Sylvie Sommerfield - Noah's Woman

by Unknown

  "My, Noah was right. You are a stubborn one."

  "You talked about me?"

  "I tried to dissuade him from inviting you."

  "Why?"

  "I . . . I have my reasons. I love Noah, you know that. And Elizabeth worships him. But sometimes the people we love are forced to do things they normally wouldn't do, or act as friends to people they really detest. Necessity makes strange bedfellows. In London you will have to learn to judge people by different standards than you do now."

  "Including Noah?"

  Before Kathy could answer, both turned at the sound of his voice, much closer than they had thought him to be.

  "Kat?" he said questioningly. If Charity hadn't known better, she'd have thought he had mayhem in mind. "I think Elizabeth needs some attention."

  "Obviously," Kathy said dryly, "she's been in the hands of her uncle again. I'll take care of her right away." Ignoring his steady gaze, she brushed past him.

  There was a long moment of silence before he spoke again.

  "Are you hungry? I think lunch will be ready soon."

  "Yes," Charity replied quietly, but she turned from him so that he could not see her face.

  "Charity," he said softly, "look at me." Obediently she turned to look up at him. "Is something wrong?"

  "No, of course not." Finally she found enough control to smile. It had troubled her to know that Noah was mixed up in something so dark and ominous that his own sister had chosen to warn her. She had begun to hope that Gregory might be mistaken about him.

  They walked back to the house together, each aware that the other was caught up in deep thoughts.

  Lunch was quiet and Charity made tentative friends with Elizabeth. She found her a remarkably bright little girl who held the promise of being even prettier than her mother. Charity was watchful, wracking her brain to find a way to have a convenient accident that would keep her at Whitebriar for the night. But nothing presented itself.

  As the dinner hour came nearer she was becoming desperate, for she had located Noah's study and knew that if she had all night to search, she might be able to find what she was looking for. She wanted it done, and wanted to be away from Noah's penetrating gaze, his heart-melting smile, and his overpowering masculinity, which was playing havoc with her nerves.

  The opportunity came with a severe shock. Defeated in her efforts, Charity had resolved that she would have to try again. Sofia wanted Charity to leave her horse in the stable and have Noah drive her home in the carriage. But the early evening sky was beautiful and Charity insisted the ride back would be pleasant.

  The horses were brought around, warm good-byes were said, and invitations to come soon were offered.

  They had ridden only a short distance when Charity's horse began to shy. It danced and pawed the ground. Noah could see that Charity was shaken.

  ''Charity, tighten your hold on the reins," he said firmly. But she had already begun to panic. She jerked the reins, the mare reared, and with a strangled cry Charity lost her hold completely. She could feel herself falling. She hit the ground with a solid thump and with enough force to stun her.

  But even under these startling circumstances she recognized an opportunity when it was handed to her. She lay still and kept her eyes closed.

  In seconds she felt Noah beside her, lifting her into his arms, cradling her against his chest.

  "Charity!" His voice was shaking. "Charity, sweet Charity," he whispered. She remained still, enjoying the comfort of his strong arms.

  Then she was being lifted, and her head rested against his shoulder as he carried her back to the house.

  Chapter Eight

  Charity warmed to her role by giving a soft moan as she felt Noah lay her gently on a bed. She felt the mattress shift when he sat down beside her and took one of her hands in his.

  She could feel the presence of others and hear whispers which became clearer when they neared the bed.

  "I've sent for the doctor," Sofia said, and Charity felt a touch of guilt when she heard the strain in her voice.

  "And I've sent a servant to bring word to Stafford Hall," Kathy added.

  "Thank you," Noah said, and Charity was shocked. His voice was not that of an unfeeling man. In fact, if she hadn't known better she'd have called it frightened. This supposition was hard to believe and it

  made her open her eyes. She wanted to see his face.

  Noah watched her eyes slowly open and breathed a sigh of relief. He had never felt so shaken in his life, or so helpless as when he'd seen Charity thrown to the ground and lying as still as death. It had come to him like a forceful blow that Charity meant a great deal to him. In fact, he was able to admit, only to himself, that he was falling in love with her. He knew there wasn't anyone in his world who wouldn't be amused by that. The elusive Noah Morgan, caught by the sweet innocence of this young and guileless creature.

  "Charity." Noah's worried gaze held hers. "Are you in any pain?"

  "No, I . . . I think I'm all right."

  "Lie still," he said. "You have no idea if you are hurt. The doctor will be here soon."

  "Noah," she said weakly, "this is a terrible imposition. If you will just supply a carriage to take me home, I'm sure Beth will see to my care."

  "You'll stay right where you are," he replied firmly. "The doctor will look you over, but we insist you stay here at least overnight."

  "Child, it would be foolish to move about too soon," Sofia said. "I have seen such accidents lead to severe problems. You are more than welcome to spend the night. In fact, I must add my insistence to Noah's. I would feel terribly guilty if you moved too soon and some problem should arise."

  "Mother's right," Kathy said. "You've received quite a blow. Such things are hard to judge. Please stay, Charity."

  "You are all very kind," Charity replied.

