Lady Charlotte tipped her head to him. ‘I do appreciate your offer to see me home. It is not far.’
‘It would be my honour.’
Chapter Nine
By the time the sun started to hang low in the evening sky, Charlotte felt a certain sadness that the day was nearing an end. Walking through the fair with Lord Andrew and her friends had brought her more joy than anything else had in a long time. There was something about Lord Andrew’s sense of adventure and encouragement that had them all trying things they normally would never have.
As she bade farewell to Ann and Toby with Lord Andrew by her side, she could feel the glances from some of her neighbours as they looked him over. He cut an impressive form with his height and broad shoulders, but it was more than that. Lord Andrew Pearce possessed a commanding presence, the likes of which she had never witnessed before. It was in the way he carried himself. There was a confidence without arrogance that she found intoxicating.
When he strode around the grounds of the house, one could easily assume it belonged to him with his comfortable manner and skill in country pursuits. She hadn’t questioned him about his family. It was not her place and he didn’t seem interested in sharing it with her. Soon he would be gone and back in London. Their association would end. Who his father was had no bearing on their interaction.
They stood side by side, watching a man juggle flaming torches near the house in comfortable silence. She glanced over and caught the calculating gleam in his eye as he watched the torches fly up and down.
‘I know you have every confidence in your abilities,’ she said, ‘however, the salve I use for burns is at my home and I have no desire to go and fetch it.’
His lips rose in that now familiar smile and he eyed her sideways. ‘I am merely trying to determine how he does it. From what I can gather there is a rhythm to it.’
‘Do you always study things that closely?’
‘When I’m intrigued by them, I do.’
‘And the risk of setting yourself on fire is intriguing?’
‘Determining how not to do it is more the thing.’
He could set her body on fire with just a mere look, which was unprecedented. He didn’t even have to say anything. She hadn’t experienced that before. Not even with Jonathan. How was it possible she was imagining the feel of this man’s lips on hers, when they barely knew one another?
The sky was beginning to turn pink. Or maybe that was her. Heat spread up her neck to her cheeks.
He leaned in, close to the edge of her bonnet, and lowered his voice to a deep whisper. ‘Whatever it is you are thinking, it has you blushing.’
She gave him a chastising glare. ‘A gentleman should not comment on a woman’s blush. And how can you even notice it in this dim light?’
‘The kind juggler has provided me with enough light to see it and I am so glad he has.’
‘Perhaps you should consider not mentioning it again.’
‘Perhaps you should consider telling me what you were thinking.’
‘I am holding a rather sharp arrow, my lord,’ she teased.
‘And I’m holding an image in my head of what I’d like to do with that sharp tongue of yours.’
If another gentleman had said those words to her, she would have slapped him. However, Lord Andrew’s comment didn’t feel threatening or leave her feeling as if she needed to scrub her body with soap. His deep whispered suggestion had her imagining kissing him and sliding her tongue over his, knowing the taste of his lips.
‘What are you thinking, woman? You’re practically crimson.’
‘You need to stop talking to me and go back to analysing how you can become the world’s finest torch juggler.’
His low-throated laugh had her reluctantly smiling.
‘Very well, I will leave you to your thoughts, but if I require burn salve later tonight, I shall lay the blame at your door.’
When servants came out from the house and began lighting the torches that lined the gravel path around the back formal garden, Charlotte and Lord Andrew discussed where they thought it would be best to view the fireworks.
‘I will be happy to escort you to the terrace, if you so wish,’ he offered.
She was not fond of the close scrutiny of the local gentry. If they were able to sneak away, they could watch the fireworks in peace. ‘There is no need for us to watch from up there,’ she said. ‘I know a pleasant spot on a hill near the woods that lead to my home. There were years I had no inclination to be around crowds of people and I would watch them from that hill.’
For two years after Jonathan was killed, Charlotte preferred to avoid the overly kind conversations with people in the village she barely knew. It seemed there were those people who wished to say they were friends with a Waterloo widow—as if it were a badge of honour or something to be admired. For those two years, Charlotte watched the fireworks far removed from everyone else.
‘If that is your wish, I am happy to oblige. You know this park better than I and I will defer to you.’
They stole away from the house as people began to head towards the terrace and made their way to a small copse. Normally she had to walk slower since Ann’s legs were shorter than hers, but Lord Andrew also possessed a long stride and they kept a comfortable pace with each other through the secluded wooded area leading up to the hill. The moon was now high in the darkening night sky and a few puffy clouds were drifting along.
‘We should hurry,’ she said, clutching her prize arrow and lifting her skirt up to better climb the hill.
He held his hand out to help her, but she shook her head. She had grown accustomed to managing for herself. When they reached the top, they stood under a cluster of oak trees and surveyed the vista before them. The hill was higher than Oakwood Hall, giving them a direct view of the stately stone house with its lower windows illuminated like points of light. The glowing torches, placed behind the house, looked like rows of tiny sticks and gave a visual marker for how far the formal gardens stretched. The evening was unseasonably warm. Around them fireflies speckled the air with their own show of light and crickets chirped in the distance.
