by Diana Quincy
Charlotte rarely noticed clothes, but even she could see Miss Selwyn wore the most exquisite riding habit with its delicate clinging fabric the color of a soft blue sky, embroidered cuffs and a rich lace accentuating the neck line. The matching hat was made of silk and adorned with feathers. Charlotte ruefully glanced down at her own simple riding apparel—plain white shirt and skirt, suspenders, and her red spencer.
It didn’t surprise her that, before long, Margaret and Cam were riding side by side. Tossing her blond locks, Selwyn’s sister laughed in dulcet tones at something Cam said. It didn’t help matters that the stylish beauty also gave every appearance of being a skilled rider. Fortunately, the gentlemen seemed to pay her little attention. They challenged each other to race, joking and taunting each other as they must have when they were at university together. Charlotte smiled at their camaraderie. How fortunate men were to be able to go away to be educated.
They engaged in a series of jumps, and, like Charlotte, Miss Selwyn held her own in the sidesaddle. She laughed easily when the men exchanged good-natured insults, joining in with their banter, her calculating eyes twinkling in Cam’s direction in a way that prompted Charlotte’s belly to simmer with envy.
Selwyn pulled his mount up alongside hers. “You seem lost in thought.”
“I was just ruminating over my latest essay,” she lied. “If I do not focus on it, I fear it will be late getting to the publisher.” At least that last part was true enough.
“As a great admirer of your work, I look forward to reading it.”
“Why, thank you,” she said, genuinely pleased by the compliment. “Some would say I am far too radical.”
“Miss Livingston, I am sure those who say such things are from the peerage.” He placed his hand on his chest. “I am not a gentleman. My family has done very well for itself, but I continue to be aware of the difficulties faced by the operative class.”
Charlotte smiled, thinking of how much she liked Selwyn’s warmth and friendly manner. “You are more of a gentleman than many who are born to it.”
Her horse pranced. Selwyn’s hand shot out to steady Flame, and then he snatched his hand back, apparently fearing he’d overstepped. “I do beg your pardon.”
She reached over and patted his arm. “Please, it is nothing. No harm done.”
His jaw relaxed. “I am used to riding with my sister. She has only recently learned to ride. She was determined to do it well. I have often reached over to steady her mount.” He gave her a rueful look. “I suppose it is the older brother in me.”
“She is most fortunate to have you as her protector.” Charlotte’s horse pranced again, snorting from its nostrils. “My mare is eager for a run. Would you care for a quick turn? Say to that old tree stump and back?”
He smiled at the challenge. “Indeed. Lead on, Miss Livingston.”
…
Sounds of their laughter filled the air as Charlotte and Selwyn spurred their mounts forward. His nostrils flaring, Cam stared hard at the two retreating riders. The way Charlotte had touched Selwyn’s arm had not escaped his notice.
A gentle feminine cough demanded his attention. He dragged his eyes from Charlotte and Selwyn to find Margaret at his side. Once he took notice of her presence, she smiled radiantly. “I see you are an even finer rider than when you graced us at Richmond, my lord.”
“I’m astonished by your considerable riding skills, Miss Selwyn.” He forced himself not to steal a look in Charlotte’s direction. “As I recall, you had a fear of riding and rarely indulged.”
“You’ve discovered my secret. I was so moved by your devotion to the sport.” She reached over to stroke her steed’s neck, moving her delicate gloved hand in slow up-and-down motions. “I have practiced daily for the last three years as I knew you would appreciate a woman of great skill when it comes to being mounted.”
Cam’s brows raised a fraction, confusion clouded his brain. Had she intended the rather scandalous double entendre or was it the innocent remark of an inexperienced young lady? Even the manner in which she stroked her horse seemed suggestive. He pushed the unfathomable notion out of his head. The young woman he remembered was an innocent. She had, however, also been calculating and ambitious, even at such a tender age. He’d learned that the hard way.
“Bravo, Miss Selwyn.” Anxious to be away from her, he searched for Charlotte and found her serious gaze fixed on them. She met his eyes and cocked an eyebrow before turning away and spurring her horse into a gallop.
