Charlotte gaped at him. She couldn’t believe what he was saying. She couldn’t believe any of this. “How can it be mine legally if the will is not?”
“It’s my own money. Out of my own investments.” His gaze was black in the lamplight. “I knew you would never take it from me, so I made up a legacy.” He reached out to stroke her cheek, but when she jerked back, his voice hardened. “If you don’t believe me, ask my solicitor.”
“He’s the one who said Sarah didn’t have a will,” she choked out.
“He was uneasy with the situation from the beginning, so I’m sure he thought it in my best interests when speaking to the authorities not to mention the fake codicil.”
“A pity that no one thought to include me in the little subterfuge.”
David blanched. “If you ask him about it, he’ll tell you why I did it. He knows everything. He knows I was doing it for you.”
How she wanted to believe that. But it was a mad idea. “Why would you help me and the school with your own money? After all these years…”
“After all these years,” he said hoarsely, “I wanted to regain the woman I so foolishly had thrown away.” His voice caught. “I wanted you, and I couldn’t figure out a way to cut through your defenses to have you.”
“But thirty thousand pounds—”
“I would have made it more if I’d dared.” His gaze played over her face, tender and tormented. “I knew the school was in trouble. If you’ll recall, