But there’s more caring in David’s little finger than in all of Haliday’s person.
Scott drew her chemise up and lifted it away. Her drawers followed.
Charlotte turned in toward his arms as he lay back, pressed herself against his heat and, still shy about showing her emotions, turned her face into the curve of his neck. She closed her eyes, staggered by the feel of his naked flesh against hers. The relief and desire and anticipation were so strong, the ache for him was nearly painful. She rocked her hips, rubbing his hardness against the acute sensitivity of her feminine flesh, and they moaned simultaneously.
“I can’t wait, David. Please don’t make me,” she begged.
A choked laugh escaped him. “Ah, Bluebell, what am I going to do with you?”
Love me.
The thought rose up from nowhere, and Charlotte immediately discarded it, terrified. Then David effortlessly positioned her under him, adjusted his legs, and oh so slowly eased into her. She thought she might shatter, the already severe tension in her womb and between her legs rising. She felt every bit of him pressing inside her cunny.
His mouth captured the peak of her breast, and his teeth and tongue worried the contracted tip to a state of exquisite feeling. When he moved, the sweet stroke made her gasp.
“David.”
He lifted his head. There was just enough light to see his eyes.
“David.”
The tension wound tighter. She was ensnared by his unhurried loving, every inch of her connected to him in an elemental way. Their bodies moved as if perfectly matched. Their breaths rasped, they sighed and moaned. She clutched him to her, intoxicated by his slow, powerful strokes and ardent kisses. Strong, calloused fingers smoothed her hair from her moist temples, and his lips and tongue tasted her face and neck.
Charlotte wanted it to go on forever. She moaned and he captured her mouth in a searing kiss that laid claim to more than just her lips. When the kiss ended, she was gasping and he was straining, and inside he was pressing in a new way. Her tension geysered, her body clenched around him, and she disintegrated like so much stardust flung into the furnace of the sun.
He, too, groaned and shuddered, gripped by release.
He collapsed against her. A minute later he roused and shifted them enough to ease his weight from her in a way that left them still entangled. For a time they simply breathed. His eyes were bluer than she’d ever seen them. She tried to keep her own eyes shuttered by her lashes, afraid of what he might see in their depths.
He gazed at her a moment and his lips curved the slightest bit, just enough to deepen the grooves at the corners of his mouth. He brushed his mouth back and forth across hers, kissing her softly. She’d never known anything so sweetly tender. And just like that, the yearning for him was back.
Her wantonness shocked her. Surely such strong desire marked her common origins? Jane didn’t share the intimate details of the marriage bed, but Charlotte was sure ladies didn’t have the appetites of harlots.
She moved away, and David’s member slid from her body. Charlotte got up, pulled the covers up from the foot of the bed, and doused the lamp. She then rousted through their tumbled pile of clothing until she found her chemise, but pulling it on didn’t lessen the desire that pulsed anew. Her nipples rubbed against the fine fabric and she shivered with the desire to rub them against him.
She returned to the bed, carefully maintaining a space between their bodies. Feeling decidedly cold and nervous, she wished she could snuggle up next to David again, and hated that she was now wide awake when minutes ago she’d been replete and drowsy. She turned away from him and sighed, and wondered if she shouldn’t just go home. Then his arm came around her and pulled her back against him.
His heat enfolded her. His hand coasted down her belly, sank into her curls, and nudged her sex. She wiggled backward, pressed into him, and felt proof of his wanting her again, hard against the back of her hip.
His tongue slid across her shoulder, and his lips moved against her nape. “I didn’t get enough. I want more.”
His husky, seductive voice, his arousing mouth, his hand caressing her in a manner she’d never contemplated—they devastated her. He wanted her again. Again! An amorous relief twined through her. She hadn’t even known it could happen again so soon.
She turned toward him and met his seeking lips. Their kiss was so deep, so powerful, it made her breasts heavy and the area between her thighs tingle. His fingers went there again, and she gasped.
“Do you like that?”
