by Bree Wolf
When she finally touched him, he nearly jumped out of his skin.
Gently, her fingertips brushed over his cheek, then travelled down and felt his chin.
Angling his face slightly upward and to the right, Sebastian felt his body strain toward her, seeking her touch, craving it like a man dying of thirst would be drawn to an oasis.
Growing bolder, she cupped the side of his face with her hand, slowly sliding it down the line of his jaw. When she reached his mouth, she hesitated before her thumb gently brushed over his lower lip.
Sebastian sucked in a sharp breath, the fine nerve endings in his lips tingling with anticipation.
Then he felt her breath on his skin and sensed the warmth of her body as she slowly leaned closer. When her lips finally touched his, he moaned.
At first, her kiss was like the touch of a feather, soft and fleeting, before it began to linger, and the pressure increased. Her hands brushed down the side of his face, along his neck and then slid back into his hair.
Fighting for control, Sebastian held himself back when all his senses urged him to deepen the kiss.
And yet, despite his own confinement, he found himself savouring every little touch and caress she bestowed on him. Her movements were tentative and inexperienced, yet curious and unexpectedly inquisitive, and before long, she was the one who deepened the kiss.
Pulling herself closer to him, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and then slid onto his lap. With her chest pressed to his, she clung to him, and her lips explored the finer nuances of a kiss given freely and accepted just the same.
After a while, her explorations slowed, became gentler and softer until she sat back and he opened his eyes.
“Again, masterfully done,” he teased, smiling up at her.
For a second, her eyes narrowed, and she shook her head. Then her mouth split into a grin, and she reached out a hand and pinched him in the arm.
“Ouch!” Sebastian exclaimed. “You didn’t just−?”
“You deserved it,” she chided him, a twinkle of amusement in her glowing eyes. “It is not proper to laugh at a lady.”
“My apologies, my lady,” Sebastian whispered, his voice teasing. “I cannot explain what came over me. For some odd reason, my mental faculties seem to be compromised now.”
His wife laughed in such an honest, unrestrained way, free of doubt and regret, that Sebastian couldn’t help but stare at her in awe. Never had he seen her so relaxed and untroubled. “Feel free to tie me up any time you choose,” he continued to tease her, wishing more than anything that he could touch her glowing face. “Early in the morning. Late at night. You don’t even have to ask.”
A deep smile came to her face as she rolled her eyes at him. “As long as I compensate you with a kiss?”
“Well, yes, that goes without saying.”
For a long moment, they simply looked at each other, comfortable with the new intimacy that had grown between them. Sebastian knew that they had taken an important first step toward a shared future, and although he loathed the thought of losing the lightness of her touch, he knew nothing more could happen between them that day. If he rushed her, she would retreat from him, and that was the last thing he wanted. “Maybe we should see to my mother and Victoria,” he suggested rather reluctantly.
His wife blinked as though just waking from a spell. “Yes, of course. You’re right.” Somewhat distracted, she slid off his lap, her eyes once again darting around the room, unable to meet his. “Do you think they’re in the back parlour?” she asked, heading toward the door. “Or upstairs?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Sebastian said, trying to suppress the laughter that bubbled up as he watched her. “However, I’d truly love to help you locate them if you would first help me.”
“Help you?” she asked, turning around. “With what?”
Still sitting tied to the armchair, Sebastian grinned at her, which turned into a deep laugh the moment her eyes widened, and she clasped a hand over her mouth. “Since I’m neither a magician nor a con-artist, I fear I’m at your mercy.”
Grinning, she bit her lower lip and hastened over, all nervousness vanished as she knelt beside him and began to work on the first knot. “I’m sorry. I suppose it slipped my mind.”
“That’s understandable,” Sebastian mocked. “After all, my kisses are legendary. A certain sense of disorientation was to be expected.”
Laughing, his wife shook her head. “Do you truly believe it wise to mock someone who can very easily leave you here for the rest of the day?”
Grinning, he stared at her. “You wouldn’t?”
“Are you absolutely certain?”
“I’d scream for help,” he threatened, enjoying himself immensely. “After all, I’m the new Earl of Weston.”
His wife shrugged, clearly unimpressed. “I tied you to a chair what is supposed to keep me from gagging you?”
Staring at her, Sebastian soon broke down laughing, feeling even more euphoric when his wife joined in. This was truly one of the best days of his life!
“Now, hold still,” she ordered, turning her attention back to the knot, “or I might be tempted to carry out my threat.”
Sitting quietly in his chair, Sebastian watched her as she untied his arms, then quickly stood and returned the rope to the curtain, carefully fixing it back in place.
Regret filled him at the distance that so suddenly sprung up between them, and without another thought, he crossed the room. “Do you need any help?” he asked, experiencing a moment of nervousness as he grasped for something to say that would allow them to hold on to the intimacy they’d shared.
“Not necessary,” she said, turning around to look at him. “Remember? I’m good at tying knots.”
Sebastian smiled, holding her gaze as she smiled up at him. “I haven’t forgotten,” he whispered as the world around them fell away once more.
