Always the Chaperone

by Murdoch, Emily E K

  She moved soundlessly to the bed and placed the preservative on her bedside table. Without looking, she whispered, “You have…have done this before.”

  “Sneaked into your bedroom? No.”

  She turned around with a fierce look, and William’s grin softened. He walked toward her, kissed her lightly on the lips, and hesitated.

  “Yes,” he said finally. “After a battle, you do anything, anything you can to feel alive.”

  She nodded. In this moment, she did not care. He was here with her now. That was what mattered. “I have not felt alive in years.”

  With shaking fingers but absolute determination, she allowed her dressing gown to fall to the floor. Before she could absorb the look of astonishment on William’s face, her fingers found the ribbon fastenings of her nightgown and allowed that to fall, too.

  For a shimmering instant, she stood there, completely naked, her eyes fixed on William. The temptation to cover herself with her hands came and went. She wanted him to see all of her. All she could hope was that he liked what he saw.

  William growled and closed the distance between them, pulling her into his arms and kissing her wildly. Charlotte clung to him, clung to him as though he was the only real thing in the world—and in that instant, he was.

  “I promised you pleasure,” William panted, breaking apart with great effort, “and I meant that.”

  Charlotte’s arms were around him, and she frowned to have them pulled away. He pulled at his shirt, unbuttoning it quickly and dropping it to the floor. His boots were next, then breeches, and then he was standing before her just as naked as she was.

  She gasped. He was even more masculine than she could have imagined, all chiseled peaks and curling hair.

  “Do not be afraid,” he said softly.

  “I am not.”

  “Call me, Will.”

  “Yes.”

  “Is this a good time to ask you to marry me?”

  Before she could reply, he picked her up and threw her on the bed. She fell back into the softness and did not have time to think or say anything before he had joined her, covering her body with his own.

  Charlotte gasped. This was unfathomable, the sensation of his skin on hers, the closeness, the way her fingers could explore—nervously at first, then with greater certainty.

  “You should be careful,” she breathed, “or I may actually take you up on that offer.”

  Her heart was racing, but she knew this was all a part of the experience, the words of love, the proposal of marriage. He was here to woo her, and she wanted that, but he could not, surely, be serious about his offer.

  William kissed her deeply, and her whole body melted.

  “I think,” he said between kisses down her neck, “I will make it my mission this night to make you say yes.”

  Charlotte hardly knew what she was saying, her body was so alive. “I will not.”

  William raised his head. There was a spark of a challenge in his eyes as he said, “Oh, really?”

  She should have expected it, but this exquisite pleasure was so new, she simply could not control herself as his hand moved once more to her secret place. Sinking his fingers into her, he nibbled at her neck and whispered in her ear.

  “Say yes.”

  Charlotte squirmed, desperate for his fingers to move inside her, to stroke her to that wonderful ecstasy once more, but she would not give in. Even with all this pleasure.

  “No—oh, Will!”

  His fingers made her cry out as his tongue worshiped her neck. The sensation rippled through her body.

  “Say yes,” he moaned into her soft flesh. “God, Charlotte, say yes.”

  “No,” she whispered, her hips bucking against his magic fingers.

  She wanted to cry out, scream out his name until he brought her to ecstasy, but she couldn’t. Matthews and the other servants would hear them, and the thought of being discovered nude and entangled with a gentleman—a gentleman, moreover, who was pleasuring her with both his mouth and his fingers—made her writhe against the blankets.

  “Marry me,” he groaned as he raised his head to look into her eyes. “Christ, Charlotte, marry me!”

  “No,” she panted, “no, no, no!”

  It was all too much, and William cried out in frustration as he dipped his head once more to kiss her breasts, his fingers flickering wildly inside her as she felt that buildup of ecstasy once more, and she exploded around him.

  “Will!” Charlotte cried, and she did not attempt to keep her voice quiet. The pleasure was overwhelming.

  When she opened her eyes, there was a rueful look on his face.

  “You did not say yes.”

  Charlotte reveled in her power over this man, who made her feel the most unbelievable sensations. She smiled knowingly.

  “By God,” William breathed. “You are the one in charge here, not me. But I will get that yes.”

  Before she could think about what he was doing, so lulled was she by her recent climax, William nestled himself between her legs and reached over for the preservative.

  “Will,” she said quietly. “Are you sure?”

  “Surer than I have been about anything,” he said, placing it over himself.

  It did not seem possible that he would fit inside her.

  He was sure; he plunged into her.

  It was tight at first, too tight, and she squirmed at the discomfort, but William understood. Leaning on his elbows, he kissed her slowly and devotedly while one hand stroked her neck, moving tantalizingly close to her breasts but never quite reaching them.

  His lips on hers and the gentleness of his hands made her feel safe. As she relaxed, her body softened, and his manhood slid deeper into her.

  It was a wondrous feeling. She could never have imagined feeling this close with someone.

  “This is…” She couldn’t finish the thought.

  He nodded. “Now you can see why I wanted this so badly with you. I wanted to be one with you, to give you pure pleasure. Not another man.”

  “Another man?” Charlotte asked. “You are the only one for me.”

