Good God.
‘I shall speak with your father tomorrow morning,’ he said, in a low, intimate voice.
And that was exactly what he did—as soon as it was appropriate for the vicar to receive a caller with the intent to formally request her hand, so that Miss Charlotte Rossington could become his wife.
CHAPTER FOUR
Never had Lottie’s home felt so achingly small. She paced the drawing room like the caged lion she’d once seen at a travelling fair.
Another peek out through the doorway revealed that the hall remained empty. Not that she wouldn’t have heard the door to her father’s study open. She strained for every sound she could make out. While she could detect the baritone of two male voices, they were far too muffled to decipher what was being said.
Surely her father would allow Evander to wed her. Why would he not? And yet they had been in the study for a considerable amount of time.
She huffed out a sigh and stared at the blank page before her, the intended watercolour image locked within her brain, held captive by the many thoughts flying about within.
A door swung open, followed by the heavy thud of Hessians over the glossy wood floors.
Lottie’s breath caught. They were finally done.
She rushed to stand in the doorway and caught sight of Evander. He wore a splendid suit, cut and tailored to frame his lean, strong body to perfection. Simply looking at him made her yearn to press her palms to his powerful chest.
Soon.
Soon they would be wed, and they would seal their adoration with the intimacy meant to exist between a married couple. The ache between her thighs pulsed with anticipation. She shouldn’t long for such things, she knew, and yet she could not stop herself from wanting that part of him any more than she could stop her heart from loving him.
Evander drew closer, leading the way before her father. Except it was not a joyous expression on his face as his eyes met hers.
Confusion gripped her.
His brow was furrowed, his mouth pressed in a hard line. He appeared...angry? Disappointed?
He discreetly shook his head at her.
No.
No?
Lottie remained rooted in place. Had her father rejected Evander’s request for her hand in marriage?
‘Lottie, please go to my study,’ her father said in a stern tone. ‘I’ll speak with you once I’ve shown Lord Murray out.’
She studied Evander one final time, noting the way he stared after her as though he thought never to see her again, and a tender place within her chest split open. The pain of it was excruciating. She clutched her heart, though it did little to soothe the agony, and rushed to the study to collect herself before her father’s return.
Her efforts were in vain. By the time her father joined her fat tears had left spatters on the white muslin of her lap.
He rubbed a hand over his thick hair, still dark despite the occasional threads of silver. ‘Come now, Lottie,’ he said in a soothing tone as a handkerchief appeared in front of her.
She sniffled miserably and accepted the piece of linen. ‘I love him.’
‘How do you even know him?’
‘I met him at a ball when I was in Bedfordshire. And we...’ She winced at her next confession. ‘We have been walking every morning together.’
He father’s brows lifted incredulously. ‘You’ve been sneaking—’
‘No,’ she rushed in. ‘At least we didn’t mean to. The only time I could spare to see him was in the morning, on my walks. I didn’t... It wasn’t meant to be duplicitous. It was entirely innocent.’
Or mostly, at least. Aside from those kisses that had scorched themselves on her mind.
‘And you think this means you know him?’ Her father had never spoken so sternly to her.
‘I do,’ she said with finality. ‘And I love him.’
‘Love.’ Her father’s kind brown eyes filled with sadness. ‘You have known the gentleman for, what? A month?’
Heat scorched her cheeks. ‘Three weeks. But it’s been enough—’
‘You don’t know what love is.’
There was a hardness to his tone that snipped away the end of her argument. She couldn’t stop the tears from welling in her eyes. Astonishment left her mute—that this man, who had always been so tender and considerate, this man who listened so patiently to others problems, should be so resolute now. When her heart was pinioned by his decision.
Her father looked around the small study, lined with shelves of well-handled books. The room was careworn by his constant work, and spotless through Lottie’s housekeeping efforts. But even its familiarity brought no comfort to her now.
He splayed his hand on the surface of his desk. ‘I told him my answer is no.’
A sob erupted from her. ‘How could you?’
‘I’m saving you, Lottie.’
‘Saving me?’ she cried.
Her father moved away from the desk and crouched before her, so he was at eye level with her, the way he’d done when she was a girl. The way he did with parishioners who were in need of counsel.
‘He was going to buy Huntly Manor so we could be near you.’ Her voice had taken on a pleading tone, but she didn’t care. She would get on her knees and beg her father if she had to. ‘Because he knew I didn’t want to move away from Binsey. From you.’
‘You don’t understand how these men of the ton behave.’
Her father frowned with more displeasure than she’d ever seen him react with.
‘They do not care for innocent girls the way a man ought to. They act on their own whims, do what suits them. He may love you now, but likely will not in the future. These men are spoiled. Fickle. If you marry him, you will be headed for heartbreak.’
Lottie was crying openly now, unable to hold back the flood of tears. ‘My heart is already broken,’ she said raggedly, between gasps of breath.
