Vic pushed her hand away. “You are ruining my gifts, minx.” He stroked her belly, then slid his hand down over her inner right thigh. He cupped her curls before letting go of her breast to bring both his hands down.
Charlotte raised her hips, brought herself deeper into Victor’s grasp.
He parted her nether lips and gently fondled her clit with the pad of his finger. “Six.”
She squirmed beneath him. “This is far better than any picnic.”
He gave up a laugh.
“And even dinner. I no longer care if we’re late.”
He now rubbed her with two fingers. “Seven.”
Her hands itched to hold him again. She stretched her arm and sought him in the darkness.
“Minx...”
“Oh, to hell with you. I want to feel you in my hands, Vic.”
He shifted positions.
She took him back, her fingers now gliding over his member.
Vic hissed.
His cock jerked.
Charlotte moved her palm over the top, cradled the bulbous tip. A drop of liquid graced her flesh.
“You’re making me lose count, Charlie.”
“Eight,” she answered. “The next one is eight.”
“Right.” He glided one finger into her slit. “Eight it is.”
She clenched around him. “More.”
He obliged with a second digit slipped into her precious hole.
Charlotte now moved against him with more urgency.
Victor pushed her hand away from his cock and withdrew his fingers from her slit.
“Nine.” He slid down her body and lowered his head to the warmth between her legs. He licked her swollen mound.
A ripple of pleasure sparked through her core. She couldn’t imagine the spasms yet to come with ten through twelve.
In a flash, he flipped her over.
She gasped, her forehead against the pillow, her waist locked in Victor’s arm.
“Ten.” A sting slapped her bottom, smacked her mound into full convulsions.
“Yes....”
Charlotte’s breath now fluttered between gasps and short pants.
Vic gently turned her over. “Eleven.” He positioned his cock at her slit, the scent of her juices rising between the two of them.
“I want twelve.”
A warm breath fanned her ear. “And you shall have it my love,” Victor whispered.
With a single thrust her prince filled her.
She licked her lips, fisted the sheets in her fingers. “I never wanted to leave you, Vic.”
“I know.” He panted. “I know. He thrust faster and harder.
Charlotte met his every move.
She spread her legs wider, raised her calves above his hips and crossed her ankles at Vic’s back.
Sweat, beading on Victors skin, kissed her legs.
Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, Charlotte held on tight as her prince now pounded her, filled her to the deepest point possible.
She dug her fingers into his back.
A series of ripples exploded through her every nerve. “Victor...”
He pushed into her one last time and bucked. A few seconds later he fell on top of her. “And now for twelve,” he said, his breath ragged, and his mouth nuzzled at her neck. “I love you.”
Chapter Seven
The revelation last night that Victor loved her, had Charlotte dancing on air. And although it might be a tad selfish of her, she wanted to savor the feeling for herself for a while. Sharing the news with her family and friends would come later.
Which was why she couldn’t stay trapped indoors another minute with her mother, her aunt, and that sullen Countess Asta. The three women were worse than a trio of old biddies. And while she enjoyed Lady Gabrielle’s company, and Miss Radcliff’s, she’d die if she didn’t get a moment alone.
Guilt seeped into her bones. Maybe feigning a headache after lunch was a bit much, especially since it also included an escape from Vic. But that was for an entirely different reason than the one for eluding her mother. Appearing clinging was the last impression she wanted to give Victor after he’d professed his love for her.
Time to herself would be good for all.
Stepping out the Hall’s back door, Charlotte fended off a gust of wind with her fur-trimmed burgundy pelisse and matching bonnet.
She walked down to the frozen lake, then travelled around it and over the hill.
A series of ornate buildings, all with copper rooves sticking up along the snow-covered landscape, took her breath away.
The slight odor of horse rankled her nose.
Stables.
Her parents’ horses were well cared for and housed in barns recently renovated, but Prince Leopold’s stables outdid any she’d ever scene. The barns looked more like mini castles than a grouping of horse stalls.
She traipsed down the last quarter of hilly terrain.
Wind howled in every direction, kicking up snow and bits of ice.
She shivered but carried on as she needed time to just think and breathe and not be overwhelmed by emotions.
An onslaught of childhood memories rushed her thoughts. Memories of watching out the window of her nursery as her parents took their daily morning ride, flashed through her head.
Learning to ride was a must. Nearly everyone she knew, owned a horse.
A long breath fell from Charlotte’s mouth.
Old fears and old habits couldn’t be banished in a day, but there was no harm in at least spending time around horses.
She marched down to Prince Leopold’s stables and entered the building through the partially opened door.
An older looking horse gave her a begging glance. “Aren’t you a beauty,” she said, walking up to the stall and then gently rubbing the horse’s face.
“Going for a ride, Miss?”
Charlotte jumped at the sound of the man’s voice. She spun around, the aroma of hay and manure smacking her nose as she stepped away from the horse stall. “Heaven’s no. I was out for a walk and wanted to see the horses. That’s all.”
