An Heir of Deception (The Elusive Lords)

by Beverley Kendall

  “Nicholas, I am your father so do you know what that means?”

  Two pairs of blue eyes snapped to his—one in question, the other warily.

  “It means you—we will all live here. Together as a family.”

  Alex’s announcement rattled her to the core.

  “Mama, does that mean we’re never going back to our real home?” Nicholas asked in alarm. The only reaction to indicate Alex was at all affected by his son’s obvious distress was the tightening of his jaw.

  Charlotte grew more annoyed by the minute. That he hadn’t spoken of this with her, something this important, so life altering was simply beyond the pale. And the way things stood between them, living under the same roof was in no one’s best interest. At least not at present.

  “Nicholas, my housekeeper brought her grandson by for a visit. Would you like to meet him? He’s just about your age,” Alex coaxed with a smile.

  “The cook can fix you both a snack and then you can play. Do you like trains?” Alex asked, continuing in his relentless pursuit to win his son’s affections. “If you do, I believe there’s a new train set upstairs in the playroom.”

  Toys. A child his age to play with. Food. They were all nirvana to a boy’s ears.

  “A train set? For me?” Her son was on his feet in an instant, his body taut as a harp’s string with barely contained excitement.

  Alex chuckled as he stood. “Yes, a train set for you. Let me call Mrs. Martindale.” He promptly rang for the housekeeper.

  Her son turned and beamed at her. Charlotte smiled stiffly. Apparently, the want of his cousins’ company had soundly been trumped.

  Five minutes later, a giggling Nicholas, his new friend Jonas, the housekeeper’s five-year-old grandson, and Mrs. Martindale herself, departed the room.

  The moment the door closed, Charlotte spun in a flourish of flounced skirts and flashing eyes to confront him.

  “Alex, how could you?” she asked, her voice high and incredulous.

  While she stood, her body tense, her composure shaken, the blasted man sauntered over to his chair and sat down. In seeming quiet repose, long legs stretched negligently out before him, he regarded her.

  “I believe I told you I wanted my son with me.” He spoke in a tone that made her grit her teeth.

  “But you had no right telling Nicholas we would be living with you. That is something you should have discussed with me first. Have you forgotten he is just a boy and his whole life has changed? He’ll require time to adjust.”

  “Did he appear distressed when he left?” he asked, gesturing toward the closed drawing room doors. “Believe me, children adapt better and faster than adults. Nicholas will be fine.”

  “How can you be so unfeeling? His excitement over the toy will fade and then where will he be? I shall tell you, he’ll be fretting over the fact that he’ll never see his friends in America again,” Charlotte said, arms akimbo.

  “As my wife—”

  “Wife? Alex, you know as well as I that this marriage is a farce. You detest the fact that you must be married to me to legitimize our son.”

  His brows shot up and she wasn’t sure if his surprise conveyed was at her obvious anger or her thoughts about their so-called marriage. A grimness settled over his features, and his gray eyes pierced her with an icy glare.

  After the show he’d recently made of settling into the chair, he came to his feet slowly, like a lion preparing to pounce when it finally had its prey in sight. And he didn’t commence speaking until his advantage was complete; in height, strength and fury.

  “No, madam, it is you who should be the grateful one. This farce you so disparagingly call our marriage is the only thing standing between you and total ruin. This farce is the sole reason I’m not taking you to court for custody of my son. So unless you wish to jeopardize everything you hold dear, I suggest you climb down off that mountain you seem intent on pitching yourself from due to your own obduracy and thank God I deign to even speak to you, much less claim you as my wife and have you in my home. I doubt any other man in my position would be as generous.”

  Now Charlotte wished for a chair because her legs no longer wanted to support her. Blindly, she backed away from him until the backs of her legs bumped against the give of the brushed-velvet sofa. She didn’t so much as sit as drop down onto it with a whoosh and fluttering skirts.

  One would think she’d have grown accustomed to it by now. Yet still when she heard the contempt in his voice and saw the way anger lit his eyes, it felt as if she was floating outside of herself observing another woman. For the woman who elicited such violent emotions in him could not be her. The Alex she knew had been passionate, loving and kind.

  She looked at him only after she could breathe without the stabbing pain in her chest.

  At first glance, he appeared composed. But upon closer inspection, Charlotte noticed the tick of his jaw, as if he were grinding his teeth, and how he held himself absolutely still.

  “Alex, this will never work, you and I living together in the same residence. Do you not see that? You despise me.” Her voice caught on the word. “It will be a great miracle if we are able to persuade anyone we’re happily reunited.”

  He took his time answering. “I said you were desperate for a second chance, not I. In any case, it’s no business of theirs how we are in our private lives. The only thing that matters is we present a united front. Our happiness or lack thereof is no one’s concern but ours.”

  She could believe he’d have no qualms about subjecting her to a life of misery, but himself? That she couldn’t imagine. But there was one person whose happiness they both cared about.

  “And what of Nicholas, shouldn’t we try so for his sake? I should not like him to have to endure the kind of childhood where it’s obvious his parents don’t get on.”

  Endless seconds passed before he replied softly, “No, I shouldn’t like my son to be raised in that kind of atmosphere. I know well enough what a trial that can be.”