  But Noah wasn't thinking about kindness. His gaze had never left Charity, and he could not help thinking that the sight of Charity in his bed was a more than welcome one.

  The doctor, an old friend of the family, came a short while later to confer with the entire family.

  "You've been quite shaken," he said, "but I can discern no internal injuries. The blow on the head is the problem, and I don't think you should be up and about at least until tomorrow afternoon."

  "Then that's settled," Noah said. "She stays right here. I'll see that she gets plenty of care."

  The doctor's visit was concluded only minutes before the arrival of a worried and very frightened Beth, whose fears were immediately put to rest.

  Beth intended to hover until she realized that Charity would be much happier if she returned home and left her to her plans.

  Charity laughed in delight when Noah insisted they were all going to have desserts and wine in her room. The evening turned out to be fun, and Beth was the only one who paid attention to the fact that Noah seldom took his eyes from Charity.

  Finally Beth insisted she must go. Sofia agreed that it was time for Charity to get some rest.

  Charity was too tense and excited to do any such thing. She was surprised when she heard a knock on her door and Kathy entered. Over her arm she carried a nightgown.

  "I thought you might need this."

  "You're very kind, thank you."

  "You're quite welcome. I'll see you tomorrow."

  "Good night."

  When Kathy left, Charity rose and picked up what turned out to be a beautiful lavender nightgown, sheer with thin lace straps. Over it went a peignoir of the same color. It was breathtaking.

  When she put it on she felt beautiful. She brushed her hair and waited; she paced the floor and waited. She felt her tension growing and poured a glass of wine to calm herself . . . and waited.

  She had no idea what the family's habits were or when Noah would retire for the night, so she would have to wait until quite late.

  She also knew she was fighting her fear and her attraction to Noah. She needed to keep things in perspective, and she needed to see Noa
h Morgan not as a handsome and charming man, but as a subtle and villainous one who would manipulate other people's lives by blackmail.

  It was two o'clock in the morning before she finally gathered her nerve, blew out the candles, and went to her door. She cracked it open and looked up and down the hall. The house was quiet.

  She drew the door open, slipped into the hall, and closed the door softly behind her. Slowly she made her way down the hall toward the steps, crossing her fingers and hoping the floorboards didn't squeak.

  Her luck held and she reached the top of the steps without a sound, then made her way slowly down. Even in the semidarkness, where the only light was the glow of the moon, Charity had no problem finding her way about. She had carefully memorized where

  every room was. Now all she had to do was to get to the study and search it thoroughly. The packet had to be there; it had to.

  The door to the study seemed a million miles away, but her bare feet were silent and she made her way swiftly toward it. Once inside she breathed a sigh of relief, then one of surprise. The fire in the fireplace was burning and two candles were lit. Obviously the servants had forgotten to extinguish them. She would do it before she left to make certain there were no problems for any of the maids. At least the fireplace was carefully screened.

  She could see clearly enough to recognize what she was looking for when she found it. Gregory had described it to her in minute detail. She couldn't miss it if it was here.

  She went immediately to the desk, which was large and had a number of drawers. She slid the first one open. By the time she got to the last, she was sure of two things. The packet wasn't here, and Noah Morgan was extremely neat and careful.

  She stood for a minute gnawing her lower lip and gazing about her. Where . . . where? As she gazed about she suddenly had the nerve-wracking feeling that the room was occupied. Over a nearby chair hung the same jacket Noah had worn at dinner. On a small table next to a huge wing chair lay an open book and an empty brandy decanter with a glass beside it. Her heart began to pound and her legs grew weak. Noah had not gone to bed! He had been in this room possibly minutes before she had come. She

  could feel his presence everywhere. She started for the door and froze as it slowly opened.

  Noah had found sleep totally impossible. He had lain fully dressed on his bed, tossing and turning and imagining Charity only a few doors away. After a while he couldn't stand it anymore. He'd gotten off his bed and gone down to his study. Perhaps a little work or a good book would settle his mind.

  He tried to make himself comfortable, but Charity's vivid green eyes came between him and the pages of his book. Finally he went to the cabinet and took out the brandy, only to find it was nearly empty. He took the last drink in one gulp and set the empty bottle and glass on the table by his favorite chair. One drink was not going to be enough to wipe her from his mind. Charity . . . a plague. He was angry at himself. With all the danger and intrigue in his life, with the kind of women he found a necessity, he had no room for Charity . . . innocent, sweet Charity! But dammit! He wanted her. He went for another bottle of brandy. In fact he opened it on the way back to his study and took a healthy drink straight from the bottle. If there was no other way to rid himself of this desire for her, perhaps brandy would do it.

  He walked back to his study, bottle in hand. When he opened the door he was stopped by what he was sure was his too vivid imagination, or his deepest and most desirable dream come true.

  She stood between him and the fireplace in a mist of lavender that revealed much more than it concealed. The fire picked up the light of gold in her hair

  and made it look like an ivory gold veil. As a matter of fact, she looked like the most sensual angel anyone could have drawn up from the depths of the imagination. For several seconds neither could move.

