The School for Heiresses: 'Wed Him Before You Bed Him

by Sabrina Jeffries

  “Because I want you as a wife, not a mistress.” He covered her hands with his. “I don’t want us having to go sneaking around,” he said, hunting for something, anything, that would keep her from shutting him out. “I don’t want to be constantly worrying about your reputation and your position, afraid to show people that we belong to each other.”

  “Tell me something, David.” Her eyes shone up at him, awash with tears. “Do you love me?”

  The question rocked him. How could he tell her that he’d given up on love the day she’d sent that letter?

  At his hesitation, she murmured, “I thought so,” and tried to pull away.

  He caught her before she could. “Surely you don’t believe in love anymore, either. Love is for the young. They have the stamina to endure the wild fury of such nonsensical emotions. Mature people like us, with years of experience—”

  “We are not that old, David.”

  “You’re the one who said thirty-six was old to be having children.” He glared at her. “I would say it’s definitely too old to be countenancing a foolish idea like romantic love. People our age don’t marry for love.”

  She gazed solemnly at him. “Then what do they marry for?”

  “For companionship. For…mutual respect, admiration, affection.” He kissed her hands. “And desire. Surely that is all any marriage needs.”

  “I married without love once,” she said gently. “I have no need to do so again. If I am to consider giving up everything I have worked for, it will have to be for something more than conversation and companionship.”

  “Are you saying that you’re in love with me?” he asked bluntly.

  Drawing away from him, she folded her arms about her waist. “I…I honestly do not know. I am not sure I am even capable of the sort of love a woman should have for a husband.”

  For some reason, that thought disturbed him. He didn’t want to examine too closely why that was. “Then love is not a consideration at all.”

  “It is if you are still in love with your wife.”

  “Sarah?” he said, incredulous. “She and I were never in love. Our marriage was barely more than a business transaction. You know that. She never pretended to love me, never said she wanted my love. As long as I agreed to bring her into the social sphere she aspired to join, she was content.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  He caught his breath, remembering Sarah’s suicide note. Anger surged in him, the same anger that had clawed at him since the day she’d died. “If she wasn’t content, it wasn’t my fault.”

  “I did not say it was,” Charlotte told him softly.

  But he saw only the words of that damned note: I can no longer endure this intolerable life.

  “I did everything I could to make her happy.” He knew they sounded like empty excuses, yet he felt compelled to defend himself. “She was the one who refused to accompany me anywhere that didn’t improve her status, and she was the one who showed no interest in making our marriage anything but a cold and formal union. She was the one who denied me her bed.”

  “You didn’t…the two of you didn’t…”

  He winced. He hadn’t meant to reveal such a personal thing, but it was probably best that she know how empty his marriage had been. “Not in the last few years. After she miscarried twice, she said she wasn’t going through that ‘nonsense’ again, even though the physician told us there was no reason to believe she couldn’t bear a child.”

  Spearing his fingers through his hair, he stared past her into the fire. “It wasn’t like it is with you and me. I couldn’t even talk to her, for God’s sake. If I’d realized when I courted her that she had so little to commend her beyond her pretty face, I never would have—” He broke off, guilt swamping him anew. “But then, as you once remarked, I always was inordinately fond of a pretty face.”

  “Shh,” she said, touching a finger to his lips. “I never meant to rouse your guilt over marrying Sarah. I should not have said what I did earlier. I know you were caught between a rock and a hard place.” She gave him a shaky smile. “Amelia would undoubtedly have suited you better. It was not your fault that she had another sort of man in mind.”

  Catching her hand, he pressed a kiss into the palm. “But it was my fault that I let the one woman I should have married slip away. I should have come after you instead of nursing my hurt pride.” He stared at her, frustration welling up in him again. “So now you mean to make me pay for that by refusing to marry me.”

  “No! If I made you pay, I would have to make myself pay, as well. I was ten times more guilty for what happened than you.” She cupped his cheek. “I’m refusing to marry you because you do not know what you want right now. You are still in mourning, and being alone frightens you.”

  Tugging free of him, she headed to where her gown lay on the floor. “I understand that—I went through it myself. But after you have been alone for a while, the world becomes clearer. You start to figure out what really matters to you. Only then is it safe for you to make important decisions about your life and future.”

  She picked up her gown and cast him a pitying smile that grated on him. “Why do you think the mourning period is so long? Because it takes that much time to sort through everything.”

  He stalked toward her. Jerking the gown from her fingers, he tossed it aside. “I don’t need to sort through anything, damn it. I know what I want. I want you.”

  “Fine. In six months, if you still feel—”

  “Six more months won’t change what I want,” he growled.

  “We shall see,” she said, with another of those gentle smiles, and turned away.

  He caught her shoulders in his hands, forcing her to face him. “So a lover is all you desire, is that it?”

  She fixed her gaze somewhere in the vicinity of his neck. “For now.”

  She might think she had her life in order, that she knew exactly what she wanted—but the way she’d shattered when he’d made love to her showed she wasn’t nearly as settled as she pretended. She was just afraid to trust him, to trust this.

