“I wasn’t aware it was a contest. A battle of wills, perhaps, but not sport.”
“Believe me, I don’t consider the state of my marriage a matter of amusement.”
“Neither do I,” Charlotte said. “And I’m not supporting Etherton. I’m very angry with him, in fact. I don’t like him hurting you for any reason. But Jane, I think you’ve hurt him, too.”
Jane looked down at her feet. She appeared miserable, but her husband loved her and was faithful. Charlotte kept a tight hold on her patience. Her friends had some family changes to adjust to, but Phillip had always been devoted to Jane and they would triumph. If Charlotte could believe in Phillip, why couldn’t his wife? Jane had been so relieved to have a love match in the first place.
“Does this have anything to do with your parents?” Charlotte guessed.
Jane frowned. “What? How could it?”
Jane’s parents led separate lives and were somewhat notorious. When Charlotte and Jane had been in school together, Jane had complained bitterly about her parents’ dalliances. Her father had a number of illegitimate children he supported, several of them living on his estate. Her mother had lived on the continent for years.
“Growing up, you rarely saw them. When you did see your father, he included his out-of-wedlock children in your time together. Because you lived at school, he spent more time with them than he did with you.”
Jane shook her head and crossed her arms. Her lips tightened.
“Your parents don’t even pretend to have a harmonious marriage. Your father showers love on his illegitimate children.” Charlotte didn’t want to hurt Jane, but who else would tell her the hard truth she needed to hear? “Couldn’t some of your anger be due to your seeing similarities between your parents’ marriage and yours? Or fearing there are similarities?”
Jane’s mouth dropped open. Then snapped shut. “No.” Her eyes glittered. “You’re very trusting and forgiving when it comes to my husband. You defend him and criticize me. Yet there’s not a man on earth you would trust for yourself, is there? You don’t even limit it to marriage. You don’t trust love.”
Charlotte said nothing. Her friend might as well have ripped out her lungs and wrung them.
“You’re just like me,” Jane whispered. “Your father’s at the root of your fear.”
Deep inside Charlotte, Jane’s words vibrated like the air after the strike of a great bell. Her friend was right, and this revelation had been coming for some time. Father hadn’t loved Mother, and he didn’t love Charlotte. He loved himself. His wealth. His power. Haliday had convinced her she was loveable because she’d wanted to believe it, but he’d lied and the world came crashing down. They were just two men out of many. Why did she think everyone would be cast in Father and Haliday’s mold? She believed in Phillip and Jane’s love, so why couldn’t she believe in David?
Annoyance gripped her. He’d never done a single thing to make her doubt his loyalty or his honor. Could she even imagine David being unfaithful? No. Just posing the question made her feel ashamed, and she shifted uneasily.
Yet, his past actions were no guarantee of the future. Hadn’t Haliday proven that? Weren’t most men damaged, able to throw off the promise of faithfulness without hesitation or guilt? She’d seen it happen again and again. Society teemed with examples. Yet she acknowledged Phillip as an exception, didn’t she? Wasn’t David as well?
Charlotte took a big breath, the air hurting as it rasped deep. If she trusted, if she let herself believe in David’s love and she was wrong… She had that little book buried in the bottom of her clothing chest as a tactile and visual reminder. The pain of such a mistake was great. If it happened again, she wasn’t sure she’d survive. Especially not after all she’d known with David.
“I’m sorry,” Jane said.
Charlotte dragged her attention back to her friend. Jane’s spectacles were off, her eyes wet, and Charlotte nodded in response. “I know. I didn’t mean to hurt you, either. But I’m glad you said that. I need to think about what you said.”
“Me, too,” Jane said. She stood, moved to Charlotte, bent and hugged her. Charlotte grabbed her friend in return, warmth spilling into her chest.
Jane sat, picked up her spectacles and shoved them back on her face. “Have you heard from the detective inspector?”
