One Week to Wed

by Laurie Benson

  ‘Some challenges cannot be conquered.’

  ‘If you believe that, you will never hit your target.’

  Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. The scent of dirt and grass filled her lungs.

  I will hit the target. I will hit the target.

  ‘Imagine it happening in your head.’

  She glared at him and notched the arrow. ‘Shhh.’

  Carefully, she took aim and then closed her eyes once more, trying to channel his concentration and confidence into her.

  I can do this.

  She released the arrow and peeked out of one eye.

  When the arrow struck firmly in the centre of the target, she let out a squeak of joy. Allowing the bow to fall from her hand, she launched herself at Lord Andrew.

  He wrapped his strong arms around her waist and lifted her so her boots were inches off the ground.

  ‘I did it! Did you see? I did it!’

  By his expression, he seemed to be as pleased as she was.

  And if those around them hadn’t seen, they did now with the spectacle she realised she was making. People nearby applauded her accomplishment and called out words of praise.

  ‘That was a crack shot, Charlotte,’ Toby exclaimed from the shooting area beside them, where he was instructing her beaming friend in the skills of archery. ‘I think Andrew should give me a few pointers before I decide to shoot next.’

  Her feet were back on the ground, but she barely felt the earth beneath her boots because Lord Andrew had yet to release her from the circle of his arms. His rounded biceps felt hard under the soft fabric of his coat and she moved her hands to take measure of the curves. This was not a man who spent his time all day playing cards. This was a sporting man. No wonder he was so good at archery with arms like this.

  It felt safe in his arms.

  It felt exciting in his arms.

  It felt...

  Emotions knotted inside her, as Charlotte shifted her attention from his eyes to his lips. But before she was able to admit what she wanted, he dropped his arms and took a step back. The cool air struck her hot skin, sending a shiver up her spine.

  ‘Well done, my lady,’ he said with an approving smile and a bit of a rasp to his voice. ‘You’ve conquered your own challenge.’

  The arrow was solidly embedded into the hay bale and she wished she could have taken it home so she could remember this moment—remember the feeling of accomplishment coursing through her. And remember Lord Andrew Pearce.

  She shot four more arrows which all hit in or near the centre of the hay bale before she sadly relinquished the bow and picked up her bonnet.

  ‘Thank you for encouraging me to do that,’ she said to Lord Andrew as she watched him prop the bow against the tree and slip the strap of the quiver over his neck.

  ‘It seemed a shame to miss an opportunity that probably doesn’t present itself very often. I find when I challenge myself, I feel the most alive.’

  She never thought about activities that way, but she supposed he was right. Excitement was still humming through her body, and she almost felt giddy. The feeling was foreign, but wonderful.

  ‘It’s a pity they did not award you some prize for an accomplishment such as yours,’ he said. ‘Then you could walk around the fair and enjoy the accolades of those around you.’

  ‘I know I hit it and feel a sense of true accomplishment. That is all that matters to me. I shall remember that for a long time.’

  Lord Andrew tipped the brim of his hat to her. ‘Then I am especially pleased I suggested it.’

  ‘It probably sounds foolish to you that such a small accomplishment has brought me such joy.’ It was suddenly embarrassing to look him in the eye. One would think she had just come out and this was her first Season.

  ‘No challenge that is faced and conquered is a small accomplishment.’

  She looked up at him and it was hard to look away.

  But then suddenly he strode to the edge of the firing line and held up his hand. ‘Halt,’ he shouted in a commanding tone, raising his hand to indicate all the archers should stop shooting.

  The people assembled lowered their bows.

  Heavens, what was he going to do? An uneasiness crept around her stomach as she became afraid he was going to announce her accomplishment and embarrass her.

  ‘This will only take a few moments,’ he yelled out again, striding towards her target and then pulling out the arrow she had launched successfully. When he was safely back to the firing line, arrows began to fly across the grassy field once more.

  He stopped before her and presented the arrow to her in both his palms. ‘Your prize, my lady.’

  Hesitantly, she took the arrow he had very kindly retrieved for her. It had been a long time since someone had done something so thoughtful. ‘Thank you. You placed yourself in peril to get this for me. There was no guarantee those archers would not have seen you as a moving target for a more challenging sport. Quite a few appear rather pickled.’

  The corner of his mouth tipped up, and he adjusted his glove. ‘I had every confidence I could have dodged them if they had tried.’

  Charlotte narrowed her eyes at him and tilted her head. ‘Are you always this confident about everything?’

  He gave a slight shrug. ‘I suppose I am. If I want to do something, then I believe I can.’

  ‘And you always do what you want?’

  His gaze fixed on her mouth and he licked the centre of his top lip. ‘Within reason. Some things I’d like to do require consent.’

  The air was growing thick again and she was fighting the urge to step closer to him. ‘And you always ask for consent when necessary?’

  He lowered his voice. ‘Always. I’m an honourable man and asking for consent can be quite a pleasurable experience.’

  Her brow wrinkled while she tried to imagine how exactly asking for consent could be pleasurable.

