"I need to be inside you," he said with sudden urgency.
"Yes," she whispered eagerly, rolling onto her back.
"Not that way," he said in a raspy tone. "I want you to mount me."
Charlotte narrowed her eyes at him in shock, certain she must have misheard. But he shifted his position, set his hand around her slender waist and lifted her, placing her on the top of his muscular thighs while he lay flat on his back beneath her. She straddled him awkwardly, still uncertain. This could not possibly be right.
"Put me inside you," he said, giving clear voice to his desire.
His words made her light-headed. Tentatively, she shifted her knees, moving forward to slide herself along the rigid length of his penis, gamely following his commands. Edward's hands remained on her hips, his voice a low seductive murmur as he guided her movements.
Their eyes met as her body slowly lowered itself inside his and they were joined. The excitement she felt deepened, yet Charlotte winced when Edward flexed his hips and thrust himself fully inside her. She was wet and aroused, but still a bit sore from yesterday.
"Am I hurting you?"
"A little, but no, Edward, don't stop." She cried out faintly and drew in a ragged breath. She leaned over him, supporting herself on her hands and gazed into his eyes. "Do not stop," she repeated breathlessly.
In response, he thrust upward a second time, filling her with a deep penetration, and she strained with the effort to accommodate him. Her hips began to undulate, but he kept changing the rhythm, the intensity, the depth of each thrust. She hovered on the edge of a second release, but could not find it.
"Stay with me," he urged, moving his hand down to the spot where their bodies were joined.
His searching fingers found the aching center of her desire and she cried out as he circled the sensitive bud. With only a few additional strokes Charlotte reached fulfillment, her inner muscles clamping tightly around him. She could feel his shoulders and arms shaking with the strain of holding back his climax as he waited for hers to end.
Then with a deep groan, Edward put his hands on either side of her hips and lifted her high in the air, abruptly separating their bodies. He quickly brought her down again, pressing himself tightly against the softness of her belly. Charlotte felt his penis spasm and jerk, again and again, until the warm wetness of his seed spilt across her stomach.
The moment was nearly too much for her overstimulated senses. Dazed, she stayed pressed against him for several minutes until her nose began to twitch. The air was heavy with the tangy scent of their lovemaking. She slipped from the bed and retrieved a towel and wet cloth. Returning, she carefully scrubbed the sticky mess from his flat stomach and muscled chest, then cleaned herself.
Edward observed her actions with quiet calm, his expression solemn, yet sated. When she finished, Charlotte climbed back into bed and collapsed against him, her hair a cloud of waves around them both. He slipped an arm around her waist, drawing her back against him, cradling her in the curve of his body. She felt warm and safe, protected by his embrace, his physical strength.
"Sleep, sweetheart," he whispered, pressing his lips against her hair.
With a sigh, Charlotte relaxed against him. His tenderness made her feel protected and cherished and that realization made her throat tighten with emotion. Yet, as she drifted off to sleep, she was no closer to making a decision about marrying him, and that confused her even more.
Jonathan lay in the middle of his bed, his eyes closed, his mind racing. From time to time he opened his eyelids and glanced at the mantle clock, pretending the lateness of the hour held no consequence, when it was in fact positive proof that he could not sleep.
The euphoria that had engulfed him when Charlotte had slipped him Evelyn's note earlier in the evening had long faded, leaving him in a melancholy, reflective mood. Evelyn's message had hardly been encouraging.
In a most guarded and cautionary tone she had acknowledged his feelings, reiterated how flattered she was by the attention and closed by stating flatly that they were in no way equals. She could not slip easily into his echelon of society and he should not entertain the ridiculous notion of lowering himself to hers.
His family connections, position in society and wealth were all far above her own, therefore precluding the possibility of a future life together. She urged him to consider forming an alliance with a more suitable young woman, one who would fit with ease in his world and bring him the happiness he so richly deserved.