Cam grinned, his loins stirring. Now seemed like an excellent time to employ a bit of seduction. “If you’ll excuse me.” He urged his mount to follow after her. The stallion’s hooves pounded the ground, easily catching up with her mare. He cantered alongside Charlotte for several strides until he realized she had no intention of slowing down. Pulled out in front, he turned his stallion into the path of her horse, forcing Charlotte to slow down and ultimately come to a stop.
“What is the matter with you?” Charlotte said sharply as she brought the mare under control. “Are you trying to get me thrown again?”
He gave her a sly, playful smile. “What was that look for?”
“What look?”
“The one you threw my way when I was talking to Miss Selwyn.” He reached over and brushed a finger over her brow. “The arched brow and all.”
“Oh, that,” she said in a dismissive tone, sliding off her horse. “I could not help but notice she seems enthralled with you.”
Cam dismounted in one smooth motion, his mouth widening into a delighted grin. “Do I detect jealousy, Charlotte?”
She looked at him with unsmiling eyes. “Perhaps.”
Emotion tugged in his chest. This was the Charlotte he found hard to resist, the one who told the truth. His grin vanished. “You have no reason to be.”
Her eyes glistened as she forced an uneven smile. “I have no right to be. I am well aware of that. Still, I should not like to witness your courting another woman.” She stroked her horse’s neck. “If it were not for Willa’s babe, I would remove to Shellborne Manor and leave you to court Miss Selwyn.”
Cam’s heart winced at the deep pain in her sky-colored eyes. He resolved to hurry the seduction to spare his beloved any more distress. Her brother, Shellborne, needed to be on hand when Cam made his move. He made a mental note to ask Willa to invite the baron down for a few days. To Charlotte, he said, “I have no intention of courting Miss Selwyn.”
She turned to walk, holding her mount’s reins as the animal followed behind her. “Why ever not? She would make a perfect marchioness, an ideal political wife.”
Cam followed. “And what of her brother?” he asked, unable to tap down his jealousy. “Would he make an ideal husband?”
She frowned. “Do not be absurd.”
“You seem to enjoy his company.”
“As do we all. He is all that is amiable.” Her tone grew grave. “As is his sister.”
He watched her walk on ahead, taking in the simple brown riding skirt and white shirt with suspenders she usually favored. Her snug red riding jacket hugged her breasts, its scooped neckline and buttons emphasizing her gentle curves. He caught up with her after a few quick strides. “Margaret Selwyn is not you.”
“On that we agree. She is lovely.”
He came to an abrupt stop and faced her. The last thing he cared to discuss was either of the Selwyns. Instead, wanting her to remember the indefatigable heat between them, he asked her the question which had nagged him for weeks.
“Charlotte, tell me about that night you came upon me with Maria Fitzharding. How did you feel when you saw us together?”
Her brows lowered. “Why in the world would you bring this up now?”
“I have often wondered.”
Charlotte took a deep breath. “I was jealous of her.”
“Jealous?”
She looked straight at him with clear blue eyes. “I envied her ability to give you pleasure. And I thought you were beautiful. I
still think you are the most beautiful man I have ever seen.”
Cam forgot to breathe. He gaped at Charlotte, taking in the endless pools of her eyes and her flushed cheeks. His body pounded with hunger, his man parts burning for her. He reached out but she stepped away, using a large rock to mount her horse in one easy motion. In a swift moment, she was galloping back to join the others, leaving a stunned Cam behind, struggling to control his inflamed body.
He forced several deep breaths to calm the painfully urgent throbbing between his legs. Good Lord. He’d end up a bedlamite for certain if he didn’t manage to seduce her soon.
…
“It is breathtaking.” Charlotte looked in wonder at the ruins of the old abbey where the group would picnic today. They wandered near the ruins for a closer inspection while the servants set up the meal. The agreeable summer day seemed perfect for an outdoor luncheon.
She looked at what remained of the ancient structure. Much of the old gray masonry had been stolen away over the years, but a lone tower remained intact for the most part, surging majestically against the lush serene landscape.