  ‘Ah, my lady, I find I wish you and I were alone.’

  She found herself unusually flattered by his interest—and in agreement with his statement, although she would never admit it out loud, even completely to herself. ‘We are outside now. I believe you did mention something about being outside.’

  It was satisfying to see her teasing words surprise him, as he lowered his head and rubbed his jaw. He peered at her through his lashes. ‘But we are not alone without anyone about to overhear our discussions or judge our actions.’

  ‘Or gardeners tending to shrubbery.’

  There was a wicked glint in his eyes. ‘Especially gardeners tending to shrubbery.’

  She wanted to ask him where he thought people went if they wanted to be alone outside. Could it be accomplished at a fair like this? Not that she would do that. Not that she wanted to. And yet, his wicked expression had her wondering if those were the looks he would give her right before he lowered his head and kissed her.

  Chapter Eight

  The only thing stopping Andrew from asking if he could kiss her was the very public venue they were in. In seconds his body was fighting his conscience with need.

  There was this soft floral scent floating around her. It was somewhat familiar, but he couldn’t place where he had smelled it before. When he was standing behind her, with his nose close to her hair, the scent was driving him mad.

  He had wanted to slide his arms around her and feel the weight of her breasts in his cupped hands. He wanted to skim the tip of his nose along her graceful neck before trailing kisses up to her ear. With whispers, he wanted to tell her how he thought about taking her against one of the nearby trees until they were both weak and fulfilled. He looked into her eyes with a need so great, the rest of the world seemed to fall away.

  Until Toby slapped him on the back and brought him to his senses.

  ‘Well done, old boy. That was a capital suggestion o
f yours inviting the ladies to have a go with the bows and arrows. I don’t know why I’d never thought to suggest it before.’

  Lady Charlotte looked away and adjusted the white fichu by her neck, pulling it gently away from her skin. It appeared he wasn’t the only one who was in need of a dip in the lake.

  ‘You were wonderful, Charlotte,’ Mrs Knightly said, beaming at her friend’s accomplishments. ‘Much better than I. It was lovely to see you enjoying yourself so much.’

  ‘I have Lord Andrew to thank for his skilled direction,’ she said, offering him an almost shy smile.

  ‘Nonsense. The accomplishment was all your own.’

  It was getting harder to look away from her again, until Toby cleared his throat.

  ‘Shall we see what else is of interest here today?’ his friend asked, offering his arm to his wife and heading off down the path to the house.

  There was only one thing here that interested Andrew and she was standing beside him with her hands clasped behind her back.

  Andrew tossed a guinea to one of the servants standing not far away guarding the bows and arrows from theft. ‘For the lady’s prize,’ he clarified, motioning with his head to the arrow she held in her hand.

  They followed Toby and his wife as they made their way towards the house along the grove of trees that arched above them from either side. The smell of roasting meat drifting towards them was something Andrew could focus on while he tried not to think about how badly he wanted Lady Charlotte. He had noticed the curve of her waist and shapely bottom when he was adjusting her body to improve her shot. Now he was having trouble thinking of anything else.

  ‘Have you had the opportunity to sample any of the food today?’ she asked, moving aside to avoid being trampled by a group of children running past them.

  ‘I have not, although the smells coming from beyond the house have been tempting me all day. Do you know what it is they are cooking?’

  ‘They are roasting lamb and pig on open spits, and I agree the smell has been making me hungry since they started to cook them. It was wonderful to wander through the stalls and do some shopping while delicious smells wafted around you.’

  ‘You almost make it sound as if the food is your favourite part of the fair.’

  ‘Almost? The food is my favourite part.’

  They both shared a friendly laugh while he enjoyed her candour.

  ‘I would say the food is mine as well, but I confess I am too competitive by nature. Sport has always held my interest.’

  She glanced across at his arm. ‘And what sport interests you aside from archery?’

  ‘Here? At the fair?’

  ‘Or back in London. I would think you were not singular in your enjoyments.’

  He enjoyed many things—many he shouldn’t mention in the company of a refined lady even if she had been married. ‘I am partial to boxing when I’m home.’ He regularly went a few rounds each week and was a silent partner in one of the finest boxing establishments in London, doing well for himself reaping in the financial gains. ‘I find it does wonders to help quiet my mind with the mental focus needed to win.’

  ‘Do you win your matches often, my lord?’

  ‘Some would say I’m very skilled at the sport.’

  ‘What would you say?’

  ‘I would say I’m attempting not to appear a braggart.

  Her gaze dropped to his arm again before she looked towards the ground and smiled. ‘Have you followed the sport for a long time?’

  ‘Since I was at Cambridge. We would often sneak away from college when news of a nearby match circulated amongst the students.’

  ‘Had you been there to watch Tom Cribb fight Tom Molineaux?’

  Hell, this woman was perfect!

  ‘How is it you know of Cribb and Molineaux?’

  A touch of sadness crossed her features before she gave him a small smile. ‘It was all you would hear about from the men at the time. They talked about it for weeks. My husband was disappointed he was only able to read about it in the papers.’

