“Hush, pet.” He trailed his hand down over her backside, squeezing gently and making her squirm with desire. “I know. And I can give you what you need.”
Charlotte was certain enough of that. She had known this man for over a year and he had, on occasion, given her delightful pleasure, though never too much. Except that today, she craved more. She wanted to be reckless. She could not say why. Perhaps it was because she knew that changes were coming, that after this house party nothing would be the same. Or perhaps it was because that at five and twenty, her body ached for something more than a few kisses and stolen caresses. She knew what this man was capable of – what his hands could to do her – and she wanted more of that. More of what had once been.
“Francis,” she sighed and closed her eyes, allowing the sheer pleasure of being in his arms again wash over her. It had been so long, so long since she had felt this way. She also knew this might be temporary madness. After all, she still required a husband so she would not be forced to wed the Duke of Springford. Francis was likely no more inclined to wed now than he had been a few days ago. But for now, she could close her eyes and pretend.
She was soft and willing in his arms. Francis hadn’t expected Charlotte to be so. He had expected her to fight him, or at the very least, to argue with him. She was prone to do that as of late. However, perhaps she was just as weary as he was and wanted only to indulge in a bit of pleasure. That was something he could give her.
By the time they reached the bit of grass he had noticed earlier, the sounds of the lawn games had faded away and now there was only the faint gurgle of the nearby fountain. A few birds sang in the trees and bushes, and the new spring leaves rustled in the warm breeze. Francis could feel the hot sun on his back as he stripped off his jacket and tucked it beneath her, leaving him only in his lawn shirt.
“You were always magnificent to behold,” Charlotte whispered, opening her eyes long enough to drink in the sight of him. He could tell she liked what she saw by the widening of her eyes and her quick intake of her breath.
“As are you,” he replied, running a knuckle down her throat and over her chest to stop just at the top of her bodice. “Always.”
Francis lowered his lips to the same patch of skin he had just caressed. Charlotte was warm beneath him and her skin was so very soft. He kissed her there, his touch light for he had no wish to mark her and create a scandal. When she sighed in what sounded very much like bliss, he shifted so that his large body covered her smaller one and he settled himself over her. This particular bit of ground was not the most comfortable place he could imagine, but it would do. For now.
“Please,” she said again, reaching for him, her delicate fingers undoing the buttons on his shirt so that she could bare a small patch of his chest to her gaze. Leaning up, she kissed him there. “I want to taste you.”
He knew what she was asking. He had described for her the art of sucking a man’s cock and she had seemed interested, though they had never gone that far. He had backed away as well, not wishing to frighten her. Perhaps that had been a mistake for if she knew what was involved, she might not be so eager to indulge just now.
Easing her back, Francis shifted so that he held Charlotte in place with only his legs. She could have escaped his confines if she had truly wished, but she made no move to do so. “Not now, pet. Not when we might be discovered. It is too risky.”
Something in her eyes died then and he knew the reason. If they were discovered, they would be forced to wed. She was taking his words as his rejection of her. They weren’t. However, he could not wed a woman who might fancy another, the issue of his mystery woman aside. In that, Francis supposed he was no different than Fullbridge. Francis wanted his wife to be faithful to him and him alone.
“You would be disgraced, pet,” Francis reminded Charlotte gently, attempting to soothe the hurt he saw welling in her eyes. “I know you don’t want that.” Then he grinned at her wickedly, hoping to tease her back into a better mood. “Besides, when we are finally naked together, I will not wish to be rushed. I will wish to savor you like a fine brandy. All of you. Even your toes.”
As he had anticipated, that made her eyes widen and her breath hitch again. Francis took full advantage, his fingers delving beneath her bodice to caress her breasts. This was not the first time he had touched her there, but it was the first time in a good while and as his fingers trailed across the soft globes, he was reminded of how much he missed this. How much he missed being just a little bit of a rogue.
If he had missed this sort of rakish behavior, would it not stand to reason that Charlotte had as well?
Then she reached down to cup him intimately and Francis ceased to think at all.
“I will wait,” she whispered, “but, like you, I have my limits. And I fear that I am well passed them.”
Instead of replying, Francis pinned Charlotte’s body beneath his and freed one of her breasts from the confines of her corset so that he could suckle her nipple. This was something he had never done with her before. He had, of course, toyed with her nipples, made them stiffen and ache with only his fingers, but he had never taken one of the delectable raspberry-hued peaks into his mouth as he did now. He was seriously beginning to regret his inaction in the past. For she was utterly delightful and so very responsive. Especially when she let out tiny, breathless gasps as she was doing now.
Charlotte could feel Francis’ weight pressing her down into the hard earth, but she didn’t care. All she cared about was the way he suckled at her, teasing that engorged tip until she all but ached with the need for more. Someone whimpered. Likely her. He responded by freeing her other breast and switching the attentions of his mouth there while his hand came up to toy with the one breast his mouth had just abandoned.
In a word, this was glorious. She felt so utterly and completely wanton spread out like this beneath him, the feel of the spring sun warming her to her very bones. Charlotte shifted her hips, spreading her legs so that Francis could settle between them. She felt him there, his hard cock pressing into her soft core. She wanted that. She wanted all of him for perhaps then her muddled mind might clear.
