by Multi-Author
Humiliation swept through her. She didn’t want him to marry her because he had to. She wanted him to marry her because he loved her as much as she loved him. The thought became an icicle that pierced her heart. Barely managing to suppress the sob threatening to cross her lips, Charlotte stiffened and straightened her shoulders.
“I won’t marry you.”
She was proud of the quiet dignity in her voice as her words rang out in the cool air. John’s head jerked up to look at her, and in a panther like movement, he catapulted himself out of his chair to tower over her.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Charlotte. I’ve compromised you,” he said angrily.
“No one will know,” she said tightly.
“I’ll know.” The dark snarl made her flinch as she stared up into his unreadable dark brown eyes.
John was an honorable man. It was why he was so insistent about marrying her. She wanted to argue, but she’d already seen the stubborn tilt of his mouth. Once John decided to do something there was no changing his mind. She’d learned that over the lifetime of their friendship.
She would have to let him think he was getting his way. By the time he returned from London, she would be sailing to New York. It would be the best place to mend her broken heart while avoiding a marriage based solely on John’s honor. Knowing better than to reveal her plans, she turned away from him. His hand grasped her arm, and she looked over her shoulder at him.
“Please don’t, John. Just leave me be.”
He immediately released her, and Charlotte crossed the floor to the couch. Her heart aching, she slowly sank down into the velvet plush sofa. Eyes closed, she curled up into the corner of the couch and prayed for morning to come. The sooner she returned home, the sooner she could leave for New York. Father would be surprised by her haste, but she would simply tell him John had encouraged her to go. It would be the truth. John’s insistence that they marry was incentive enough. Charlotte suppressed a soft sob and laid still until she fell asleep.
* * * * *
SHE’D REFUSED HIM. John flung himself back into the chair by the fire. With a cool, calm dignity he’d never seen in her before, she politely declined his offer. Actually it hadn’t been an offer, it had been a command. It was a rare occasion when Charlotte balked at his orders, and she’d blindsided him with her refusal to marry him. Her rejection had been a knife slicing broad and deep into his chest. It left him bleeding until he was colder than the snow trapping them in the house. She didn’t love him.
John closed his eyes. While his reputation as a gentleman and their longtime friendship would protect her from most malicious gossip, he didn’t like the thought of anyone questioning Charlotte’s reputation. John shook his head with self-disgust. If he’d kept his hands off her then he wouldn’t have found it necessary to force her hand. But God help him, when he’d seen her cream glistening on her fingers, he’d nearly gone out of his mind with desire. It had taken every bit of restraint he possessed not to kneel at her feet and taste her. He’d wanted to make her scream time and again as he sucked on her until she came in his mouth.
But it was her response to his spanking that had been beyond his wildest dreams. She’d not only enjoyed it, she’d wanted more. She’d clutched his fingers hard with her orgasm. The white hot fire of her velvety folds tightening around him said she would milk his cock dry the moment he buried himself inside her. A silent groan closed his throat as he forced himself to think of his family gathering tomorrow and his trip to London.
He wished he could announce their engagement. His parents loved Charlotte and would be overjoyed. With the determination he was known for, John shut thoughts of Charlotte out of his head as best he could. Despite his greatest effort it was her sweet face he saw as he drifted off to sleep.
He slept fitfully throughout the night. Once he’d gotten up from his chair to check on Charlotte. She’d been shivering, and he’d located a blanket for her. She looked soft and delicious asleep. He could’ve easily spent the rest of the night simply watching her. Instead, he’d returned to his chair for fear of touching her.
The rooster crowing at dawn filtered through a dream he’d been having of Charlotte. Rubbing his eyes, John slowly stood up. His limbs ached from the awkward sleeping position, and he stretched his body to loosen his muscles. He circled the couch and touched her shoulder.
“It’s time to go, Charlotte.”
At his touch, she jerked awake then quickly shrank away from him. The reaction made his skin grow cold with fear. Had he destroyed any chance of making her see they were meant for each other?
