by Sylvia Day
“Complaining?” Hugh snorted. “Good God, I’m astounded. Amazed. Stunned.”
Artemis nodded in agreement. “And so you should be, gov’na.”
“’Tis not every day one finds service of your caliber,” Hugh muttered, running a hand through his hair.
“Are ye bein’ sarcastic?” Artemis asked suspiciously.
“Who, me? Never.”
“What are you two arguing about?” Charlotte asked as she descended the staircase. Dressed in soft floral muslin that was a few seasons out of style, she looked fresh and young, a vision of ripe innocence that belied her sensual past.
“You can ask ’er!” The butler turned to leave without being dismissed. “A man shouldn’t ’ave to deal with this sort of treatment in ’is place of employment,” he grumbled as he shuffled away.
Hugh gaped after him.
Charlotte laughed, a raw, husky sound that made his cock hard.
Damnation! He scowled. He couldn’t go around sporting a constant erection, which is precisely what he’d been doing since he arrived.
Coming to a stop before him, she brushed his frown away with the soft touch of her fingers. “Artemis is a good man, and whatever you asked, you shouldn’t have asked him. You know as well as I that no respectable upper servants would ever divulge information about their employers.”
Not accustomed to admitting he was wrong, Hugh stewed for a moment before nodding.
Charlotte’s green eyes sparkled with amusement. “Now, what did you want to ask?”
Hugh released a deep breath. “I’d like to know if Glenmoore still comes to visit you.”
A dark red brow rose. “In what capacity?”
He snorted. “In any capacity.”
“He stops by occasionally,” she said carefully. “But I no longer share my bed with him, if that is what you’re inquiring.”
The relief that flooded him was profound and, because of that, disturbing. “Why does he come, then?”
“I suspect he simply wishes to assure himself that the duchess remains here and poses no threat to his precious reputation.” She laced her arm with his and steered him toward the drawing room, where tempting aromas made his stomach growl. He was ravenously hungry, and once they were seated, he tucked into the delectable meal with gusto. Consisting of kidney and eggs, honey cakes and plum cakes, the food was delicious. Despite the rather frightening specter the cook presented, Hugh had no trouble admitting that her talent in the kitchen was impressive. She was much better than the resident chef at Montrose Hall.
When Katie came in a few moments later, bearing a pitcher of wildly sloshing water and favoring a bandaged hand, he simply smiled, unalarmed. Everything seemed different today. The candlelight that bolstered the dreary morning light seemed more golden, the food more appetizing, Charlotte more beautiful.
Suspecting it was contentment he was feeling, Hugh grinned, savoring the moment. He wanted to feel this way more often, and he knew Charlotte was the cause. Therefore a stratagem was required to convince his lover that having him around could benefit her in more ways than orgasms. Since she’d provided the solution already, he had only to take advantage of it.
“You’re in a fine mood,” Charlotte noted, smiling against the rim of her cup. Hugh La Coeur was also in fine form. Dressed in warm shades of brown, he made her mouth water, the handsomeness of his features intensified by a boyish smile.
“I am. More’s the pity for you.” He waggled his brows suggestively.
She laughed. “A girl could become accustomed to having you around.”
“I hope you do.” He pushed away his empty plate and stood, moving to her chair. “Shall we retire to my room and study your map?”
Charlotte rose, a sharp tingle of awareness coursing through her veins. She glanced at Hugh over her shoulder and batted her lashes. “I thought studying the map came later?” Her eyes dropped to his trousers, and she watched, fascinated, as his cock swelled before her eyes.
“Stop that.” He grabbed her elbow and led her to the stairs.
“Stop what?” she asked innocently, biting back a smile.
“You know very well what,” he said, his voice a slow drawl that made her toes curl in her slippers. “Drooling while staring at my cock.”
“I did no such thing!” she protested, choking back a giggle as they ascended the stairs.
He shot her an arch glance. “You did, too, insatiable minx. A man can hardly get any rest around here.”
