“That was fortunate indeed,” she said shakily, feeling very exposed in only her chemise.
Before he could strip her of her last vestige of modesty, she went on undressing him, needing to keep her hands busy and her thoughts off her sudden nervousness. It had been years since she had lain with her husband. What if she could not please David? He had always been more worldly than she.
She got his cravat off and his shirt unbuttoned, exposing part of his chest. When she turned to unfastening his trousers, he hardened to iron beneath her hand.
Lifting his hands to her hair, he tugged it free of its pins. “Do you realize I’ve never seen your hair down?” As it tumbled to her waist, he lifted a lock and twined it about his fist, rubbing it against his face, kissing it. “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to have you standing before me wearing only your hair, a Lady Godiva come to life.”
The image brought such fevered fancies to her mind that she undid the buttons of his drawers with renewed haste, no small feat when he was so thoroughly aroused. Who would ever have guessed that David could be such a romantic? Every word tumbled another brick from the wall of her defenses, and she couldn’t even make herself care.
He was here, with her. That was all she cared about.
Meanwhile, he had untied her chemise and pulled it up, forcing her to stop long enough for him to get it off. Once he had her naked, he stepped back. “Let me see you, Charlotte. Before I lose my mind.”
She had not stood this way before a man in years, and she was painfully conscious that she was not as young as she once had been. David was used to having a younger woman in his bed, for Sarah had been only twenty-six at her death. Would he care that Charlotte’s breasts were not as high and firm? That her belly was slightly fuller?
His gaze raked her appreciatively. “My God, sweeting, you’re a vision,” he said hoarsely.
“A vision?” she said with a giddy laugh. “I do not feel like a vision these days.”
“Then you clearly haven’t paid attention to your long list of male admirers.” Jealousy lent his tone an edge. “I assure you it’s not merely your prowess in the schoolroom that enchants them.”
The compliment delighted her, exaggerated though it was. A long list of admirers, indeed. She had noticed no such thing. “And do you consider yourself one of my admirers, my lord?” she asked coyly.
“I hope soon to consider myself far more,” he rasped as he reached for her.
She held him off with a teasing smile. “Oh no, not yet. It’s my turn to look.”
After dragging his shirt up over his head, she ran her hands slowly down his broad chest to shove his trousers and his drawers off in one fell swoop. Then she stepped back to gaze upon the man she’d desired for what seemed like years.
She was not surprised to find him exquisitely formed, his muscles finely defined, his waist amazingly taut for a man of his age. But the size of his shaft did take her aback. Either Jimmy had been more moderately equipped than she had realized, or David was what was commonly termed “well hung.”
He had more hair than her fair-skinned husband, too, which made him seem intensely masculine. And dangerous. Especially when he caught her to him with undeniable hunger, taking her mouth in a kiss that was a heady tumult of passion and excess.
Caressing her breasts shamelessly, he fired her blood to dizzying heights, while she skimmed her hands over every part of the body she’d always wondered about. His thighs and buttocks were well muscled, the mark of a man who spent a great deal of time in the saddle.
One moment they were feverishly touching and kissing; the next, he was lowering her to the pallet before the fire and she was parting her legs to accommodate him as he knelt.
He stroked his long, hard shaft against her privates, rousing her desire most furiously. But when he did no more than that, making her grab at his hips to try to make him take her, she whispered, “David…please…I want you…inside me…”
A strained smile touched his lips. “I intend to torment you a while, sweeting, to pay you back for the tortures I’ve suffered wanting you the past few days.”
“Don’t you dare,” she breathed, though the idea of how he might choose to torture her was tantalizing.
“This,” he murmured, ignoring her protest, “is for last night.” He dipped his head to suck her breasts, first one, then the other, blowing on the wet nipples until she thought she might scream.
“What did I do last night?”
His breathing was already labored. “Paraded your pretty breasts before me and never even let me kiss them.”
“You know why,” she said, a little petulantly. He was still rubbing her with his rigid flesh, and she was about to go out of her mind.
“Next time you have dinner at my house, sweeting, I’ll make sure none of my relations are there.” His eyes gleamed down at her. “And you will be dessert.”
Bracing himself over her on one forearm, he reached down to tease her flesh so exquisitely she nearly came right there. “And this,” he managed, as he fondled her into a mindless fever, “is for stopping me yesterday afternoon before I could have my wicked way with you on the settee.”
He slid two fingers inside her, his thumb deftly tormenting her little bud of flesh until he had her writhing and gasping beneath him, already teetering on the edge of release.
“You wicked, wicked man,” she choked out. “Two can play your game, you know.” Sliding her hand down to seize his thick member, she tugged it in a long, slow stroke. “This, my lord, is for rubbing yourself against me last night when you knew we could do nothing about it.”
He groaned and thrust into her hand. “Don’t do that.”
“Why? Are you the only one allowed to play this game?”
With a growl, he caught her hand. “All right. You win.”
She arched up against him with a sensual smile. “Then give me my prize.”