The change of subject felt awkward, but they both wanted to move past the distress to focus on less tumultuous topics. Charlotte offered Jane a selection of small cakes and answered, “The hunt intensified after Eleanor identified Lady Garret two days ago. Mr. Ridley stopped by this morning. He says the baroness knows they’re pursuing her. She hasn’t been home, and Lord Radcliffe hasn’t seen her.”
Jane selected a treacly spice cake. “Could Radcliffe be protecting her?”
“I don’t think so. He came here and spoke with David and me.” It had started out with all of them rather uncomfortable, but Radcliffe’s sincerity soon became apparent. “He confronted her. I felt badly for him. He seemed…devastated.”
“He went into that association with his eyes wide open,” Jane said. “He should have known better.”
“I think he’s regretful now, although when he met her he couldn’t have realized just how corrupt the woman was. I just wish they’d find her.” For many reasons. David had made Charlotte promise not to leave the house without two footmen in attendance. “It’s been difficult, not letting thoughts of her maliciousness torment me. It’ll be a relief to get back to work. Dr. Bliss, my physician, says I can return next week.”
Jane smiled. “God bless Dr. Bliss.”
#
David turned away from the coach window and smiled at Charlotte as they pulled up to the front door of Rose Cottage.
“Finally,” he huffed.
Charlotte laughed. Damn, it was good to hear her laugh.
“You couldn’t be as anxious as I am,” she said. “I’ve been confined inside my house for two straight weeks.”
“And I stood guard for two weeks, eyes glued open lest angels try to steal you away.”
A smile touched Charlotte’s eyes and mouth. She leaned over and kissed him. That first spontaneous touch was maddeningly erotic, but he ignored what his body begged for and enjoyed the lush fullness of her lips. He let her control the kiss and breathed in her enticing scent, imagining that the ambrosial fragrance held a bit of her spiritual essence. He wanted to nuzzle into that spot he loved below her ear and slide his tongue over her pulse. It had been so long since he’d tasted her sweetness.
Her mouth opened, her lips firmed against his, and her warm flavor beckoned his tongue. A great spear of joy shot through him. He’d never thought to feel such pleasure again. Not after his injury. He’d hoped to regain satisfaction and pride, but never such sweet passion and searing anticipation.
Their kiss grew in fervor. Some corner of his consciousness warned him Boone would be opening the door at any moment and unless he dragged his mouth away everyone would be embarrassed, so David ended the kiss and contented himself with an up-close contemplation of her amazing, bright bluebell eyes. He wanted to spend his life looking into them.
The revelation snapped his mind to attention. His life? Something must have shown on his face, because Charlotte’s expression became curious.
Before he could collect himself and make a remark, Boone opened the door. Having waited patiently at their feet, Persa launched herself out the carriage door.
It was just going on dusk, and the cook-housekeeper Mrs. Penny was finishing dinner preparations. At the start of their affair, Charlotte had felt self-conscious in front of the servants, but now she was comfortable. David poured them each a glass of sherry to enjoy until the meal was announced.
“I love the informality here. The peace and privacy.”
Charlotte accepted the drink but set her glass down, came behind his chair and leaned over David’s back. She pressed her cheek to his and slid her hands down his chest. Heat and desire congregated low in his pelvi
s and manhood, and he hoped he made it through dinner without having to drag her away from the meal.
“What’s this?” She’d found the small, hard bulge in his waistcoat pocket. She delved inside and withdrew his keepsake. She held the token on her flattened palm and inspected it. “Is this my button?”
He grinned at her surprise. “Mmm. Yes, I’m afraid it is.” He plucked the purple-blue button from her hand and fingered it. “I found it on the floor of my office the day your reticule was stolen.”
“What’s it doing in your pocket?”
She reached for it, but he snatched it away and returned it to his pocket.
“David?”
He hesitated. He’d never said the words, but he thought she knew he loved her. He’d never had the courage to ask her if she loved him in return, as she’d said while she was sick, but still their feelings for each other seemed somewhat clear. His explanation shouldn’t seem peculiar. “I like keeping a bit of you with me.”
