A Lady to Desire

by Bethany M. Sefchick

  “You will also likely need a physician.” Charlotte hadn’t heard Lady Priscilla approach the group but she should have anticipated the other woman’s appearance. After all, the duke’s sister was the hostess of the party and it was up to her to see to the comfort of her brother’s guests. Though her forehead was creased with far more worry than Charlotte would have anticipated. “We are fortunate that Dr. Nathaniel Longford is here.” The other woman glanced around. “Though I do not see him at the moment.”

  “I’ll go fetch him.” That came from Fullbridge who had also come to see what all of the commotion was about, a young lady Charlotte did not know all but hanging off of his arm. “I believe he is fishing with some of the other gentlemen on the southern part of the property.” Meaning that the man had chosen to remove himself from the lawn games so that he would not get in Fullbridge’s way as he selected a new bride.

  Lady Priscilla nodded as she chewed her lip. “Thank you, Phin. That would be most welcome,” she acknowledged her brother’s offer, though her eyes were still locked on Noah’s face as it twisted in no small amount of pain. There was worry there. She cared for this man – deeply. Charlotte could tell. “Gentlemen? If you please.” She gestured to the two men supporting Noah, and together the small group moved off toward the house, a still sniffling Miss Worth and her companion trailing behind.

  “That was rather unexpected.”

  “It was. Though how anyone could be expected to anticipate being struck by a pall mall mallet, I shouldn’t know.” Charlotte turned to grace Francis with a pointed glare. “Don’t you wish to follow Lady Priscilla and lend your support? The two of you have been all but inseparable as of late.”

  Francis shook his head, his gaze following the small group as they departed. “No. Lady Priscilla has the situation well handled and this is a matter between them.”

  “Between Lord Snowly and Miss Worth, don’t you mean? She is the one who hit him with her mallet, accident or not.” Charlotte snapped and then reminded herself to be calm as something nasty flared inside of her. She should not be jealous. She had no cause to be. If she snapped at Francis every time he was in the company of Lady Priscilla that would accomplish nothing. Especially sorting out her feelings for the man at her side.

  “No. Between Cilla and Acton. They were a couple once. Or something.” Francis seemed to speak with experience on this matter.

  “She told you that?” Charlotte really could not believe the woman would kiss and tell in that manner. It was hardly lady-like.

  Francis shrugged. “She did not have to. It is easy to see they have a shared past of some sort and clearly still care for one another. One would have to be either blind or stupid not to notice, neither of which you are. They have a past.”

  Which Charlotte did already know. Sort of. Or at least she had suspected. She had noticed that the earl was a bit more flirtatious with her when he was in the vicinity of Lady Priscilla – or even hoped that he might be. Noah had not mentioned any sort of previous attachment, but he hadn’t needed to either. Charlotte had eyes and she could see that for as much of a rogue as the earl was, there was still something in his gaze when he looked at Lady Priscilla that indicated something lay between them. Something far deeper than any flirtation he shared with Charlotte.

  “So you are just going to let her go? Be alone with a man she might share a previous affection with?” Charlotte had no idea why she had asked Francis those questions. There was a good chance she would not like the answer.

  He shrugged again. “Lady Priscilla is free to do as she wishes. We are not tethered to each other’s sides like some of the guests here, despite your erroneous assumption.” He gave Charlotte a pointed look in return. “Lady Priscilla and I have an understanding.”

  “I’ll just bet you do,” Charlotte grumbled under her breath as she watched the small group disappear into the house, Lord Snowly limping a good deal more than he had when he first stood up.

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Francis crossed his arms over his chest, and much like last night, Charlotte could not help but remember the strength in those arms or the way it felt to be held by him. Though Lord Snowly had yet to hold her in the same fashion, she somehow doubted that his embrace would be nearly so wonderful.

  With a sharp tug on Francis’ coat sleeve, Charlotte indicated that they should retreat behind a nearby hedgerow that was thick enough to muffle the sound of their voices. When they were safe from prying eyes – though not necessarily ears – she turned and glared at him fully, just as she had wished to do all morning.

  Ever since she had walked into the breakfast room and seen him laughing and smiling with the duke’s sister.

  “It means that Lady Priscilla is using you!” Charlotte hissed, no longer content to hide her anger. “And you are a daft fool if you cannot see her plans for what they are.”

  “Charlotte. I did not realize you still cared.” Francis soft words seemed to mock her, infuriating her further.

  “Gah! You are such a man!”

  “Last I checked, yes, I am.”

  Now it was Charlotte’s turn to cross her arms over her chest in a show of defiance. Or perhaps petulance, depending upon how one looked at the situation. “And just so we are clear, my lord,” she said those last two words rather mockingly, “I do not care a whit about your arrangement with Lady Priscilla. If you are so daft as to allow her to use you, then you get exactly what you deserve.”

  “Who is to say that I am not using her?” Francis’ words were smug and reminded Charlotte a bit of the way he had been a year ago – brash and undaunted in his fight to claim his place within the Deaver family. The dullness that had seemed to dog him for the last several months was gone now, leaving the man she remembered behind. “Or that we are not using each other for our own gains?”

