Bloody hell. His heart rate sped up, and his traitorous cock grew. Perhaps if he counted blades of grass while they took their stroll, he could bring his body under control. Not likely with the alluring Mrs. Pennyworth walking alongside him. Nevertheless, he extended his good arm. “Shall we?”
It was a crisp late-autumn day, perfect for a stroll, with fallen leaves crunching under their shoes as they walked. They headed toward the Serpentine to find several other couples out and about, even though it was not the fashionable time for the Upper Crust to be walking and driving.
Charlotte took a deep breath, drawing his eyes to her lovely bosom, that was, unfortunately, covered by her pelisse. “Don’t you just love the fresh air, after the sultry summer weather with all the smells from the Thames?”
“Personally, I would love to leave London during the summer each year. I may one day buy a house in the country where I can spend the warmer months.” He wasn’t sure where that notion had come from, since he’d never thought about leaving London before. Unfortunately, this desire to buy a home in the country had to do with the woman by his side, and the thought that one day he might have her for a wife. A man with a family would do better away from the nastiness of the city.
“Would you come back for the holidays?” She sounded wistful, almost as if the idea of escaping appealed to her, as well. But then again, escaping might be precisely what she had in mind, due to the recent events plaguing her.
He shook his head and grinned. “No. I hadn’t thought about that. But you’re right. Once I retired to my country home, I would be reluctant to return at all. I might find the idea of lord of the manor quite appealing.” They made a slight turn to follow the winding river, nodding at passing strollers.
“Holidays in the country would be lovely.” She stepped over a small hole dug by some sort of critter. “I sometimes believe I am not a Town woman at all.”
“I had never thought about leaving London, myself, until recently. Perhaps old age is setting in.”
Charlotte smirked. “Yes, I can see your hair loss and wrinkled skin. You are definitely approaching your dotage.”
He stared straight ahead, not daring to look at her. “Of course, it would be quite lonely in the country by myself.” He held his breath. Would Charlotte respond to his hint?
She was silent for a few moments, then pointed to a low-lying branch on the elm tree to their left. “Oh, look at that bird. Isn’t he a lovely color?”
Nice deflection, Mrs. Pennyworth.
“Yes, lovely, indeed.” They continued in companionable silence. One thing he enjoyed about spending time with Charlotte was her comfort with quiet. So many women felt the need to constantly talk, which rattled his nerves after a while. Charlotte brought a sense of peace to him, which was amusing considering all she’d been through.
“Do you have other clients whose work has been put on hold since your injury? I know this seems quite late to ask this, but the thought only just occurred to me.”
“I have no other investigation clients at present. I have not accepted any others since I began yours. However, as I told you before, I am also a solicitor, and keep an active law practice. Most of that involves reading contracts and drawing up legal papers. None of that, however, has suffered. But I will need to get back to my rooms and take care of some matters as soon as possible.”
“I see. So, I can assume you will be moving back to your home, then?” Was that a pensive tone in her question?
“No. If you remember correctly, I had intended to take up residence in your home for the purpose of bringing this to a close. However, I hadn’t expected to have it happen quite the way it did. With your permission, I will have Thomas go with me to my rooms and gather the papers I need to continue with my work.” He covered her hand with his where it rested on his arm. “I don’t feel comfortable leaving you alone in the house. I’m afraid things have gotten too dangerous.”
…
Charlotte shivered at his words, knowing them to be true. Twice now, Elliot had suffered injuries due to his connection to her. She tamped down the guilt that threatened to overwhelm her. Nothing he said had led her to believe he blamed her, but nevertheless, she continued to feel responsible for his injuries.
“Are you chilly? Do you wish to return to the carriage?”
“No.” She glanced at him sideways with concern. “Perhaps a walk is too much for you?”
Elliot scowled. “Madam, I assure you I could outwalk you, outrun you, and out…” He grinned. “Never mind.”
“What?”
He leaned in close. “Are you sure you want to know how I can outlast you?”
She drew herself up, her face flushing. Damn the heat that rose due to her reaction to his evocative words. “I assure you I have no idea of what you are speaking.”
“Yes. You do. And I know you feel it too, sweetheart.” He glanced around, as if just remembering they walked outdoors and someone was interested in killing him. He stopped, turned toward her, and rested his hands on her shoulders, his fingertip stroking her jaw. Lowering his voice, he said, “Let’s be honest, Charlotte. I want to take you to bed. I don’t think that is a surprise to you. We would be wonderful together, and I have enough experience to know you want the same thing. Whether we act upon this attraction or not, denying it is of no use.”
With those meaningful words, he continued their walk, leaving her blushing, and her thoughts in a whirl.
Several minutes passed while she took note of the strength of Elliot’s arm under hers, and the heat emanating from his body. She imagined them both naked, skin-to-skin, lying in her bed as he stroked her and spoke gently in her ear.
For goodness sake, she must stop this, or she would melt into a puddle at his feet. She thought of other things, pushing away the erotic images holding her mind hostage. After a few minutes, and feeling more in control of herself, she said, “You have not been on your feet this long in more than a week. Perhaps we should turn around and head back to the carriage.” Despite her words, Elliot looked fine.
