More Than Charming

by JoMarie DeGioia

  * * *

  Catherine stared up at the ceiling, her tears dry on her cheeks. Her shame was now complete. First, she behaved wantonly with Lord Roberts and then her brother had all but called her a trollop. She glanced at the clock on the bed stand and was startled to see it was nearly the dinner hour. Rousing herself, she changed out of her crumpled tea gown and rang for Annie.

  Twenty minutes later, Catherine stood in front of the cheval mirror, clad in a gown of silver-blue. Annie had left her curls upswept and unadorned. Catherine pulled on her gloves and studied her face in the mirror. Her nose was a bit red, her eyes shiny with the tears that threatened to spill over her lashes. However was she going to face her brother? And Lord Roberts! Blinking rapidly to keep back her tears, she turned to join the other guests in the great hall to await the dinner hour.

  Something caught her eye as she approached the door. Someone had apparently slipped a note underneath it while she was dressing. She picked it up gingerly, soon recognizing Lord Roberts’s masculine hand. She’d intercepted his response several days earlier, tracing her fingertips over the ink until she’d finally replaced it in the salver. But to see her name written in his hand? Oh!

  She opened the note and read it, her mouth agape. He requested a secret meeting with her after dinner, she read, when the gentlemen and ladies would be separated. He asked her to meet him in the courtyard garden. How could she? She smiled, a thrill going down her spine. How could she not?

  Slipping the piece of paper into her reticule, she looped the ties of the little purse over her wrist and went down to the great hall.

  * * *

  The ladies adjourned to the parlor after dinner as the gentlemen took themselves into the library for brandy and cigars. Catherine frantically sought to think of an excuse to leave their company. She was eager to get to Lord Roberts, his note fairly burning her through the fabric of her reticule. Much to her chagrin, her attempt to extricate herself from the parlor was waylaid by her sister.

  “Catherine,” Elizabeth began, “hasn’t our visit been ever so pleasant thus far?”

  “Yes,” Catherine said absently, looking toward the door with longing.

  Elizabeth chattered on for ten minutes, driving Catherine quite mad. Thankfully, Constance joined them just then. A thought immediately came to Catherine’s mind, one which caused her lips to curve into a sly smile.

  “Oh, Constance,” Catherine began. “Elizabeth was just telling me that she so wishes to visit you at Chesterfield.”

  “But, Catherine, I wasn’t . . . Ooh, Chesterfield! Why, yes. That would be ever the thing.”

  With Elizabeth’s attention successfully diverted, Catherine quickly slipped from the room. She hurried to the back of the house where a row of windows looked out into the courtyard. She froze as she spied the romantic figure before her.

  Lord Roberts was turned slightly away from her, his face set as he gazed out over the darkened garden. The moonlight glinted off his jet-black hair and outlined his dashing form. She took a deep breath, opened the glass door, and stepped out onto the stone path.

  He turned, a beautiful smile spreading across his face. “It felt like an eternity to me, Catherine. Waiting, hoping you would appear.”

  “Lord Roberts.” She breathed.

  “You look like a vision, draped in the moonlight.”

  She crossed to him. “That sounds very romantic.”

  He shrugged and took her hands in his. “I’m so pleased you came.”

  She shivered as she felt his warmth through her gloves. “How could I stay away?”

  He pulled her to him, sealing his mouth to hers. She caught his passion and brought her hands up behind his neck, bringing her body so close to his. Moaning softly, he turned and pinned her against the stone wall, pressing intimately against her. She felt him again, felt that insistent hardness against her belly as she had that afternoon. She reached inside of his jacket to stroke his back. He made the most intriguing sound, something between a growl and a moan. Her caresses became bolder and her hands moved lower.

  “Ah, Catherine,” he groaned, burying his face in the crook of her neck.

  He placed teasing kisses on her throat. She leaned her head back and sighed.

  “Lord Roberts . . .”

  He froze, then his shoulders shook with suppressed laughter. Catherine opened her eyes and gazed at him.