He had surprised her. Her smile grew, and her cheeks blushed a deep pink. She whirled around his chair, sat on his lap, and pressed a quick, firm kiss to his lips.
“I understand,” she said. “While I was recuperating, holding that little carving of Persa made me feel close to you.”
“Yes.” Deep satisfaction overtook David. It was so wonderful to have her well again. He felt as if he were made of sunshine instead of bones and sinew.
“I love you, Bluebell. You know that, don’t you?”
Her eyes filled. Her smiling mouth began to quiver, and she blinked rapidly. Then she nodded.
“I told you I loved you when I was ill, didn’t I?” she asked. “I’ve been so afraid your knowing would change things.”
“Yes, you told me,” David said. “But I wasn’t sure you meant it.”
“I meant it.”
She looked too serious and solemn, but her lips were warm. Her tongue touched his and reawakened his hunger before she pulled away. He thought he might metamorphose into steam.
They embraced, pressed cheek to cheek, heart to heart. After a long minute, David ran his hands down her back and gripped her waist, which was narrower than before her illness. He eased her backward in order to see her face.
“There’s no reason for anything to change.” He studied her. “Unless you want more than what we have here….”
What would he do if she did? His views on marriage hadn’t altered. He was a man in love, but a crippled man. He couldn’t imagine a future without Charlotte in it, so as long as she didn’t want to marry they’d be fine. A lover wasn’t expected to protect and defend a mistress the way he would a wife, and his many restrictions wouldn’t matter to the same degree since they wouldn’t truly be sharing their lives. He wouldn’t have cause to disappoint Charlotte. Would he? His heart was still wrestling with that logic.
“Sir? My lady? Dinner is ready.”
Mrs. Penny stood out of sight, beside the doorway of the small room where they took their meals. Very diplomatic of her.
Charlotte stood and preceded David into the dining room. He liked that she didn’t attempt to push his chair; she knew he could easily manage himself and preferred to do so. Of course, she hadn’t responded to his comment about their future, and he needed to know she was still happy with their arrangement. He’d ask again when they were private.
Mrs. Penny carried out the main course, and the sight and smell of crisp, browned duck surrounded by turnips made David’s mouth water. Charlotte had gotten lucky when she’d found Mrs. Penny. He suppressed his unsettled feeling, as no doubt he had nothing to worry about.
He tucked into the superlative fare, reconsidering a notion he’d been chewing on for the past several days. The longer he’d pondered, the more likely the connection seemed. He’d just never brought it up to Charlotte. “Has it occurred to you that your reticule theft might be related to the poisonings?”
Charlotte set her fork down and took a sip of wine. “How could that be?”
“It’s too much of a coincidence that three such dramatic occurrences happened within a few weeks of each other. On the surface they don’t seem related, but my instincts tell me they are. I’ve thought it possible from the beginning. Now I feel pretty certain.”
“We know Lady Garret wants to harm me, but why would she want to steal my reticule?”
“The man knocked you down—hard—and there was no reason for it. He might have done you more injury if Persa hadn’t run him off.” Persa, lying in the corner with her muzzle on her front paws, lifted her head at the sound of her name before David continued. “I don’t think his primary intent was theft. He wanted to hurt you.”
“If Lady Garret hired him…that seems even more diabolical.”
“Oh, she’s serious, and this is very personal,” David assured her. “She disguised herself to get access to your dog then mixed up a batch of your favorite fudge to poison you. How could it be more diabolical than that?”
“She must have discovered it was my favorite candy while sleeping with my husband.”
David understood Charlotte’s bitterness. “Will you ever eat it again?”
The bleakness of her face made him think she wouldn’t. Then a thin smile curved her lips and she shrugged. Her perseverance humbled David.
“I admire your attitude. Very much.”
Her eyes widened, and the sharp little catch of her breath was audible. Her cheeks turned that lovely color again. He hadn’t realized before how easily she blushed. How easily he could make her blush.