Too fine.
“I am well, actually, but I would prefer to return to the carriage. Since I mentioned the work that I have been neglecting since my injury, it now preys on my mind.”
They took a shorter route back to the coach and spent the time until they reached her house going over what information they had so far. Focusing on the investigation helped move Charlotte’s thoughts away from Elliot’s words and the images they had evoked. As they made their way up the stairs, the front door opened, and Thomas appeared at the entrance.
“Ah, Thomas. Just the man I wanted to see. I would appreciate you accompanying me to my rooms to retrieve some papers I need to go over.” Elliot stepped back from the door and allowed Charlotte to pass through.
She removed her bonnet and turned so Thomas could help her with her pelisse. “You may use the library for your purposes once your documents arrive. After I gather my correspondence from the library, I will be in my sitting room, writing my own letters. I will see you at luncheon?”
“If I may beg your consent, I would prefer a tray, so I may work uninterrupted.”
“Of course. I will see you at dinner, then.” She strode to the library and gathered up the letters she’d not done anything with earlier. Rather than eat alone in the dining room, she asked for a tray in her sitting room, as well. That was a foolish request, since she’d eaten alone at her dining room table for months after Gabriel died. But now with Elliot in residence, it seemed rather pathetic to sit at the table by herself. She’d eaten most of her meals the past week at his bedside, as she watched over him.
Charlotte was quite satisfied with the amount of work she’d accomplished by dinnertime. With everything that had happened the past few weeks, she’d let a great deal of her responsibilities go. She caught up on correspondence with friends she had in London, as well as the little village where she’d been raised.
She’d also answered letters from her man of business abo
ut her investments, and household accounts. Now she was ready to put that all aside and enjoy a nice, quiet dinner with Elliot. She carefully chose her evening dress—something special. Why, she had no idea. Perhaps because Elliot was back on his feet?
She entered the library where Elliot stood, holding a glass of brandy. He looked a bit fatigued, which was natural since until this morning, he had been bedridden for days.
“I poured you a sherry.” He placed his glass on the sideboard and picked up her sherry and walked it over to her. His hand brushed over hers as she took the glass from him. She jolted at his touch, and his eyes snapped to hers. He’d felt it, too.
“Thank you.” She chastised her breathless voice, then took a seat on the silk white and green print settee. “Were you able to finish the work you and Thomas retrieved from your rooms?
Elliot sat alongside her, swirling the brown liquid in his glass. “Yes, for the most part. There are a few things I will have to research at the law library before I am comfortable with the advice I intend to give my client.”
“Do you not feel torn between your duties as an investigator and solicitor? The work seems diametrically opposite.”
“In a way, perhaps. It seems in the past year I have received much more work in my law practice than I have in the investigations area. And there are other times where I need both skills to complete the job.”
“Madam, dinner is ready.” Thomas stood at the doorway, looking the proper footman.
“Thank you.” Charlotte and Elliot proceeded to the dining room. He held her seat for her while Thomas poured the wine. She was still not used to all the finery this life offered her. She never would have guessed when she’d left home years ago for her first job in service that she would one day preside over such a lovely table, with a footman pouring wine.
She and Elliot kept up a lively stream of conversation as they ate the duck, sturgeon, cabbages, potatoes, and pig jelly. After clearing the table, Thomas placed a plate of fruit and cheese in the center of the table, and Charlotte fixed tea for them both.
Elliot stirred his tea, the flame from the lamps around the room casting shadows here and there, washing everything in a golden glow. Charlotte was content—the first time in weeks—she felt safe with Elliot staying at her house. Part of her was uncomfortable with the notion she needed a man, but the logical part of her knew, until the matter of the packages was resolved, she needed the security of Elliot’s presence.
“You look quite relaxed this evening.” Elliot smiled at her as he placed his teacup in the saucer.
“I feel relaxed. I don’t really know why, since nothing has happened to quell my anxiety. I’m just grateful your injury was not grievous. Although I hasten to add, I am sorry you were injured at all, but if you hadn’t turned when you had, the outcome would have been much more serious.” She shuddered, as though a wave of cool air had swept the room.
“Yes. I have oftentimes thanked whatever it was I had intended to say to you for saving my life.”
“And what was it?”
He grinned. “I don’t remember. You would think something so monumental would be forever etched in my brain.”
The teacups were empty, and the plate of fruit and cheese had been enjoyed. Charlotte stifled a yawn and stood. “I think I will indulge in one more bit of sherry and then retire. I am quite fatigued.”
Elliot stood and pulled out her chair. “I will join you.” He took her arm, and they made their way to the library. Perhaps it was their earlier conversation, but a thought brought her up sharp.
What would it be like to have this permanently? She and Elliot sharing dinner, then a drink before bed.
It did not frighten her as much as it should have.
…
Elliot had tried all through dinner to remember Charlotte was his employer—his client. She was not an enticing woman who smelled like summer flowers, in a gown that dipped low enough for him to get ideas about uncovering interesting parts of her body. She smiled at him in such a way when he handed her a glass of sherry that he wanted to snatch it back from her, and crush her body to his.