“She’s a mighty fine mare,” the man said, his gaze focused on Charlotte’s throat and not the horse he referred to. “Prince Leopold’s favorite. He calls her Bess.”
Charlotte gripped the fur-trimmed edge of her tight-fitting coat. She trembled, though more from the man’s leer than from the cold. “A good name.” She stepped backward. “I’ll be on my way now. Sorry to have disturbed Bess.”
The man followed her.
Her gaze flew to his gloves, homed in on the stitched snake design sewn across the knuckles.
A nagging thought tugged at her brain.
Memories of the attack in her father’s library flashed through her head as fear rose in her throat. She knew those gloves.
Turning around, Charlotte picked up the pace.
It did her no good.
The man was at her back in a heartbeat, his hand over her mouth, but this time, instead of merely warning her, he struck her on the head.
The barn spun.
Her last thought was of Vic and the heat that filled her whenever he had held her.
“I’M SURPRISED YOU’RE not spending the afternoon with Miss Appleton,” Harry said, traipsing into the what their mother often referred to as the Gray State Room thanks to a paint application gone terribly wrong upon the walls.
Vic looked up from the card table and dismissed the letters he’d received in the day’s second batch of post. “She hasn’t been down since lunch,” he answered. “I think the events of the last few days are starting to wear on her.”
“Wish I could say the same for Gabrielle.”
“Disillusioned already, brother?”
“Heaven’s no.” Harry plopped himself in the blue brocade chair opposite Vic. “It’s just...I can’t....” He stopped to fiddle with a button on his silver waistcoat. “I simply can’t keep up with the woman.”
Finally, the chance to poke some fun at h
is brother. “As in what? Riding? Walking? Swords?” He couldn’t resist.
Harrison frowned. “I see you’re still the prat that you were Friday morning.”
He chuckled to himself. “I’m sure there are many men who would be more than willing to trade places with you.”
“That would not solve the problem as I have no intention of ever giving up Gabrielle.”
“And here you mocked me for being in love with Charlotte. We’re as bad as each other.”
Harry leaned back and crossed his legs. “Probably a twin thing.”
“Could be.”
“Anything interesting in the post?”
“No,” Vic answered. “Not a single word on possible suspects who could have threatened Charlotte. Kit is investigating the matter, but so far has only come up with dead leads. And I haven’t had the chance to discuss it more with Leopold since he hasn’t been yet this morning.”
“Apparently all three of us were occupied with our ladies last night.”
“I don’t discuss my private life.”
“I see I am correct. One for the Baine boys.”
Vic shook his head.
Harrison drummed his fingers on the table. “Have you told Kit the full contents of that dratted letter?”
“Not exactly, no. For starters, I didn’t think it wise to send such details through the post. And second, even with a private courier, I didn’t feel it was the sort of information one should reveal without being face to face with the person. If what is written is what we think it means, and it turns out to be true, both Kit and Ari will be devastated. I can’t take them down that road until we know for sure.”
Harry huffed. “I don’t believe they’ve ever acted on their emotions, specifically because none of us are sure who Ariana is. But the two of them are close. And you’re right. It would mean a finality to the situation and that should be revealed in person.”
Vic couldn’t imagine having to give up Charlotte permanently. He’d already suffered when she’d broken things off three months ago, but to end things forever would be devastating to him.
His mind wandered to memories of last night, to the little whimpers Charlotte gave up as she enjoyed his skills in bed. He should go check on her again, but she had assured him that spending a few hours resting from a headache would not put her in danger. “Is Gabrielle still with the women in the morning room?”
“No. Mrs. Woodbury has taken to her bed with an upset stomach. And Gabrielle has gone to town with Countess Asta and Mrs. Appleton in tow.”
“Charlotte had a headache earlier, but I doubt that would have kept her from going into town. She loves to shop. Do you know if she went along with the women?”
“Gabrielle didn’t say, but I would think if Charlotte had gone with them, she would have mentioned it.”
He fisted his fingers as a touch of panic filled him. “I’m going to check on her.” He rose.
Harry pushed his chair back. “You don’t really think something vile can happen here? Do you?”
“I’m not certain. But I’m also not taking a chance.”
Vic headed into the hall and up the stairs.
God help those around him if Charlotte wasn’t still in her bed.
Chapter Eight
Charlotte fluttered her eyelids open, her head pounding with pain and her mouth dry. It took several moments for her vision to adjust to the darkness, but her nose didn’t need so much as a second to know she hadn’t been moved too far from the stables.
She rolled over onto her side, a stalk of hay stabbing her arm. She scrunched her fingers.
A mattress. Though not exactly a proper bed.
A tinge of sweat and dirt rose from the platform beneath her.
Of all the stupid things she could have done at the Hall, she had to go and choose taking a walk by herself.
You addle-brained woman.
What sane lady would purposely put herself in harm’s way when knowing a stalker or worse was on her trail? None. Save for Miss Charlotte Appleton. Daft didn’t even begin to describe the state of her stupidity.
She had to get out of here or in the least figure a way to get word to Victor.