  He smiled down at her. “Considering where your hands are, love, I believe you may call me ‘James.’”

  Catherine realized then that her hands were on his firm buttocks. She flushed. “All right,” she said softly. “James.”

  “God, the sound of my name on those rosy lips.” He kissed her again, his tongue sweeping through her mouth. “I want to touch all of you.”

  “Like at your townhouse?”

  “Yes.” His teeth tugged at her bottom lip. “But more.”

  She couldn’t know what he meant, but he sounded almost frantic. “M-more?”

  “I have to stop myself before I pull up the skirt of this beautiful gown and take you on one of these unforgiving stone benches.”

  His words, his hands, his kisses . . . “Oh!”

  He took in a deep, shuddering breath. “Catherine.”

  She opened her eyes and stared up at him, her breath coming fast. “Yes, James?”

  “Your brother is quite angry with me.” He placed little kisses on her nose, her brow. “He believes that I dishonored you.”

  She gasped. “But you didn’t! We’ve never—”

  “Shh,” he soothed, kissing her lightly on her lips.

  “How can Paul think that I would ever do anything to dishonor the family—?”

  “Catherine,” he said again.

  James smiled at her, stopping her tears before they started. She smiled in return.

  She gazed into his beautiful gray eyes, their silver flecks sparkling at her. “Yes, James?”

  “Marry me.”

  She blinked in surprise. “M-marry you?”

  He nodded. “We get along so well. I want you. And I can tell you want me, too.”

  She stiffened. “I don’t know.” She thought of something, something abhorrent, and looked at him sharply. “Did Paul tell you to do this?”

  He shook his head. “I do what I wish to, Catherine.” He stroked her cheek with his finger. “And I want to marry you. Very much.”

  Her heart pounded. She’d nearly married before, and it had turned out badly. How could she risk going through such a debacle again? Her family couldn’t withstand another scandal. Another disgrace. Then again, it was no fault of her own that Waltham had jilted her. But she couldn’t bear it if it happened again. It would mean disaster for her and her family, not to mention that James and her brother would no longer be friends.

  She suddenly felt trapped in his embrace. She couldn’t think about this now, not with him pressed so closely to her. Not with her heart still racing from his kisses, his touch.

  He seemed to sense her reticence, for a flicker of disappointment appeared in his gaze. “It’s all right, love. Please promise me you’ll give it some thought?”

  She stood perfectly still for a long moment. Finally, she nodded.

  “Yes, I promise I will think about it,” she said in a shaky voice.

  He let out a breath. “Take all the time you need. I want you to be as certain as I.”

  As if to prove his point, he captured her lips once more. His kiss was tender, teasing, and she felt her knees go weak.

  He pulled back and took a few steps away from her. “Why don’t you go back inside, Catherine? Surely you’ll be missed by the others.”

  She nodded and brushed her hands over her gown. She walked over to the glass doors and stopped, turning back to him. “Aren’t you coming?”

  James shook his head and adjusted his jacket in front of him. Maybe he was chilled? “I need a few moments to, um, collect my thoughts.”

  She nodded once more and left him there. As she pulled the
doors shut, she thought she heard him utter a prayer.

  Chapter 6

  His body at last under control, James returned to the house. Would Catherine accept his proposal? Until the moment he’d asked her, he hadn’t realized how much he wanted to make her his wife. He joined the gentlemen in the library and settled himself in a large wing chair, avoiding Paul’s gaze.

  He quickly saw that his friends hadn’t missed his arrival. Chester elbowed Paul to gain his attention. Paul turned from his conversation with Geoffrey and arched a brow in question.

  “What is it, Chester?” James heard Paul ask.

  “It seems Roberts has acquired your habit of brooding, Leed.” Chester laughed.

  Paul glanced over at James and lost his smile, a dark scowl taking its place. James hid his reaction. If Paul knew what James and Catherine had been doing in the garden, he’d do more than scowl.

  “My God, Leed,” Geoffrey said at last. “I daresay Roberts will never master it to your ability.”