She did, oh, she did. She nodded and tried to tell him with her kiss.
When they broke apart, his eyes gleamed with an intensity that filled her with heat. He smiled, pulled her leg over his hip, and came into her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
David woke early, aroused and wanting Charlotte. He lay spooned against her relaxed and sleeping body, and he wished he could stay here, in Rose Cottage—in its bed—all day, but he couldn’t. They’d agreed to leave for their respective homes early, before daybreak.
Slowly he adjusted the position of his arm so he could enjoy the gentle rise and fall of her ribs as she breathed. He hadn’t before doubted his ability to work beside her without revealing their personal association, but now he wondered. Since his injury he’d discovered a not insignificant talent for concealing his emotions, but he couldn’t imagine being able to hide what he was feeling now.
He loved her. There was no mistaking it.
He’d been a fool to think he could engage in an affair with Charlotte and not fall in love. He hadn’t even made it through twenty-four hours without succumbing. He should have guessed. He’d been enamored even before the sex.
But oh, how sweet. Right now, lying beside her, the world could not get any sweeter.
Still, this moment would end, he reminded himself, as eventually their liaison would, too. It was fated to end just as he was destined to be alone. Charlotte deserved only the best of men as the husband and father of her children, and he was crippled.
He’d suspected he’d be hurt when the affair ended. Now he knew the pain would exceed every battlefield injury he’d ever sustained. He squeezed his eyes shut. He had borne pain. He could bear it again.
Somehow he knew she’d never before shared all she’d confided last night. Did she even realize how much she trusted him? If she did, she could rest easy. She might not acknowledge her faith in him, but last night it had become the cornerstone of his love.
He took a deep breath, inhaling Charlotte’s distinctive rose and jasmine cologne mingled with the musk of their lovemaking. It had to be the most divine scent he’d ever smelled. He’d awakened hard, and this made him even harder.
Pressing against her lush buttocks, he swept aside her hair and dragged his tongue across the pale, delicious skin at her nape. So tender and so vulnerable, God, but he loved that spot. His hand moved leisurely up her chest, coming to rest with one nipple nestled in his palm. She rewarded him with a sigh, a languid shifting of limbs, and her body pressing into his.
For a minute he enjoyed the contours and textures of her breast before sliding his hand down to the juncture of her thighs. As if he’d commanded it, she quivered.
#
Afterward, watching Charlotte dress enthralled him. He wouldn’t have thought it would be so. After all, she was covering up all that tempting flesh rather than revealing it. But David found that, having traced her curves with his hands, he regarded her in a totally new way. He now knew the fine shape of the legs hidden under all those layers of skirts and how they gripped his hips. He knew the almost translucent whiteness of her breasts, the dusty pink of her areolas, the taste and silky feel of her skin. And he knew how all of that was for him alone.
He kept one eye on her as he donned his own clothes and got into his chair. Then he gave her his undivided attention.
She’d gotten over her initial shyness and grinned at his scrutiny. Finally, she sat and presented her back to him. She n
eeded his assistance to manage her buttons, just as she’d needed it the previous night to undo them.
Then he hadn’t noticed, but today he saw each ivory button was a carved rose. He smiled and began slipping buttons through buttonholes. The activity gave him the perfect opportunity to broach an important topic. One that had been worrying him since their first time together.
“What if you begin increasing, Charlotte? Have you considered that?” She’d said not to worry, but if that happened she’d really have no choice but to marry him regardless of what either of them wanted.
The thought stilled his fingers, and she glanced back at him. “There’s little chance of that happening. I was married four years. Haliday wanted an heir and applied himself to the task. To no avail.”
He hated thinking of her with her former husband, most especially of the man exercising his marital rights. David clenched his jaw and resumed his buttoning endeavors.
“You were never with child?” he asked.
Her head dropped forward. Something about her vulnerable posture made him grasp her shoulders, as somehow he knew there was more.
“I…I was enceinte when he died. I hadn’t yet told him.”