Again, she bit her lip and studied his face as though contemplating something that hadn’t occurred to her before. Then she took a deep breath and took a step toward him. “Can I ask you to … simply stand still? And not move? At all?”
Holding her gaze and seeing the same nervousness there that he felt course through his own veins, Sebastian nodded. “I’ll do my best.”
“All right,” she whispered as though to herself. Then her gaze dropped from his, and she reached out her hands and slipped them into his, gently squeezing his fingers.
Sebastian inhaled deeply, savouring the soft touch of her skin against his.
When she pulled his arms forward and then stepped into his embrace, he thought he was dreaming. Carefully, she placed his hands on her waist, then slowly pushed them farther onto her back as she pressed closer against him. Her hands slid up his arms until they locked behind his neck, and she looked up at him, a soft, rather daring smile curling up her lips. “Don’t move,” she whispered as she pushed herself up onto her toes, her lips inching closer toward his.
“I couldn’t if I wanted to,” Sebastian breathed, closing his eyes as her warm breath swept over the curve of his mouth.
“Let me try this,” she whispered against his lips before her mouth closed over his and Sebastian’s heart skipped a beat … or two.
From one second to the next, all his senses zeroed in on that one touch that connected them, and his nerve endings went into overload. Recognising the trust she placed in him, Sebastian began to feel lightheaded.
Before, it had been safe … for the both of them. She had been the one in control. Even if he had wanted to−and quite frankly, he had−he couldn’t have touched her.
Now, though, everything was different.
There was nothing to hold him back. No sailor’s knot to keep him restrained. Nothing but the trust she placed in him, and he wondered if she was even aware of the precarious situation they suddenly found themselves in.
Willing his hands to remain where they were and not explore her body further, Sebastian concentrated on the kiss, savouring each so
ft touch, each shared breath as she pressed herself against him. And yet, he found himself unable not to respond to the passion that burnt between them.
As he deepened the kiss, the muscles in his arms tightened, holding her closer, and it was all he could do not to crush her in his arms.
Before long, her own explorations waned, and a nervous tension came to her body.
Cursing himself, Sebastian instantly released her, forcing himself to step back. “I’m sorry,” he said, swallowing before he dared meet her eyes, afraid what he might see there. “I suppose I got carried away.”
“I noticed,” she said, breathing heavily as she held on to his hands.
Relieved beyond imagining that her eyes held neither fear nor regret, Sebastian smiled at her. “Maybe it would be safer for the both of us if we had some reassurances. At least for now.”
Smiling, his wife closed her eyes for a moment. “Maybe you’re right.” She took a deep breath and held his gaze. “But it did feel … intoxicating.”
“I’m glad it did,” he whispered, gently squeezing her hands, reluctant to let go.
Then a knock sounded on the door.
Chapter Thirty-Six – The Enemy
She had kissed him.
Was she mad?
Rolling around in her bed unable to keep still, Charlotte spent the night before their departure to Hartridge Hall alternately staring up at the ceiling and burying her face in her pillows.
She hadn’t planned on kissing him. Quite frankly, she had been certain she would never again kiss anyone … ever again.
Naturally, once upon a time, she, too, had dreamed of love and marriage and a family of her own. But then one night had shattered it all, and from then on, the present as well as the future had merely been about surviving.
Not about finding love.
Not about finding happiness.
Out of the shadows, it had sneaked up on her, seizing her when she’d least expected it.
After Lord Northfield had re-entered her life, Charlotte had been certain that all was lost. She had resigned herself to giving up the family she had found so unexpectedly and returning to the shadows.
Only now, everything was different.
Or was it?
While her mind argued that nothing had changed, that Northfield could and would still reveal her past to her new family, to her husband, her heart simply didn’t care.
All it cared about was the feeling of peace, of belonging, of being whole again that her husband’s kiss−her kiss−had stirred within her.
Even now, hours later, her body hummed with the memory of his touch. Never had she thought it possible that a man’s touch could feel … pleasant. More than pleasant. It truly had been intoxicating, and a part of her hadn’t wanted to stop.
And she hadn’t, had she?
He had stopped.
Somehow, he had known that she hadn’t been ready, that they needed to take things slow, and despite the lack of reassurance, he had kept his word.
A deep smile came to her face when she realised that her judgement of him had been correct. He was indeed an honourable man. A good man, who put her well-being before his own.
She could be happy with him.
If only …
***
Although Charlotte exchanged the occasional meaningful glance with her husband the following morning, which sent her heart into an uproar−a delightfully exciting one−the general mood was rather subdued. Which, of course, was understandable, considering that they were heading back for the late earl’s funeral.
However, it was not sadness that rested in his family’s eyes, but rather the notion that they ought to feel sad. After all, death was a sad occasion and the departed ought to be mourned. And yet, in all honesty, they hadn’t cared for the late earl when he’d been alive. Why would they now in death?
