by Ella Quinn
Tears of joy pricked her eyes and she wanted to laugh at the last part. She had not expected a proposal at all, nevertheless such a lovely one. “I will marry you, Constantine Kenilworth, and spend the rest of my days loving you and our family. And I shall never stop telling you when you are wrong.” He took her mouth again, and her gown sagged. “What are you doing?”
“Helping you seduce me,” he mumbled against her lips.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“How thoughtful.” Charlotte’s gown made a whooshing sound as it dropped to the floor.
“I aim to please.” Constantine started on her petticoat and stays.
She untied his cravat, tossing it aside, then went to work on his collar, shirt, and waistcoat. Soon they were down to their shoes, which came off easily enough. He unfastened the clasp on her garter, and her stockings slipped to her feet. Constantine lifted her and placed her on the bed before climbing in beside her.
Spreading her hands over his chest, Charlotte twined her fingers in the soft hairs covering his taut skin. “You are so different from me.”
Cupping her breasts, he licked one nipple, making her moan with need. “I can’t but think that’s a good thing.”
She held his head against her. “A very good thing.”
He spread her arms out to the side, holding them there as he licked and kissed his way over her stomach and down. A strange sort of tension began between her legs and spread through her body. She’d never felt such heat and need. Part of her wanted him to stop, but the other part wanted him to keep on.
More. Oh, please more.
His tongue touched her mons, and she arched into him. “Oh, Heavens. Whatever you’re doing, don’t stop.”
“You taste like spiced honey.” Constantine chuckled, and licked again. “Come for me, my love.”
His finger filled her, and she thought she’d go out of her mind. How much more could she stand? The coiling tension burst and released. For a moment Charlotte thought she’d died as tremors of pleasure gripped her.
Con’s large, strong body covered hers, as he kissed her lips and held her. “Do you know what marital congress is?”
Her limbs were loose and Charlotte had never felt so relaxed in her life. He settled between her legs, his member nudging at her entrance. She rubbed against him, trying to encourage him to take her. “Dotty told me.”
“What did she tell you?” His voice was tight. With strain or something else, Charlotte didn’t know.
“That at first it would hurt, but then it was glorious.”
He pushed into her, slowly filling her. “Trust me and I’ll take you to Heaven.”
Again. She could not imagine anything could be better than what he’d just done. “I trust you.”
Good God, Charlotte was tight. Con had done all he could, all he knew to do to prepare her. He was relieved she knew at least a little of what to expect. This first time would be something she would remember for the rest of her life, and he must make her enjoy it. Especially after his boast. Heaven, indeed. He should have stuck with glorious.
He slipped in and out of her, keeping control over himself when all he wanted to do was plunge into her and bury himself in her body. He’d never had trouble before. He had always made sure his partners had their pleasure as well. But with her, everything was different somehow.
He loved her more than he had thought possible and prayed she wouldn’t feel much pain. “Wrap your legs around me.” Charlotte did as he asked, and Con surged forward. She cried out, tensed around him, and he stopped, allowing her pain to recede. “That was the worst of it, my love. Are you all right?”
She was quiet for a few moments, then she gave him a small smile. “I shall be fine.”
He moved again, slowly, waiting for a sign that her desire was building again. A soft sigh escaped her lips, swollen with his kisses. Her breathing hitched, and her legs gripped him harder. A moment later she cried his name, and he pumped into her, spilling his seed. Making her his in the most primitive and elemental way possible. She would never leave him now. She could never leave him.
Charlotte was his forever. Thank the Fates this had gone well.
The stress Con had been feeling flowed out of his body. He barely kept himself from collapsing on her instead of falling off to her side. He tugged her close to him, cradling her against his chest, and murmured into her hair, “Charlotte, I love you. I never knew how much love made a difference.”
“I love you too, Constantine.” She rolled, snuggling her cheek against his chest. “You were right. It was Heaven.”
He never wanted to move again, never wanted to leave this bed. Then he remembered she had been a virgin and if he didn’t do something soon, everyone in the blasted hotel would know what had occurred. “Stay there. Right where you are. I’ll be back.”
In three long steps he was at the wash stand. He took a piece of linen and wet it. The water had cooled, but perhaps that was better. He cleaned himself. Even in the relative darkness, he could see her blood. He rinsed the piece of linen and returned to Charlotte, gently wiping her and blotting the sheet.
“What are you doing?”
“Washing us up a bit.” He would take care of the water in the morning. “Your maid will have to see to the bedclothes in the morning.”
He threw the cloth toward the basin, and climbed into bed, cuddling next to her again. A contentment he’d never experienced before filled him. “When shall we wed?”
“In the next week or so.” She lifted her head and smiled at him. “I do not think we’ll be allowed to marry before then. Fortunately for us, Matt wants to get Daisy back to Stanwood before she whelps.”
Con tried to imagine a litter of puppies running around Stanwood House and laughed. “Thank the deities for pregnant dogs.”
“Indeed.” Charlotte’s lips curved into a smile. “I know when we went to pick out Daisy she had ten brothers and sisters.”
Con would have to tell Worthington he and Charlotte wanted a puppy. “I’m surprised he decided to breed them while you were all in Town.”