He began gently kneading her shoulders and wondered how often Charlotte had chastised herself for that. “What happened?”
“I lost the child in the days after his murder.”
“I’m sorry, Charlotte.”
He slowly fastened the last three buttons. She stood and went to the mirror that hung over the bureau. Knotting her hair low on her neck, she quickly began inserting pins. The mirror revealed her solemn stare, straight into her reflected eyes.
“The physician who attended me said, since I’d gone four years without conceiving and then lost my first pregnancy within a few weeks, he felt there was little chance I’d ever carry a child the necessary duration.”
She looked so miserable. Damn his useless legs! He wanted to stand behind her and turn her into his arms and hold her. Instead, he was effectively relegated to tugging at her skirts.
“I’m sorry. It’s no consolation, but at least you won’t have to worry about being forced into wedlock with me.”
The remark made him feel rather cruel and cold when he’d meant to be reassuring.
Charlotte turned and gave him a wide smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Yes. I’m sure it’s a relief to you as well.”
It wasn’t that he didn’t want children. It was that he’d want them to have a better father.
He gave her a very direct look. “You will be sure and tell me if it should happen.”
Her eyes widened. They looked especially dewy, perhaps suspiciously so, and he rolled his chair closer. She stepped back, then whirled and made for the door.
“Of course I will, David,” she called. “We’d best hurry if we’re to get home before sunrise.”
He trailed behind, the conversation having left him uneasy. As much as he wanted this association, was it wise? What if she were wrong? The last thing he wanted to do was force Charlotte into a marriage she found undesirable, and how could it be anything but that when he was a shattered husk instead of the man she deserved?
He entered the cottage’s cozy sitting room and found Boone conversing with her, a hack he’d engaged already waiting out front. She’d wrapped her velvet stole around her shoulders, and David rolled his chair close. He wanted to kiss her good-bye, but such an act was unthinkable with Boone watching. So, somehow they ended up holding hands. Charlotte’s heightened color made David wonder if she wasn’t a bit embarrassed.
He raked his free hand through his hair, and with the other he gave her fingers a gentle squeeze.
“You never wear a hat,” she pointed out. “Or use pomade.”
“I think my naked head draws as many stares as my wheelchair. I know I’m not fashionable, but top hats tend to fall off when I’m leaning forward, wheeling myself.”
“And your lack of pomade or hair oil?”
“Habit. I’ve a habit of rumpling my hair when I’m thinking. Or frustrated. I guess I do it when I’m bored, too. I tried all the usual hair compounds, but invariably I’d end up with my hair sticking straight up.”
“Well, I like it.” With the tip of her forefinger Charlotte smoothed back a lock from his forehead. When her finger stilled at his temple and she smiled, it was as if he’d never sated himself last night or again a mere hour ago.
She glanced at Boone, blushed, and a moment later was gone.
#
Three weeks later, Charlotte stepped from her hack and waited for Persa to jump down. The little dog had become a favorite at the Fund offices, and Charlotte never tired of watching their younger visitors grin when Persa bounded up to them. Fur waving, the dog now leapt to the ground and raced to the Fund office entrance.
Persa’s tail wagged madly as she waited at the door for Charlotte. Today the pet made things feel more routine when they were anything but. She’d left David, her lover, early this morning. In a few minutes she’d be greeting Mr. Scott, her supervisor, under the friendly eyes of George Chetney. So Persa was a welcome distraction.
The hack drove away, and Charlotte pressed her hand to her midsection, wishing she could quell the excited flutters that assailed her. They’d had the luxury of meeting at the cottage for three weeks now. She wouldn’t have expected to still feel this level of excitement whenever she encountered David, yet she did. There was truly no reason for nerves, but her body seemed to have a different opinion.
She knew the skirt and bodice she wore were really too fine for the office, but she’d wanted to wear her favorite ensemble again. The deep purple-blue color most attractively complemented her eyes, and David called her Bluebell because of her eyes.