‘Better now than when you have truly fallen in love.’ He took her hand in his and gently patted it in consolation.
‘He isn’t like those men,’ Lottie said, in an attempt to sway her father.
‘Every man of the ton is.’
Something bitter glinted in her father’s gaze. Who was this man who was so full of spite and anger? Wasn’t he the one who always told her to give everyone a chance? To allow them to show their character before drawing conclusions based on a short association? And now he was slotting every titled man into a prejudged category. Including Evander.
‘Lottie, I forbid you from seeing him.’ Her father straightened and stood upright. His right knee popped in protest. ‘I’ve likewise informed him to stay away from you.’
‘No, Father—’
‘I forbid it,’ he roared.
Lottie froze at the foreign sound. Never in all her life had her father raised his voice to her, let alone shouted as he did now.
His brow wrinkled as if he were in pain. Or perhaps he’d realised what he’d done.
‘Please go to your room,’ he said in a softer tone. ‘This discussion is over and will not be revisited.’
Lottie pushed herself up from the chair and ran from the study, not stopping until she was face-down on her mattress, letting her heart shatter into a million tears.
* * *
Evander waited in the woods the following morning, with a small wooden box in the palm of his hand. The Reverend Rossington would most certainly not approve of Evander’s plan. But it wasn’t Reverend Rossington’s agreement he needed now. It was Lottie’s.
If she would see him.
An ache squeezed in his chest and made it difficult to draw breath.
What if she refused to see him and he never had her in his life again?
The thought was too horrible even to imagine. Not when they had grown so close...when she had so thoroughly rooted he
rself into his very soul.
In the time Evander had come to know her, he had found her to be the quintessential obedient daughter. She did not speak her mind unless there was something positive of note to say, she sacrificed the entirety of her life to the betterment of others, and she worried often about what people might think of her—far more than she should, in Evander’s opinion. And she obeyed her father without question.
Would she see Evander now? Or would she send him away?
A shadow stretched over the bend in the path at the exact time it always did and his pulse rushed in his ears.
Lottie.
He stepped from the trees and remained where he stood, waiting for her to see him, holding his breath to ascertain her reaction. If she seemed disagreeable, he would do as her father demanded and leave Oxfordshire, never to return. Though, dear God, it would be like cutting out his own warm, beating heart to do so.
However, if—
She gave a little scream and clamped a hand over her mouth. Before he could gauge if that was a good thing or bad, she ran at him. The bonnet flew from her head and the hem of her muslin gown kicked out around her white-stockinged calves.
His emotions soared higher than they’d ever gone before. He met her halfway and she threw herself into his arms and clung to him. She was heaven in his arms, her familiar scent a perfume more intoxicating than the finest wine. This woman who had almost been snatched from his life for ever was now in his arms. He held her to him in an effort to confirm she was indeed real, that this was not some apparition of hope.
‘I thought never to see you again,’ she whispered against his chest.
‘And I you,’ he said into her cool, smooth hair. He breathed in her fresh, delicately floral scent and longing slammed into him, powerful and potent.
‘There is a way we can be together,’ he said urgently.
‘Come this way, so we won’t be seen.’ She grasped his hand and pulled him towards the trees as she scanned the area around them. ‘If someone had happened upon us before our meeting could have been easily explained. But now...’
Now their meeting would be seen as what it was—a direct defiance of her father’s wishes. And she had done that for Evander.
They disappeared into the woods, the sun overhead blotted out by the thick canopy of leaves and the scent of damp earth lingering in the cool air around them.
He reached for her, drawing her close to him. Her eyes were red-rimmed and swollen, as though she had been crying for the better part of the night.
‘Lottie, your father does not approve of our union,’ Evander said.
‘I know.’ Her eyes became glossy with welling tears. ‘But I... Evander, I can’t imagine my life without you. It’s like trying to imagine living without one’s heart beating.’
Her admission echoed deep in his own soul. She understood. She felt the same way.
‘You don’t have to be without me,’ Evander said.
She searched his face, anxiety evident in her tensed brows. ‘What do you mean?’
‘We could run away together.’
She sucked in a breath and took half a step back.
He caught her hand and gently pulled her towards him once more. ‘I will purchase Huntly Manor, as I said, and we will reside there once we return from a swift jaunt to Scotland.’
‘Scotland,’ she repeated slowly.
‘Gretna Green.’ He whispered the words as the scandal they were. Everyone knew the relaxed laws of Scotland made for swift marriages—most especially those unions with which the parents were not in agreement. ‘Comlongon Castle is nearby. We can stay there several days before returning.’
Her slender fingers twisted together, and he could see the uncertainty within her.
‘Your father loves you,’ Evander said. ‘He’ll forgive you and we’ll be here when he does—at Huntly Manor.’
‘That’s brilliant.’
A smile blossomed on her face and he knew she’d made her decision. She nodded. That was the moment he had been waiting for. He withdrew the wooden box from his pocket and knelt in the layer of leaves which crackled beneath his weight.