The air had crackled between them from the time he’d handed her a drink before dinner. He was sure she sensed it, too. It had been obvious in the way she’d drawn her hand back from his, as if she’d been burned. Although dinner had been pleasant, and the conversation lively, every time her eyes had met his, he’d felt it again.
He handed her a drink and settled alongside her. He rested his arm across the back of the settee, lightly skimming the smooth skin at the back of her neck with his fingertips. She sighed and closed her eyes.
Elliot studied her as he took a sip of his brandy, then placed the glass down on the table in front of them, never taking his gaze from her. When she didn’t push his hand away, he used his thumb and index finger to encircle her neck, rubbing lightly. “Does that feel good?”
“Yes.” She practically hummed the word. She rotated her neck, and he shifted so he was closer, cursing the blasted arm in a sling, keeping him from pulling her against him so he could feel her fully.
She was all gold and beauty in the light reflected from the fireplace. Her plump lips were lightly pursed, begging for his kisses. His eyes were riveted on her generous breasts as they rose and fell in rhythm with his fingers manipulating the flesh at her neck. He leaned in and left whispers of kisses against her silky skin.
To his surprise, she turned to him, placing her lips only a fraction of an inch from his. Taking that as an invitation, his mouth covered hers gently, nipping at first, then feathering kisses on her lips, then moving to her jaw, and the sensitive skin behind her ear.
She hummed and moved closer. When his mouth slid back to her lips, he looked at her, her eyes now open, half-lidded, dark with need.
He plucked the glass of sherry from her fingers and placed it alongside his glass. She watched him, the tip of her pink tongue licking her lips. When her eyes dropped to his mouth, he used his one good arm to tug her to him, breasts to chest, mouth to mouth, fitting them together like puzzle pieces. His control was slight. He could barely hang onto his restraint. He had to slow down, or he would frighten her. Hell, his desire for her almost scared him, but he had been living with it for weeks, now. Grasping her jaw, he turned her head to take the kiss deeper, consuming her, taking command of her mouth in a savage possession, marking her as his.
Elliot nudged her lips with his tongue and grunted his satisfaction when she opened, and he slid his tongue into the moistness and warmth of her mouth. She tasted like sherry, and mint, and all woman.
My woman.
He was delighted when her tongue joined his and they warred like long-time lovers, touching and tasting. He nipped her lower lip, then soothed the place with butterfly kisses.
Charlotte drew back, leaving him bereft. Hopefully, she had not decided to call an end to their enjoyment. He leaned his forehead against hers. “Do you wish to stop?”
She hesitated, but only for a moment. “No, I don’t believe so.”
Before she could re-consider, he gently touched her lovely face with his good hand and returned his attention to her lips. Plump, moist, sweet. He could not get enough. So many men spoke of how they used a kiss or two as a minor prelude to the other more important parts of lovemaking. To Elliot, kisses had always been a wonderful thing in themselves.
Charlotte’s gentle sighs spurred him to keep his hand busy while he enjoyed the pleasures to be had in her mouth. He smoothly cupped her breast, weighing it with his hand, flicking his thumb over her already taut nipple. Her sighs turned to moans, imploring him to slip his hand into the top of her bodice. He moved his fingers under her breast and massaged, continuing to manipulate her nipple.
She kept her hands busy sliding her palms up his chest, careful to avoid the sling, then encircled his neck, where she played with the ends of his hair. Despite the awkwardness of having only one good hand to work with, he still managed to unbutton several of her buttons, loosening t
he top of her gown, so it slid down her arms.
He moved back and gazed at her lovely breasts thrust upward by her corset. “Why do you women wear these horrible contraptions?” As much as he appreciated her breasts so enticingly displayed, the pinching garment, squeezing her rib bones in a way that had to have been uncomfortable, made him wince.
“’Tis proper attire.” She took a deep breath, which seemed totally impossible to him. He moved his hand behind her body and untied the string, loosening the garment, so it slipped to her lap, leaving only a white silk chemise covering her charms.
“My God, Charlotte. You are so beautiful. I can’t get enough of the sight of you.”
Charlotte blushed delightfully and lifted her hands to cover herself under his scrutiny.
He drew her hand back and kissed her knuckles. “No, don’t cover yourself.”
Elliot rested his hand on her bare shoulder, her skin smooth like a young babe’s. He tugged her close and once more took her mouth in a searing kiss. The only sounds in the room were Charlotte’s sighs, and the ticking of the long clock in the corner.
His lips brushed hers as he spoke. “The time has come, Charlotte. No more games. I want you, and it’s obvious you want me. Tonight is the night I take you to bed.”
Chapter Twenty
Charlotte was not surprised by Elliot’s words, since she knew that was where they were headed, but she still hesitated. She’d only been to bed with one man in her entire life, and she’d been married to him. She did not consider herself a strumpet or a doxy and did not want Elliot to view her as such.
“Don’t think too much.” Elliot covered her face with kisses. “Just say yes.”
“Yes.” The word was out before she realized she said it. But she did not regret it.
“I think you knew we would one day make love.” He kissed her on her nose. “It was inevitable, given the attraction between us almost from the very first.”
The Pursuit of Mrs. Pennyworth Page 19