  He moaned at her words and pulled himself out of her almost completely, leaving just the tip of himself inside her. “Now tell me you’ll marry me, Charlotte. Tell me yes. That’s all I need from you.”

  No matter how experienced he was, how much of the world he knew, she was the one in control. “No.”

  His blue eyes darkened. “Well, then. You will have to be punished until you give me the answer I need.”

  William entered her again, and this time, Charlotte arched her back. Punishment? If he thought this was punishment, she would hate to see pleasure.

  She gasped as he began a ruthless rhythm, slow at first but deeper than she thought possible. His hand pleasured her breasts as his tongue pleasured her mouth, and all she could do was cry out until he whispered into her ear.

  “Say yes.”

  “No,” she breathed.

  “Please,” he said, his voice breaking as he begged. “Please, Charlotte, say yes.”

  Something wild was starting to overwhelm her, and it was like when he made her explode with his fingers but deeper, across her whole body. She never wanted to be without him again.

  He thrust into her faster and faster, and suddenly, Charlotte could do nothing, think nothing, just feel because her body was shattering in pleasure.

  “Yes!”

  Chapter Fourteen

  William clasped the wonderful woman to him and sighed.

  By God, he could never have hoped for this.

  As they lay together naked, nestled under a blanket, it was difficult to take it in. Beautiful, intelligent, witty, wonderful company, and a woman he could talk to for hours and never tire of. And here she was, in his arms, after she had welcomed him to her bed.

  Charlotte breathed contentedly, her eyes closed, and William tightened his grip.

  “To think most men have to propose months before enjoying such pleasure,” he said
softly.

  She laughed, and his manhood twitched. But William quelled those particular thoughts. This was new to her, and it would not do to wear her out this early. Not now that he had offered her marriage, and she had finally accepted.

  “To tell the truth,” she whispered. “I do not consider my yes an acceptance of your proposal. It was hardly fair, you must admit. No lady can be held accountable for what she says while teased…that way.”

  William’s heart sank. Ah. In that case, his hopes for her and their life together weren’t exactly fixed. She had not said yes to his proposal, but then, she had not said no. To be sure, she had moaned no several times, and the thought of it made him slightly hard again, but she had not pushed him away.

  “I must ask then,” he said, his hand stroking her back, “what circumstances will I need for you to say yes and mean it?”

  She did not speak for several minutes but placed her hand on his chest and considered her fingers. Eventually, she said, “I do not know. I always wanted to marry when I was young.”

  “You are young.”

  Charlotte snorted. “Five and thirty? You are kind to lie to me. No, when I was a young debutante entering into society, all I could think of was marriage. As I grew older and became more ignored, that dream faded. When I was first asked to act as a chaperone, that was when I knew the dream had died. No one marries the chaperone, not even you.”

  “But I want to,” he said seriously.

  She stretched and curled back into his arms. “I have said goodbye to that dream. It seems strange, attempting to resurrect it after so long.”

  “Did it truly die? It wasn’t…sleeping? Waiting for the right gentleman?”

  Her entire life was shaped around helping others to court and wed. When did Charlotte get her turn?

  “Perhaps it just needs encouragement,” Charlotte said.

  William laughed. “And tonight has not been encouragement enough?”

  “A woman of five and thirty…”

  “Oh, hang five and thirty,” said William with a touch of annoyance. She looked at him with surprise. “Yes, blast it, I say. I do not care how old you are, what does it matter to me? If I had met you before now, years ago, I would not have the title, and our lives would have been completely different. I doubt we would have met at all.”

  “I would have at least looked once.”

  Overwhelmed by affection, William kissed her on the nose and said more seriously, “I mean it, Charlotte. I want to marry you, and if you are not careful, I will go to your brother and ask his permission.”

  She scrunched her nose in that endearing way that said she had heard something she did not quite like. “Richard would never be fool enough to give his permission unless I gave mine.”

  “I would wait. I would wait and win you both over.”

  He had never expected to make such a declaration to a woman, and what’s more, he meant it. There was something intensely fragile about Charlotte St. Maur. No one else seemed to have noticed.

  Charlotte smiled. “I will bear that in mind. But right now, all I want to do is sleep.”

  She tucked her head into his neck and sighed deeply.

  “I should go,” he said wearily, not wishing to leave her, but knowing honor demanded it. “The last thing your reputation needs is for a gentleman to be found here when your lady’s maid comes in tomorrow morning.”

  Charlotte’s eyes were closed, and her arms tightened around him. “You are right. You should go.”

  William chuckled. “Charlotte, you are not making this easy for me.”

  “I don’t intend to,” came the sleepy reply.

  She had become everything to him, and they had shared everything together. He was determined to have her accept his proposal before the week was out.

  So, what did it matter? William nestled into her welcoming arms and allowed sleep to overtake him.

  Chapter Fifteen

  When Charlotte opened her eyes, there was a smile on her face.

  She was also completely naked.

  The memories of the previous night came flooding back. Such pleasure. Such closeness. Intimacy she could never have hoped for, never imagined.

  As the soft morning light found its way around the thick curtains, those memories seemed a dream. Almost too good to be true. But they were true, and he was her duke, William Lennox, the Duke of Mercia.