She choked. “Horrid man! You wouldn’t leave me alone. How many times did I roll over and attempt sleep?”
“Several,” he said smoothly. “But it wasn’t long before you reached for me again.”
Charlotte paused on the middle stair. “Only because your erection was poking me in the spine!”
Hugh shrugged in exquisite nonchalance. “You were wiggling.”
She stared at him, fighting back laughter, her entire body warming to the sensual amusement she found in his dark gaze. He was so devastatingly handsome, full of vigor and mischief. He was a man who lived life, while she’d spent the last few years in a daze. She was drawn to that energy, to that zest, wanting to absorb the thrill of it into the marrow of her bones.
Unable to help herself, she stepped forward and offered him her mouth. With a deep groan, he obliged, gifting her with one of his sensual kisses. Charlotte melted against him, her hands drifting to clutch the powerful muscles of his shoulders.
“See?” he murmured, licking her parted lips. “You are doing it again.”
Achingly aroused, she laughed breathlessly. “You’re a conceited rake.”
“And you’re a brazen wench.” His hands cupped her breasts, teasing her hardened nipples.
She pulled back with a grin. “You like that I am.”
Hugh leaned back against the railing and crossed his arms. “I quite like that you are,” he agreed. “Now would you like to go over your map?”
Charlotte considered him for a moment, from head to toe. He was fully, impressively aroused, and she was obviously willing, but he wanted to study the blasted map? She chewed her lower lip.
“Think you can keep your hands to yourself?” he prodded.
She narrowed her eyes, enjoying the game. “Can you?”
He grinned. “Shall we see who can hold out the longest?”
“A wager?” She rubbed her hands together. “Certainly.”
“What are the stakes?”
“The stakes?”
“There has to be something in it for the victor. ’Tis the possibility of winning something that drives a man to gamble.”
“A tumble isn’t enough?”
“I had intended that to be my prize,” he said with a pout.
She laughed. “You can always choose the same.”
A dark gold brow rose. “Ah, but my gain must be greater than yours, or your loss more than mine, to make it truly a wager.”
“You appear to know a great deal about gambling,” Charlotte noted.
“I’ve had some experience,” he said smoothly. “So if you are able to keep your hands to yourself for longer than I, you shall win a hot, sweaty tumble. I, however, want a boon.”
She frowned. “What sort of boon?”
“I haven’t decided yet.”
“You’re cheating!”
“I am not. Of course, you can always forfeit now and save us both the trouble . . .” He dropped his arms and stepped closer, enveloping her with his scent and potent masculinity.
“Oh, no. I won’t forfeit. I shall win.”
He gripped her elbow and then gestured up the stairs with his other hand. “Excellent. Let’s begin.”
Her heart racing with excitement, Charlotte moved with Hugh up the staircase and to his room, her mind industriously considering all the avenues she could take to ensure her victory. The first thing she did upon entering his chamber was move to the fireplace and throw on more coal.
“What the devil are you doing?” he asked. “It�
��s plenty warm in here.”
“Truly? I feel a chill.”
Hugh shrugged out of his coat. “If you want me naked, you have only to ask.”
“I thought I had. You wanted to look at the map instead.”
He shot her a mock glare, and Charlotte laughed. She hadn’t had this much fun in ages.
No, that wasn’t true. She hadn’t had any fun in ages.
After removing his waistcoat and cravat, Hugh moved to the desk and bent over the map. “Can you bring me everything you have that pertains to this?”
“Of course.” Charlotte left the room with a plan and returned a quarter of an hour later with her first salvo ready to fire.
Gliding back into Hugh’s suite with a wide grin, she paused just inside the doorway, arrested by the sight of his bare back. He’d removed his shirt and shoes, the corded muscles of his shoulders bunching as he leaned his weight on his arms, his skin covered with a fine sheen of perspiration from the warmth of the fire. She sighed, thinking she could simply stare at him for days.
Without turning around, he said, “Drooling again?”
“You are the most conceited man,” she muttered. She reached the desk and dropped the books with a loud thump. He lifted his gaze to look at her.
