She loved him. She loved him with all her heart and soul, with every ounce of her being, with every breath drawn into her body, she loved him! Tears spilled down her cheeks as she smiled against his lips, wanting to shout her love for him from the highest mountaintop.
“I’m so sorry, so very sorry about this, Charlotte,” he said softly, brushing the tears from her face, pain flickering across his handsome face.
“I know you are,” she whispered, sliding off the chair into his arms, her smile growing at the look of surprise in his eyes. “I love you, Dare. Isn’t it amazing? I didn’t think it would work so quickly, but it did, because I knew just a moment ago that I love you. I really love you. Don’t you find it wondrous and astonishing that I feel this way? I do. I find it completely bemusing, but do you know, just now I realized that I loved you, even though that horrible man says you’re not an earl anymore, not that I believe him—he’s obviously a pretender to your title, a rogue and a scoundrel, because if anyone was meant to be an earl, you were—but still, that I could love you even thinking you might possibly not be an earl is so amazing, I am speechless, completely and utterly speechless.”
Dare stared at her for a moment, then threw back his head and laughed, tipping over backwards until he was lying on his back before the fire, Charlotte draped over his chest, smiling down into his handsome face.
“You never fail me, wife. Just when I think at last I know what to expect from you, you succeed in pulling the rug out from beneath me.”
“Don’t be silly.” Charlotte smiled, then kissed his chin, her heart joyous and happy at the sight of her husband laughing, warm with the knowledge that the love potion worked. She was in love! “I quite like this rug. I would never abuse it in such a fashion.”
“Do you mean it?” Dare asked the moment his lips released hers.
“Yes,” she breathed, her eyes lit with passion and love. She traced a finger down the opening of his dressing gown, exposing the length of his chest, reveling in the feeling of his warm flesh beneath her fingers, breathing deeply to fill her lungs with his wonderful scent. With an impatient noise, she pushed the dressing gown off his shoulders, then bent her head so she could press kisses along his collarbone. “Yes, I do mean it. It’s my very favorite rug.”
Dare chuckled as he pulled her close to his chest, then rolled over until she was pinned beneath him. “That’s not what I meant, wife, and you know it.”
She allowed her dimples to peek out at him. “Oh, you meant that other thing? The bit about my being in love with you? Yes, I meant that as well. Truly, it is a miracle, though.”
His head dipped to taste that very sensitive spot behind her ear. Pleasure rippled through her at the touch of his lips.
“It is a miracle because I failed to give you what you wanted from me?”
“No.” She tugged on his hair until he looked up. “You gave me what I wanted—a handsome husband, a return to the ton, consequence and position. It’s not your fault that evil man devised a plan to try to take it all away from us. The miracle I refer to has to do with the fact that I was beginning to think my mind was slightly defective, and that I was unable to love, but I know now that such thoughts are sheer foolishness. My mind is just as strong now as it has ever been, which is a great relief to me, as I was unclear how I was to correct the defect and make it more to your liking.”
Dare smiled down at her, one hand brushing a strand of hair back from her forehead. “Your mind is utterly unique, Charlotte, and I wouldn’t want it to change one iota.”
She stared up at him, silent, watching him as he watched her, extremely aware of the fact that his bare upper body was pressed against her upper body, his arms braced along either side of her head, his mouth, that wonderful mouth, only a few inches from hers. His head dropped slightly until his lips were brushing against hers.
“Wife, I think we would be more comfortable if we were to continue this in your bed.”
“Oh?” Hope, desire, love, passion—the emotions surging to life in her were too numerous to be separated and named. “You are tired? You wish to sleep?”
His lips were sweet as honey upon hers. “No, I’m not tired, and I do not wish to sleep. I wish to make love to my wife.”
Charlotte blew out a little breath of anticipation. “Are you sure? You were most adamant the other day—”
“I’m sure,” he said, his voice husky with desire. “But what of you? Do you still want me? Can you want a husband who has failed so dismally to provide for you?”