“All right,” she murmured, keeping her gaze averted from his. “Has it stopped snowing?”
“Yes, it’s cloudy out, but I don’t believe we’ll have any trouble getting you back to the manse.” When her reply was a simple nod, he grimaced. “Charlotte, about last night—”
“You’ve made your intentions quite clear, John,” she said. As she met his gaze there was a cold, lifeless look in her eyes that scared the hell out of him. “Speak with my father if you must.”
“It’s not a question—”
“Please take me home, John.” The aloof tone of her voice said it was pointless to argue with her at the moment.
“We’ll discuss this later, Charlotte.”
“As you wish.”
The lack of emotion in her voice made him wish he’d made a racket coming into the house last night. She would have dropped her skirts before he’d entered the room, and he would never have touched her last night. In the cold light of day, she was clearly regretting what had happened. Without another word, John proceeded to set things straight in the house to hide any evidence they’d spent the night. When he’d finished, he left the house to fetch Merrylegs.
The ride to the parish manse was filled with an icy silence that matched the snow on the ground. When they reached their destination, John lifted her off the mare, and Charlotte trembled against him. Was she afraid of marrying him? Was that why she’d refused him? He pressed a tender kiss to her forehead then lifted her chin to look into her eyes.
“It will be all right, Charlotte,” he said in a gentle, yet firm voice. “I promise you that we’ll be good for each other.”
“Yes, John,” she said listlessly as she pulled free of his embrace. She disappeared through the door of the manse, and he uttered a harsh curse before he climbed onto Merrylegs’ back and went home.
The week dragged by as he put out one fire after another at his father’s mercantile business and two new holdings the family had just acquired. When he was finally finished, he’d ridden through the night to reach home so he could present himself at the parish manse first thing in the morning. When he arrived, Charlotte’s father greeted him warmly and led John into the study.
“My dear boy, it’s delightful to see you again. Charlotte says the two of you enjoyed your family’s party very much on Christmas Eve.”
“We did indeed, sir, although—”
“She said you ran into a little snow that made her arrive home very late. I never even heard her come in,” Reverend Clayworth said. John stiffened with shock. Charlotte had lied. She’d told her father the snow had simply delayed their arrival home.
“Of course, if anything had happened,” Reverend Clayworth smiled at John with a look of trust he didn’t deserve. “I know she would’ve been safe with you.”
“Yes, sir,” he replied as he experienced a crushing guilt.
“Charlotte left something for you.”
“Left me something?” he frowned. Where was Charlotte?
“Yes, she insisted I give it to you the moment you showed up on the doorstep.” The reverend went to his desk to search under a stack of papers. “Ah, yes, here it is. Charlotte said she relied on your advice in making her decision to go to New York.”
“New York?” The world shuddered beneath his feet.
“Yes, she’s gone to stay with my wife’s sister for the next year,” the older man said with a frown
as he studied John thoughtfully. “Alma believes Charlotte will make a good match there. Although, I confess… I always thought... anyway, here it is.”
John accepted the small package as the Reverend Clayworth indicated he would go put on a pot of tea as it was his cook’s day off. As Charlotte’s father left the room John opened the package and stared down at the book she’d gotten him. Dracula. He’d been meaning to purchase the book for some time, but kept forgetting to do so. His thumb ran over the tooled leather and his name engraved in the bottom right-hand corner. He opened the cover of the book hoping to see an inscription. There was nothing but a small note inside. He opened it while his brain was calculating how quickly he could reach New York. His gaze focused on Charlotte’s handwriting.
My dearest John,
As I said on Christmas Eve, I cannot marry you. Our friendship has meant a great deal to me, and I’ll not destroy it because of a few moments of indiscretion. I firmly believe the affection we feel for each other would wither and die if we were to marry.
