“Here.” Laughing, Charlotte lifted her arms high over her head and he was able to whisk the offending garment off. It fluttered to the floor, landing on top of the wrapper she had shrugged out of when he pulled her down on top of him. She remained above him now, a titian haired siren with the body of a goddess. Her smile turned shy as he devoured her with his gaze and she started to raise her arms to cover her exposed breasts, but he stopped her with a desperate shake of his head.
“No,” he said hoarsely. He wanted to say more. He wanted to tell her how beautiful she was. He wanted to let her know how much he ached for her. How he had always ached for her. But he couldn’t, because words were impossible. There was only touch and taste and taking. Nothing more. Nothing less.
She writhed against him as he suckled one breast, then the other. Her breaths came in short little pants of delight that only served to heighten his desire. When her fingers plucked inexpertly at the stays of his breeches he lifted his hips off the lounge and helped her, taking secret pleasure when his cock sprang free and her eyes widened.
“Oh,” she said. “Oh.”
Gently guiding her hand, he wrapped it around the hard, pulsing length of him and closed her fingers. “Touch me.”
Her eyebrows knitted together and she bit her bottom lip in concentration as she allowed her fingers to wander across every inch of him, from the thick base to the rounded tip already damp with his seed. He sucked in a breath when her thumb circled the swollen head and her eyes flew to his. “Does it hurt?”
“It feels like bloody heaven.”
“Will it… Will it hurt me?” she asked hesitantly.
“It will. At first, it will.” And there was nothing on earth he wouldn’t give up to take that pain away.
She nodded, just once. “Thank you.”
His forehead creased. “For what?”
“Being honest with me.”
Emotion swept over Gavin like a wave and he stiffened, automatically tensing to fight against something he did not understand. But Charlotte was there to soothe him, and when she gave a teasing, testing rock of her body against his and he felt the wetness of her entrance against his cock everything else was forgotten.
He allowed her to establish the rhythm between them. She did so in degrees, her fingers curling and tightening in his hair as she took him inside of her inch by slippery inch.
Seeking to distract her from the pain of her virginity he kissed her cheek, her jaw, her ear, her lips. When her movements became more frantic he stroked his hand down the sleek curve of her spine to calm her, but when she took his entire length with one hard thrust of her hips he became just as frantic as she.
Together they moved as one, their bodies sliding and merging, their breaths soft and panting, their eyes glazed with lust and passion.
Instinctively sensing when Charlotte was near her release Gavin guided her over the edge with the aid of his fingers and she sobbed his name into his neck as he quickened his thrusts and mindlessly spent his seed inside of her with a guttural shout of his own.
She collapsed on top of his chest and he held her against him, combing back her hair as he felt her heartbeat slow and her breathing steady. For a long moment they remained entangled in each other’s arms, absorbing what had just occurred and reveling in the sweet aftermath. Of their own accord Gavin’s eyes slid closed, only to open again when he felt Charlotte stir.
She sat up on one elbow. Her cheeks were blooming with color. Her eyes sparkled. She smiled at him and he could not help but smile in response, for she had never looked so beautiful, nor quite so pleased with herself as she now. “Well, she said, arching one brow, “that is certainly one way to start your morning.”
Gavin could not agree more.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
If someone had dared to ask Charlotte where she imagined losing her virginity, she would not have immediately answered with on top of a chaise lounge. However, having done the deed (so to speak) on exactly that, she had no complaints.
If her neck was a bit stiff and the area between her legs sore, well, it was a small price to pay for the mind numbing pleasure she had received.
For one long, luxurious moment she allowed herself to nestle in the nook provided to her by Gavin’s chest and shoulder, inhaling his scent and listening to the steady thump thump thump of his heart. His fingers combed through her tangled curls and she wanted to stretch like a cat into his touch, complete with a bit of purring.
Lifting her chin, she smiled at him and reached out to absently trace the corner of his jaw. He had grown more than few days’ worth of stubble since she saw him last, but she found the dark scruff of beard becoming. “That was wonderful.”