  “You are not that sort of man!” Charlotte cried softly more confused now than ever.

  Francis’ mouth quirked into a sort of half smile. “Perhaps I am, my dear Charlotte. We don’t really know what sort of man I was before last year, now do we?” He reached for her, pulling her close and Charlotte offered up no resistance. She was so close to him now that once more, she could feel his swollen desire pressing into her belly. “I might have been an unrepentant rogue rather than this boring saint I seem to have become. We have no idea. No one does. Not even you, who occasionally professes to know all things.”

  “What difference does it make?” Charlotte pressed hard against his chest but he would not release her. She wasn’t certain she wanted him to. “You are a good man now. Over this last year, you have proven that.”

  Francis smiled wickedly, his eyes alight with naked desire – desire for her. “Maybe I was too good, Charlotte. Too polite. Too boring.” He quirked an eyebrow. “After all, you lost interest in me.” He paused. “And maybe that’s not the man I really am at all. Maybe I am more like Snowly. We shall never know until we test that theory, hmmm?”

  “Don’t,” she snapped peevishly, her brain starting to hurt from his whirlwind change before her very eyes. “I am not a pawn in whatever game you are playing. This is not you, Francis. I know it is not.” She pressed against his shoulder this time, but once more, his grasp was too tight and he would not release her. Again, she wasn’t certain she wanted him to let her go, either.

  “Might I remind you that you started this, pet? The night in the garden you said you were done with my excuses, implied that you were done with me. This little folly of yours to see if we still suit? That is all upon you. I am merely playing by the rules you set out when you came to this house party, whether you realized what you were doing at the time or not.” Francis’ eyes glittered in the bright morning sun. “You say you wish to sort out your feelings, so I allow it. Yet when I take the same opportunity, you snap at me, glare at me, and generally accuse me of both using and being used as if I am some sort of libertine who goes about chasing anything in a skirt.” He tisked in disapproval. “You cannot have things both ways,
Charlotte, my dear. We either both do this or neither of us does this.”

  She slapped him. She didn’t think. Charlotte simply raised her hand and struck him.

  Not hard, because really, she couldn’t truly bear the thought of injuring this man, not that she could have even if she had wished to, but hard enough that she felt she had made her point. Whatever it was.

  For a long moment, Francis simply stared at her, his eyes narrowed and the blood chilled in Charlotte’s veins.

  Was Francis a violent man? Had he been before when he had been William Denton? Had her striking him awoken something inside of him, as Dr. Hastings suggested might eventually occur? Was he remembering that no, he really wasn’t a nice man after all?

  Charlotte had no idea. She didn’t think so, but then, how much of Francis’ behavior over the last year was the real him and how much was that of the man he was trying to be? Was the uncertainty about his past finally becoming too much for him to tolerate? She did not truly believe he would hurt her, but he could do…something.

  Then he did the last thing she expected. He pulled her closer – so close that now she could feel his erection pressing hard into the most feminine and intimate part of her – and he kissed her. He kissed her hard, his lips demanding her surrender, leaving her no choice but to give in. To give in to both what he wanted and what he demanded. To give in to him and the sensual pleasure of being held in his arms.

  And Charlotte was immediately lost.

  She also gave in – without question.

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Ten

  Damn Charlotte and her smart mouth! Damn her and her accusations that might or might not be true. But more than that, damn her for just being Charlotte! She pushed, and she pushed, and she pushed until she drove him to madness. She had since the moment they met.

  Over the last year, Francis could admit that he had curbed his natural inclinations around her from time to time – actually more and more as of late. He hadn’t wanted to appear too rough or too hard for her. He hadn’t wanted to frighten her with his physical desire, especially since she was still an innocent. Except that somewhere along the way, he had forgotten that she wasn’t the delicate flower he had come to view her as. She was brash and occasionally wild. She was no schoolroom miss and was even defiant on occasion. After all, she had still insisted that he be allowed to escort her about Town, even when her father forbid it.

  Perhaps curbing the actions that seemed to come naturally to him had been wrong. Perhaps that was why Charlotte had begun to drift away from him. Or perhaps he had everything backward. At the moment, none of that mattered. All that mattered was that Francis was kissing her again, just as he had when they first met – and she was responding with just as much passion.

  “Charlotte,” he whispered as he pulled back from the kiss, well aware that there was likely a crowd of people just on the other side of the hedgerow. People who had likely seem them leave together, not that he gave a damn just then.

  “Charlotte,” he said again because he could think of no other word to utter. Then he kissed her again with all of his pent-up passion and more than a little bit of frustration.

  She tasted sweet, sweeter than he remembered anyway, even more so than last night. Her mouth was warm and soft and inviting, everything he had ever wanted all tied up in one perfect feminine package. And just as before, he was certain she would be the death of him if he allowed her to be.