My father believes I returned in the early morning hours on Christmas. He suspects nothing, and I doubt others will suspect anything either. My reputation remains intact, and you have the freedom to find a bride to love, just as I have the same freedom. Be happy.
With greatest affection,
Charlotte
The note crackled as John crumpled it in his fist. Disbelief held him rigid, and he stared at the floor as he struggled to comprehend the contents of her letter. He’d been so certain he could make Charlotte realize their friendship was the root of the passion they could feel for one another. Her note said otherwise. Panic struck at the deepest part of him. No, he couldn’t have been wrong. That kiss, her response to him—he couldn’t be wrong. She had to love him, she didn’t realize it.
He’d go after her. He’d make her understand that it was possible for a lasting love to blossom out of a friendship like theirs. He’d bring her home and make her his wife. He opened up the crumpled note again, his mind struggling to find a scrap of hope in her words. Suddenly the words wither and die seared their way into his brain. He’d been wrong. She didn’t love him. If he went after her and forced the issue between them, she would come to hate him. It was an unbearable thought.
Defeat left a bitter taste in his mouth. He’d lost her. The pain was greater than anything he’d ever known. Slowly, John dropped the book onto a nearby table and stuffed Charlotte’s note into his coat pocket. In a jerky, vicious movement, he whirled around and walked out of the house, determined never to darken the doorstep again.
Chapter 4
London, 1892
SLEIGH BELLS JINGLED in the air as the hackney cab made its way through light traffic to Lady Jane and Tobias Lynsted’s townhouse. The lightly falling snow reminded him of a Christmas Eve twenty-five years ago. An odd ache burrowed deep into his chest. It had been a long time since he’d thought of Charlotte. Beside him, Luke Ashford, the youngest of his adopted sons cleared his throat.
“You look like you’ve lost your best friend.”
“What?” Startled out of his thoughts, John jerked his gaze toward the younger man. Luke’s assessment had hit a bit too close to the random memory.
“If Jane sees you looking down in the mouth, she’s going to throw her match making skills into play again. Not that the rest of us would mind seeing you happily married.” The dry note in Luke’s voice made John grimace.
“Jane and I have come to an agreement about my not wanting a wife.”
“I suppose that’s understandable,” Luke murmured. “Losing the love of one’s life would make it difficult to share one’s life with someone else.”
Luke’s astute observation made John look away from the man at his side to study the scenery in front of the cab. Occupants of a nearby house crowded the doorway and front stoop to listen to a group of carolers on the snow-covered sidewalk. It reminded him of Christmases past when he was a child of ten and Charlotte standing wide-eyed next to him.
The boy was right. Charlotte had been the love of his life, but he’d relinquished his hold on that love a long time ago. A mocking laugh filled his head, which he quickly dismissed. He shrugged as he realized he’d not responded to Luke’s remark.
“Emma was a good woman. Despite our short marriage, I was content.”
“I wasn’t referring to your wife.” Luke arched his eyebrows as John looked at him in surprise. Suspicious of the direction of their conversation, he narrowed his eyes at his son.
“Then to whom are you referring?”
“Charlotte.”
The quietly spoken name made him go rigid. He’d never spoken of Charlotte to his sons, and he’d secured his sister’s oath that she would never mention Charlotte’s name to his adopted family. He’d worked hard to forget Charlotte and had managed to succeed in doing so as he’d thrown himself into increasing the family business, raising the boys, and watching them grow into men.
“Where did you hear that name?” He met Luke’s astute gaze and frowned.
“When I was a boy,” Luke said quietly with a small shrug.
“I don’t recall ever mentioning Charlotte,” John said coldly. His son had sliced open a wound he’d thought long healed. Tension hardened his muscles as John cleared his throat and steeled his features into an emotionless mask.
“I overheard Clara urging you to go to Charlotte’s father’s funeral. Your sister seemed hell bent on getting you to go to the service.”
“Clara has always made it her task to try and manage the lives of people she loves,” he bit out with clenched teeth as he remembered the conversation vividly.