Hartwell followed her gaze. “The monks are said to have chosen this spot for its calm and solitude.”
“I can see not much has changed,” said Hugh Livingston, swatting a fly away. Her brother’s florid cheeks were even redder than usual and his face glistened with moisture. Poor Hugh. He did seem to perspire an awful lot. She wondered why Willa had unexpectedly invited him to Fairview for a fortnight. He’d arrived yesterday, thrilled to be included in the intimate ducal gathering.
Her thoughts were distracted when Cam’s arm shot out to steady Miss Selwyn, who still managed to look graceful while staggering on the old abbey’s uneven surfaces.
Clutching his arm, she favored Cam with a grateful smile. “Oh, thank you, my lord,” she said, her voice more breathless than usual. Cam returned the smile not seeming to mind that Miss Selwyn kept grasping this arm while the group continued its exploration. Her loss of footing seemed more strategic than accidental. In the week since her arrival, the lady seemed to make a habit of being stuck to Cam’s side.
Charlotte turned her attention back to the abbey, running her hand over what remained of the depleted stone wall. “Just look at the stone work. It is so ornate.” She bent her head to examine the intricate details. “What is this?” She pointed to some indecipherable marks etched into the floor.
“I see you have found our local mystery.” Hartwell came over, with the rest of the group following. “This is the church floor. No one has been able to determine what these markings were meant to signify.”
“How long has this been here?” asked Selwyn.
The duke ran his hands over the stone. “The abbey has stood for more than 430 years. The monks lived here undisturbed for about two hundred years.”
Cam sauntered over, mischief lighting his eyes in a way that made Charlotte’s stomach flip. “Until your ancestors tossed them out?”
“This land passed into the Preston family when the Hartwell dukedom was created just under 215 years ago.”
“What became of the monks?” asked Miss Selwyn, who of course, had followed Cam over. She tossed a quick glance Cam’s way, her dainty forehead wrinkled with interest.
Charlotte could not help but admire the performance. Miss Selwyn was smart enough not to act the fool with Cam, having apparently deduced the marquess preferred a female of some substance. As far as Charlotte could tell, Cam’s behavior towards Miss Selwyn seemed unchanged. He maintained a polite distance but he was a man after all. And a virile one at that. Her stomach knotted. Cam might not be interested in courting the lady as of yet, but surely it was only a matter of time before he succumbed to her abundant charms.
“Are you an admirer of history, Miss Livingston?” Selwyn knelt beside Charlotte to examine the etchings on the floor.
“Yes, I find it fascinating,” she said, grateful for the distraction. “To think of the people who walked here before us. I wonder what they thought and how they truly lived.” She looked up at him and smiled. “No doubt you think me a boring bluestocking.”
Rising, he offered his hand to help her stand. “I could never think you boring, Miss Livingston.” He gave her a kindly look. “Indeed, your mind always seems to be at work. Whether you are thinking about your writings or contemplating the meaning of history.”
“You are not scandalized that I am not interested in the latest color of ribbon in the village store or latest fashion plates?”
He answered with an appreciative laugh as they continued to explore the ruins together. After a while, they were joined by some of the others. Anxious to examine the tower up close, Charlotte wandered away from the group. She walked through the arched entryway and into the tower. The interior was small and hollow, opening up to the other side.
She walked through and almost bumped into Cam, who leaned up against the outside wall with his hips thrust forward and his legs apart. He wore his well-worn brown Hessians and the weathered leather breeches that outlined the firm lines of his thighs. Flashing Charlotte a cocky smile, he pulled her beside him and out of the view of the rest of their party.
“Whatever are you doing?” she asked trying to ignore the way his familiar masculine smell quickened her pulse.
The sun shone through his unruly golden mane. He winked at her. “I am hiding from the lovely Miss Selwyn.”
Charlotte’s heart soared, but she forced herself to look at him with false indifference. “I do not understand your continued reluctance. Miss Selwyn is lovely and she does seem quite taken with you.”
“Do you think so?”