He looked at her half-eaten meal. The last little while she’d been pushing it about with her fork. “Are you finished? Because I’m anxious for dessert.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
Charlotte must have seen desire in his face and understood what he was about, because she stood and moved toward the bedroom. David followed on her heels, watching the gentle sway of her hips and skirt, and once closed into the bedroom he matched her garment for garment. They made the bed at roughly the same time, only his small clothes and her chemise remaining.
She tugged off his undershirt and ran her hands over his shoulders and down his arms. Her sound of satisfaction and the admiring glint in her eyes made his chest swell. Damn, but he burned for this woman. She unfastened his drawers and slid them over his buttocks. By now he knew she had a liking for his bum, and her lips parted and the tip of her tongue slipped upward to wet them. The seductive look made David groan as she peeled his drawers off his legs.
He pulled her down and grasped the hem of her chemise, raising it while his hands brushed her sweet, feminine curves. His hands skimmed the sides of her hips then angled in to her narrow waist. Fingers spread, he slid them over her ribs and stroked the full undersides of her breasts with his thumbs. Pushing the finely woven white fabric up to her throat, he revealed her. No, he would never get his fill.
“You’re so beautiful,” David murmured.
She had the whitest skin, without a freckle or a blemish. He was hard, aching, his bollocks drawn tight. The cadence of her breath quickened, and Charlotte bowed her back the tiniest bit. Her tight, rose-brown nipples jutted out, beckoning, and she moaned as he drew one into his mouth.
Her incredible responsiveness enchanted him. It always had, making David’s own desire burn even hotter. He sucked until she squirmed, laved her breast with his tongue and then withdrew his mouth and captured the tip with his fingers. He had to go back to her mouth, had to take it with his tongue. Oh, God, he wanted to devour Charlotte, sink into her, thrust into her, until all semblance of sanity was lost and only feeling and his beloved remained. For her, he wanted to make fireworks detonate.
But not yet. Not yet.
He nipped and sucked the soft crease of her neck, her plump earlobe, the elegant sweep of her shoulder. Her hands stroked his shoulders, his arms, his chest, until he burned to possess her. She moaned and murmured his name. She tilted her pelvis as she thrust her fingers into his hair, and he knew she wanted him. That knowledg
e fired his desire even hotter, and he swore. She looked at him knowingly and smiled.
He played with her nipple, tugging and rolling, listening to her breathy exclamations of pleasure. He couldn’t stray far from her mouth, returning again and again, as each contact fueled his passion. He slid his fingers between her oh-so-feminine and secret folds, and he found her heated and slick with honey. Hot and wet, she pressed against his hand as her tongue mated with his.
“David…please come inside me.”
He closed his eyes, relishing her desire. He was thick and hard as a pike. Everything in him—every part of him—wanted Charlotte Haliday with a fierce desperation. His brain, his bone, his very sinew throbbed.
She gasped and clutched him as he pressed into her. His body took over then, the surging rush barely held at bay as he stroked, but hold it off he did, the feel of her at once solid and ephemeral and incredibly good. Somehow he had enough sense left to make sure he was hitting against her mound, against that most sensitive bundle of feminine flesh. There couldn’t be anything in the world better.
They were gasping, slick with sweat, moaning, and then her body went taut and her channel clenched. Her lips fell open in an endless cry, and her arms tightened about him—then tightened even more as the rest of her began to relax. Her passion had peaked and was now ebbing, and instinctively David knew she held him with a complete wholeness of feeling. With love.
He let passion take him then, and in the rush of feeling as he flew apart and his fluid pulsed into her he anchored himself to her with his arms. Everything that made him who he was, he silently offered up, and as awareness returned he tightened his hold even more, nuzzling into her neck. Feeling her body move as she breathed, feeling her soft sigh. Knowing when she smiled. Loving when her fingers furrowed into his hair and kneaded the back of his neck.
She’d nearly died. During those uncertain days while he watched over her, he’d refused to even consider the possibility. Once he knew she’d survive, he hadn’t been able to think of anything else. He was indeed the luckiest man on earth.
A Hero to Hold Page 26