‘I commend your choice of location,’ he said, looking out towards Oakwood Hall. ‘This is a spectacular view.’
‘I am glad you approve. It really is lovely, even without the fireworks exploding. I like to walk and my home is not far. One day, I decided to travel off the footpath and explore.’
‘Ah, an adventuress.’
She knew he must have said it in jest. There wasn’t an adventuresome bone in her body...not any more—not for a very long time.
He looked around the grassy ground and then at her lavender gown. ‘You will ruin your dress if you sit.’
‘We can always stand, or you can sit if you wish. Standing will not be an inconvenience to me.’
By the crease in his brow it was evident he was not happy with either suggestion. ‘Would you be scandalised if I removed my coat?’
She hadn’t seen a man in his shirtsleeves in more than five years. The idea of seeing him in such an intimate fashion sent a rush through her body. ‘No one is here to judge what is proper. If you are so inclined to remove your coat, I will not protest.’
He peeled his coat off. There was no other way to describe it and it left Charlotte transfixed by his unintended seductive movement. Once more she marvelled at the way he was so comfortable in his skin. His movements weren’t studied and yet they had a profound effect on her.
Shaking out his coat, he laid it on the ground so the silk lining was facing the grass. ‘There,’ he declared, seeming quite pleased with himself. ‘That should protect your gown from ruin.’ Without even a glance her way, he sat down, stretched his long legs out in front of him and crossed his ankles. When he finally looked up at her, she managed to close her mouth before he noticed.
No
thing. Nothing prepared Charlotte for the sight of Lord Andrew looking as if he were at home away from prying eyes. In his shirtsleeves—in the moonlight—the linen of his shirt hugging the curves of his biceps, giving Charlotte a better idea of what he would look like without his shirt and waistcoat. She had never felt more feminine in all her life. He was so much bigger than she imagined...and broader...and—
‘Have I soiled the lining of my coat so you could remain standing all night?’
How could he expect her to sit beside him while he looked like that and carry on a conversation? Was he mad?
He patted the area next to him. ‘I realise I have never been here before, but I do believe the fireworks will be happening behind you.’
As if divine providence stepped in, she heard the first one launch. She turned to see sparkles of white and gold fill the sky in the distance.
‘Come and sit, or you will miss all of it.’
She took a deep breath and lowered herself to the ground cover he had graciously provided for her. They were less than a foot apart.
‘You can release that arrow now,’ he suggested, nodding towards her hand. ‘I assure you I will not pinch it from you.’
Her knuckles were probably white under her kid gloves from how tightly she was clutching it in her hand. It took an effort to release it and place it next to her.
Lord Andrew let out a low laugh. ‘I notice you placed it on your other side.’
His good humour was helping to relieve some of the tightness she was feeling throughout her body.
‘I thought it best not to tempt you by placing the arrow between us.’
‘The arrow isn’t what I find tempting.’
Was he feeling it, too? Her gaze dropped to his lips just as a giant boom reverberated through the hills. They both turned towards the house to see more colourful lights shoot into the sky and crackle apart.
‘I’m thinking about kissing you.’ He said it in such a matter-of-fact way, as if the idea would not set her body aflame—as if the idea of kissing this practical stranger would be a common occurrence.
Charlotte had only kissed one man in her life. She never thought she would want to kiss another—until now. Now she wanted to know what his lips felt like against hers. She wanted him to wrap her in his arms where she would feel desirable and cherished. And she wanted to know if his kiss could be enough to end the desire running through her body.
He placed his gloved finger under her chin and gently guided her face so she was looking at him. The scent of leather filled her nose. There was no amusement in his expression. No cavalier bravado. Just an intensity that made her believe if he didn’t kiss her right then, they both would burn up like a piece of char cloth.
It was becoming hard to breathe and if he did in fact kiss her there was a good chance she would lose consciousness from lack of air. But if he didn’t kiss her...
She licked her lips to appease the need of feeling his lips on hers.
He swallowed hard. Almost hesitantly, he untied her bonnet and put it aside. Gently, he wrapped his fingers around the back of her neck, pulling her closer, and he lowered his head. She closed her eyes and his lips faintly brushed hers. They were soft, yet firm, and she wanted more.
One of them, or maybe it was both, deepened the kiss until Charlotte was lying on her back with her arms around his neck and he was over her, propped on his elbows. Her body began to ache between her thighs. The knowledge that she was privy to the intimate way this man tasted was driving her to know more. He broke their kiss to nip at her lower lip before kissing across her jaw and down her neck. At the hollow near her shoulder, he started to softly suck her skin while he unbuttoned her spencer and caressed her breast. Charlotte had never expected to feel this way again. A soft moan escaped her lips, ecstasy and agony combined.
She had this surprising craving to get closer to that strength that seemed to radiate from him, so she unbuttoned his waistcoat and slid it over the curves of his shoulders. The outline of the muscles of his chest felt solid through the thin linen of his shirt, making her feel soft and feminine. As he kissed down to the swell of her breasts and pulled the fichu from the neckline of her gown, it was impossible not to run her fingers through the soft strands of his hair.
