomed him and was nearly the end of him. His breathing harsh and ragged, his fingers digging into her thighs with bruising force, he paused and locked his eyes with hers.
And waited. Even though it was killing him.
Charlotte’s hands moved to his shoulders and then around his neck, her calloused fingers entwining in the hair at his nape. “I belong to you, Hugh. In whatever way you’ll have me.”
His heart stilled before resuming its near-frantic beat, his thighs quivering with the need to fuck her, to claim her, his arms aching to hold her. “Any way?”
“Wife or mistress—I care not. Just don’t send me away. I love you, Hugh.” She pressed her lips to his, and he groaned. “I love you,” she whispered against his mouth, her tears wetting his face and salting her kiss. “I’m so sorry I hurt you. This is so hard for me, to trust someone . . . but I do. I do trust you . . . and I love you so much.”
Covering her mouth with his, he cradled her spine and slid her hips to the edge of the sideboard, dragging the creamy heat of her body over his cock until he was buried inside her. “Damn it,” he breathed, crushing her to him. “I almost thought you wouldn’t come to me. I feared you would go, and I would lose you.”
“Never. Oh, Hugh . . .” Her cunt tightened around him. “Please . . .”
He lifted her and stumbled to the settee, every step nudging him deeper into the wet, clenching heart of her. By the time he sank into the cushions, he was certain he would expire. “Ride me,” he ordered, his hands at her thighs urging her to move.
“Remove your shirt,” she said.
He tore the garment in his haste to be rid of it, and his reward was sweet. Charlotte lifted until he was barely within her and then lowered, encasing him in her silk, her soft whimper of need spurring his ardor. He felt maddened, wild. He wanted to grip her hips and lead the way, plunging into her, until the desperate hunger he felt was thoroughly sated. Instead, he spread his arms and held onto the settee, knowing he was mere moments away from a magnificent orgasm. An orgasm made all the richer by the love of the woman who held him so intimately.
Gripping his shoulders for leverage, Charlotte set a hard, fast rhythm, pounding her lush body onto his cock as if she couldn’t get enough of him. His eyelids grew heavy, the drugging ecstasy tightening every muscle in his body, his fingers holding the wooden rim of the sofa so tightly, he feared it would snap.
“I love you,” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion.
Charlotte faltered.
He didn’t.
Moving quickly, he had her on the rug, her thighs over his, his cock driving deep. His strokes were strong and steady, his gaze locked with rapt attention on her face. Her skin was flushed, her full lips parted, her emerald eyes bright with love. She came on a gasp, her back arching upward, her shivers tightening around his shaft until it became difficult to withdraw, difficult to return, the soft sucking sounds of their lovemaking filling the room along with her cries.
Hugh followed directly, pouring into her, flooding her with his joy and his love in a release so devastating, he knew he would never be the same again.
“You shall marry me, Charlotte.”
“Are you certain? I’m not suitable.”
He snorted. “You are entirely suitable. And marriage has decided benefits you’re failing to consider.”
Charlotte curled into him where they lay on the floor and stroked her hand across his chest. “Such as?”
“The marital bed, for one.”
“Ah, yes, a bed. That would be lovely. Perhaps with marriage, we will make it there more often . . .”
Epilogue
London, August 1815
Sebastian Blake, Earl of Merrick, took the steps of Montrose Hall two at a time. He rapped with the knocker and waited. A moment later the door swung open, and he was faced with a stooped butler sporting the largest eye he’d ever seen in his life. He blinked, quickly comprehending the reason his footman had returned to the carriage in a fright.
“Aye?” the old man queried, in a gravelly voice.
He held out his card. “I’ve come to collect Lord and Lady Montro
se. They are expecting me.”
The butler lifted the card to his oddly protruding eye, squinted at the lettering, and then dropped his hand with a grunt. The servant stepped aside. “Come in, gov’na, and I’ll inform ’is lordship yer ’ere.” He shuffled off, leaving Sebastian to carry his own hat and shut the door himself.
Pausing by an open doorway, the servant gestured wildly and said, “Wait in ’ere.”
Moving into a well-appointed parlor, Sebastian frowned. The Earl and Countess of Montrose never held social functions in their home, which he’d not thought untoward, considering their newly wedded status. The rest of the ton, however, found them mysterious, and their aloofness only fueled the rumors that they ran a bizarre household. The butler was an oddity, to be sure, but . . .
An odd noise caught his ear, and Sebastian cocked a brow as it drew closer and increased in volume.
The next moment a young serving girl appeared in the doorway, her slim arms weighted with a beautiful china tea service that wobbled horrendously. He’d never seen such a spectacle in his life. Every item was jumping and rattling—spoons clinking against each other, cups dancing in their saucers.
Sebastian gaped for a moment and then moved to assist her, shaking his head in wonder. He would remember to speak to Montrose about this later.
He definitely wanted an invitation to dinner.
“The Merrick carriage has arrived,” Charlotte noted, looking down at the front drive from the upper-floor window. A moment later warm arms encircled her waist, and then her husband’s deep voice was purring in her ear.
“Are you still excited?”
“Are you jesting?” She spun in Hugh’s embrace and stared up into his handsome face. “Of course I’m excited.”
“You seem pensive.”
“I miss Gwen,” she said with a sigh. “I know she’s having a wonderful time at the finishing academy, but still . . .”