  Chester laughed again and loudly. James turned his head, not surprised to find himself the subject of close scrutiny from all three gentlemen.

  Paul stalked over to where James sat and glared down at him. “I’m well aware of what you were about during dinner, Roberts.”

  James came to his feet. “I can’t begin to guess your meaning.”

  “Staring at Catherine. Sitting too close for my sanity. Pray tell me, what are your intentions?”

  James bristled. “It’s out of my hands, Leed.”

  “What the devil does that mean?”

  James looked around the room for a moment. His other friends wore matching looks of interest on their faces. Thankfully, Catherine’s father apparently sensed nothing amiss. James stood and crossed the room to the bookshelves, waiting for Catherine’s brother to join him. Paul shot a glance at Chester and Geoffrey, who hid their grins and turned from them. He joined James, arching a brow in question.

  “I asked Catherine to marry me,” James said in a low voice.

  Paul began to smile.

  “Don’t look so smug, Leed,” James said in irritation. “She has yet to give me her answer.”

  “But how can she refuse you? You were in her room.”

  James turned to leave. “I won’t discuss this with you.”

  Paul caught him by the arm. “I’m sorry to force this on you, Roberts.”

  James fixed his eyes on his friend. “I didn’t propose to her because of you. I asked Catherine to marry me because I wish it.”

  Paul blinked. A wide smile spread across his face. “Then surely you must—”

  “Never mind,” James cut in with a wave of his hand. “I want her for my wife, Leed. That’s all you need to know.”

  Paul simply nodded and left James then. James returned to the wing chair and sat. He recalled the look in Catherine’s beautiful eyes when he’d asked her to marry him. Her fear had been palpable. It galled him to think that her experience with Waltham could ruin their chance at happiness.

  His thoughts went to his conversation with her brother. Surely Paul was under the impression that James loved Catherine. He wouldn’t give thought to that prickly emotion. But what if Catherine’s thoughts were of her brother’s bent? He was startled out of his reverie to find Chester suddenly standing over him, a glass of brandy in his hand.

  “Roberts,” Chester said, holding the glass out to James.

  James thanked him and took the glass. He took a long swallow of the liquor. He closed his eyes and sighed, resting his head on the back of the chair.

  “What the devil is ailing you, man?” Chester asked.

  “Ah, Chester. It’s out of my hands.”

  “What’s this? I never thought you’d give up so easily.”

  James opened his eyes and looked up at him. “What are you saying?”

  “I’ve seen that look before,” Chester said. “Only a woman can cause that kind of discomfort.”

  James said nothing as he took another long swallow of brandy.

  “And given Leed’s behavior,” Chester finished, “I can only assume that Catherine is the lady in question.”

  James felt his lips curve in a smile.

  Chester chuckled. “You’re in a bad way, friend.”

  “What?” James asked. “Oh, no. I’m fond of Catherine, but . . .”

  Chester shook his head and grinned. James opened his mouth to respond as Paul announced that it was time to rejoin the ladies in the parlor. James followed the gentlemen into the great hall.

  * * *

  Catherine froze when James walked into the room. His eyes, steady in their gaze, met hers. She couldn’t face the questions she saw there. Not yet. She had no notion of what her answer would be and, despite his assurance that she may take as long as she liked to give him an answer, she had the distinct impression he wouldn’t be put off for long.

  She murmured an excuse to Michelle and arose from her seat. As she hurried toward the doorway, James stepped into her path, but she skirted around him with her eyes downcast. She was such a coward. Where was the girl who bravely went to his townhouse alone one night?

  In the quiet of her guest chamber much later that night, Catherine stared once more at the ceiling. What was she going to tell James? Should she marry him? She’d always thought him handsome and charming, even when she was but a girl. And now, whenever he looked at her, her pulse raced. His kisses set her on fire. His caresses made her feel wanted. But did she love him? And what of his feelings? With a sob of frustration, she closed her eyes and tried to will herself to sleep.