‘Charlotte, you have me aching for things I should not have. Cannot have.’ His hot breath scorched her skin.
Her Christian name on his lips did funny things in her chest. They were both breathing rapidly as if they had just run up the hill they were on and her entire focus was on how good he was making her feel.
‘Can we...?’ He let out a strangled breath before releasing one of her breasts from her stays and sucking on her nipple.
The feeling was intense. She dug her nails into his back, through his shirt, as her head dropped back.
She knew she was moaning. She should be mortified. Ladies never made a sound. Her mother had instructed her of that on her wedding day. But there was no way she could stop herself. His hardness pushed into her leg. Apparently, her moaning was not making Andrew uncomfortable.
She knew they should stop, but every inch of her body was screaming not to. Suddenly he threw himself on to his back beside her with a groan. While his chest rose and fell on shaky breaths, he draped his arm across his eyes. Air wasn’t entering her lungs smoothly either and staring at his forearm, with the outline of masculine veins and muscles, was not helping.
Finally, he lowered his arm and turned towards her. ‘Forgive me. I shouldn’t have—’
She placed her finger against his smooth lips. ‘I didn’t say stop.’
‘But—’
‘I would have told you to stop if I’d wanted that.’
Her burning desire was reflected in his eyes.
‘I want to be inside you more than anything.’ His voice was deep and husky.
She wanted him just as much. She wanted all that masculine intensity wrapped around her. Just looking at him now was making her feel like the most desirable woman in the world. For the first time in years she felt wet between her thighs and she recalled their conversation over breakfast. Pressing her fingertips to her lips, she tried to hold back a laugh.
He appeared affronted. ‘Before my body explodes like those fireworks from frustration, do you care to tell me what is so amusing?’
‘We are outside.’
He looked around as if silently acknowledging the obvious.
‘No gardeners are about.’
His brow wrinkled, then a sly smile crossed those delicious lips. ‘So it would seem.’
‘It isn’t raining.’
‘No, it is not.’
She chewed on her lip. ‘But it is wet.’
Now a devilish look was in his eyes and his lips curled up some more. He turned fully on his side and propped his head in his hand. He hadn’t exaggerated when he said he would give her his undivided attention. Being under this much attention from a man like him could be addictive.
‘Truly?’
Charlotte nodded and felt the heat spread across her cheeks.
Slowly, he tugged off his left glove—finger by finger—with his teeth. ‘I think it’s rather unfair of you to keep all that wetness to yourself.’
Looking at his ungloved hand she had a fairly good idea what he had in mind. Could she allow him to touch her? She chewed her lip. A slight breeze blew across her stockings. He was gathering up her skirt with his fingers and stopped mid-thigh. Leaning over, he placed his lips on the shell of her ear. ‘Would you like me to touch your leg, Charlotte?’
She would never have this again. She would never again feel a man’s touch on her body. Never was a long time. ‘If you’re so inclined,’ she uttered on a breath.
The tips of his fingers skimmed up her calf and over her knee. ‘Shall I continue?’
She swallowed. How far would he go? ‘If you wish.’
The pads of his fingers slid along her thigh. His touch was light and teasing, and stopped near her hip. ‘Continue?’
Just the thought of his fingers sliding against her was making her heart race faster. It had been so long. She knew how good it would feel. It was just his fingers that would be touching her. She moved her legs a few inches apart and nodded. But instead of touching her between her thighs, he skimmed his fingertips back down to her knee, and she licked her suddenly dry lips.
‘Shall I explore some more?’
Once more she nodded.
He held her eyes with his passionate gaze. This time when his fingers brushed the inside of her thigh, he stopped inches away from the area that needed to feel him the most. ‘I want to touch you, Charlotte, but only if you’ll allow it,’ he said, studying her eyes.
Her body was aching for his touch. She needed it desperately.
‘Tell me you want me to touch you,’ he whispered, caressing the shell of her ear with his lips.
She had never talked during moments like this. Oh, lud, she’d never had moments quite like this. The overwhelming need for him was stronger than anything she had ever felt before in her life. Ladies didn’t speak when they made love. They weren’t even to utter a sound when a man entered them and, if they did reach fulfilment, they did everything in their power to hold back a moan or a groan.
It wasn’t done.
It wasn’t proper.
‘I need you to touch me.’ It was out of her mouth before she could hold it back.
As he finally stroked her ever so slowly between her thighs, he licked the shell of her ear. When she moaned loudly, she didn’t even care. He trailed his tongue down her neck, while his fingers continued to slide back and forth with long slow strokes. The feeling was growing too intense.
When her body stopped trembling he removed his hand and, with passion in his eyes, he studied her. A cool breeze blew across her thighs as he made a point of looking down. She followed his gaze and watched as he unbuttoned the fall of his trousers, slipped his hand under the buckskin and rhythmically slid his hand up and down. ‘Now we’re both wet.’
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