“Yes,” she said, unable to deny the need in his eyes, not that she had ever wanted to. “I have wanted you for the longest time, Dare. There are many connubial calisthenics that I would very much enjoy trying with you, especially the Montezuma’s Pyramid, although I must say, the Hanging Gardens of Babylonia has much appeal to it, despite the fact that it looks quite involved what with the silken ropes and all, and I don’t quite understand how the feathers come into play, nor the grapes for that matter, but I am convinced that we would find the exercise amusing—”
Dare laughed as he got to his feet, scooping her into his arms and carrying her to the bed. “I believe we’ll leave Montezuma and Babylonia for another day. Right now I have in mind the desire to pay homage to my sweet wife in the best way I know how, without silken ropes or grapes or intricate positions.”
“It Italy, it is said the most amazing things can be done with goat’s cheese—”
The words stopped with a gasp as Dare ripped her night rail from her body. She stood beside the bed, naked, exposed, all her flesh there for him to see, gilded by the firelight…and suddenly, it didn’t seem like such a shocking thing. She had never really thought much about her body: it was always there, it made her clothing hang well, and other than Crouch’s slur against her backside getting broad, she had not paid it much attention. Now, however, her body seemed a wondrous thing, at least it was with her husband standing next to her, his eyes almost bulging out of his head as he looked at her. Her breasts were heavy and aching, her womanly parts were flushed, her skin, wherever Dare’s gaze flitted, was sensitive and craved his touch. She leaned into him, almost purring as she rubbed her body against his, thrilled by the heat flaring in his eyes.
Suddenly, she wanted to see the rest of him, the parts that were covered by the lower half of his dressing gown. The interesting parts.
“I think the polite thing would be for you to return the favor,” she suggested, her hands on the tie of his dressing gown.
“Gark,” he said, his gaze still caressing her flesh. He looked rather stunned and made no move to remove his own clothes, so she pulled the tie free and with a rustle of silk against manly flesh, the garment fell to his feet.
“Oh, yes, gark indeed!” she breathed, suddenly understanding why her body had held him so mesmerized. He was so beautiful, the sight of his golden skin brought tears to her eyes. He was all hard lines, sculpted muscles, and great sweeps of taut flesh that called to her, begged her to touch him, pleaded with her to stroke her hands along every bulge and valley and long line of muscle. “You are so handsome, Dare, so very—oh, my, will you just look at that, surely it must be painful to be in that sort of a state—and then there’s your chest! And your stomach! I have to say, husband, your stomach is a thing of beauty. You’re just like one of those broken statues Lord Elgin brought from Greece, only you are much, much nicer to look at. Is your backside as nice as I remember—oh, it is! It’s perfectly lovely, too! Might I touch it? Might I—hoo! How do you do that? What amazing muscle control you have. What do you think would happen were I to touch you right here—”
Charlotte, who had been happily frolicking in a land made up solely of a naked Dare, suddenly found herself on her back, sinking into the cool bed linens as her husband covered her front.
“Char,” he growled, his mouth hovering over hers. She arched her back so that her nipples rubbed against th
e soft hair of his chest. “Are you planning on narrating the events of this entire evening?”
“Vyvyan La Blue says that communication during connubial calisthenics can enhance the experience for both husband and wife, and as I wish to please you in all ways, not just with my body, but with my mind, as well, because, you know, my cousin Gillian says her husband—Lord Weston, you do remember him, you tried to kill him once or twice—Gillian says that Noble enjoys her mind almost as much as more earthly pleasures, although she didn’t really specify just what earthly pleasures she meant, but I assume she meant those of a calisthenic nature, so yes, the answer to your question is that for your pleasure I am planning on narra—oh dear God in heaven!”