When the reverend had died, he’d attended the graveside service from a distance. Clara had attended the funeral in his stead. His sister had said Charlotte asked about him, but he’d refused to discuss the matter. In the end, his sister had called him a fool. But it was better to be a fool, than a fool brought to his knees by a woman who didn’t love him.
“I’m well aware of your sister’s desire to ensure the happiness of others,” Luke said in a wry voice. “One day someone will take her in hand. I’ve half a mind to do it myself.” The last part of Luke’s response was soft as if he was saying it to himself. John barely had time to register the younger man’s words, before it dawned on him that Luke had brought up Charlotte’s name out of the blue.
“Why, after all these years, would you tell me you knew about Charlotte?” John narrowed his gaze at Luke. With a slight twist of his lips, Luke rolled one shoulder in a nonchalant move.
“Because, as I said, you looked like you’d lost your best friend.” The vague answer made John study Luke in a suspicious manner. He wasn’t given the chance to ask any more questions as the hack rolled to a stop in front of Jane and Tobias’ house. Luke brushed aside John’s attempt to pay the cabbie. He’d barely reached the top of the brick steps, and the door opened before he could knock.
“Good evening, Mr. Fordyce. Mr. Ashford.”
“How are you, Caldwell?” He smiled at the butler as he handed the man his hat then shrugged out of his coat.
“Quite well, sir,” the servant replied in a dignified tone. The tall man closed the door behind Luke accepting his outer garments as well.
Fresh evergreen boughs enhanced with holly leaves and red berries decorated the top of each doorway in the foyer. It filled the air with the scent of Scotch pine. A bowl of potpourri on the hall table added hints of cinnamon and oranges to the delightful aroma. The bannister leading upstairs was draped with a garland of evergreen and purple bows at the newel posts. Laughter flooded the foyer, and his melancholy receded as he entered the brightly lit salon. Several dozen guests milled about the large room, while in one corner of the room a large scotch pine tree was gaily decorated. The purple bow at the top of the tree matched the one on the large wreath over the fireplace. In another corner, a number of guests gathered around a piano. Eli, another of his boys, was pounding the keys as he led the group in a rousing ver
sion of the Wassail song.
“John. Luke.” Their hostess cried out with delight. They both turned to see Jane hurrying toward them with a brilliant smile on her mouth. Her belly gently rounded, she was glowing as most women did when they were with child. She greeted them both with a warm hug.
“You look radiant, my dear,” John said as he eyed her with fatherly affection.
“Agreed,” Luke said with a smile. “Tobias is a lucky man.”
“Of course he is,” Jane said with a laugh as Tobias appeared at her side. “Aren’t you, darling?”
“To avoid punishment later on, I heartily agree, my love.” Tobias grinned as he kissed his wife’s cheek then welcomed John and Luke with a bear hug. Tobias stepped back and frowned slightly. “You’re looking a bit grim, John.”
“Am I?” He forced a smile to his lips and glanced at Luke. The perceptive look on the man’s face made him release a soft noise of irritation. “I imagine that would be Luke’s fault for stirring up a past that is best left forgotten.”
Jane and Tobias both looked in Luke’s direction, their looks equally disapproving. For a moment, John thought he saw a silent exchange between the three, but put it down to Luke stirring up the past. Jane suddenly turned and flashed a brilliant smile in his direction.
“I have an early Christmas present for you, my dear,” John said cheerfully as the past faded into the background. “I finalized the purchase of the orphanage building this morning.”
“Oh, John, that’s wonderful,” Jane hugged him with an exuberance he remembered another woman had displayed years ago. The bittersweet memory bit hard into his soul. He suddenly had the urge to pummel his youngest son into the ground.
“Tobias, darling,” Jane laid a hand on her husband’s arm. “We must gather the rest of the family to toast John’s success in securing the new building.”
“Agreed,” Tobias said with a grin. “The others are at the piano, let me get them.”