“Yes, and she’s dainty and pleasingly formed,” she said, making a barely veiled reference to Margaret’s generous curves.
“Hmm. I find I prefer a woman of stature.” Cam’s flashing amber eyes slid down Charlotte’s body, warming her all the way down to her toes. “As to curves, I prefer the mystery of discovering them for myself, rather than having them on display for every man to see.” They stood side by side against the wall, but Cam spun around to face her, his body coming to a stop inches from hers. She pressed back against the wall, her heart fluttering as his long fingers came up to toy with the top of her bodice.
She caught her breath. “What are you doing?”
“You began this conversation.” His gaze remained on the movement of his fingers. “I am merely replying to your inquiry.” His fingers feathered over the sensitive, exposed skin on the upper swells of her breasts, making her nerves frolic under his touch. “A gentlewoman blessed with quiet curves has secrets of the flesh known only to her husband. How fortunate for him that he alone of the male species will ever see her thus.” He bent to put his lips at the sensitive spot where her neck met the smooth curve of her shoulder and sucked lightly.
She gasped at the delicious sensation. Her reckless hand crept up to caress the thick strands of Cam’s hair as his lips blazed a hot path up her neck to her earlobe.
“Only he will have the privilege of uncovering every soft curve, each sensitive spot.” Cam’s warm breath tickled her ear. She trembled at the subtle flick of his tongue. “And he should honor that privilege and treat it with the extreme care and delicacy it deserves.”
Heat rose in her body. She closed her eyes, savoring his touch and smell, waiting to feel his lips on hers. She should run of course, but she had no defenses against Cam’s enticements. And he knew it. “Surely, you can’t still think to seduce me.”
“If you can’t tell for certain”—he nibbled the sensitive skin at her neck—“then clearly my technique needs improvement.”
She shivered with pleasure. If his technique got any better, she was liable to burst into a ball of flames.
It felt like forever before the smooth brush of his mouth settled on hers. He kissed her gently at first, soft, languorous lips moving over hers. She sighed when he intensified the kiss, his tongue coming in to mate with hers, stroking deeply. She felt the love in
his kiss and could not help but return it. Urgency burning in her, she opened her mouth more fully, welcoming his attentions. A satisfied groan sounded in Cam’s throat.
A voice rang out. Charlotte realized someone was calling out their names. “It is time to eat,” she heard herself say, pulling away. Her heart leapt at the look of raw desire she saw in his eyes, but he made no move to stop her. Her pulse still pounding, she willed her shaky legs to stay firm enough to carry her back to the group.
Rejoining the others, Charlotte sank down in a spot next to Selwyn, hoping no one would notice how her body still strummed from his touch. Cam ambled up a few minutes later, barely suppressing a frown when he saw her sitting next to Selwyn. With a jaunty smile, he settled himself on her other side.
Miss Selwyn, who watched his approach, smiled warmly at Cam. Then her cool grey gaze slithered over to Charlotte and rested there for a moment.
…
“Wellington has crossed the Pyrenees. It won’t be long now before the allies reach Paris.” The duke lounged in his chair, his long legs propped up on another chair. Selwyn and Cam joined him on the terrace for after-dinner port and cheroots. A lazy summer breeze wafted over them, carrying the sweet-and-spicy floral scents from the gardens.
Cam sprawled in his chair. “I shall be happy when this bloody war on the Peninsula is over.”
“Where is your brother these days, Cam? Do you hear from him?” asked Selwyn. He sat in a less relaxed fashion than the other two men, leaning forward at the table propping his elbows on it.
“Not overmuch.” Staring into the darkness, he bottomed out his glass of port. “According to the last word we had from him, he’s with Wellington.”
Hart took a long drag on his cheroot and tilted his face upward, his eyes following the curling grey path of the exhale smoke. “Has he recovered from his battle injuries?”
“Edward’s latest letters to our mother suggest he has, but I won’t be satisfied until we see him in the flesh.”
“Charlotte tells me she would like to write an essay on the men who come back from war,” Selwyn said. “The ones without means or title who suffer war injuries and are left to fend for themselves.”