That’s all it took to have him sliding his cock inside her in a slow, delicious motion that had her squirming beneath him. “Ah, God, Charlotte, you’re so tight…so hot…”
She nearly came just at the exquisite pleasure of being filled by his flesh, of seeing the stark hunger on his face as he pressed forward until they were joined so intimately, she thought she could feel his heart beating inside her.
“Are you all right?” he rasped, pausing to let her adjust to him.
She tongued his throat, undulating against him. “Take me,” she whispered, “please…now…please…”
With a guttural moan he began to move, slowly at first, then quickening rapidly until he was pounding into her so hard it made the floor vibrate.
“Yes…that’s it.” Her fingernails dug into his arms. “You’re very…good at that.”
He let out a choked laugh. “And you are quite the little wanton, Mrs. Harris,” he teased as he brushed kisses to her forehead, her hair, her shoulder. “I never guessed…I had no idea…”
“Neither did I.”
Jimmy had been a good lover, considering her own inexperience. But even when he had made her cry out in bed, she had always been conscious of holding a little part of herself aside, never giving herself wholly.
Now she knew why. That part of her had belonged to David.
And he seemed bent on taking it with thorough efficiency. He was making her insane, and the endearments he whispered only heightened her pleasure. He pulled her legs up more until he was strumming her sweet spot with every thrust, rousing her to greater and greater heights as he thundered over her, around her, inside her.
“Heavens, David,” she gasped, straining against him as she felt her release stealing over her like a thief bent on wresting away her soul. “Yes…oh yes…oh my word…”
“Charlotte…my own…wonderful…Charlotte,” he rasped, and then drove into her so deeply she climaxed. As her flesh tightened on his in waves, he pumped his seed into her with a hoarse cry.
It was ecstasy beyond any she’d ever known. She could feel her
heart pounding to the same tempo as his, and finally understood what the marriage vows meant by the two becoming one.
He had thoroughly crashed through her wall. And it would be nearly impossible to pile the bricks up against him this time.
Chapter Sixteen
Drunk with contentment, David lay on the pallet with Charlotte in his arms. After all these years, she was his at last. He would never let her go now. He wouldn’t even let Cousin Michael come between them.
He wished he’d never invented the fellow. But then, he would never have had this with Charlotte if he hadn’t.
“What is that frown for?” she asked lightly.
She had raised her head up from his shoulder with a minxish look that set his pulse racing anew. One of her surprisingly long legs was draped over his knee, and her soft breasts were pillowed against his chest.
She had such pretty breasts, too—full and dimpled, with pink, pouty nipples. Just the thought of tasting them roused his cock from slumber.
“I was merely wondering how long it would be before we could do this again,” he said, caressing one of those lovely breasts.
“We?” she teased. “I am ready again now.”
“I know,” he said dryly. “Women have all the luck. But as it happens, this was my second performance today, so it will take me a while longer to recover.”
When the light faded from her eyes, he cursed his clumsy tongue and quickly held up his hand. “Meet your competition. A man has to do something to take the edge off his lust when a certain female is driving him out of his mind.”
As comprehension dawned, she let out a shaky laugh. “If you mean what I think, Lord Kirkwood, then you are very naughty indeed.”
He chuckled. “I know I shouldn’t say such outrageous things to a proper schoolmistress, but you bring out the devil in me.”
“You just enjoy shocking me, that’s all.” She snuggled close to kiss his neck, her gorgeous hair catching the light like golden threads in red damask.
He ran his fingers along her downy shoulder, marveling at the creamy perfection of her skin. “You don’t look very shocked.”
“That is only because a schoolmistress always has to affect an expression of serenity. Otherwise, her pupils misbehave just to see her reaction.” Her hand played over his chest. “But inside, I assure you I am rapping your knuckles with a ruler.”
The very idea roused his mischievous bent even more. “Shall I tell you what I was thinking about while I was boxing the Jesuit this morning?”
“B-Boxing the Jesuit?” she sputtered.
He grinned. “It means—”
“I can guess what it means!” she said, half-laughing. “But bringing religion into it makes it sound even more wicked.”
“That’s the point, isn’t it?” He smoothed her hair over her shoulder, his smile fading. “Anyway, as I lay in my lonely bed, I was imagining you lying in it, too.” Seizing the moment, he added, “All the time. As my wife.”
She caught her breath and her amusement vanished, replaced by a wary expression. “You mustn’t say that.” She pushed away from him.
His joy plunging, he grabbed her before she could leave him. “Why not? I want to marry you, Charlotte.”
“You’re still in mourning,” she pointed out as she knelt beside him, on the verge of bolting.
“Only for six more months.”
Her solemn gaze met his. “And then what?
“What do you mean?” He sat up and crossed his legs, suddenly finding it hard to breathe.
“I mean, what role would I play in your life?”
“What role?” Her reaction to his proposal twisted his gut into knots. He should have realized it was too soon to propose marriage. What was wrong with him? Yet he blundered on. “I think you know what sort of role a wife plays.”
“Yes, I do. You forget, I have played it before, and I did not particularly like it.”
He couldn’t believe she was saying this. “It would be different with me.”