Ironically, it was just this sort of selfless regard for the needs of others, this natural inclination to place his happiness above her own that captured and held Jonathan's heart even stronger. And yet even he must acknowledge that Evelyn had made several valid points.
He should leave her alone. Why couldn't he?
Frustrated, Jonathan left the bed. Slipping into his brocade robe to ward off the chill, he left his chamber in search of a drink. Brandy would be nice, but whiskey would serve too.
He would write Evelyn again, after he had found some rest and his mind was clear. He would tell her that he had indeed made a concerted effort to consider the single women that society deemed suitable, weighing them against her as a potential wife. But even with their advantageous social standing and wealth, all others fell far short, including the lovely Miss Dunaway, who despite her wit and beauty, created no spark of male interest within him.
Though Jonathan thought it obvious to point out that Miss Dunaway preferred his brother, and more importantly Edward's title. Not that he blamed her. It was a mark of her intelligence and good sense that she had set her sights on the man with the greater prospects.
Perhaps he would head to the library for his drink. There was always a decanter of spirits in there, and once he had partaken, he could search the many shelves of books for inspiration that would help him express more clearly the emotions of his heart.
Evelyn enjoyed poetry. His case might be helped by quoting lines from some lesser-known works, lines that would give her pause, would make her think, but more importantly believe, that anything was possible.
Given the very late hour it was no surprise to find the hallway deserted. It was dark, cold and silent, but as he reached the end of the long corridor, Jonathan heard a sound. He stopped, waited, listened and heard it again. Who else could possibly be sneaking around at such an ungodly hour?
He took a few more steps, froze, then peered tentatively around the corner. To his great astonishment, Jonathan saw his brother creeping down the hallway, rumpled and scarcely dressed, holding most of his clothes over one arm and his shoes in the opposite hand.
"Edward?" he rasped in a loud whisper.
The earl whirled around in alarm, dropping a shoe in the process that must have landed on his bare foot because he cursed loudly and began hopping on one leg.
"Bloody, hell, Jonathan, you scared ten years off my life!" the earl scolded in a quiet voice. "What are you doing up at this hour?"
"I could ask you the same question," Jonathan replied, crossing his arms over his chest. "And, while I am at it, inquire also as to why you are skulking around the hallways, carrying, instead of wearing, the majority of your clothing?"
The earl squared his shoulders and straightened his posture. "I am not skulking."
"You most assuredly are, "Jonathan retorted. Across the expanse, they studied each other. "Though upon further inspection I can understand why you do not wish to remain visible. You look as if you donned just enough clothes so that you would not completely shock the servants if you were seen."
The hallway was dimly lit, but Jonathan could see his brother's face deepen in color. "This is a private matter."
Jonathan did not bother to hide his astonishment. "A clandestine affair with one of our houseguests? Very out of character, dear brother."
"A private matter that shall remain private," the earl insisted, refusing to address his brother's accusations. "Do I make myself understood?"
His voice was so w
ell modulated, one would have thought he was discussing the weather, but even in the gloomy shadows of the hall, Jonathan could see his brother was far from calm. It must be a very special woman indeed, to affect him so deeply.
Miss Dunaway? She had been openly flirting with him, making no secret of her interest. Yet Jonathan felt she lacked the reckless courage needed to engage in scandalous behavior. Charlotte, perhaps?
Was it possible? Jonathan found he was quite pleased at that notion, never once doubting that his brother's intentions were ultimately honorable, even though he was hardly being circumspect tonight.
Love and passion had the power to do that to a man.
The air was heavy with silence and Jonathan suddenly realized his brother was waiting for his answer. "The incident is forgotten," he proclaimed solemnly.
Edward nodded his thanks and Jonathan assumed their brief encounter had ended. He moved to continue on his way to the library.
"Have you ever been in love, Jonathan?"
The question stopped him dead in his tracks as a bolt of panic shot through him. For a moment he could only stare at his brother, flummoxed. Did Edward somehow know about his feelings toward Evelyn?