Dare effectively stopped his wife’s babble with the simple act of taking her nipple in his mouth. She was silken fire, she was satin heat, she had the softest skin that burned like a fire in his blood. He was harder than he thought humanly possible. He wanted her so much he could almost cry with joy over knowing she was his, and she was here, and she loved him. His body shook with the need to bury himself deep into her heat, but he was a gentleman, and she was his wife, his beloved, the woman who would share his life. He owed it to her delicate sensibilities to gently prepare her for the intrusion of his body into hers; he must make sure she was well pleasured and physically aroused before she could receive him. He had to bring her gradually to the point of ecstasy so that she, too, would experience the greatest act man and woman could perform together.
Her legs shifted beneath him. His head snapped back, all thoughts but one gone from his mind. “Now?”
Her eyes fluttered open briefly. “Dear Lord, if you have any mercy, now!”
He spread her legs, lifted her hips, and plunged into her all with one move. She shrieked and spasmed around him, hundreds of little muscles gripping him, squeezing him, caressing him in a manner he’d never experienced before, but which drove him to a frenzy. Sweat stung on his back as she raked her fingernails up his flesh, but all that did was make him more frantic, more wild with the joy of joining with her.
“Why didn’t I marry you five years ago?” he wondered aloud, the words coming out remarkably like a groan.
“You were stupid,” she gasped in reply, her fingers digging into the muscles of his buttocks, her hips thrusting up to meet his.
“I was,” he agreed, his breath coming in gasps, too, pressure building inside him, a familiar pressure, but one so intensified, one so brilliant that it was almost as if his soul had been washed clean by her love. “Very stupid. Incredibly stupid. So stupid I can’t even begin to—oh, Lord, woman, don’t do that again or it’ll all be over for me.”
“Do what?” she panted, her teeth nipping the flesh on his shoulder. “This?”
Dare’s eyes rolled back into his head, his body clenched tight as he thrust into her heat. “Not that.”
She wrapped her legs around his waist, soft little sobs of pleasure escaping her lips as she pushed upwards, her hips against his, taking him in deeper than he thought possible. “Then perhaps…you meant…this?”
Her nails scored his back. A shiver of pure rapture shook him as he pulled her hips higher, piercing her very soul with his thrusts. “Not.” He withdrew and surged forward again, earning a cry of pleasure from her as he did. “That.”
Her head thrashed on the pillow as he shortened his strokes, intent on transporting her to heaven with him, desperate now as the pressure inside him threatened to burst.
“Dare!” she screamed, sobbing his name as her body spasmed around him, her legs locked tight around his hips, her eyes wild, her hands pulling him into her body until he thought they would never again be separate entities. Her exaltation triggered his, the orgasm bursting upon him in a starburst of euphoria that shook not just his body, but his soul as well. He heard his voice crying her name, felt her body tremble with her passion, and poured forth his life into her sweet keeping.
The wild rasp of her breathing mingling with the harshness of his was the only sound in the room. He lay upon his Charlotte, knowing he should move, knowing he was too heavy for her soft body, but loath to tear himself from her. Instead he rolled to the side, taking her with him. They spent long minutes locked together like that, hearts beating wildly as they struggled to regain their breath.
“That, my love, is what I meant,” he managed to say, his heart finally slowing, his mind once again capable of thought.
“That? Oh, you mean this?” Her body rippled and tightened around him.
He squawked.
She smiled a smile filled with feminine knowledge that would have worried Dare, but he was experiencing too much pleasure to bother with an insignificant thing like the fact that his wife could wring him dry with just a flex of her muscles.
“Mmm. Very interesting. Before I investigate this ability I have of making your eyes bulge, would you answer a question for me?”
She pushed away from him as she spoke. He wrapped one arm around her waist, and rolled onto his back, pulling her on top of him as he did. Her eyes opened wide as she sat up on him, looking down to where they were still joined. “Your manly instrument is still inside of me.”
Pleasure rippled through him as she squirmed slightly. “Yes,” he said hoarsely, feeling himself swell within her. “It is. I am. We are.”
She frowned down at him. “I might not have a great deal of experience doing this, Dare, but I do know that men’s erected bits become soft and squidgy after. You, however, are not soft and squidgy.” She moved her hips in a little circle that made Dare sure he had died and gone to heaven. “You seem to be just as erected as ever. Have I done something wrong?”
“Lord, no,” he gasped, clamping both hands down on her hips in an attempt to keep her from continuing the innocently seductive moves that she had no idea were driving him mad with desire. “You’re doing everything right. That’s why I’m still hard. Now sit still and don’t move a muscle, especially—AAAAAGH! Especially those muscles!”
She grinned wickedly at him, then lay down on his chest and propped her chin up on her hands. “Is this better?”
He was still buried in her, the need to make love to her again quickly rising within him. “Moderately so. What was it you wanted to ask me?”
Her bright blue eyes considered him seriously for a moment. “Will you be honest with me?”
He rubbed his knuckles gently down the curve of her cheek. She turned her face into his hand and pressed her lips to his palm.
Lord, how he loved her.
“I will always be honest with you, Charlotte.”
She took a deep breath. He tried to drag his attention from the blissful feeling of her body gripping him tightly, but it was difficult.
“I think something is wrong with me. Down there. In my womanly parts.” Her gaze dropped to his neck. She couldn’t look him in the eye when she made her shameful confession.
“Something is wrong with you? Wrong how? Are you in pain? Did I hurt you?”
Charlotte didn’t want to tell him how defective she was, but he was her husband—in every way—and she was worried about her problem. She just hoped it could be corrected, and that he knew how to effect the cure. She didn’t think she could possibly explain it to anyone else. “No, I’m not in pain…well…it’s not pain exactly…”
“Charlotte.” Dare sat up suddenly, pulling her from him. She felt an immense sense of loss as he withdrew from her body, but what he did next was far worse.
He examined her!
“Please, Dare, I’m all right! At least…well, I’m not all right, but I’m sure it’s nothing you can see, so would you please stop staring at me there? I assure you it’s not that part of me that is the problem. Not entirely. Well, possibly it is the source of trouble, but I just don’t know!”
She tugged on his head until he stopped prodding her private parts and looked up at her. “If I didn�
��t hurt you, then what exactly is the problem?”
She looked at his chest. “I’m…defective.”
“Defective?” He tried to raise her chin so she was looking in his eyes, but she kept her gaze clamped to his chest. “I don’t understand. How is it you think you’re defective?”
She took a deep breath. Sometimes it was best to get things over with quickly. “In Vyvyan La Blue’s Guide to Connubial Calisthenics the culmination of the calisthenic is described as a moment whereby one is transported to elation upon a crimson tide of completion that rises higher and higher, foaming and bubbling around one until heaven itself opens up to pour down pearls of joy in benediction.”
Dare’s lips twitched and the muscles in his jaw tightened, but other than clearing his throat twice, all he said was, “And?”
She dropped her gaze back to his chest. “And…I didn’t feel that.”
He was silent for a moment, although there were odd rumbling noises from his chest as if he was struggling to hold some emotion within him. Disgust at her lack of finesse, no doubt.
She wanted to cry.
“Charlotte, I might not be the most experienced man in the world, but I know when a woman experiences an orgasm, and I can assure you that you did.”
“Well, I don’t know about this orgasm business, I haven’t studied that, but I do know that although what I felt with you was wonderful, truly wonderful, indescribably so, it was not a crimson tide of completion that bubbled and foamed about me. What I felt was much more…common. It was…for lack of a better word, earthy. I know a lady should not feel such things, and I will try very hard to school my feelings toward those of the crimson tide of completion, but you must tell me how to go about it. Vyvyan,” she said with a sudden frown at the bureau where the book rested, “is lamentably silent as to how one is to encourage all the foaming and bubbling and such, and eliminate the baser feelings.”
Noble Destiny Page 21