Francis obviously had the same thought because he thrust his hips hard against hers, making her cry out softly, his mouth all the while never leaving her breast, his teeth scraping against sensitive skin before his tongue laved away the hurt. When he thrust again, his cock so hard she could feel him almost everywhere, Charlotte arched up into him, her core wet and aching. She wanted this. She wanted him. But she knew he wouldn’t take her. Not even if she begged. Well, maybe then. He was a man with weaknesses, after all. Luckily for her, she seemed to be one of his.
As he laved and suckled at her breasts, Francis’ hands roamed her body until they lodged beneath her backside, levering her up towards him, her core against his swollen cock, which felt so wonderful despite the layers of fabric between them. All the while his mouth teased her, offering her hints of what other pleasures they might share.
Charlotte felt herself spiraling upward, sensations building inside of her that threatened to swamp her. She knew what they were. She was running headlong into physical release. It had happened once before, but not like this. Not as powerful as this. Not to the point where she felt as if she might die if she did not reach the summit her body aimed for.
And all the while, Francis continued to thrust his hips, his cock tempting her and teasing her with promises of what might one day be.
“Come for me, Charlotte,” Francis whispered urgently. “I need to see your face when you do. I want to see you. Please.”
That whispered, strangled final word was all it took. Charlotte shattered, her body arching up one more time before she flew apart, wetness drenching her core and her limbs shaking as if she had run mile after mile without rest. Francis swallowed her cry with a kiss, his lips hard on hers and his tongue just as demanding.
The scent of musk mixed with that of the riot of flowers that grew somewhere nearby. She coul
d not see them but she could smell them, their sweet scents mixing with the spicier notes until she was certain that she was about to lose herself again just from the scents surrounding her.
Finally, however, she began to draw in slower breaths once more, her chest still heaving but the quaking in her body finally subsiding. She felt languid, the warmth of Francis and the sun combined almost lulling her to sleep. She might have done just that had he not pulled her up so that she could sit, though she leaned heavily against him, her body still shaking a bit. She was thankful she did not attempt to stand right away for she doubted her legs would hold her just yet.
“That was…” Charlotte could not find the words to finish her sentence.
Francis grinned at her, obviously pleased. “It was rather, wasn’t it?”
“You did not find relief.” She would do that for him if he wished, though she had no real idea how she might go about it. Well, she understood the basic principles, for she was not that green of a girl, but she had no idea how to take that knowledge and put it to practical use. Discussing the matter was no substitute for actually performing the act, no matter what Francis said. “I could help.”
“I had pleasure enough,” he replied softly but she knew he was lying. She could always tell when he was. Especially after they were close. “That will do for now.”
It wouldn’t do. Charlotte could see that, for the desire was written all over his handsome face. Francis had wished to be inside of her just now. She had known it the moment he had thrust his hips so hard and fast against hers. However, she knew that, just like the other night, even if she stripped naked before him this very instant, he would not take her. Something was holding him back. Until that changed, he would not give himself completely over to the passions he so obviously felt.
“If you change your mind…” she trailed off, leaving her words more of a question than a statement.
“I won’t.” He seemed rather certain about that which was a true pity.
“Still, if you do,” she paused meaningfully, “I am certain there is something I could do to help.”
For a long moment, Francis studied her and Charlotte wondered if he might be reconsidering his position. She had offered, after all. It wasn’t as if he was asking. “No,” he said finally, though his words were laced with regret. “Not this time, pet. Perhaps later.”
Charlotte felt something twist inside of her. This was why she was here. This indecision on his part. This push and pull of sometimes wanting and sometimes not.
“However,” he said as he cleared his throat, obviously struggling to collect himself, “I can assure you there will be a next time. And that next time, I might change my mind. I fact, I am all but certain I shall.”
Charlotte said nothing but deep inside a thrill shot through her. This was good news. Perhaps all was not lost after all.
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Eleven
Charlotte could still feel the delicious tremble Francis had evoked deep inside of her later that night as she listened to Miss Bristow warble what she likely believed to be a lovely tune as Lady Margaretta plunked out a horribly discordant accompaniment on the pianoforte. Tonight was supposed to be an evening designed to allow the young women in attendance to highlight their musical accomplishments. To Charlotte’s ears – and likely the ears of a good number of gentlemen as well – these offerings were not so much musical accomplishments as they were musical misery.
Before Miss Bristow and Lady Margaretta, there had been the timid Lady Tabitha who might have indeed possessed a lovely voice – if one could only hear her. She sang so softly that even Miss Snell, the daughter of a member of the local gentry who was serving as accompaniment for Lady Tabitha had given pause in her playing a few times to make certain the other young woman was still singing.
There had also been a wretched violin solo by a Miss Timsby, a decent cello performance from Lady Edith Hayward – who also happened to be the Duke of Carstairs shy sister – and a surprisingly lovely performance by Miss Worth, she of the flying pall mall mallet, who also possessed an amazingly beautiful soprano singing voice.