As they sat in the carriage, heart and mind didn’t go hand in hand. While they could not shed honest tears for a man who had shared their blood but not their lives, they knew that it would be in bad taste to chat and laugh as they would on a journey. And so, they all remained quiet, each glancing out the window at the passing landscape.
When they had found Victoria on their doorstep that morning, Charlotte had nearly suffered a heart attack for fear her sister-in-law’s husband was just around the corner waiting for the opportune moment to make his presence known. However, according to Victoria, he had not been home when she had returned the day before, and so, she had merely left him a note saying that her father had passed away and that she would return to her family’s estate for a few days.
Charlotte had been relieved, and so had her husband.
Although they had agreed that something had to be done about Northfield−mostly for Victoria’s sake−they hadn’t had an opportunity to discuss details. However, now that they were leaving London, Charlotte hoped that Northfield would find other entertainment and forget about her … at least for a little while.
Once they returned, she would think of a solution.
She had to.
When they arrived at Hartridge Hall, Charlotte felt as though she had been gone a lifetime. Glancing up at the looming facade, she remembered the moment she had first crossed the threshold. She remembered the unadulterated shock on the earl’s face when he had been informed that she was now his daughter-in-law. But she also remembered her mother-in-law’s warm welcome as well as Victoria’s delight to see her brother married.
Opening the door to her old bedchamber, Charlotte shook her head, wondering how the world could have changed so drastically in so short a time. It had been all but a few weeks since she’d last slept in this bed, and yet, her life had taken a sharp turn … or rather two.
One for the worse.
And one for the better.
Charlotte wondered which one would ultimately define her future, and although she hoped that it was the new love slowly growing between her husband and her, she knew deep in her heart that the threat Northfield presented would not simply vanish … but rather return with a vengeance.
After all, he had always been set on seeing her fall.
That night after supper, they all sat together in the drawing room. While Victoria and her mother occupied the settee, their eyes focused on the needlework in their hands, Charlotte and Sebastian strode around the room, here and there stopping to look out the window at the darkened sky, to inspect one of the artefacts placed around the room or to gaze at one another, the memory of their kiss evident in their eyes.
It was an odd moment to feel such joy, and yet, Charlotte could barely contain herself. When her husband looked at her with such intensity, a soft smile playing on his lips, she felt like a young woman again, unburdened by her past, and her heart longed to hold on to that feeling, determined never to relinquish the treasure it had found so unexpectedly.
Once more stopping by the window, Charlotte pressed her lips together to suppress a most inappropriate smile as her husband, who had remained at the fireplace looking at a painting, abandoned his post and strode over. His sleeve brushed against hers as he came to stand beside her. His eyes sparkled with mischief, and yet, he took great care not to touch her.
Shoulder to shoulder, they stood, and Charlotte felt her heart thud in her chest as her body became increasingly aware of his presence … so close, and yet, not close enough.
Allowing her hand to drop to her side, she kept her gaze fixed out the window as she shifted on her feet, her fingers slightly brushing against his. Instantly, a jolt shot through her, and she heard him suck in a breath before his eyes shifted to hers, an alluring smile drawing up the corners of his mouth.
When a knock sounded on the door, they both flinched.
“Excuse me, my lord, my ladies,” Hartridge Hall’s butler mumbled, “but you have a visitor.”
“This late?” the dowager countess asked, a frown on her face as she put aside her needlework and rose to her feet.
“Who is it?” Sebastian asked, turning towa
rd the door.
As the butler opened his mouth to reply, footsteps echoed from behind and a moment later the door swung open, revealing Victoria’s husband in its frame.
Blind panic seized Charlotte.
Closing her eyes briefly, she gulped down a few breaths of air and fought down the terror that held her in its clutches with everything she had, remembering that he could not harm her if he did not catch her alone … or reveal the truth about her.
“Northfield,” Sebastian growled beside her, instinctively taking a step forward, shielding her from the threat that had entered their house.
“Good evening,” their guest greeted them, a delighted smile on his face while his eyes burnt with excitement. “I apologise for the delay. I would have arrived sooner, but important business kept me in Town.”
While Victoria and the dowager countess remained quiet, the expression on their faces speaking of annoyance as well as displeasure, Sebastian approached their uninvited guest. “What are you doing here?”
Feigning surprise, Northfield frowned. “I’m here to pay my respects to your late father. Truly, he was a most honourable man and will be greatly missed. I, myself, owe him a debt of gratitude, for without his diligence, I would not have such a lovely woman in my life.” However, instead of looking at Victoria, his eyes travelled to Charlotte, and what she saw there sent cold shivers down her back.
Why had he come? After all, he had given her a fortnight to respond to his … offer. Had he changed his mind? Or did he simply enjoy seeing her so miserable?
Temporarily distracted, Charlotte barely noticed the tension that rested in her husband’s shoulders. Only when his gaze followed Northfield’s and came to rest upon her did she notice his hands slowly balling into fists, an enraged snarl on his face.
“Is something wrong?” Northfield asked in mock concern, his gaze fixed on his brother-in-law’s face, amusement lighting up his eyes. “Are you not feeling well?”