  And perhaps with good reason, given their past. So he would have to beat down her wall of uncertainty and fear. And he could think of only one way to do that.

  “Very well,” he said tightly. “Then for now, your lover is asking you to spend the rest of the day with him. We haven’t even eaten yet.” He nodded toward the picnic basket.

  “I…I really should get back.”

  “I don’t see why,” he said, emboldened by her skittishness. She knew exactly how susceptible she was to him, and Charlotte was very good at running away from what she feared.

  “My servants will wonder where I—”

  He cut her off with a kiss, reveling when she not only responded but let him deepen it. Skimming his hands down to her sweet behind, he dragged her against his burgeoning erection, rubbing against her.

  Only when she slipped her arms about his waist did he tear his mouth from hers to press it against her ear. “I want you again, sweeting.”

  She gave a dazed laugh. “I can tell.”

  “So,” he murmured, “do you really have to go…just yet?” He sucked at the tender skin of her neck as he fondled one of her breasts.

  Her breathing grew uneven. “Mmm…perhaps…I could stay…awhile…longer.”

  “Good.” He tugged her toward the pallet. “You haven’t even seen the house, after all.”

  “That’s true,” she choked out, her hands now locked on his behind so that they were sliding against each other in a fever. “It would be a shame to…come all this way…and not…see it.”

  “Quite a shame,” he rasped, then tumbled her down onto the pallet.

  But as he shed his drawers and drew up her chemise, he knew that this was only a reprieve. He could not keep her in bed indefinitely. Soon he would have to press the issue of marriage again.

  And if she thought he would wait six months to make her his wife, she was mad.

  Chapter Sev
enteen

  As they drove away from Lord Stoneville’s house, Charlotte noted how low the sun was in the sky. The only one who knew exactly where they had been all day was David’s tiger, and David had assured her that the lad could be trusted to keep quiet.

  But she would still have a hard time explaining why she had been gone so long without revealing that she and David had been looking at properties. She did not want her staff to know about the possible move just yet.

  On the other hand, she did not want them guessing what she and David had spent most of the day doing.

  A delicious shiver ran down her spine. She had certainly chosen her lover well. Their second time had been even better than the first. He had taken his time, kissing every inch of her body and bringing her to the edge again and again, before finally joining her in a release so explosive it had hardly seemed real.

  Then they had eaten the lavish picnic lunch he had brought, all of it food fit for a queen. She smiled to herself. David certainly knew how to spoil a woman.

  When they were done eating, they had toured the property, but she scarcely remembered it. Between their sweet kisses and caresses, it was hard to pay attention. And though the stables had been as impressive as he had promised, all she remembered of them was David’s taking her again, hard and fast in the hay.

  “So what did you think?” David asked in a husky voice.

  She blinked at him. “I cannot believe you are asking that. Do you really need to know?”

  “Well, yes.”

  Trying not to blush, she stared at the road and kept her voice low so his tiger wouldn’t hear. “Surely you are well aware of how masterful a lover you are. I think the number of times I…you know…ought to have shown you that.”

  He burst into laughter. “I meant, what did you think of the house?”

  “Oh.” Heat rose in her cheeks. “This is certainly embarrassing.”

  “Not for me,” he said, chuckling, then bent close. “You were rather magnificent yourself. In fact, I believe I shall tell Stoneville that I’ll need to visit his property again.” His gaze drifted down to her bosom. “That I did not have a chance to view its beauties to my full satisfaction.”

  “You would deceive your friend just so you and I…so we…”

  “Absolutely. Stoneville goes to Tattersall’s on Tuesdays. Is Tuesday good for you?”

  She eyed him askance. “You are very wicked, Lord Kirkwood.”

  “I certainly hope to be on Tuesday,” he said in that seductive tone that thrummed along her senses.

  They rode awhile in silence. Then he leaned over to whisper, “So I’m a masterful lover, am I?”

  With a glance back at the tiger, she hissed, “Behave yourself.”

  “Too late for that.” He pressed his mouth against her ear. “Tell me, sweeting, how do I compare to your other lovers?”

  She rolled her eyes. Men could be so ridiculously competitive. “What other lovers?” she said in an undertone. “Aside from my husband, there have been no others. Now will you please pay attention to the road, before we end up in the ditch?”

  Grinning, he moved back. “I’m the only one since Harris, eh? Interesting.”

  She would dearly love to know why he found that so interesting. But she wasn’t about to ask with a young lad sitting a mere foot behind them, even if he probably couldn’t hear a word over the wind and the horses’ hooves.

  “So what did you think of Stoneville’s property?” David asked after a moment.

  She tried to recall what she’d seen of the building, but all she could think was that it was an excellent place for lovemaking. “It is certainly large enough. Though I did notice an odd chemical smell in one room…”

  “Probably the one where he used to have his nitrous oxide parties.”

  Lord Stoneville was known for his wild affairs where his friends imbibed the intoxicating gas for pleasure. “That was the house? Good Lord, I never would have guessed.” She slanted a glance at him. “Did you ever go?”

  “To his parties? Once or twice. Why?”