However, Charlotte hadn’t paid more than a scant bit of attention to any of the performances. Oh, she clapped where appropriate and murmured her approval to whoever was sitting next to her, but truly, her mind was still in the garden with Francis.
That morning had been wonderful. It had been magical. It had also been extremely confusing, more so than Charlotte had imagined such an encounter might be. The heated kisses and caresses had proven that she still shared passion and desire with Francis. It proved nothing about feelings and emotions. Or had it? For was it possible for her to experience the sheer pleasure she had earlier if there was no emotion attached to the act? For some women, she supposed it was possible, but not for her. At least Charlotte didn’t believe so. Then again, she did not have a great deal of experience in such matters.
“Distracted?”
At some point, Lady Priscilla had slid into the seat next to Charlotte, the one vacated by Miss Winterbottom who was now at the center of the room screeching so wretchedly that she sounded as if she was strangling some unfortunate woodland creature.
“A bit.” Charlotte did not particularly wish to deny that she was not paying attention to the musical disaster unfolding around them, though anyone who said they were in raptures over the performances would be easily caught out in a lie. However, she did not believe this woman needed to know what was going on in her head just then either.
“I would be the same.” Lady Priscilla smiled warmly. “Two men. Both very handsome. Either would be an excellent match.”
“I’ve no idea what you are talking about, my lady.” Charlotte shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Was it getting warm in here? It must be because she felt overheated just then and no amount of fanning herself seemed to help.
Lady Priscilla’s lips twitched. “Don’t you? Really, Miss Cleary, I took you for a more intelligent woman than that.” She shrugged in the same off-handed way her brother often did. “After all, you were rather devoted to Lord Snowly at dinner tonight. Some might even term you besotted with the earl. However, I also could not help but notice the way you have stared at Lord Underhill all evening, perhaps with something that might be described as longing.”
“You know very well the viscount and I have a long association. Everyone here knows that.” The response was quick to Charlotte’s lips. “I was merely wondering how he faired this evening. I understand some gentlemen went fishing this afternoon and it was dreadfully warm in the sun. Lord Carstairs became ill, or so I am told. I’ve simply no wish to see Lord Underhill ill as well. As I said, we are old friends.” Even Charlotte herself thought she sounded like a fool just then. Old friends, indeed.
“And yet, I would have thought you would spend the better part of the evening fussing over Lord Snowly.” Lady Priscilla jutted her chin in the direction of the earl who sat propped up on a rather plush chair that more resembled a throne next to a small cluster of gentlemen. “He is the one who was injured this morning, after all.”
Charlotte slanted the other woman a glance. “He was. Though he is much recovered and informs me that by tomorrow he will likely not need his walking stick any longer. This morning’s injury was more of a brief bit of pain than anything more serious. The earl and I discussed that very topic at dinner. Everyone saw us seated next to each other, including you. It was not as if we were dining alone.” She sniffed indignantly. “As for this evening? It would hardly be proper of me to monopolize his attention all night. Other guests might begin to have improper ideas about Lord Snowly and me.”
Charlotte was annoyed now, though she could not say exactly why. She should not be put out. She had enjoyed a lovely evening thus far. Well, aside from the musical performances, but she was hardly alone in that complaint.
So far, everything had gone as she wished. Mostly, anyway.
Noah had been Charlotte’s dinner companion that evening, Lady
Priscilla claiming Francis for her own before anyone else could. As if anyone believed that had been nothing more than an accident. Charlotte could have sworn she all but saw the duke’s sister push Lady Edith out of the way to reach Francis’ side first. Though to be fair, Lady Priscilla was the hostess of this event and as such, the ranking lady at the party. She had her choice among the men present for her dinner companion, and Francis was considered quite the eligible gentleman.
“As you say.” Turning, Lady Priscilla laid her hand on Charlotte’s arm. “Lady Charlotte, may I offer you a bit of advice? Woman to woman, so to speak?”
It was on the tip of Charlotte’s tongue to say no, but instead, she nodded. “Of course.”
“Men are complex creatures.”
“Tell me something I don’t know,” Charlotte quipped and then winced. “I did not mean to say that. Forgive me.”
Instead of becoming angry, Lady Priscilla laughed, the sound more warm and friendly than Charlotte had anticipated. For some reason, she had imagined Fullbridge’s sister would be icily cold. She seemed that way from a distance at any rate. “Then you do know the male of our species well.”
“Well enough,” Charlotte replied with a chuckle of her own, finding she liked Lady Priscilla far more than she had anticipated. Perhaps Francis was not such a fool after all. “Though I do not claim to be an expert on them, of course.”
“None of our sex is, I fear.” The other woman sighed. “That said, both Lord Underhill and Lord Snowly are very similar in some ways.”
Charlotte was immediately inclined to disagree but took a moment to consider Lady Priscilla’s words, for there was some degree of truth in them she supposed. A month ago, Charlotte would not have thought so. After all, though she liked Noah a great deal, he was a rogue at heart. There was no getting around that. At one time, Charlotte would not have said the same about Francis, however. After this morning? She had changed her mind, for no man who was not at least something of a rogue would ravish a woman in a garden. No matter how much he desired her.
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