  “I’m sorry,” Charlotte gasped as she pulled back from his mouth, giving him leave to nibble at her neck, her hands clenched at her sides as if she was afraid to reach for him again. So long as she did not slap him again, she could touch him any way she liked. “Francis, I never meant to…”

  “Yes. Yes, you did,” he managed in between licks at the hollow of her throat. “We need more of that honesty, Charlotte, not less, if we are ever to figure out what we truly are to each other.” He grinned into the crook of her neck and he wondered if she could feel the shift in his mouth. She could once upon a time. “Well, I could do without the part where you slapped me.”

  She laughed then, a light and tinkling sound that he had not heard in some time. Had it truly been that long since they had laughed together? Perhaps it had been. “I said I was sorry.” Then she looked up, her arms looped around his neck though he was not certain when they had come to be there. “What are we doing, Francis? Are we merely giving in to madness or is there truly a worthy purpose behind our actions?”

  He sobered then. “As I said last evening, pet, we need to be certain about this, about us, and a union between us, for there are many obstacles we will need to overcome.”

  “Not the least of which is my father.” Once more Charlotte fought with the urge to confess her sire’s ultimatum but instead remained silent. Now was not the time. Soon. But not just yet.

  “The fact that you can flirt so easily with Lord Snowly tells me that you are also uncertain of something, be it me or your feelings.” Francis stroked her cheek gently with his fingers. “I have an uncertain past, Charlotte. I do not need an uncertain future as well.”

  He could tell she was considering his words as she fingered the lapels of his jacket, though one arm still remained around his neck. He took that as a hopeful sign.

  “And you and Lady Priscilla?” He rather liked the note of jealousy in her tone.

  “The same as you and Lord Snowly. We tease and we flirt, and yes, we might even kiss if we are both agreeable. But make no mistake, Charlotte.” Francis tilted her chin up so that she would be forced to meet his gaze. “While I do like Miss Trew a great deal, I’ve no wish to bed her at present. Unlike you whom I would very much like to fuck right this very moment.”

  The words were hard and crude and very much something that he might have said a year ago when he was still known as Stephen. Before he had discovered he was actually Francis. The heir. The one who had to eventually become responsible for everything Framingham. The man he had once been shouldered no responsibilities. He wanted to be that man again, even if only on occasion. Last night had been a start. Perhaps this was the next logical step.

  Charlotte drew in a sharp breath and Francis prepared himself for another slap. He deserved it after all, after what he’d just said. He shouldn’t have said those words, not to a respectable lady like her. He was pressing her too far, too fast, especially after witnessing the way she had behaved with Snowly earlier.

  Except that she didn’t slap him. Instead, she placed her hand on his cheek and drew her thumb over his lower lip the way a courtesan might. For everything that Charlotte was, Francis very much doubted she was that. He also doubted that she truly understood what she was doing.

  “You have not said such a scandalous thing to me in months,” she whispered as she licked her lips, her gaze almost hungry now. Indicating that she might understand what she was doing after all. “You used to say such things to me all the time.”

  “I thought them. I never stopped. Every time we danced, I thought about doing all manner of wicked things with you, but I was trying to be good and proper.” His voice sounded strangled to his own ears.

  “Why?” Her eyes were bright with curiosity.

  “Because it is expected of me. To do the right thing, because I am the heir. Because now I have a role I am expected to fill.” That much was true, but there were so many more reasons.

  Charlotte bit her lip, her fingers still caressing his face. “You should have said those things to me anyway. All of them, no matter how wicked. I would have liked to hear them.”

  “I agree. I should have. I was remiss.” Francis reached between them, his hand on her hip, his fingers stroking the unprotected area of skin between her corset and her petticoats.

  He wanted to say more, but he didn’t. Francis was well aware that not so long ago, the woman currently in his arms had been laughing in adoration at Snowly. She was confused. He himself had made her that way, at least in part, and in truth, passion had never been the problem betw
een them. It might have cooled a bit over time, but it was always there. No, the problems between them ran deeper and had begun the moment they stopped entrusting each other with their secrets.

  Francis couldn’t fix that, at least not now. Nor could he fix those issues unless Charlotte wished them to be fixed, and he had the feeling she hadn’t decided what she wanted yet.

  However, he could make her remember how it used to be, back in the beginning before things became so complicated. Back when they had been able to sneak off to private corners at balls without every pair of eyes in the room following them. Back before he became Underhill and something of a walking scandal. He could do that now, provided she didn’t slap him again.

  Leaning down, Francis nuzzled her throat. “So I am saying such things again. Now. I want you, Charlotte, and I mean to have you. I want you in my bed, my body inside of yours, releasing as you cry out with desire for more. I will give you just a taste for now but understand that I want more from you. I always have.”

  Then before she could respond, he seized her lips in another passionate kiss and this time, he did not allow her even a moment to come up for breath. When she responded by wrapping her arms around his neck once more, he slowly walked them backward toward a second hedgerow. Having been out exploring the garden earlier, he knew they weren’t far from a more secluded area of the garden – one with a peculiarly vacant patch of grass. He hadn’t been out that morning seeking out such a place, but having the knowledge did not hurt.

  “Francis. Please,” Charlotte whimpered as he moved them effortlessly through the garden maze. She had no idea quite what she was asking for because she’d no wish to lose her innocence. However, she needed something from this man. Something she believed only he could provide.