He stared at point on the wall several feet above her head. “Yes.”
“Yes?” Her nose wrinkled. “Is that all you have to say?”
“If you wanted sonnets sung and poetry recited you should have tupped a different man,” he said crudely. “Yes is all you’ll get from the likes of me.”
“I didn’t… I wasn’t… Oh!” She exclaimed in frustration. Sitting up, ignoring the slight pings and pulls in her muscles, she fetched her nightgown from the floor, slipped it on, and jumped to her feet.
Her hair billowed out around her shoulders, a chaotic curly mess that would no doubt take Tabitha hours to tame. Gavin remained stretched out on the lounge with no care for his nudeness.
He watched her silently, his gray eyes shuttered and unreadable, and she wanted to scream. Instead she wound her arms tightly across her chest to hold in the emotions that were threatening to boil over and said, “I guess this changes nothing between us, then.”
“Should it?” His face was as cold and hard as stone.
Where was the man who had just held her so tenderly? The man who had coaxed such mind numbing pleasure from her body? How could he be that man one moment, and this one the next? She wanted to take him by the shoulders and shake some sense into him, but that would most likely only serve to hurt her arms, block headed man that he was. “I do not understand you. Why can you not let yourself be happy?”
“I am happy,” he countered, but Charlotte only shook her head.
“No you’re not. Happiness is the one thing that cannot be bought and measured. You cannot purchase it as you would a carriage or a house. It must from within, from your heart and your soul.”
Gavin’s jaw clenched. “Are you happy?”
“I could be,” she said after she took a moment to ponder the question. “Yes,” she decided with a firm nod, “I very well could be. But not like this. I feel like a bit of rope being tugged back and forth and I fear I am beginning to fray at the ends.”
“Do not be ridiculous,” he scoffed. “You’re not a piece of rope. You’re a woman.”
“Precisely. A woman with hopes and dreams. A woman with feelings.” She bit her lip. “Don’t you feel things, Gavin? Joy, sadness, lov-lust.” She always said ‘love’, but swallowed back the word at the last possible second.
Gavin sat up and yanked on his breeches. “This is why I did not want this to happen,” he muttered, gesturing vaguely towards the lounge before resting his elbows on his knees and directing his gaze to the floorboards. “It complicates things that have no business being complicated.”
“A marriage is supposed to be complicated!” Charlotte cried.
“No,” he said stubbornly, “it is not.”
“Then what is it supposed to be if not complicated and messy and wonderful?” She crouched down in front of him and rested her hands on his knees, squeezing fast until he lifted his head and looked at her. “You have worked hard all of your life and look at what you have now. Imagine if you put even half of that effort into a marriage. Into our marriage. We could be wonderful together, Gavin. I know it.” Please, she thought desperately, please let him see.
For a moment, she thought he did. For a moment, something in his eyes shifted and lightened. For a moment, he looked at her with affection. For a moment, she felt l
oved. Then the moment was gone and he was staring past her as if she did not exist at all.
“If you would excuse me, I have to get dressed. I have meetings to attend.” He stood up, brushing her aside as though she were nothing more than a bothersome gnat.
“Gavin, wait.” She clung to his arm, forcing him to drag her with him as he moved about the study to collect his things. “If you would simply listen to me—”
He stopped so abruptly she stumbled. Closing his hands around her waist he lifted her off the ground as if she weighed no more than a bag of feather down and set her firmly to the side. “You are asking for something I cannot give you. That I do not physically have inside of me to give you.” He hissed out a breath and swept a hand through his hair. “I know what you want. I know what you are asking. Despite my lack of education, I am not a stupid man, Charlotte.”
Her eyes widened. “I never said—”
“I have meetings. I will see you later this evening.”
Stunned into speechlessness, she watched him leave the study.
He did not look back.