“Would it?” She shifted her position, clutching her knees to her chest and folding her naked body in such a way that she looked as modest as a nun. Or as modest as a nun could look, if she’d just come fresh from a man’s bed. “What about the school?” she asked, her eyes solemn.
“What about it?”
“Does the wife of the Viscount Kirkwood get to run a girl’s school? Or is she expected to be a viscountess and nothing more?”
That threw him off balance. “You would want to keep running the school,” he said inanely. He’d feared as much, but still…“You do realize I can afford to keep a wife.”
“Of course,” she said softly. “That is not what I asked.”
He was in dangerous territory now, and he honestly didn’t know how to navigate. “Given your present financial difficulties with the place, I thought you might prefer to—”
“Close it? Let you absorb me into your life so the only thing I have left is you?”
“No!” Only Charlotte could make an offer of marriage sound like an insult. “I don’t care about the school. It has nothing to do with this.”
She flinched as if struck. “It has everything to do with this, for me.”
“Why? You started it so you could support yourself.”
“I started it because I believe that women should receive a proper education. That means a great deal to me. I thought you understood that.”
He did, especially given the many letters that had passed between them. Yet part of him had hoped she’d be eager to share his life without her bloody institution intruding. “Fine. Then keep it open. I don’t care.” It meant convincing her to move the school, but he could handle that better if he were her husband. “I’m sure you could find a suitable headmistress to replace—”
“So your answer is that the wife of the Viscount Kirkwood cannot run a girl’s school.” Not meeting his gaze, she rose and found her chemise, then slid it over her head. She kept her back to him, closing him out again, which made him insane.
“Why is it so damned important for you to be the one to run it?” he asked as he too rose and slipped on his drawers. Walking up behind her, he pulled her into his embrace. At least she allowed him that.
“When I was a little girl,” she whispered, folding her arms over his, “my father knew exactly what were my favorite toys. And do you know why?”
Given what he knew of her father, he wasn’t sure he could bear to hear.
“Because he used them to control me. When I made too much noise one day with my toy harp, he made me watch while he cut the strings from it one by one. Once, when I came tromping down the stairs too loudly, he took my doll. ‘This is what happens to little girls who don’t walk softly,’ he said, and broke her legs.”
“Oh God, Charlotte,” he said hoarsely, clutching her close and wishing her father were alive so David could break both of his legs.
“When I was thirteen, Mama gave me a brooch. It was only blue glass, but it had little gold specks in it and I thought it very pretty. I was careful not to let him see how much I loved it. I only wore it when he wasn’t around. But as children will, I forgot one night and had it on at dinner.” Her voice grew steely. “He was drunk, as he often was at his cruelest. He said some horrible thing to Mama, and I defended her. So he took my brooch and crushed it under his heel.”
She stiffened in his arms. “That was when I learned it did not matter what I had. He would find it, and he would destroy it. So I taught myself not to care—about anything. Because if the choice was defying him or giving up everything I treasured in the world, I knew I would defy him to my dying breath.”
Turning in his arms, she stared up at him. “But after Jimmy died and I found myself alone and miserable, I had to have a purpose beyond survival. The school became my reason for living, my salvation. It was the first thing that belonged to me, and me alone. Even my inheritance was essentially taken from me by Jimmy. He did not do it to be cruel—he just lacked any sense of how to h
andle money, and he thought we should have a jolly good time while it lasted.”
With his heart in his throat, David reached up to rub away the tears falling down her cheeks.
“I built my School for Young Ladies from nothing,” she said hoarsely. “I put my soul into it. And now you think I should just…toss it aside?”
“Of course not,” he bit out. “Contrary to what you seem to think, I’m not your father. I’m not Harris. I don’t want to destroy your toys or your school. I certainly don’t want to make light of your accomplishment.”
Staring down into her tormented face, he softened his tone. “But you know as well as I do that a viscountess has responsibilities. When I go to my estate in Berkshire, what do you propose to do? Stay in Richmond?” He caressed her cheek. “And what about our children? How will you be a mother to them if you’re spending all your time elsewhere?”
The blood drained from her face as she pushed free of his arms. “I do not even know if I can have children.”
That sent a chill to his very soul. “Of course you can have children.”
“I never did while married to Jimmy. I did not even miscarry.” Her eyes were sorrowful. “What if I am barren?”
Trying not to show how much that possibility shook him, he paced to the fire. “You’re just assuming that. There’s no reason for you to be barren.”
“Even if I were not, thirty-six is old to be having a first child. You know that. Anything could go wrong.”
He turned to fix her with a fierce look. “Then Giles can be the heir. Let him inherit the title and carry on the family name. As long as we’re together, it doesn’t matter.”
“You say that now, but—”
“Damn it, I won’t let you do this!” He strode up to grab her by the arms. “We finally have a chance to be together, and you want to ruin it!”
“I don’t, I swear.” She cupped his face in her hands, a tear trickling down her cheek. “But neither do I want us jumping into something without giving a thought to these things. You came back into my life only three days ago. Why can’t we just go on as we are? As lovers?”
The School for Heiresses: 'Wed Him Before You Bed Him Page 18