  A sudden chill snaked down her spine. Last year, Cousin Michael had written to warn her about one of her teacher’s scandalous participation in a nitrous oxide party at Stoneville’s. “Were you at the affair that Anthony and Madeline attended together?”

  Flicking the reins to send the horses into a trot, he frowned. “They went to one of Stoneville’s parties? Really? I can see Anthony doing that, but it doesn’t seem like something his wife would do.”

  His surprise seemed genuine. She released a breath. What was she thinking? She had already decided that David could not be Cousin Michael. And surely if he were, he would have told her by now. “I know. It was very odd. It was before they were married, too.”

  “Ah.”

  They fell silent. There was something so comfortable about sitting here beside him, watching him tool his phaeton expertly. She still could not believe he had proposed marriage. If anything convinced her that he had put the past behind them, it was that.

  Was she being silly to refuse him? To insist that she be allowed to continue with the school?

  Perhaps. Yet the thought of becoming nothing more than an ornament in his life, of having no place of her own and no destiny beyond that of fulfilling societal obligations, terrified her. Mama had let such obligations drain the life from her in her efforts to please her cruel husband. And though David was as different from Papa as a man could be, he was still a man, still used to being in control of everything and everyone in his domain.

  Charlotte couldn’t help remembering Sarah’s complaints about his fierce control over her money. Granted, he’d had good reason with Sarah, but still…Did Charlotte really want to give up her independence to him? Even a benevolent dictator was still a dictator, after all.

  And the problem of children was insurmountable. He’d said he did not care if she bore him an heir, but he’d lied. She was fairly certain of that.

  “Blast!” David said out of the blue.

  “What is it?”

  “I took the more direct route from Acton to Richmond. I wasn’t thinking. Now we’ll have to cross the Thames by ferry.”

  “By ferry,” she repeated in a hollow voice. She’d be in a boat, with horses and a carriage. Lord save her.

  “I’ll turn around. We’ll go back the way we came. It’s a little longer, but—”

  “No, it is far too late in the day as it is. We can go by ferry. I will be fine.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She nodded and forced a smile.

  But as they approached the Thames and she began hearing the rushing waters, her heart’s pace trebled. She had seen the river ferries. They were none too secure. What if the horses panicked? Or God forbid, what if the ferry capsized, and she was trapped beneath it? It could happen. Stories of that sort of accident appeared in the papers all the time…

  “We’ll go the other way.” David wheeled the phaeton around.

  “What? Why?”

  He grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “Your skin is like ice, you’re shaking violently, and you’ve lost all color. I’m not putting you through that when it will only take us another thirty minutes to go to Kew Bridge.”

  She tried futilely to hide her sigh of relief. “Do you mind very much?”

  “Not a bit.” He twined his fingers with hers. “How can I mind spending more time with you?”

  A lump stuck in her throat. When he was being like this, the idea of marriage to him did not seem quite so daunting.

  Those who knew of her fear of water generally ignored it or tried to jolly her out of it. Not David. He accommodated her, treated her with care. How many men would do that?

  By the time they reached the school, she was beginning to wonder if she had been too hasty in refusing his offer of marriage. She had treated him with cruelty years ago, yet instead of seeking to hurt her for it, he had come back to her. That was unfathomable. What man behaved in such a manner?

  The sun
was sinking low when they pulled up in front to find a carriage waiting in the drive. She recognized it even before a man came down the steps to meet them.

  Mr. Pritchard. And he was scowling. That could not be good.

  “Been for a little drive, have you, Mrs. Harris?” he said with a vulgar leer as David helped her alight.

  David’s hand squeezed hers before he released it, probably warning her to watch her tongue.

  She didn’t need the warning when it came to Pritchard. “What do you want?” she asked bluntly.

  Mr. Pritchard’s gaze narrowed. “I want you to stay out of my business. As a result of your meddling with Watson this morning, he began reconsidering his decision to purchase Rockhurst from me.”

  “Good.” The pressure on her chest from the past few days eased a bit.

  “Oh, don’t worry—I convinced him that he would be a fool to pass up this chance. But if I ever hear again that you’re interfering in my business affairs…” He paused to look pointedly at David. “You will both come to regret it.”

  “How dare you!” she cried. “Lord Kirkwood has nothing to do with this. If you have a problem with how I run my affairs, you talk to me.”

  “Charlotte,” David bit out, “why don’t you go inside, so I can speak to Mr. Pritchard alone?”

  “Absolutely not! This is my school, and I will handle its problems.”

  Mr. Pritchard ignored her to focus on David. “You’ll keep her away from my business partner, if you know what’s good for you.”

  To her shock, David said, “I’ll do my best. As long as you stay away from her.”

  “Gladly.” As Mr. Pritchard strode off and got into his carriage, Charlotte gaped at David, appalled. “You presume too much, sir,” she hissed as Mr. Pritchard’s carriage pulled off.

  “You leave me no choice.” Glancing up to where the servants stood watching the confrontation, David grabbed her by the arm, then propelled her down the drive and into the garden as if she were some child to be reasoned with.