A few hours later, bathed and dressed in a violet muslin frock with her hair properly arranged in a tight coiffure, Charlotte prepared to call on Dianna. She had been unusually quiet since her encounter (a good a word to use as any) with Gavin, and not even Tabitha’s sunny chatter could bring her up from the deep melancholy she had sunken into.
She had all but pleaded with Gavin on her knees. It was humiliating.
I am not a stupid man, Charlotte.
She certainly begged to differ.
Gavin may have been a genius when it came to making money, but he was a fool when it came to women. A great brainless boar of a fool and she was done with him completely. Except she wasn’t. How could she be? Even now, when she had every right to hate him, she could barely summon up a trace of annoyance. It was herself she was angry with. She knew it would take time to bring Gavin around and make him realize he needed her every bit as much as she needed him. Yet what did she do? All but pounce on the poor man her first morning back. Pounce on him and then want a declaration of his undying love.
Perhaps she was the stupid one.
The ride to Dianna’s townhouse was mercifully short, giving Charlotte little time to dwell on Gavin. Telling the driver to come around again in an hour, she walked briskly up the stone pathway to the Foxcroft’s front door, but before she could so much as raise her hand to knock the door swung open and Dianna darted out, already wearing a white shawl and matching bonnet that covered her curls and tipped low over her brow.
“Hurry,” she hissed, taking Charlotte’s arm and dragging her back down the steps. “We have to go before Mother sees it is you.”
“What do you mean, she sees it is me? Who else would it be?”
“Dianna, is that you, dear?” Lady Foxcroft’s high pitched voice carried easily out the door and Dianna visibly winced.
“Yes Mother! Miss Felicia is here. We were just heading out.”
“Is her maid with her? You know you need a chaperone.”
Dianna glanced at Charlotte and raised one inquiring brow. Charlotte shrugged and shook her head.
Tabitha had remained at Shire House to begin unpacking the trunks. Now that Charlotte was married she was an acceptable chaperone, something Dianna could have told her mother if she was telling Lady Foxcroft the truth, which it seemed she was not.
“Dianna, what in the world—”
“Hush!” Motioning for Charlotte to stay put, Dianna rushed back up the steps and reappeared a few moments later, looking quite flush in the cheeks. “Come along, before she sees you are not Felicia.”
Charlotte allowed Dianna to pull her across the street and into Hyde Park. They turned onto a secluded walking path lined with trees, one they had used many times before when they wanted to speak in utmost secrecy, and the moment they were out of sight of the long row of townhomes Charlotte dug in her heels and refused to take another step.
“Tell me what all of that was about. Now,” she demanded when Dianna hesitated.
Her blue eyes luminous and filled with worry beneath the curved brim of her bonnet, Dianna twisted her hands together and cried, “Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick that something awful happened to you. I thought you were going to marry Mr. Graystone and come right back to London! Oh, you did marry him, didn’t you? Please tell me you did.”
Yanking off the glove on her left hand, Charlotte waved her fingers in the air, catching the dappled sunlight off her plain gold wedding band. “Yes, Gavin and I are married. We wed at Gretna Green, just as I told you we would. What is all this about? I am sorry I was not back earlier, but there was a carriage accident and then the road was closed and would you please stop pacing? You are making me dizzy.”
Dianna stopped walking, but she could not keep her hands still. They fluttered in the air as she spoke, punctuating each word with little flickers of movement that betrayed how upset she truly was. “It is an all the penny papers. Miss Tinshaw has been writing about it almost exclusively. She’s calling you… Oh, it’s awful! I can’t say it.” She shook her head so vehemently a curl sprang loose. “I simply can’t.”
Miss Tinshaw was the anonymous author behind a gossip column that ran daily in London’s largest newspaper. Charlotte had never paid the column much mind, but she knew for most ladies (and some gentleman) of the ton it was more important to them than the news. Real names were never used, but they were always insinuated and half the fun was in guessing whom all the chatter was about.
