Lyon’s Prey

by St. Claire, Anna

  Unexpected jealousy toward the woman who had first claimed him as husband washed over her, immediately followed by sobering guilt. Swallowing past the lump in her throat, Charlotte could only nod. Before she could utter a sound, the carriage slowed in front of his townhouse, and Evan tapped on the roof.

  Charlotte glanced around however, did not see a carriage with her mother and brother. “Will Mama and Jason be following us here?” She worried her lower lip.

  “Your mother felt she needed some more time to pack for their trip home. I sent two footmen to help secure the house for the evening.”

  “That helps, Evan,” she said on a breath.

  “We can retrieve them and bring them here, if you would prefer,” he offered.

  “I know my uncle enough to know he does not make idle threats. He acted desperate. Most of our staff have been with us for years. Mama is not afraid of my uncle; however, Jason fears him, something I failed to realize until today,” she replied. “I believe they will be fine if the footmen are there to help guard the doors,” she said, trying to squash the nervousness she felt. “They will be all right. I must be overreacting because of nerves.”

  “Should you change your mind, you have only to ask.” He peeked out the window. “Our butler, Bernard, will have spotted us coming down the street. I want to give the staff a moment to assemble.” His hand touched hers lightly, sending increasingly familiar jolts of sensation up her arm. “I think they are ready for us, Lady Clarendon.” He turned to her and held out his hand. “Shall we?”

  “Yes, my . . . Evan,” she said weakly, offering him a smile.

  Her husband squeezed her hand and held it softly, guiding her out of the carriage. A black oak door with a lion’s head knocker opened, and a tall graying man she recognized as Bernard met them. Several house servants exited behind Bernard and lined the steps to the three-story gray stone townhouse. It was only the second time she had been here in her life, and this time, it was her home.

  “Bernard, allow me to introduce you to my countess, Lady Clarendon.”

  “Welcome home, my lord, my lady. We have looked forward to this day, my lady,” the retainer said in a voice full of sincerity.

  Charlotte thought she caught a twinkle in Bernard’s eye as he spoke.

  Evan slid his hand down her arm to hold her hand and began introductions. “May I introduce you to Mrs. Hutchins, our housekeeper? She has been part of our family for many years.”

  A short woman with a gentle smile and gray hair stepped forward and stooped into a curtsy. “My lady, welcome to Clarendon House,” she said genially. “We have breakfast prepared for you in the dining room.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Hutchins. However, plans have changed, and it will only be Lady Clarendon and myself for now,” Evan said. “We will endeavor to have a proper celebration on another day.”

  “Very good, my lord,” the housekeeper said as she curtsied.

  Evan nodded and continued with the introductions.

  Having been too nervous to eat earlier, Charlotte could feel her stomach rumbling and hoped no one else could hear it. The mention of food had her stomach reacting on its own.

  As they walked to the dining room, he turned to her. “If it pleases you, my dear, I would like to stay here for a few days. Not only will it allow a bit of relaxation, but I have also engaged an interior designer I would like you to meet with before travel to our country estate in Epsom. Once we arrive at Prescott Manor, we can organize our Christmastide celebration. Mrs. Hutchinson has already begun organizing items for the tenant baskets.”

  He nodded towards the butler. “Bernard is working with my stable hands to organize the carriages. The ride should take only a few hours.” He lightly squeezed her hand. “I would like to spend our first night together alone,” he finished huskily. “My sister and brother-in-law volunteered to allow Edward to stay a few more days to give us time together. I believe Edward will enjoy the time with them. They will bring Edward and Mrs. Donner, his nanny, in three days.”

  Charlotte was glad that he stood beside her, allowing her hair and bonnet to veil her nervous expression. As anxious as she was to meet Edward, she was nervous about becoming a wife and appreciated the extra time they would have together alone. As they entered the dining room, delicious smells of cooked ham, breads, and other foods wafted her way, allowing her to eat first and worry later. She would like to take a nap. However, she did not understand how to approach the topic without stirring his interest in other matters, so she decided saying nothing was perhaps best.