  ‘I travelled with my friend Hart to see it. Nothing would have stopped us.’

  ‘Were the crowds really as large as were reported?’

  ‘If memory serves, I remember hearing fifteen thousand showed up to witness it and it certainly felt as though you were standing in a crowd that large that day.’

  ‘Any other sports strike your fancy?’

  ‘I ride most mornings, although in London it’s usually to clear the cobwebs from my mind and not to race. I think I just enjoy the morning air.’

  ‘There is something about the morning air that is magical. I like to go for early walks, after settling things with my housekeeper for the day. I find early morning activity helps shore me up for the tasks I have to do each day.’

  By the time they reached the food stalls, she knew more about the superficial parts of his life than most people of his acquaintance. It wasn’t that she was nosy and asked too many questions, it was that she was engaging and they had common interests. And she was very easy to talk to.

  They joined their friends in sampling the roasted lamb and pork, each vying for the crispiest pieces they could get, and sat at a table on the terrace of the manor house, drinking lemonade and ale under the clear blue sky. He had forgotten how much cleaner the air was outside London.

  His purpose in accompanying Toby here today was to gather intelligence about the area and assess the threat to the Crown. His mind was itching to be put to good use and his instincts were to search for threats no matter where he was. Gatherings such as this were useful because they brought together various classes of people and the more people drank, the more vocal they would become.

  While Andrew and his party sat discussing the merits of various taverns and inns in the area, two gentlemen at nearby tables began arguing, shifting everyone’s attention to them. One of the gentleman, who was sitting directly behind Lady Charlotte, became so animated Andrew shifted his chair closer to Mrs Knightly in order to get Lady Charlotte out of harm’s way. She became startled when, without warning, he tugged the legs of her chair with her in it across the stone floor, closer to him.

  ‘Forgive me,’ he said into her ear, so she could hear him over the men shouting, ‘I want to be sure no harm comes to you.’

  ‘I appreciate the gesture, but may I suggest the next time you warn the lady first of your plan before almost pulling the chair out from under her. I assure you her heart will thank you for it.’

  She managed to make him smile while all his senses were attuned to the argument. The disagreement was about a particular gentleman who represented the area in the House of Commons. There was a time and place for heated debate. On the terrace of that man’s house with guests close by was not one of them, in Andrew’s opinion. Finally, the companions of the man furthest from them convinced him to leave before they came to blows.

  When the commotion had settled down, Andrew leaned towards Lady Charlotte. ‘Who were the two men arguing?’

  ‘Mr Repton is seated closest to us. He is the apothecary in the village. The other gentleman was Mr Charles, a gentleman farmer who owns an estate in a nearby village.’

  She rolled her eyes and said Mr Charles’s name on a groan, leaving no doubt she was not fond of the man.

  ‘You do not care for Mr Charles?’

  She glanced back at the short, robust fellow around Andrew’s age, laughing with his friends as they walked away. ‘The man is a toad. He is one of those who believes violence will promote the action that you spoke of the other morning. I have witnessed the man kick a poor defenceless dog until a number of us implored him to stop before he killed it. And he regularly is involved in brawls with strangers in his village. He is someone I purposely avoid.’

  He should walk around and learn more about Mr Charles. But part of him did not want to leave the
side of the woman to his right—who now, thanks to his quick action, was sitting so close to him their knees were touching under the table.

  With the end of the argument and the storming off of Mr Charles, Andrew’s senses were softening and his body was not strung tight in anticipation of a violent outburst. Now his body was consumed with the heat radiating from the leg pressed against his.

  There was just something about Lady Charlotte. He wasn’t about to court her. He barely knew her—and marriage was a complication his covert life did not need. However, she was achingly tempting, and he was imaging being alone with her on the terrace, laying her down on the table, lifting up her skirts...

  ‘Wouldn’t you agree, Lord Andrew?’

  The use of his name by Mrs Knightly had broken into his thoughts of the woman beside him. He looked up from his tankard of ale and all three of his companions were looking at him with expectant expressions. It was Lady Charlotte who came to his aide.

  ‘I believe Lord Andrew would agree animals do indeed get startled by fireworks, which is unfortunate, however there is a pleasurable excitement that runs through one’s body when they explode in the sky. I will stay to watch them, Ann, even if you and Toby decide to return home before they begin.’

  She really had noticed his mind was elsewhere with a detailed explanation like that. He knew she understood his silent thank you, when she gave him a hint of a conspiratorial smile.

  ‘Should you wish to remain, I will stay to see you arrive safely home when the fireworks have finished,’ he offered, knowing it wouldn’t be a hardship to spend the evening with her.

  ‘You are very kind, I would not wish to impose on you.’

  ‘It is no imposition, I assure you. I enjoy fireworks just as much as you do.’

  ‘There will be drunken revelry all over,’ Mrs Knightly needlessly advised him. ‘Do make certain she reaches her home without incident.’

  She pointedly eyed his tankard, which he placed on the table and pushed away to show he would not be in his cups at the end of the evening.

  ‘I will take great care with her ladyship’s safety.’