  A tiny flame of hope flickered alive within her. Perhaps, she was getting through to him.

  “What kind of marriage are we to have?” Charlotte refused to live in suspense, wondering and hoping, although yearning would be the worst. It was best she walk into this with her eyes wide open.

  She hadn’t thought the question impertinent or provocative, but suddenly he regarded her slyly, as if he found something in her perfectly legitimate question vaguely amusing. “What kind of marriage would you like us to have?”

  “I-I should prefer we not constantly be at odds.”

  “I believe we can manage that. What else?” he asked softly, eyebrow raised.

  “And that you not look at me as if you cannot bear the sight of me.”

  “I wasn’t aware that I did.”

  She noticed he didn’t deny that he could not bear the sight of her.

  “Sometimes even you cannot hide everything you’re feeling.”

  He smiled one of those cryptic smiles that spoke volumes but revealed nothing. He advanced toward her, until he stood over her, forcing her to crane her neck to meet his half-lidded gaze.

  It became discomfiting to remain seated while he towered above her. On legs that now felt strong enough to support her weight—though only barely with him looking at her in that manner—she rose.

  She hardly met him eye to eye given his superior height but it gave her—no matter how erroneous—the sense of a more equitable distribution of power in their discussion.

  “Then I shall endeavor to gaze at you in nothing less than an endearing manner. Will that suit?” Another arched-brow look.

  Charlotte was astonished. Not two minutes ago, he’d given her a sound dressing down in that icy tone of his and now on this matter he sought to bring levity?

  “You are mocking me,” she accused.

  “Oh no, I would never do that,” he said in a lowered voice.

  “In public we may be able to fool others, but our son is an entirely different
kettle of fish.”

  “So what do you propose we do to ensure Nicholas believes we care for each other?” His voice dropped lower as his gaze fastened on her mouth.

  Charlotte had seen that look in his eyes before. He wanted her whether he wished to or not. And she wanted him with a ferocity that was frightening in its intensity.

  She gave a delicious shiver and watched mesmerized as he lifted his hand to her face and lightly, gently stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers. It was barely a touch really, but it affected her more than if he’d cupped the whole of her face in his palms. Her breath caught in her throat as desire and a soul-deep need of him kept her rooted in place.

  “Should I touch you like this?” Another stroke of her cheek followed. Charlotte had to stop herself from nuzzling her face into the source of such indescribable pleasure. She stifled a whimper as her arousal began to climb. And he hadn’t truly touched her yet.

  From her hot cheek, his fingers feathered along her jawline and then cupped her chin in his palm. With only the slightest bit of pressure, he angled her head before lowering his mouth to hers.

  This was a prelude, his lips soft and coaxing, skimming and gently rubbing. Charlotte neither had the will nor the means to fight the tumult of passion that flared to full, blistering life within her. He drove her wild. She wanted more.

  Her lips parted in eager response and she gave a breathy sigh when his tongue touched hers. And that quickly the kiss moved from gentle to wild and hungry. Then her body was plastered to his from thigh to torso, the spread of his fingers anchoring her head.

  His tongue went on a greedy foray of her mouth, exploring her inner cheeks, the roof of her mouth and the sensitive underside beneath her tongue.

  Charlotte needed to get closer, pressing—grinding—her hips against him. Her senses were filled with him. The scent of him surrounded her as heady as anything she’d ever inhaled. The taste of him, she couldn’t get enough. Catching his bottom lip between her teeth, she ran the tip of her tongue over the full pink flesh. God, she’d been longing to do that.

  She felt his erection hard against her belly. She squirmed to get closer but her skirts and petticoats were unwanted encumbrances to feeling him where she needed him most. Starting at his nape, she ran her hands up through the silky thickness of his hair until she was gripping handfuls and pressing him closer to her and feeding him her tongue in a maelstrom of greedy, hot, wet kisses.

  The knock on the door, intrusive and unwelcome, startled them into action. They separated with a speed only the guilty could manage. Shaken, breathless and clenching her inner thighs together in hopes it would somehow relieve the throbbing ache between them, Charlotte gave her back to the door. Seconds later, she heard it open.

  “Milord, would you like me to bring the tea?”

  “No. And I will call you if I need you,” Alex replied curtly.

  The door immediately clicked closed.

  Charlotte dragged draughts of air into her lungs, her balance not all it ought to be. It required a bit of time, but once her rampaging heart slowed to a regular thump thump and her breaths were not quite so excessive, she turned.

  Alex too hadn’t been unaffected, his breathing just as shallow as hers and the lust glaze still in his eyes. He stared at her and the next time he blinked, his expression transformed, becoming guarded.

  “Do you think a kiss of that nature would convince him we are on good terms?” He spoke in a tone uninflected.

  “I believe a kiss far less substantial would have sufficed.” She’d completely forgotten the discussion that had preceded the kiss.

  He turned and crossed the carpet to the sideboard as if eager to put some distance between them. For the barest moment, his hand seemed to hover over one of the crystal glasses sitting atop.

  It was then Charlotte remembered what her sister had told her about his drinking.