"That is a very odd question to discuss at this time of night, "Jonathan replied, stalling for time.
"Women seem to place a great deal of stock in it." Edward blew out a loud breath and ran his fingers through his already-disheveled hair. "Love, I mean."
"Perhaps because their capacity to love is greater than ours? "Jonathan suggested.
"Or their need?" Edward sighed. "'Tis a mystery as old as time, I think. Men are more practical and pragmatic in their nature than women, and yet they too have done many illogical and nonsensical acts throughout the ages in the name of love."
Jonathan wondered if his brother was referring to his current state of dishevelment, but since he had promised to forget the incident, he did not ask.
"When the need for love is great, no sacrifice seems too high a price to pay,"Jonathan said philosophically. "For man or woman."
Edward did not seem convinced. "Love is a complicated emotion that encompasses so many other feelings. Fear, happiness, confusion, frustration. They all seem to be part of it."
"Yes," Jonathan said quietly. "And when a single smile she bestows upon you can charm you to your toes, and when the sound of her voice erases all the frustrations of the day, and when you are struck by a fear so intense you lose your breath at the very idea of her disappearing from your life-well, that is love."
The earl studied him for a long minute. "Ah, so you have been in love," he commented.
"'Tis a feeling you never forget, brother, even long after it has gone."
For a moment Jonathan was tempted to confide in his brother, to ask him for help in convincing Evelyn to accept his proposal and become his wife. Yet he hesitated.
Despite finding the earl in the hallway in the middle of the night, half-clothed, clearly doing something very inappropriate, Jonathan knew his older brother was at his core a very proper and conservative man. Though they never spoke openly of it, they both knew that when Jonathan took a wife, he would wed for money. Which was the one thing that Evelyn did not possess.
If Edward disapproved of Jonathan's choice of Evelyn, he could easily thwart his plans, making the risk of telling him the truth far outweighing any potential benefit. And thus Jonathan kept silent on the matter.
The earl's mouth twisted slightly. "Well, I might not understand it very well, but I do believe that no matter what the circumstances, love should be given a chance," he concluded.
Jonathan's head jerked up in surprise. His brother was right. True love, real love, the kind of love he felt for Evelyn did deserve a chance. It was such a simple and heartfelt sentiment, one that perfectly conveyed his feelings. The drink and the books of poetry he had thought necessary for inspiration were quickly forgotten.
"Good night, Edward, "Jonathan said abruptly.
Grinning with delight, Jonathan eagerly returned to his chamber. He placed a lit lamp on his desk, removed a fresh sheet of his private stationery from the drawer and began carefully composing his next love letter to Evelyn, confident with each stroke of the pen that his words would touch her tender heart.
CHAPTER 1 5
Though two days ago Edward had claimed it would be easy to erect the giant pine in the corner of the drawing room, it proved to be no small feat. Since the servants' stairs were too narrow to accommodate the large tree, the main staircase was used. It took no less than four of the strongest footmen to carry the majestic pine up the main staircase as many of the guests looked on in awe. A troop of wide-eyed, giggling housemaids followed on the footmen's heels, sweeping, brushing and collecting the fallen needles from the stairs and floors.
Once the pine had been wrestled through the drawing room doors it dwarfed everything around it. Edward soon realized that far too many pieces of furniture would have to be rearranged or even removed for the tree to fit it inside, thus losing much of the seating. A drawing room without seating accommodations was fairly useless. Though hating to admit that he had been wrong, the earl took his brother's suggestion that the tree be erected in the ballroom instead.
Their gloves smudged and sticky with sap, the four footmen hoisted the large pine and obediently trudged through the long hallways. As Edward watched the men struggle with their cumbersome burden, he made a mental note to inform Harris to supply them with fresh gloves, since the ones they now wore were completely ruined.