  An hour later, they were on their way upstairs. Her stomach muscles fluttered in uneasy anticipation.

  “I have had your bags delivered to your rooms, Charlotte.” He opened the door to a gorgeous room bathed in warm yellow and lavender.

  Unable to resist, she walked in and turned about, surveying the room. A sumptuous lavender brocade canopy cover with matching bedspread adorned an intricately carved maple bed. Lush patterned carpet surrounded the bed on all sides, reaching to all four walls. A coordinated dressing table and wardrobe completed the larger furnishings, while a plush lavender Chippendale chair sat near the fireplace. Pale yellow velour drapes with light lavender cording showed off large hand-blown double-paned windows that looked outside upon a garden. “What a beautiful room,” she enthused.

  “I hoped you would like it, however you have leave to decorate it in any colors or fabrics you so desire.” He gazed at her.

  “And where are your accommodations, my lord?” she asked coyly. He gave her a look that made her body quiver. I am married to him, she reminded herself.

  “Glad you asked,” he said, taking her hand and leading her through a door that blended in with the wallpaper next to her wardrobe. They walked through a short corridor linking the suites into a room decorated in deep greens and dark wood.

  The smell of sandalwood lingered in the air near his bed, and a fire roared in the fireplace. Two mahogany chairs sat with a small table between them about six feet from the fireplace. It was enough to keep the occupants comfortable without making them too hot.

  “I thought we could have our dinner up here tonight,” he said as a look of emotion she could not identify passed over his face. He replaced it with a smile.

  “I would like that, Evan.”

  Evan watched his wife’s face. She was lovely, almost perfection when she flashed her emerald green eyes in fits of pique. That had been his first vision of her—her eyes sparking and temper riled.

  He had wanted to welcome Charlotte to her new home a little more smoothly. But the baron’s ill-timed intrusion threw those plans into disarray, similar to the timing of her intrusion—and he used that word loosely—into his life. Charlotte had intruded—or rather burst in upon his solace with her anger and indignance at his behavior, heralding attention to his conduct. There was so much more to her—something that made him want to help her, and not just because it would help him. He meant his vows—those that promised to be loyal, generous, and provide protection. He would welcome her to his life, his home, and with care, to his bed. He needed to be careful that what happened to Amelia would never happen to Charlotte. His son needed a mother. And he could not lose another wife.

  Charlotte’s earlier tensions over her mother and brother seemed to have eased, however his had not. Someone had tipped off Langdale, but who? Should he send for her family? Charlotte had seemed satisfied that the footmen could provide the security needed. Why, then, was his gut telling him something different? “My dear, please allow me to pen a note to Banbury. I have a favor to ask.”

  “Of course,” she said absently.

  “Have a seat by the fire and warm yourself. I shall return in about ten minutes.”

  Charlotte nodded and sat in a leather armchair to the left of his fireplace. He took an extra moment and pulled up the small matching ottoman and lifted her feet onto it before leaving the room.

  “I will not be long, dear,” he said, taking a quick backward glance
before leaving the room.

  Evan hurried downstairs and extracted a sheet of vellum from the box on his desk. Quickly, he penned Banbury a note asking his friend if he would visit his mother-in-law and convince them to stay with him. Knowing Banbury, he would do it without being asked, however just the same, he would feel better knowing his new family was safe. Langdale had acted almost rabid earlier.

  Evan pulled out a burgundy taper and heated it, allowing it to drip on the outside of his folded note. Using his signet ring, he sealed it. Ringing for his butler, he eased back in his chair and waited. Bernard responded in a thrice. “Bernard, please have this delivered immediately to Lord Banbury. Have the messenger wait to get a response.”

  “Right away, my lord.”

  “One more thing. Remind Charles he has the night off but ask him to be ready to leave three days hence with the rest of the estate staff to move to Epsom.”

  “Right away, my lord. I believe your valet is in the kitchen eating a noon meal. I shall apprise him of your instructions.”

  “Excellent. And please let me know when you have a reply from Lord Banbury.”

  His retainer nodded and left to dispatch his note. Feeling somewhat better, Evan headed back upstairs to his room.

