While David was still reeling from that piece of information, she turned to fix him with a tormented gaze. “That is how Charles and I became friends. In time, I revealed my part in the matter. And that my letter had never been meant to be anything but private.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I swear it is the truth. It was supposed to go to your town house. The boy who took it brought it to the papers. I never knew why or how.”
David could only stare at her, words failing him. That piece of the puzzle had never made sense—how she could be so vicious as to smear his name publicly. And to hear that it was an accident only increased the knot of guilt in the pit of his stomach.
“So you see,” she went on, “Charles knows everything about us.”
“Apparently so,” David choked out.
“And he suggested that perhaps you…insinuated yourself into this situation because you wish to gain control of it. Because you wish to destroy everything I have worked for.” She dropped her gaze. “He had a notion that, well, this legacy is your revenge for what I did to you.”
“Revenge?” he echoed hollowly. She was a little late to accuse him; the irony of it was too painful for words.
Except she hadn’t dreamed up this “notion” Godwin had. That ignited his already simmering temper to a roaring flame.
He strode toward her. “You think I would wait eighteen years until my wife happened to commit suicide, and then concoct an elaborate scheme using my late wife’s money to revenge myself on you?”
“I-I didn’t say I agreed with him,” she retorted, nervously backing away.
“You didn’t say you didn’t, either.” He grabbed her arms, drawing her close to stare down into her face. “Trust me, Charlotte, if I’d wanted revenge against you, I would have taken it years ago.” As he very nearly had.
“That is exactly what I told Charles,” she said evenly.
He blinked at her. “So why bring it up?”
Her eyes met his, as blue as a thousand summer skies. “To see what you would say to it.”
Her breath was uneven, her face alight with an expression that was painfully familiar. And suddenly he was tired of the dancing around, the parsing of their past, the evasions that seemed to fill Charlotte’s life these days.
It was time to cut through the nonsense. Especially when he had her this close to being in his arms again. “If I’d wanted revenge,” he rasped, letting his gaze drop to her mouth, “I would have done something more direct. More personal.”
She swallowed hard. “Like what?” she whispered.
He caught her head in his hands. “Like this,” he growled. Then he covered her mouth with his.
For a moment she froze, her lips trembling beneath his. Then, to his shock, she parted them ever so slightly. And he knew she wouldn’t resist him.
It was like going home. Only he was older, so the home-coming was sweeter.
Fire erupted between them, so intense he thought it might singe them. His hands were instantly in her hair to hold her still for a kiss that was too hard and hungry to be cautious, and she was meeting his mouth with an eagerness that matched his own.
He thrust his tongue deep inside her welcoming warmth, and she thrust back, tangling hers with his as if she could not get enough.
God knows he couldn’t. For eighteen years he’d imagined kissing her again, and the pent-up need was more than he could control. He hadn’t intended this, but by God, he would take it.
Chapter Ten
Charlotte was incapable of thought or breath. She knew only one thing—David was kissing her as if they had never been apart.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew this was unwise for so many reasons. But right now all the defenses against men that she had nurtured so carefully for over a decade had gone into hiding. She was too lost in the excitement of being held by him again to think of caution.
It was both a feast and a torment to have him kissing and touching her. He tasted of peppermint drops and smelled of the same spicy cologne he used to wear—a blend of rosemary and wine. It was all so enticingly familiar.
“Ah, Charlotte,” he whispered against her lips before dragging his mouth down her jaw to her neck, “it’s been too long.”
Far too long. “This isn’t much…of a revenge…if you ask me,” she choked out. His lips found the hollow of her throat and played there briefly before heading lower.
“I’m only getting started.”
His husky words sent an errant thrill through her, especially when he dropped onto the nearby settee and tugged her astride his lap.
Shocked, she reared back to press her hands against his chest. “My word, David!”
“Shh, sweeting,” he breathed as he gripped her thighs through her rucked-up skirts. Bending forward, he branded her neck with warm kisses. “Let me finish my revenge.”
Her hands stilled on his chest. Sweeting. No one else ever called her that. It swept her back to the heady kisses of her youth, to the way he used to make her feel every time he entered a room, to the last time he had kissed her so fiercely.
Only half-conscious of what she was doing, she slipped her arms about his neck, making no protest as he yanked her fichu free.
While his mouth did hot, devilish things to her throat, his hands lowered her bodice and loosened her chemise. She clung to his neck, heedless of anything but a mindless need to have his wicked mouth on her breast. And when at last it was there, she let out a moan that had him lifting his other hand to tease her other breast.
How could she have forgotten what it was like to have a man touch her, fondle her? And for it to be David…it seemed too incredible to fathom. He sucked hard on one nipple while he thumbed the other, his free hand slipping under her skirts to caress the stretch of bare thigh above her garters.
She felt his arousal swell against her privates, even through the kerseymere of his trousers. “You know,” she gasped, “Charles had…another theory about you and your part in this…legacy.”