Jonathan had the inspired idea of standing the tree in the far corner of the room and placing it in a large bucket filled with small stones. It was then secured in an upright position with a wire fastened to the trunk on one end and the wall on the other.
"'Tis amazingly large," Lord Reginald quipped when the tree had at last been successfully secured. "We always have a small, dainty tree at Quincy Court. It sits on a table and still barely reaches the top of my head. Don't think I've ever seen a tree this big outside of a forest."
"I enjoy doing things on a large scale," Edward proclaimed in a tight voice.
"Oh, don't mistake my meaning, Worthington. I think it is grand. Really puts one in the spirit of the season," Lord Reginald said. The older gentleman circled slowly, tilting his head from one side to the other. "A beautiful tree, indeed. But it needs to be adjusted. 'Tis leaning to the right."
"No, it's listing to the left," Lord Haddon interjected, cocking his head. "I noticed it immediately. Call the footmen back so it can be fixed."
"I think it looks fine," Jonathan insisted, adding a third opinion. "Besides, if you move it too much, it might topple over."
They all turned expectantly toward the earl, awaiting his assessment of the problem. Edward stared at all three men and promptly decided he was getting a headache.
"Let us have a drink, gentlemen, and consider our options," the earl declared.
His solution was met with great enthusiasm. After Harris brought the requested items, the earl uncorked a bottle of his finest whiskey and the men indulged themselves. By the second dram, they all agreed the tree was perfectly placed, perfectly positioned, perfectly straight, the perfect size and quite simply, perfect.
"It will look even better once all the decorations are hung," Edward informed them.
"I intend to participate in decorating it, even though that pleasure is usually saved for the young ladies and the servants," Lord Reginald announced. "I'm just surprised that the countess approved, Worthington. Though the queen and her consort have put one up for many years, there are folks who think a Christmas tree is a pagan idol. And having one this big, well, it might be considered sacrilegious by some."
Edward took a slow sip of his whiskey, electing not to tell Lord Reginald that his mother had no idea he had just put an enormous tree in the ballroom. Was not Christmas the best time for surprises?
The clock that stood in the hallway struck the hour. As if on cue, a contingent of female houseguests entered
the ballroom. Edward was disappointed to note that Charlotte was not among their numbers.
"We are here to help decorate the tree, my lord," Miss Dunaway said with a shy smile. Her eyes widened with surprise when she got a closer look at the enormous pine, but to her credit she recovered her smile quickly. "It looks even larger in here than it did in the forest! I'm afraid we shall only be able to reach as high as the middle branches."
"Harris and the footmen will bring in a ladder for the top half," Edward explained, deciding he needed to be careful who he allowed to climb it, as several of the other gentlemen had joined them in imbibing in the whiskey. Visions of Jonathan and Lord Haddon clinging to the top branches and swaying merrily filled the earl's head. The last thing he needed was someone falling and breaking their neck on the hard wooden floor.
The ladies had made beautiful paper and lace cornucopias and filled them with sweets, fruit and nuts, and crafted lovely nosegays of dried flowers tied with lace and satin bows. They had also assembled an assortment of dolls and other small toys to tuck among the branches. Miss Dunaway arranged the items carefully on a table Harris had cleared specifically for that purpose.
The butler next brought out boxes of the unusual glassblown ornaments Edward had shipped in from Germany and everyone stopped to admire the magnificent shapes and beautiful colors.
"How kind you are, my lord, to include my children," Lady Haddon said, closing the distance between them. She had her infant son nestled in the crook of one arm while her young daughter clung to her skirts. "I promise I shall remove them at once if they become unruly."
"I cannot imagine either of your children misbehaving, Lady Haddon," Edward said graciously.
Lord Haddon laughed uproariously at that comment, but grew silent after a stern stare from his wife. The viscount gathered his daughter in his arms and the young family went to greet the other guests. The ballroom quickly became a hive of merry activity as everyone clustered into groups and started in earnest to decorate the tree.
The Christmas Heiress Page 20