Sitting up, she blinked.
A round of laughter along with a flutter of course words, travelled through the wall.
Men.
Playing cards.
The cough-inducing smoke of cheroot followed.
She’d never been in a gaming hell before, but she had no doubt the men on the other side of her room were not of the same class as her prince or any of the guests spending the weekend at Frost Lake Hall. The roughness of the words she’d heard wasn’t even something she’d envision Phipps using. Or Stubbs for that matter.
Whoever had kidnapped her, were ruffians of the worst sort. Though they hadn’t killed her, so maybe they were one step above the worst. Still, the notion didn’t do anything to ease her worry.
Her hands grew clammy.
Her throat burned, and her lips sat dry and chapped, ravished by the cold.
Rising to her feet, Charlotte stepped away from the filthy make-shift bed she’d been dumped upon and started to pace the small space.
She placed her hands on the walls and searched for a latch or seam, something that indicated a doorway of sorts.
The rip of tearing fabric slashed the air as her pelisse caught on a nail protruding from the wall.
Damnit.
Charlotte bent and maneuvered her hands around the snagged length of wool and freed her coat. A beam of light coasted through a crack near her hip. In less than a second, she was on her knees, her right eye plastered to the wall.
Boots and legs came into view.
Definitely a group of men, which gave her a slight bit of satisfaction as it meant her assumption a few minutes ago was correct. Though she preferred not being in this position to start.
Footsteps thundered from behind her.
She scooted away from the wall and returned to the disgusting mattress on the floor and squeezed her eyes shut. The last thing she wanted to do was let her captors know she’d been spying on them.
The creak of a hinge echoed.
A door slammed.
The aroma of plain boiled chicken topped with the smell of not well-scrubbed boiled potatoes, accosted her nose, made bile rise in her throat.
The offensive odor was followed by the splash of what sounded like water being spilled on wood, as well as the ping of a tin dish being dropped to the floor.
A boot toe kicked her ankle.
She gasped.
“Wake up, little whore.” A male voice called from above.
Charlotte moved, just a tad bit as she didn’t care to get kicked a second time. She also had no desire to find out what would happen if she failed to respond to this beast in the darkness. “Where am I?”
“You don’t need to know.”
She sat up, her coat getting caught beneath her. “Why have you taken me?”
“Wouldn’t know as I’m just doing the job my master has asked of me.”
“And you think he’s right for having you kidnap an innocent woman?”
Silence greeted her.
“You’ll pay for his crimes, as I am innocent.”
“I can’t say if you’re innocent.” The man finally answered. “How would I know?”
“Because I am. And the sin of this crime will fall on your shoulders, not your master’s, once I’m freed.”
Silence stalked her once more.
“You can save yourself from years of prison if you help me.”
“I already have. I brought you dinner. If my master was here, you’d starve.” The man walked away, the thump of his bootheels hard on the ground.
He opened the door.
Charlotte squinted, tried to focus on the other side, searched for something recognizable, but all she saw was dim light and nothing else.
The man slid away, the door slamming behind him.
Click.
She was
locked in once more.
VICTOR SEARCHED EVERYWHERE, turned Frost Lake Hall upside down, Harry and Stubbs following right along with him.
Nothing.
Not a single trace of Charlotte. “One woman cannot simply disappear into thin air and not leave a single bloody clue.”
Harry placed his hand on Vic’s shoulder. “We’ll find her.”
They had better, or someone was going to die and at this point, he didn’t trust himself not to lash out at a blameless soul. If so much as a single hair on Charlie’s head had been touched, someone was going to pay for having done the deed.
“Where the bloody hell could she have gone?” He did not want to have to tell the Appletons that their daughter was missing.
He paced. “Maybe we should check the lodge,” he suggested.
“She’s not there,” Stubbs answered.
“What makes you so sure?” He rounded on the under-butler, approached him with what he’d hoped was a formidable glare.
“Because His Royal Highness, Prince Leopold, asked that the lodge be tidied up this morning when he returned from having spent the night there. And I know two maids only just came back from cleaning it a short time ago.”
That knocked the lodge off the list of possible places where Charlotte could be. “She has to be somewhere.”
He doubted Charlie could get far considering the frozen roads of Frost Lake. The best of criminals didn’t survive long out here. One had to be familiar with the roads, knowing both which to take, and how to maneuver over them, to get around during winter in this part of the country. And Frost Lake had very little crime amongst its locals.
Harry huffed as he raked his hand through his hair. “Well we’ve torn the house apart and she’s not here.”
He appreciated his brother’s help. “I’m going downstairs to see if Phipps has heard anything.” Vic bounded down the steps, his bootheels barely touching the carpeted treads. The neigh of a horse echoed outside the front door as he stepped into the main corridor.
The stables. Would Charlie have been that daft to go check out the horses despite her fear of riding them? The woman was an obstinate lass and he would never put anything past her as she was bold and brazen to the core, save for her dislike of riding.
Unwrapping a Rogue: A Christmas Regency Boxset Page 72