Thoughts of last night brought memories of David’s caressing hands, and Charlotte felt herself warm. Aware she stood motionless and smiling, she pulled herself from her reverie and started again toward the door, focusing on Persa and laughing at the charming picture her pet made.
“You just want to see if Mr. Chetney has saved a bite of his breakfast for you.”
The blow came from out of nowhere. It wasn’t just a bump that unbalanced her and caused her to fall; it was a slam that knocked her off her feet and sent her flying. She landed hard on her left side then settled facedown, arms spread, the breath driven from her lungs. Stunned and struggling to breathe, she barely comprehended the presence of a man grabbing her reticule, roughly pulling its strap from her arm, and running away. Persa tore after him, growling ferociously. Then Charlotte was alone.
She managed small gasps and then larger breaths. She could hear Persa’s bark becoming more and more distant, and worry for her dog replaced concern for herself. Her palms and knees stung and her left arm and hip throbbed. She’d smacked her chin and mouth, too.
She managed to raise herself onto her uninjured forearm and roll to her right side. Everything worked. She sat up but almost immediately a weak head and queasiness assailed her. Suddenly hot and sweaty, Charlotte reclined and stared up at the sky. The hard paving stones beneath her, still cold from the night, felt surprisingly comfortable.
“Lady Haliday!” Running footsteps stopped at her side, and Lord Wakefield knelt beside her. Concerned eyes swept over her. “Are you all right?”
She hurt. Her head spun. The buzzing in her ears nearly obliterated his words. And, Wakefield’s appearance relieved her, but there was something wrong about him. He didn’t look like himself.
She ran her hand down his lapel. “You’re out of uniform.”
He wasn’t in his usual military attire but wore a top hat, dark green coat and brown trousers. His tawny brows lifted. “I’m no longer in the Queen’s service, my lady. I’ve mustered out.” He took her hand. “You’re scaring me. What happened?”
Their brief exchange seemed to clear Charlotte’s head. “I was knocked over and my reticule stolen. Please, can you see Persa? I think she ran after him.”
“Persa?”
/> “My dog.” Charlotte could no longer hear any barking.
Wakefield cast his gaze around. “I don’t see her. Why don’t we get you taken care of, and then we’ll find Persa?”
She didn’t care for his suggestion, but she sensed she wouldn’t dissuade him. “I’m fine. I just got a little muddled for a moment. I landed pretty hard.” She sat up and began gingerly rubbing her knee. The palms of her hands stung. She made to draw her legs close in preparation of standing, but a sharp pain in her hip stopped her.
“Stay still.”
Without another word, Wakefield scooped her into his arms, rose and headed for the building. Startled, Charlotte wrapped her arms around his neck.
“Lord Wakefield! This isn’t necessary.”
“You’re not going to spoil my fun, are you?” His long strides had them at the entrance. “Can you get the door?” He bent a bit, enabling her to grasp the door handle, and the moment she had it open he shouldered it back and carried her through.
As they entered, Chetney jumped to his feet. “Lady Haliday! What’s wrong?” He hurried around the desk. “Mr. Scott,” he called.
“My reticule was stolen and Persa went after the thief.” She didn’t want to talk about herself. Persa could be lost. “Mr. Chetney, please, can you go after her? They went in the direction of the park.”
#
Hearing the commotion, David rolled to the doorway of his office. The unexpected sight of Charlotte in Miles Wakefield’s arms took him aback.
“Bring her in here,” he called. He rolled back into his office, but her anxious eyes implored him. “Chetney, go find Persa,” he commanded.
Wakefield strode in, gently placed Charlotte on the settee then knelt beside her. It was the second time she’d lain there, David realized, recalling her first day at the office. He tried to get his chair close, but Wakefield, carefully removing her glove, blocked him.
Miles turned Charlotte’s hand over, revealing a bright red palm already beginning to purple. Seeing Charlotte’s slim hand in his friend’s much larger one imbued David with a sense of impatience he recognized as possessiveness.
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