“Well, that is not exactly what happened.” She began to laugh. “As a matter of fact, he had a pen built for Daisy to keep Duke away from her.”
That should have done the trick. At least it had with most of his hunting dogs. “What happened?”
“Mary and Theo.” Charlotte chuckled. “It was clear to them that the Danes wanted to be together, and they thought it wouldn’t hurt anything if they let Daisy out.”
He joined her laughter. “My mother once had a pug dog who developed an infatuation for one of my hunters. Naturally, we separated the bitches when it was their time. One day a stable hand found the pug had dug his way under the stall, and the hunting dog was pulling him by his ears out of the tunnel.”
Con kissed her as she went into whoops. “I’m sorry. I should remember we cannot be loud.”
“Not at the moment. When we are in our own house we shall do as we wish.”
Her eyes began to close, but he wanted her attention for a moment longer. “We shall have puppies someday.”
Something landed on the bed and began to purr. He had forgotten about the cat.
“And kittens,” Charlotte murmured in a sleepy voice.
Con pulled the rest of the covers up over them. A second later, the cat curled up next to Charlotte on his chest. He stroked it, marveling at the dense soft fur. “And kittens.”
This is what his life would be like with Charlotte. Dogs, cats, their children, stray children, and other assorted people, and a love that he could never have imagined.
Con couldn’t wait for it to begin in earnest. As soon as they returned to Town, he’d procure a special license.
Hours later, light stole through the slit in the curtain, waking him. He lay there listening to Charlotte’s soft breathing, marveling that he had her in his life forever.
Mine.
No matter what happened, she would always be with him.
The kitt
en stretched and patted his chest. Its large, yellow eyes seemed to study his.
“I suppose you need something.” He stroked the cat again, and found himself to be inordinately pleased when it began to purr. “We shall break our fast soon.”
What he really wanted to do was to make love to Charlotte again, but Con wasn’t quite sure what would happen if he made the kitten move. He definitely didn’t want to get clawed. She would probably be sore as well. Tonight would be soon enough.
Sounds came from his room, disturbing his peace. Damn. Cunningham was already up and about. They had to leave the inn early to return Miss Cloverly, but surely it couldn’t be late enough for that.
Con slipped out of bed, gathered his clothing, and opened the door to his bedchamber.
His valet’s eyes might have widened, but he couldn’t swear to it. “You may wish me happy. Lady Charlotte and I shall wed next week.”
“The best of news, my lord. Congratulations.” Cunningham finished laying out Con’s kit for the day. “Breakfast shall be served soon.”
Two doors opened and closed, and he resisted the urge to wipe his brow. A few moments longer, and he would have been found in her bed. Somehow that was infinitely more troubling than his valet knowing he’d slept with her.
About a half hour later, he entered the parlor. Lady Merton, who had told him to call her Dotty, was pouring tea for Merton, and Charlotte was just taking a seat at the table. The kittens were rolling around the floor, not paying attention to anyone else.
Con stepped around them, taking the chair next to Charlotte. “Good morning.”
She smiled, a sleepy expression on her beautiful face. “Good morning to you. How do you like your tea?”
“Milk and two lumps of sugar.” He noticed a second pot of tea next to her elbow. Taking the cup she handed him, he sipped. “Perfect.”
“That is another thing we have in common,” she said, fixing her own cup. “I’m going to take Collette for a short walk before we leave. I wasn’t able to work with her at all yesterday.”
A vague feeling of uneasiness slithered down his spine. Something akin to the one he had experienced when he’d started this adventure with her.
One of the men who had abducted her was still missing. But he did not dare forbid her to go. She would not take that at all well. Nor could he hover over her. He could, though, watch her from the balcony that overlooked the front of the inn. “Will you do me a favor and remain in the yard?”
She nodded and swallowed the bite of toast she’d been chewing. “I shall stay on the side, out of the way of the carriages and horses.”
“Thank you.” He covered her hand. Con caught a look from Merton. He was her cousin and had been nominally put in charge of her well-being. She turned her hand in his and held it, as if giving her approval to share their news. “Charlotte and I have decided to marry next week.”
“How wonderful!” Dotty came around the table and hugged Charlotte. “I’m so happy for you.” She glanced at Con. “And you as well. You will never find a sweeter, kinder person than Charlotte.”
Or a stronger woman. “I know how fortunate I am to have won her.”
Merton shook Con’s hand. “I wish you well.”
The four of them chatted for a few minutes as they finished breakfast. Yet it was clear they were thinking more of what would occur once they arrived at the Dove.
Charlotte rose. “I’ll meet you in the yard.” She glanced around the room. “Collette, allez.”
To his utter surprise, the kitten ran to Charlotte and sat at her feet. “I can honestly say I have never heard of a cat doing that before.”
A few minutes later, Con stood on the balcony watching Charlotte walk her kitten on the lead. Jemmy stood not far from her, standing watch over her basket. Con’s pair, harnessed to his phaeton, was led to the center of the yard, not far from Charlotte.
It was time to go. As he turned from the window, a black coach pulled up next to Charlotte. A man jumped down, grabbed her and threw her into the coach, slamming the door.