  Well, he does not drink spirits anymore. Not one drop.

  Abruptly, he dropped his hand to his side and turned back to face her. He made no effort to hide his arousal, which was making an impressive tent in the front of his trousers. The sight of it distracted her from her thoughts.

  “Forgive me, I should not have kissed you as I did,” he said evenly.

  The last thing she expected was an apology. Surely he knew how much she liked it when he kissed her, touched her, made love to her.

  “There’s no need to apologize. The physical chemistry between us has always been…” How could she describe it? “Very good.”

  Explosive, wild, uncontrollable were words that better described what happened to her when he touched her. But they would also reveal to what extent he affected her. He had considerable control over her life as it stood and she refused to serve herself to him on a platter.

  “It’s obvious I still find you attractive and I admit I wouldn’t mind having you in my bed. If I claimed otherwise, my body would already have made a liar of me.”

  Charlotte’s gaze dropped briefly to the front of his trousers, where his erection emphatically confirmed the veracity of his claim. Her face was awash in heat.

  “No,” he continued as if nothing was untoward. As if standing in front of a woman whom he disliked with his arousal as visible as an elephant in a room was commonplace. “What I want understood is that I have no intention in getting more involved with you than circumstances warrant. We have a son and there is a filed document that binds us legally in marriage. But that is all we shall ever have.”

  Ever. Ever? The word sounded too concrete and final. It held no hope of possibilities. It conveyed years of…nothing. At least in America, he’d been out of reach. But to be married to him and living under the same roof and yet remain so far apart—would be a great deal worse.

  “You expect us to live together, reside under the same roof and not…” How did one delicately phrase it? Make love would make a mockery of the term and many of the various terms she’d heard used would be indelicate.

  Then she chanced upon it. “Have marital relations.” A perfectly respectable yet staid way of phrasing. Quite devoid of the passion brought to the act itself.

  A hint of humor flashed in his eyes and his mouth curled slightly up.

  “I know it would be acceptable to you if we indulged in that aspect of our marriage.”

  When Charlotte failed to respond, his gaze narrowed and his mouth flattened into a thin line. “Or perhaps you’ve grown so accustomed to enjoying marital relations, the thought of doing without is making you queasy.”

  She could protest for he couldn’t be further from the truth, but why should she waste her breath? He wouldn’t believe a word she said.

  “Do you mean for us to live a life of celibacy?” The notion was unthinkable.

  This brought another of those wry smiles to his mouth. “Celibacy?” he asked, raising a brow. “I think not.”

  Charlotte swallowed. So that was how it would be. “If we are not to be faithful to each other, I insist we use discretion—for Nicholas’s sake.”

  His form went ominously still and even his breathing appeared to cease. Silence blanketed the room until the tension in the air almost stifled her.

  “We? No my dear, I shall have a need of discretion. You will not, because if I ever discover you’ve taken a lover, I shall divorce you and scandal will follow you wherever you go. Do I make myself perfectly clear?” His words came out whisper soft but detonated in her ears with the force of a grenade. His nostrils flared and his eyes bored her in pinpoints of rage.

  Charlotte hadn’t expected such a reaction from him. It was illogical. Not that she’d intended to take a lover. She’d merely been reacting to the news he never intended to consummate their marriage.

  “You expect me to go without physical intimacy for the remainder of my life?” she asked with unabashed incredulity.

  “I expect you not to forsake your vows,” he stated, his tone edged with steel.

  Bewildered, Charlotte gave her head a hard shake. Had t
he man gone daft? “You forget, we made no vows to each other.”

  “Our marriage papers say we did, which is why I expect you to conduct yourself impeccably.”

  Alex wasn’t making any sense. It certainly wasn’t as if he could be jealous. What he appeared to be suffering from was an acute case of dog-in-the-manger syndrome. And at present, she hadn’t the mental fortitude to take this on. Since there was not the remotest possibility she’d take a lover in the future, she remained silent on the subject and allowed the matter to drop.

  “Are you saying you have no desire for more children?” She remembered when they’d talked of having children. Alex had said he hoped to fill every bedchamber in Fairleigh House, the home he’d bought for them in London. There had been six.

  “Oh, I want more children,” he replied softly, his gaze steady on hers. “I just don’t want them with you. And as you are the only recourse I have to supply me with legitimate issue, Nicholas will be an only child.”

  Charlotte forced herself to breathe through the pain. He was deliberately trying to hurt her. She could tell by the look in his eyes, the provoking stare that dared her to respond. Willed her to give him further reason to despise her. Swallowing hard, she tamped it down, the pain, the hurt, all that he’d undoubtedly wanted to elicit in her.

  Spine rigid and shoulders back, Charlotte collected herself, an internal feat that took much from her. “Very well, I believe we understand each other.”

  For a man who’d just made the rules and laid down the law, he didn’t look particularly pleased as one would expect.

  “I will make the arrangements to have your possessions moved here,” he said briskly. “Tomorrow we must all go to London.”

  Charlotte shot him a sharp look, her brows arched. “Why must we go to London?”

  “We are going because I will not allow my mother to learn of our marriage via the rags or the gossips. I also want my parents to meet their grandson. We will stay the night.”