“Do tell,” he growled, then lightly scraped her nipple with his teeth, sending a white-hot surge of heat down her spine.
“He said you might…have manipulated it so you could take up…where we left off eighteen…years ago.”
David’s hand hesitated in its journey up her thigh. “And what did you say to that?”
“That he was mad.”
He lifted his head, his heated gaze locking with hers. “Clearly not as mad as you thought.”
Before she could react to that astonishing statement, he was kissing her again, one hand fondling her breast as the other edged beneath her skirts toward the part of her that burned to be touched by him.
A knock came at the door.
They both froze. As she drew back, the awareness of where she was and what she was doing crashed into her mind, uprooting her from her pleasure.
David stared at her with a darkening gaze. “Ignore it,” he breathed. “They’ll go away.”
Unfortunately, she knew better. Pushing free of his hands, she stood and began frantically to repair her clothing. “Yes?” she called out. “What is it?”
Everyone in the school knew not to intrude upon her private sitting room without being invited, but this was still madness. The door was not even locked!
“The new applicants for dancing master are arriving, madam,” Terence said.
She walked close to the door. “Tell them I will be with them shortly,” she ordered, praying that her voice did not betray her agitated state.
“Very good, madam.”
As Terence’s footsteps faded she fought for calm, beating down the arousal that still inflamed her senses. Then with a shuddering breath, she turned to David, who was already rising from the settee, his gaze intent on her.
“Forgive me,” she said shakily, not ready to even think about what they had been doing, much less talk about it. “We lost our dancing master a week ago, and I have to attend to the matter.”
“Of course,” he said smoothly. “I und
erstand completely.”
She blinked. That was not the response she had expected. “You do?”
“Certainly.” He drew out his pocket watch. “That should take, what? Two hours? Three? I’ll use the opportunity to get a good look at the school, so I’ll know what sort of property you might consider adequate.”
“But you should not…you must not…” she sputtered.
“Don’t worry about me,” he said with a wave of his hand. “I’m sure I can find my way around perfectly well until you’re done.”
A decidedly feminine panic seized her. “You do not mean to hang about while I am occupied elsewhere!”
His eyes locked with hers. “Why not?”
“Because you cannot wander my girls’ school on your own,” she said firmly.
“So let that fierce footman of yours accompany me.”
She thrust out her chin. “I cannot spare Terence just now.”
One of his eyebrows arched upward. “Then it looks as if I’ll be wandering on my own, doesn’t it?”
“That is not acceptable.”
“Don’t you trust me around your girls, Charlotte?” he asked softly.
It was not her girls she was worried about. “It has nothing to do with them.”
“Then what?”
As if he didn’t know. Whenever he got near her, funny things happened to her insides, and she feared that if he stayed around until they could be alone again, the two of them might progress beyond kissing and touching.
She was not ready for that. It had taken her years to repair her damaged life, years to feel secure and settled. And if those years had sometimes been lonely, it had not mattered because she was safe. For the first time ever, she had felt safe.
Until Pritchard had begun trying to make his property commercially viable in a way that was sure to damage her school. And now David had marched back into her life, stirring up old feelings, making her want to toss everything aside just to be in his arms again.
It was not to be borne!
“I am concerned about how other people will see your presence here.”
“Probably the same way they see Godwin’s. They’ll think I’m a friend to the school.” A sudden devilish glint lit his gaze. “Or they’ll assume that I’m waiting around for Mrs. Harris to let me make wild, passionate love to her on her settee.”
Alarm swelled in her chest. “Now see here, you cannot—”
“I’m teasing you.” His eyes searched her face. “Does no one ever tease you?”
The question brought her up short. Godwin was too serious for such, and the teachers were too cognizant of her role as their employer. Cousin Michael had teased her, but then he had abandoned her. The way David would abandon her when times grew hard.
“Actually…most people are too circumspect for that.”
“Have you grown so formidable, then?”
She forced a smile. “I hope not.”
“Because you look as if you could use amusement these days.”
“And I suppose you mean to give it to me?” she said sharply, the words leaving her mouth before she could stop them.
His brow lowered in a frown. “I’ll tell you what I don’t mean to do. I don’t mean to ignore the fact that we were wrapped in each other’s arms a few minutes ago.” He approached her with determined steps. “I won’t act as if there’s nothing between us, when I know you enjoyed every kiss and caress as much as I did.” He halted within easy reach of her. “And I sure as hell don’t mean to leave here without resolving a few matters.”
“Such as?” She stared him down, determined not to let his height and sheer masculine energy cow her.
“Do you intend to accept the legacy?”
“Do you intend to seduce me?” If he could be direct, so could she.
A strange wariness came over his face. “Seduction implies an unequal division of power. I have no desire to play that game with you.” He came close enough that she could smell the peppermint on his breath. “If we share a bed, sweeting, it will be because of a mutual desire. That I can promise you.”
“I cannot share your bed.”