She assumed when her marriage to Gavin became public knowledge it might garner a small paragraph in the notorious column; she never imagined it would gain enough attention to earn her own pseudonym. Knowing Miss Tinshaw could be quite cruel when she wanted to be, she inwardly braced herself and said, “Tell me.”
Dianna drew a deep, trembling breath. “She is calling you… ‘The Runaway Duchess’.”
“I quite like the sound of that,” Charlotte decided after she took a moment to think it over. She slipped her glove back on and scratched the tip of her nose. “It makes it all seem so exciting.”
“Exciting?” Dianna said incredulously. “Exciting?! Charlotte, you are in danger of becoming a social pariah! Half of London believes you have run off with a stable hand and the other half fear you are dead! The duke has put out a reward for anyone who has knowledge of your whereabouts and your mother has already come to call on me a dozen times. A dozen times!”
“I am so sorry. I never meant to drag you into the middle of it all. Did you tell her anything?”
“Of course not.” Dianna looked offended that Charlotte would even ask. “I simply kept repeating what we agreed upon before you left: that you spent the night with me, but you left first thing in the morning and I have not heard from you since. Which is true, you know.” Her eyes narrowed. “A letter would have been nice.”
“I sent one, but the post is not the most reliable in Scotland. Or the roads, for that matter,” she mumbled. “If it makes you feel any better, you are the first person I have called upon since my return.”
Dianna lifted her nose in the air. “I had better be.”
They began walking again, arm in arm this time. Birds fluttered overhead, hopping from branch to branch and filling the air with their chirping symphony. From somewhere in the distance came the echo of hoof beats and a muffled shout of laughter; no doubt some young rapscallion racing too fast down the lane.
After spending so much time in Scotland, Charlotte found the city crowded and overwhelming in comparison. Everything seemed louder and faster. The temperature was hotter, the soot filled air more difficult to breath. One day in here and she was already yearning fro the clear blue skies of the country. Part of her wished she and Gavin could have stayed in Scotland forever, where their problems did not seem like real problems and they could forget the rest of the world existed.
Now they were further apart than they’d ever been, she still had to su
mmon the courage to tell her mother she was married, and apparently she also had to invent some wild tale to satisfy the curiosity of the ton in order to prevent herself from being shunned by high society. She sighed. Could nothing in her life ever be simple?
As if Dianna could read her thoughts – which Charlotte often thought she could – the blond tilted her head to the side and asked, “What are you going to tell your mother?”
“The truth, I suppose.”
“And the duke?”
Charlotte’s shoulders stiffened. “I do not owe him one word of explanation.”
“No,” Dianna allowed, “you do not. But what you owe him and what he wants are two entirely different things. He has been like a mad man these past two weeks. Attending nearly every ball in hopes of seeing you, questioning everyone in sight, and putting out one outrageous award after another.”
“It is as though I am a lost puppy.”
“A very expensive lost puppy.” Dianna’s eyes suddenly lit with mischief. “I believe the last reward was listed for one thousand pounds. Do you know how many new dresses that could buy?”
“You are not returning me.”
“Of course not! Although not all of us have rich husbands you know,” she grumbled under her breath, only to smile brightly when Charlotte slanted her a narrow eyed glare. “Oh, do not look at me like that. It was a jest.”
“It was not amusing.”
“Yes it was.” Dianna’s smile turned impish. “You are just grumpy because you have to tell your mother you married a commoner. I cannot say I blame you. In fact, if I were you I would have stayed in Scotland.”
“Brat,” Charlotte said affectionately, bumping her elbow.
They stepped to the side to let a rider pass before they resumed walking. Charlotte nibbled on her bottom lip as she weighed the pros and cons of dampening their reunion with talk of her failing marriage. She doubted Dianna, who had no experience with men to speak of, would be able to offer any sound advice, but she had always found it helpful to discuss her problems aloud, even if a solution did not become readily apparent.
The Runaway Duchess Page 18