“Bloody hell,” he breathed, taking in the black negligee she wore. Held up with ribbons at the shoulders and completely sheer, it was an erotic confection she’d had for years and never donned before. The gown flowed with her, changing opacity, teasing the eye with glimpses of her nipples and the curve of her waist.
Charlotte brushed her fingertips across his full lips. “Careful, darling. You’ll drool.”
His brows snapped together. “Cheaters never win,” he growled.
“I’m not cheating.”
His scowl clearly refuted her. “Why don’t you show me what you’ve gathered so far, so I don’t waste time pointing out things you may already know.”
Shaking her head, she wondered why he was so determined to keep them out of bed and focused on the map. With any other man she might consider the possibility that the map interested him more than she did, but with Hugh she knew that wasn’t true. He wouldn’t be so frustrated if he weren’t fighting the temptation she presented. Something was afoot, and if she wished to discover what it was, she’d have to play along.
Pulling the books closer, she grabbed the slender journal from the top and opened it. “According to Glenmoore, he won this map in a wager while traveling through the Caribbean. He dismissed it as nothing more than a souvenir, until he was approached by a local man who swore he was among the crew that originally hid the treasure.”
Hugh stared at her with his intense dark eyes. “What exactly is this treasure?”
“Glenmoore was never able to discover the answer to that with certainty. There were two tales. The simple one was pirate’s gold. The other featured a love story.”
“A love story?” he asked skeptically.
Nodding, Charlotte turned the pages of Glenmoore’s journal until she found a worn piece of paper tucked inside. Upon opening it, a lovely female visage appeared. “Her name was Anne,” she explained. “According to the story Glenmoore heard, she fled an unhappy marriage to sail the high seas with a pirate named Calico Jack. They were together for a time, but Jack was eventually caught and hanged. It is said that Anne, who was pregnant when he was killed, fled the authorities and hid his ill-gotten gains.”
Hugh rubbed the back of his neck. The pose emphasized his powerful arms and beautifully built chest. She licked her lips.
Good heavens, she was going to drool.
“Charlotte, don’t you think—” He raised his eyes from the map and met hers. Then he groaned. “How in damnation is a man to concentrate on anything when you dress in that manner and look at him thusly?”
“Why are you so interested in the map all of a sudden?”
Reaching down, he stroked his erection through his broadcloth trousers. “I’d like to be useful to you for things other than sex.”
Charlotte blinked, then moved to a nearby chair and sat down. All thoughts of seduction and winning their amorous bet left her head. “You’d like to be useful,” she repeated softly, awed by the statement. “I don’t believe I’ve ever had a man say that to me before.”
“Yes, well, I, for one, have never said such a thing before,” he grumbled. “Being wanted for simple fornication has its decided benefits. And giving in to such demands is certainly less painful to a man’s genitals. I blame the water hereabouts for this madness.”
He scrubbed a hand across his face before pulling the journal closer. “Do you truly believe in this treasure nonsense?”
She watched him studying the journal, obviously sexually frustrated and yet determined to find a way to be valuable to her, and her heart softened. What an odd man he was. She couldn’t puzzle him out, but then, what did it matter? She felt alive and appreciated, and this man was the cause.
“Charlotte?” He glanced at her and muttered an oath under his breath. “Do you intend to assist me with this or not?”
“I forfeit.” She’d never done such a thing in her life. Cursed (or blessed, depending on how one looked at it) with a competitive nature she took every challenge seriously.
“Beg your pardon?”
“You win. I forfeit. Can we have sex now?”
“Hell and damnation!” Hugh pushed away from the desk and began to pace. “You are not allowed to forfeit.”
She stood. “Why not?”
“Because I need to help you with this.”
“You can help me later.”
He paused and faced her, holding his arms out, displaying his perfection even as he displayed his frustration. “Why are you being so bloody difficult?”
“What do you want, Hugh?” she asked softly. “What do you gain by assisting me?”