‘Marry me, Lottie.’
He opened the wooden box. The ring within was small, a poor declaration of the enormity of his love. But in an area such as Oxfordshire there were few esteemed jewellers to be had.
‘Say yes and we will make plans to run away tomorrow morning.’ He indicated the ring sheepishly. ‘And I will obtain a proper ring for you when we are next in London.’
She put her hands over her face and squealed with joy. ‘I love it exactly as it is.’
She plucked the gold band with its chip of a diamond from the satin lining and slid it onto her finger, admiring it before beaming up at him.
He grinned, his heart near bursting from its confines. ‘Is that a yes?’
She nodded, fresh tears welling in her eyes. ‘Yes.’
He laughed with his joy as he got to his feet and opened his arms to her. She leapt into them, knocking them both backwards. He wrapped her in his embrace as they tumbled to the soft forest floor, their mouths finding one another’s as they kissed first in joy and then in passion.
Desire took over as he gently eased them over, so he lay atop her, his forearms bracing his weight over her body as their mouths and tongues caressed and teased. His body raged with a need his fist could no longer slake.
But not until they were wed. It would be only days before they were true husband and wife. He would do this properly.
Before he could push himself off her she parted her legs beneath him, cradling him against her centre and arching up towards him so their pelvises fitted together. There was no hiding the force of his arousal with such intimate closeness. Though layers of clothing separated them, her eyes widened with surprised delight.
‘Lottie, I should go.’ He pushed away from her and got to his knees.
She remained where she lay, beneath him, leaves clinging to her dark hair as she shook her head. ‘No, please.’ She reached for him, drawing him back down to her. ‘I almost lost you yesterday. I thought you gone this morning. I need you.’
He resisted, but only slightly, understanding exactly what she meant, understanding that overwhelming desire to claim what had nearly slipped through her fingers. The matched need within him was so strong his body trembled with the force of it.
‘Please.’ She gazed up at him, her brilliant blue eyes heavy-lidded with desire. Her breasts pushed up as she lay on the ground, the soft, round tops visible above her neckline.
He had a decision to make in that moment—one that would either seal their fates in body and spirit, before they could do so in law, or give them the more prudent option of walking away, waiting.
He knew what he wanted. And, oh, God, how he wanted it. More so than anything else he’d ever wished for in his life.
Yet still he hesitated.
‘We’ll be wed soon.’ Despite his protest, he did not get to his feet.
‘We will.’
The hem of her gown had ridden up to reveal shapely calves in pristine white stockings and she watched him with open desire. But more than all that, it was what she said next which finally broke his tenuous hold on his control.
‘I love you, Evander.’
Those beautiful words were offered so softly and with such earnestness that it dragged him straight back to her.
‘Lottie.’ He leaned over her. ‘I love you.’
She smiled up at him and cradled his cheek in one slender palm. He leaned over her once more and claimed her mouth, his body on fire with the need to express physically the words he’d just said. For theirs was a love no other could possibly understand, a love greater than any to have existed before. And their bodies cried out in equal measure to their hearts, longing for the power of such feelings to be properly express
ed.
CHAPTER FIVE
Lottie could not cease her kisses with Evander. Each one proof that he was still with her, that he had not gone, that he would be her husband. Her husband.
Mere minutes before, she thought never to see him again, never to hear the timbre of his voice, to relish his vivid stories, witness how his eyes sparkled when they caught hers. Now he was here with her, all of him consuming all of her in the most glorious fashion, a testament to the incredible love glowing between them.
His weight was comfortable against her. More than comfortable, it was titillating. It brought a closeness unlike any other, and proof of his affection for her rose hard and insistent through layers of cloth, where it nudged against her most intimate place.
She had always been a good girl, doing all she was told, never veering from the demanding constraints that framed the life of a vicar’s daughter. Now she gave herself permission to tear through those constraints, granted by the weight of that simple, elegant ring now encircling her finger.
She was to be Evander’s wife.
She kissed him, open-mouthed and bold with the stroke of her tongue. His hands moved from her face down the column of her throat and his lips followed, leaving a trail of sensual heat. He cupped her breast in his hand and his fingers found her nipple through her stays.
Pleasure prickled from his ministrations at her bosom and tingled through her whole body. Before she could acknowledge what she was doing, her hips were rocking against Evander’s weight, nudging his hardness against her soft centre. The action built up a delicious friction that made her yearn to be closer still.
‘By God, you’re the most beautiful woman in all the world,’ Evander murmured against her neck. ‘I love you, Lottie.’
He took her earlobe gently between his teeth as he began to move with her, in a careful flexing rhythm that made him pant in her ear. There was something erotic about being close enough to him that his heavy exhalations sounded in her ear, his face nuzzled against her sensitive skin.
Harlequin Historical July 2021--Box Set 2 of 2 Page 4