  Charlotte shifted and luxuriated in being completely naked in her bed. There was nothing quite like the feeling of linen sheets against her skin. How would she ever wear a nightgown in bed again?

  I mean it, Charlotte. I want to marry you, and if you are not careful, I will go to your brother and ask his permission.

  It was difficult to believe her daring, but she would never regret it. It had been her chance, her one opportunity to experience making love. She may never marry, but she would always have that knowledge.

  The other side of the bed was empty. William must have left in the early hours, allowing her to sleep and giving him the chance to sneak out without prying eyes. What would the gossips of Bath have said if they had seen the dashing new duke—only recently entering polite society—leaving the house of a known spinster?

  After several minutes of thinking, she pulled herself out of bed. Her nightgown and dressing gown looked forlorn lying there on the floor abandoned.

  It had been glorious when she had allowed them to fall to the floor. Charlotte laughed aloud at the memory of William’s face. His jaw had tightened, and his eyes had drunk her in. Exactly the reaction she had hoped for.

  “Hours ago,” she whispered to the empty room. “And everything has changed.”

  She glanced into her looking glass. There was no difference in her looks. Fine lines around her eyes and a few hairs silvery rather than chestnut.

  But there was something different. Was it the way she held herself? Something felt different, as though she had crossed a bridge previously barred. She had joined that exclusive group of women who had experienced the loving touch of a man.

  What a man. Charlotte shivered at the recollection of his naked form. She had studied classical art, naturally, and knew in theory what to expect—but he had been more.

  She dressed and rushed down the stairs and did not wait for the footman outside the breakfast room to open the door for her. The table had been laid and was waiting for her, despite the late hour, and there was a letter waiting.

  “Good morning, my lady.” With the uncanny knack of the best butlers, Matthews appeared in the room without seeming to have taken a step.

  Charlotte beamed, and Matthews raised an eyebrow.

  “It is good to see you in such a pleasant mood, my lady,” he said smoothly, pulling out the chair. “A letter came early for you.”

  “Thank you.” Charlotte poured a steaming hot cup of tea. “That will be all.”

  Accustomed to Charlotte’s wish of breakfasting alone, he bowed out of the room and closed the door quietly.

  Charlotte sipped the tea and sighed. Nothing was the same; even tea was different! Was there a sweetness there that hadn’t been there before? Was this how the rest of her life was going to be?

  Only after she buttered two pieces of toast and applied marmalade liberally to one of them, did she take another look at the envelope. It was small and discrete with a seal on the back.

  A seal she recognized.

  A magpie, beak open, around a swirled M. Her heart pounding, Charlotte broke the seal as carefully as she could and unfolded the letter.

  Her pulse quickened as she glanced down and saw the elaborate M at the end of the letter. It was a short letter, barely more than a few lines, but she read it slowly, absorbing every word.

  My Lady Charlotte,

  I would appreciate your company today at twelve o’clock. If this is convenient for you, then please meet me on Pulteney Bridge, where I will be waiting for you. If not convenient, cancel whatever plans you have made.

  Mercia

  Charlotte
glanced at the clock. It was almost eleven o’clock. She still had plenty of time to breakfast, get dressed, and make her way to the Sydney Gardens.

  She picked up the teacup but had to immediately place it down because her hand was shaking. In an hour, she would see Will again. She grabbed her toast and ran for the stairs.

  If only the clocks would go faster, no, slower!

  “Danvers!” she called.

  Her lady’s maid rushed into the room, never having heard Charlotte shout so loud before. “Yes, my lady?”

  Charlotte dropped onto the bed and covered her face with both hands. “You know that new style of ringlets around the face you have wished to attempt for a few months now?”

  Removing her hands from her eyes, she saw Danvers’s face light up. “The one Miss Tilbury has made so popular?”

  Charlotte nodded, heart racing. “I would like to look…beautiful for an engagement this afternoon. I think it is time.”

  The lady’s maid’s gaze slipped to her wardrobe. “Are you sure, my lady? You have waited so long.”

  It was true. Charlotte took a deep breath and hoped she was making the right decision. “I have waited, Danvers, you are right. I think it is time.”

  The servant stepped across the room eagerly and pulled open the wardrobe door. “My lady, you will not regret it, this gown is just beautiful, and a classic style that has not aged a day since your mother ordered it.”

  Since your mother chose it. Charlotte had to force herself to stand still as Danvers moved around her like a butterfly, helping her into the last gown her mother had chosen for her. It was a delicate, light blue satin, the tucks under the bust still just as fashionable as when it had been first ordered.

  “I have never asked, my lady,” Danvers said quietly as she adjusted a loose thread on the hem, “why you have never worn this gown. Indeed, you have refused to even put it on in the years I have known you.”

  Charlotte took a deep breath. “Just before my mother died, I confided in her my fear…my fear that I would never wed.” She would not allow the tears to come, not now. Not on such a joyful day. “She listened and comforted me, and the very next day, she ordered this gown. When it arrived, she told me it was the gown my future husband would see me in and know, absolutely, that he had made the right decision.”