Growling, he turned away. “The storm will pass soon, leaving me no reason to tarry here.”
“Yes, I know.”
“My carriage was new, damn it, and cost me a bloody fortune! I should be enraged, furious, that the wretched thing broke. Yet I’m grateful, because it gave me the opportunity to meet you. And I suspect once I leave, I shall miss you, and I never miss anyone.”
Her heart racing, Charlotte crossed the small space that separated them. Her hands caressed his back, feeling the muscles tense beneath her fingertips. His words, his passion . . . she’d never witnessed anything like them. “Hush,” she soothed.
“You left this morning to bathe, and you were gone forever. It’s madness, I tell you. A horrid, insidious madness, to crave the company of a stranger the way I do yours. Yesterday at this time, I didn’t even know who you were. And last night, when I was inside you, I wanted no more than that. But this morning, I thought perhaps more would be nice—”
“Shhh . . .”
“—and now—”
Too short to reach his lips, she pressed an ardent kiss to his nipple, and his hands fisted in her unbound hair.
Hugh pushed her roughly away, revealing fierce, dark eyes that might have frightened her if she hadn’t been so aroused. “And now I want you to come with me. Become my mistress. You’ll want for nothing, I promise you that.”
“Oh Hugh . . .”
He crushed his mouth down on hers, and Charlotte was flooded with sensation, a sharp, almost painful racing of heat across her skin. All morning she’d craved him. She’d needed his touch, his smile, the warmth of his gaze. It was madness, she agreed, to want the attentions of a stranger, but that was how it was, and she couldn’t be sorry, not when it felt this wonderful.
Sinking to his knees, he pulled her down with him, his hands leaving her hair and moving to her breasts, every touch rife with an underlying tenderness that cut her to the quick. “I’ll replace all your jewels, all your gowns. I’ll give you a home, and it will be yours, in your name—”
“Cease talking, damn you.” She didn’t want promises or dreams. She just wanted right now,
just this moment, and nothing more. She was afraid to want more.
Spinning away, she dropped to all fours and spread her legs, waiting for the sweet, oblivious pleasure that filled her when they joined.
But when he moved, it wasn’t as she expected. It wasn’t with the fevered urgency he’d displayed only hours ago. Instead it was a hot brush of breath through her gown, the heated press of his cheek against her spine, the soft slide of his hands along her sides.
She dropped her forehead to the rug, her body quivering, her skin dampening with sweat from her proximity to the fire.
“I would like the luxury of touching you like this,” he murmured, his fingers running along the length of her spine. “I want to take my time, savor you, instead of feeling so rushed, so desperate.”
“Desperate?” she gasped, arching into his touch.
“That is how I feel, as if I must have my fill before it’s too late.” Hugh lifted her hair to his face and breathed deeply. “This is such a beautiful color. It’s the most glorious shade of red I’ve ever seen.”
Charlotte attempted to roll over so she could savor him as he was savoring her, but he held her still with a firm grip.
He slid her gown up slowly, using the soft material to caress her skin. She shivered as his hand dipped between her legs, tangling in the damp curls. “And this red—darker, more passionate. From the moment I saw you on that massive horse, I wanted to know what color the hair here would be.” His finger circled her engorged clit with a featherlight touch, while his other hand reached around and cupped her breast. “When you lie naked in the bed, your hair spilled across the pillows, your skin so pale, your nipples and lips so dark . . . I can hardly bear it.”
He kissed the curve of her derriere. “But it is the things you say and the sound of your laughter that move me most.”
She closed her eyes, awash in feeling and emotion. Charlotte looked at life pragmatically, and she felt no shame for her past. The need to survive had long ago overridden her pride. But in all of her experience, she’d never had a man take such time with her, stoking her arousal, making her liquid with desire, as Hugh had done from the very beginning. The sexual act shouldn’t feel this intimate, not when the situation was so temporary. But then he slipped a finger inside her, and she lost her trepidation. He entered a little more, and she tensed, sore from his earlier amorous attentions.