Bloody hell! Not again.
“They’ve got Charlotte!” he shouted as he ran out of the parlor.
“Damnation,” Merton swore.
Con reached the yard first, and jumped into his carriage. “Jemmy is on the back of the coach.” Something else that would have to cease. “Hand me Charlotte’s basket.”
“Where is Collette?” Dotty called.
“In the basket,” Merton answered, taking the cat out and handing it to her. “She can stay here with Cyrille.”
“I’ll take her inside.”
“Who is that boy?” an older lady demanded in a shrill tone. “The boy on the back of the coach. I demand to know who he is.”
A woman a little older than his mother was striding toward him, but he had no time to waste. He had to go after Charlotte. “That’s Lord Merton. Ask him.”
The coach had been out of sight for several minutes before Con saw Jemmy waving. With any luck, they would turn off at the Dove. Con just prayed the Crowes wouldn’t be shocked to see Charlotte brought in and ruin their plan.
He passed the Dove, and his hopes that this would be an easy rescue died. Where the devil was she being taken?
A large stagecoach pulled in front of him. Con tried to overtake the vehicle, but the blasted thing stayed close to the middle of the road and did not give way until they had reached Twickenham.
Hell and damnation! The carriage carrying Charlotte had disappeared. How the hell was he going to find her before it was too late?
The sound of hooves behind him beat a tattoo, and he pulled over to the side of the road.
“My lord.” One of Merton’s outriders came up on Con’s side. “His lordship sent us to help you.”
Thank God. “How many men do you have with you?”
“Four, my lord.”
“The coach turned off somewhere between the Dove and here. Search every road and path. She must be found, and soon.”
“Yes, my lord.”
The riders galloped back down the road. Con turned his phaeton. If only he had taken notice of the lanes and other roads, but he’d been so intent on passing the coach he hadn’t paid attention. Fortunately, the outriders would be able to cover more ground than he could on his own.
The saving grace was that it wasn’t that far back to the Dove. He dragged a hand over his face. But how many blasted side roads were there? That is what mattered.
He prayed that Charlotte would be safe until he arrived.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Drat, drat, drat. Charlotte pulled herself up from the floor of the coach and tried the handle on the door. Locked, and there didn’t seem to be a keyhole.
Well, blast it all!
She drew in a long breath and straightened her bonnet before taking stock of her situation. No pistol, no knife, but at least Collette was secure. She would have climbed into the basket. It was her safe place.
Jemmy knew Charlotte had been abducted again, but he was on the back of the coach. That would not bring help. The question was, did anyone else know?
With luck, Burt—she remembered the villain from the last time she was abducted—would stop at the Dove. Then she would be rescued when Constantine and her cousin arrived.
Glancing out the window, she was just in time to see them pass the inn. So much for that idea.
Blast! She really must learn some better oaths. They would be useful in times like this.
Constantine will find me.
The thought came to her, filling her with calm. He loved her, and he would never allow anything to harm her. Yet, how long would it be before he discovered she had been kidnapped and where she was being taken? Yes, he would be looking for her, but she had better try to help herself as well.
Sometime later, the coach dipped, as if the wheels had gone into a hole, it came to a stop, and the door opened.
“Ye won’t get away from me this time, my lady.” Burt grabbed her arm, his fingers d
igging into her flesh, and dragged her roughly out of the coach. “Ain’t no fine nobs to help ye here.”
Charlotte wanted to tell him that he’d be dead or in prison as soon as her betrothed found her. But there was no point in putting him on his guard. Instead she kept her mouth shut, straightened her shoulders, and gave him her best Lady Bellamny you-are-dirt-under-my-feet look.
“Ye won’t be so high and mighty when that gent comes for ye.” He sneered.
Bile threatened to choke her, but she refused to allow him to see her fear. Constantine was right. It was not revenge. Someone had paid to have her abducted. But who?
She gave herself an inner shake, not difficult at all considering she was being dragged by a brute into an inn that was sure to have all sorts of vermin in it.
Still, she had the strong feeling that he was not far behind. Maybe if she dug her feet into the ground and made it hard to manhandle her she could gain some time.
She studied her surroundings. They were only about four miles from the Dove. The Richmond Road was visible through the trees. A sign hanging crookedly off the building proclaimed it to be the Dirty Duck. Well, it certainly lived up to its name. The tavern was painted a dingy white. The roof tilted to one side, as if part of the building was sinking.
“Come on.” Burt jerked her arm.
Charlotte grabbed her skirts, lifting them to keep them out of the mud puddles that covered the yard. He led her around to the side of the building, drew out a key, opened a door, and pulled her through.
The room was surprisingly well appointed and clean. Almost as if it was part of a different building. A desk stood at one end of the room just off-center of a window. Irrationally, Charlotte wanted to move the furniture so it sat in the center of the wall. There was a square table with four chairs. A sideboard held decanters. One of which had to be brandy, she was sure. There were several sash windows: three were on the same side as the door and two overlooked the yard. Another door looked to be an entrance to the tavern, and a third was at the back of the room.
If he left her alone here, it would not be at all hard to escape. Provided the windows opened, that is.