  A few minutes later, Catherine sensed rather than heard him enter her room. She opened her eyes and stared up into his beautiful gray ones. “James,” she whispered.

  James smiled down at her, his eyes glittering. She ran her eyes over him. He wore only breeches topped by his fine white shirt, open at the neck to reveal dark hairs. “Hello, love.”

  Catherine smiled at the sweetly-spoken endearment. Her eyes widened as she realized their position. Not only was she alone with a man in her room—again!—but that man was leaning over her in bed.

  “James, you shouldn’t be here.”

  He placed a hand on either side of her head on the pillow and leaned closer. “I need an answer, Catherine.”

  She gave a frantic shake of her head. “But you assured me that I could take as much time as I needed.”

  James struck a thoughtful pose, then gave a small shrug. “I lied.”

  He kissed her tenderly, letting his tongue slowly caress her lips. Catherine instinctively opened her mouth, welcoming him. The kiss deepened, their tongues touching.

  He finally pulled back and sat beside her on the bed. He reached out to stroke her cheek. “Marry me, Catherine.”

  “James, I don’t know if we suit each other.”

  He arched a brow at that. He looked down at her, at the sheet down around her waist. Her nightgown of thin lawn must hide virtually nothing from him. She could feel his gaze as if it touched her skin and her nipples tightened.

  “You suit me,” he said, his voice husky. He brought his eyes back up to her face. His gaze was tender, compelling. “I’ll be a good husband, Catherine. I’ll never hurt you.”

  She blinked up at him, her mind muddled from his closeness, his sweet words. “James, I don’t know.”

  “Do you care for me?”

  “Yes,” she said without hesitation. “Very much.”

  He kissed her again, slowly pushing the sheets aside. He ran his hands over her, brushing his palm over her breast. She gasped at the thrill that bit of contact gave her. His mouth left hers to nuzzle the soft skin on her neck.

  “Marry me, Catherine,” he whispered raggedly against her ear. “Please say you’ll be mine.”

  She heard it in his voice, the emotion she so wished to believe he felt for her. She couldn’t find it in her heart to refuse him. “Yes.” She breathed.

  He lifted his head, hope clear on his face. “What did you sa
y?”

  She brought her hand to his cheek. “Yes. I’ll marry you.”

  He grinned at her. He kissed her once more, slowly easing her nightgown off her shoulders. He trailed kisses over her throat, her breasts. He stared down at her. “God, you’re beautiful,” he rasped.

  James bent his head and placed a tender kiss on her nipple. Catherine arched in response and he closed his mouth over the sensitive bud. She moaned softly as he caressed her other breast. His hand stole under her nightgown, over her leg, her thigh, finally seeking the curls that shielded her womanhood. He stroked her gently, urging her legs apart.

  “Oh, my goodness!” She gasped as his fingers delved inside her.

  Catherine moaned as his mouth laved one nipple, then the other. His fingers stroked her delicate folds—gently at first and then with more pressure. She reached up and held him tightly to her, her legs moving restlessly on the bed. She lifted her pelvis toward him, riding his fingers with her moist heat.

  “God, I want to give you more,” he said. “So much more . . .”

  She was close to . . . something. Her wetness drenched his fingers now and her breath came in quick gasps as she trembled beneath his expert attention. James brought his mouth to hers, catching her cries as she suddenly climaxed.

  He placed little kisses on her face. “My God, Catherine.”

  Her eyes fluttered open. “Wh-what just happened?”

  He smiled down at her. “That was proof you’re as passionate as I, love. Tell me now we don’t suit.”

  She blushed and threw her arms around him. “You do suit me, James.”

  James breathed in sharply, then quickly pulled away. “I’d best return to my chamber, bride,” he said hoarsely. “If I stay, I’ll have to take you.”

  Her brow furrowed. “But didn’t you just do that?”

  He shook his head, a wicked smile on his face. “That was merely a glimpse of what we’ll share, Catherine.” He kissed her quickly and stood beside the bed. “Good night, love.”

  “Good night,” she answered with a small smile.