  The sight that greeted him there stirred his loins. His wife was curled up in his chair, asleep in front of the fireplace. He pulled the drapes and turned down the light in the room. Walking to his bride, he lifted her and moved her to his bed, pulling back the coverlet with one hand while holding her with the other. Satisfied that she was comfortable, he sat in the chair she had just vacated and pulled off his boots. Luckily, these were looser than others and slid off easily. Taking off his waistcoat, he untied his cravat, opened the neck of his shirt, and slid under the covers next to her.

  The fresh scent of jasmine stirred his need. Gently, he lifted her hand and with his thumb, rubbed the inside of her hand in little circles. Her eyes fluttered open, and a lazy smile creased her face as she turned to him.

  “Shall I stop?” he asked, his voice husky.

  Charlotte closed her eyes. “No . . . Evan.” A smile lifted her lips.

  Evan leaned down and gently brushed her mouth. With more force, he kissed her, his teeth nibbling gently on her lip. Gentle coaxing from his tongue gained him entry, and she pulled back her neck to give more room.

  “Evan . . . we are in your bed . . .” the words fell away as his breath heated her neck.

  “And? It is our wedding day. I pulled the curtains. The day and the night are ours to spend at our leisure—until we are persuaded by hunger to gain sustenance. What better way could there be to spend our time?” His breath fanned her ears.

  Tenderly, he slipped her sleeves from her arms, exposing her breast. “Allow me to warm you, wife.”

  “Evan,” she murmured, wrapping her hands around his neck and pulling him closer.

  Evan reveled in the contrasting feeling of her heated hands touching the cool skin of his neck. His head dipped, and with his teeth, he pulled the shoulders of her gown away from her, freeing both breasts. Charlotte moved her head back and gave a guttural hum as he gently pulled one breast into his mouth, licking and suckling before moving to the next one to give equal measure. Lifting his head, he moved back to her mouth, kissing her and nibbling her lower lip slowly as his hand moved under her dress to her moist folds. “I want you,” he whispered against the lobes of her ear, sending tingles across her shoulders and into the base of her skull.

  Never had she experienced such delicious feelings. “Evan . . . do not stop . . . I want . . . I need . . .” She panted, unable to comprehend what she wanted. All she knew was the overpowering feeling of desire. Pulling his head back to her breasts, she reveled in the warm wetness of his mouth. She could feel her nipples pebbling beneath his touch. “I have never felt this hot tingling in my . . . my insides,” she gasped, unable to think of another word yet needing to tell him, hoping he would understand.

  “I want to please you before we couple,” he breathed in her ear as his fingers teased her folds. “My need is almost unbearable,” he whispered and adjusted himself over her, probing her moist core.

  Charlotte gasped as her center convulsed from his ministrations. Tender lips covered hers and their tongues touched, danced, and swirled against the insides of their mouths between heated breaths. She squeezed her eyes closed, hoping to hold onto the sensation of floating above her body.

  “I think you are ready . . .” he said between pants, reaching down and opening his placket, then kicking off his breeches and smalls. He adjusted himself over her. “My darling, I will take my time. You will feel a slight pain, although I promise it will get better,” he exhaled, his words coming between heated breaths.

  “Yes . . .” she said on a sigh, unsure of what pain he spoke. She had only experienced pleasure with his attentions.

  Evan moved to her entry, and she felt a piercing pain that lasted for a moment. Her husband stopped. She struggled to get her breath before he began once more, moving slowly, inciting her own body to respond to each of his movements. At the pinnacle, when she felt her body would explode, he withdrew, pulling back away from her. Too inexperienced to say anything, she lay there, feeling cheated yet not understanding why. She was afraid to speak. Long moments passed before finally, she summoned her courage and rose, her arms steadying her as she pushed herself up to a sitting position. “What just happened?” she asked. “Why did you pull away? Did I do something wrong?” She swiped at a rogue tear that appeared at the corner of her face.