He lowered his voice to that erotic thrum that had always sent her senses aflame. “Afraid of getting too close to me again?”
“Afraid of losing all I have worked for,” she countered.
A muscle flicked in his jaw. “Despite what Godwin claims, I have no intention of destroying your school.”
“That is not what I meant,” she said hastily. She stepped away, needing to compose herself, which was impossible with him looming over her. “But you do not have the same stake in it that I do. You have not spent years developing its reputation, coaxing students here, placating parents.”
She thrust out her chin. “I am proud of what I have done, and I do not mean to throw it away on a fleeting pleasure.” When his eyes glittered at that, she added, “The reputation of this institution lies on my shoulders, and with matters so shaky just now, I dare not do anything to ruin it. It would be scandalous if people thought that you and I were…well…”
“Yes,” he bit out, “I suppose it would.” He was silent a long moment. “But since I have made it clear that I have no intention of forcing any ‘fleeting pleasure’ on you, you have naught to fear from me. So you have no reason to refuse the legacy.”
She could scarcely suppress a laugh. Naught to fear? Only the constant temptation he offered to touch him, to confide in him, to lean on him. She was not even sure she could trust him, for God’s sake! How could she be sure she wasn’t making a huge mistake by letting him this close?
But what choice did she have? “If I accept the legacy, that does not mean I accept the necessity for moving the school.”
“I understand,” he said blandly. “You still wish to write your benefactor about buying this property.”
“Actually, I already have. I hope to hear from him shortly.”
“In the meantime, why not look at other properties?” He removed a paper from his coat pocket. “I have a list of available ones right here. Once you’ve finished your interviews, we can go look at them. While awaiting your leisure, I’ll tour the school.”
She faced him with an arch glance. “That should be a unique experience for you, awaiting a woman’s leisure.”
“Dangerous perhaps, but not unique. I did it once before.” His eyes bore into hers. “It proved the biggest mistake of my life.”
She sucked in a breath, remembering the last time they had been together in their youth, when she had asked him to wait for her answer to his proposal.
Deliberately she pretended not to know what he meant. “Then perhaps you should not await my leisure. I would hate to disappoint you. You could always return this afternoon.”
“And risk finding the place barred to me? Not a chance.”
A thin smile touched her lips. “I would never do anything so silly.”
“Good. Because it won’t keep me away.”
When he followed those words with a look of raw hunger that set her every nerve afire, she knew his persistence had nothing to do with the legacy and everything to do with her.
And she couldn’t decide how she felt about that. “I really must go,” she murmured. “I do have to conduct these interviews.”
“Of course.” He bowed. “Until later.”
Just as she opened the door, he said, “There’s one thing you should be aware of. It was not me you saw kissing Molly that last night of your visit.”
Pausing in the doorway, she cast him a long look over her shoulder. “I know,” she said simply.
Then she left.
Chapter Eleven
David stared, frozen in disbelief, as Charlotte waltzed out the door. She knew? How had she found out? When had she found out, for God’s sake? He’d learned of it himself only eight years ago, after Father’s suicide.
Faced with the stark knowledge of why their father had killed himself, he and Giles had drunk an inordinate amount of whisky one night. S
omehow their talk had turned to women, to the fact that marrying an heiress would solve David’s problem of how to cover the massive debts Father had left behind. Mention of heiresses had led to a discussion of Charlotte, and Giles had admitted that he’d often wondered if Charlotte had seen him with Molly, wearing David’s robe.
When it had dawned on David that it was very likely, he’d taken out his anger on his brother. The two of them had engaged in a drunken brawl, and for a while they’d stopped speaking entirely.
But in time he’d had to acknowledge that it was himself he was angry at, for not examining the situation more, for not forcing her to tell him what had happened. By then he’d already been corresponding with Charlotte as Cousin Michael for a few years, and had realized the value of what he’d thrown away too easily.
What if he had gone to her after Giles had told him the truth? What if he had said to hell with the world and married her instead of Sarah?
He ran his fingers through his hair. His family would have lost most of their property. His sisters would not now be in good marriages; Giles would not be a respected barrister. And Charlotte would have been forced to support him with the income from her school. It would have been intolerable.
But he would not now be regretting so many things. Like the fact that he wanted Charlotte and she didn’t want him. Or was afraid to want him.
He swore under his breath. It had been heaven to hold her and kiss her, but hell to watch her put him aside. He was sure she had felt the same pull as he. They’d been halfway to doing the deed when they’d been interrupted.
Still aroused, he paced the room. What was he to do about this…this unwise attraction between them, this palpable yearning that clogged his throat even now? He couldn’t be near her without wanting to make her his. And she clearly had no intention of letting him.
“Beg pardon, my lord,” said a voice from the door, “but Mrs. Harris has asked me to give you a tour of the school. I understand you have a friend who wants to enroll his daughter?”
The School for Heiresses: 'Wed Him Before You Bed Him Page 12