  Charity tried to think of some reason why she should be here, but came up with no logical explanation. She could not think of anything except how magnificent he looked and that the warmth in his eyes was doing something to her she found unbelievable.

  He had rolled the sleeves of his shirt above his elbows and opened the neck, making his shoulders appear massive. His dark pants made him look lean, yet tremendously strong. The tan of his skin magnified the blue of his eyes. Eyes that held her mesmerized while he slowly closed the door and walked toward her, the bottle of brandy hanging indolently from his hand.

  Charity could not have moved if her life had depended on it. If she felt that he was a predator it was because she was so obviously his prey.

  When he stopped, he was so close she could feel the warmth of his body. She looked up into his eyes and struggled for something to say that would release her from his relentless magnetism. But he spoke first.

  "Charity." He said her name at the same moment one of the candles sputtered and went out. Charity inhaled a deep breath, but nothing could ease the trembling in her legs or the way her pulse was racing.

  "I'm . . . I . . . ah . . . I couldn't sleep."

  "Nor could I." His voice was velvet smooth and wrapped around her senses like a gentle caress. "How

  beautiful you are." He reached to touch her hair and let his hand roam to her cheek. Had she come to him because she knew and understood this hunger that had been gnawing at his vitals from the moment they met? His heart was beating fiercely. If he had been condemned to death for it, he could not resist holding her for this one perfect moment.

  Slowly, gently, as if the magic of the moment was too fragile to be broken, he spanned her slender waist with one hard-muscled arm and drew her against him. His breath caught when their bodies touched. He, who had bedded the darlings of the court, was shaken by the intensity of the fire that seemed to ignite in his depths.

  Their lips met with a delicate touch, tasting the newness of this heady emotion. Charity felt as if she were clinging to the edge of a chasm, about to fall into oblivion. She clung to Noah because he was the only stable thing in a world rapidly spinning out of control.

  Lightly his tongue found the sensitive corners of her mouth and traced their softness, and the pleasure filled him to capacity when her lips parted to accept his. With slow, torturous deliberation he let the kiss grow deeper and deeper until he was drinking in her sweetness as his tongue dueled with hers.

  She was bound to him in a prison in which she'd lost the will to escape.

  Charity's mind was clamoring a warning, but her senses were drowning it out. This was wrong, it shouted . . . but she had never felt so wonderfully womanly before. This was not Gregory! The deceitful

  voice whispered that Gregory had never made her feel this way.

  When his mouth left hers, both were breathing heavily and Charity felt bereft of his delicious warmth. Then she gasped and her eyes closed as he traced heated kisses down her slender throat.

  Oh God, she thought. If she surrendered, as she desperately wanted to, what would this make her? She couldn't carry deception this far. She could not allow herself to be seduced by a man she knew would discard her at the first opportunity.

  She forced herself to remember all that Gregory had told her about how expert Noah Morgan was at getting what he wanted.

  "Noah . . . Noah . . . no, please." She pressed her hands against his chest in what would have been a futile struggle had she been any other woman. Had she been any other woman, Noah would have known her resistance was a way to draw him on. But when he looked down into Charity's eyes, his heart saw otherwise.

  What he thought he saw was pure virginal panic, and the realization struck him with jarring force. He was about to take the woman he was coming to love, on the floor like a bought whore. The thought was chilling enough to stop him in his tracks. Grimly he fought for a way to rein in passion that had nearly raged out of control.

  Her eyes were wide and glazed with unshed tears. He could feel her body trembling through his fingertips. Her cheeks were flushed, and her mouth was full

  and moist from his kisses. His voice was thick an
d shaky even to his own ears.

  ''Charity . . . I'm sorry. It's just . . ." He inhaled a deep breath and slowly released her.

  Charity could feel the emptiness as soon as he let her go, and wanted nothing more than to step back into the warmth and strength of his arms.

  She looked up into the ocean blue depths of his eyes, and a wave of guilt washed over her. She had allowed this to happen on purpose and now she was caught in her own dilemma. She didn't want to want him, didn't want the taste of him to linger on her lips, nor the feel of his hard body to remain imprinted on hers. She had come to take something from him and had not planned on the possibility of leaving something behind.

  "Noah . . . I must go back upstairs. What if someone should find me here like this?" Her cheeks grew even more flushed at the thought.

  "What are you doing here?"

  "I told you. I couldn't sleep."

  Without a word Noah took her hand and drew her with him toward the fire. He stopped by the table and poured two glasses of brandy. He handed one to Charity, who took it almost reflexively. Then he set the bottle aside and took the other glass of brandy. He turned to face her.

  "Perhaps a little brandy would help." He touched his glass lightly to hers.

  She drank a sip and watched him over the rim of the glass. She realized then that he wore an almost

  puzzled expression. He set his empty glass aside and took one of her hands in his.

  Charity held her glass in trembling fingers. She did not need brandy; her blood was heated enough, and she needed nothing to make her more aware of Noah than she already was. But she held the glass as if it were an effective barrier between them.

  "I'm glad you came down. I'd been thinking of you." His voice was as warm as the brandy. "Charity, the truth is, I've been thinking of nothing but you since the night of the ball."