  He lay next to her, his eyes on the ceiling, staring. His breaths slowed until finally, he spoke. “No, Charlotte. It was my fear that forced me back from you. I want you, and I know she would want me happy,” he spoke the words in a low, pained voice.

  “She? Your first wife?” Charlotte spoke cautiously, suddenly terrified and unsure of why.

  “It is not fair to you, however I cannot risk losing you the way I lost her,” he choked.

  “Look at me,” she pleaded softly. She waited. Long minutes passed before he rolled to her. “Evan, I do not know what our future will be, yet I cannot allow fear ruling our present. If we do, surely much of the best part of lives will pass us by, unlived and unknown.”

  He stared at her eyes as his own watered. “I never wanted to marry again,” he said, pausing.

  Her breathing went still. What was he saying?

  “Then you happened, and I gave into my need for a wife, a mother for my child, a companion . . .”

  She leaned up on her elbow and placed a finger over his lips, gently stopping him. Suddenly, she understood. “Evan, I will be all of those, and childbirth is dangerous. While I cannot promise you not to leave you in death, I can promise that I will fight for our life together.” She tried to keep her tears at bay and her voice steady.

  He rose over her, staring into her green eyes. “Charlotte,” he choked and lowered himself to kiss her, adjusting himself into her once more. “Give me time. While we have not known each other long, I feel that I know your heart. And I need to share mine. I pledge to do my best by you.” He leaned in and kissed her tenderly. “Tonight has so much more promise.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Evan awoke hours later. There was a noise downstairs. Come to think of it, I have not heard from Banbury. After making love with his wife twice, they fell asleep in each other’s arms, no longer able to ignore that need. Reaching over, he opened a small drawer to his nightstand. The French letters he purchased were still there. He had forgotten to use them, although he had withdrawn each time before spilling his seed. Evan glanced over at his still sleeping wife and a small pain of guilt stung his heart as he remembered her words. She would fight for their life together. He found Charlotte to be a good listener and talking last night, even in the heat of making love, had made a difference. He would try harder. Perhaps discussing it was the key to moving past it.

  Quietly, he slid to the side of the bed and put on his breeche
s. Then, slipping into his green velvet robe, he secured it with a sash. Male voices sounded from below; however, he could not make out what was being said. When he reached the top of the stairs, he saw Bernard addressing a messenger who stood ready to leave. The man wore regimentals and appeared confused.

  “Good sir, Lord and Lady Clarendon are not available. Can you leave a message for his lordship?”

  “I was told by Lady Romney that this was an important message and to see that they received it as soon as possible,” the messenger responded, frustrated with Bernard’s casual dismissal.

  “Who wishes to see us, Bernard?” Evan asked as he hastened down the stairs.

  The retainer turned. “My lord, this gentleman wishes to speak with you and Lady Clarendon.”

  “Thank you, Bernard. I will see him in my study.” Who would come to see him in regimentals?

  The door to the study closed, and the boyish man walked to the desk and held out a missive to him.

  “I heard you mention Lady Romney’s name,” Evan prodded gently, opening and attempting to scan the document.

  “Yes, my lord. I know of no other way to say this other than the message upset Lady Romney when she read it and asked that I deliver it to you immediately. Under the circumstances, I thought it best. It is news of her son,” he finished politely.

  “I am Lady Romney’s son-in-law. My wife is resting. This is about Matthew?” Evan held his breath as he focused again on the document. “It says he is no longer presumed dead,” he said, hoping he had read it correctly. “Where is he?”

  “We do not know exactly,” the courier hesitated before continuing. “I will tell you all I have been told on the matter. We know Colonel Romney had been badly injured and a local woman found him sometime after the battle and took him home with her to try and nurse him to back to health. This information was discovered by a small contingent of Major General Lambert’s men sent to locate the bodies of our fallen officers. Oddly, they received word of a woman that had taken two injured men into her home, hoping to help them. They passed the information on to Major General Lambert who later, sent more men to track her down. One of the men was confirmed to be Colonel Romney. However, the colonel had improved and had left two days ahead of our men’s arrival, telling her it was dangerous to her for him to stay. She believes he headed home.”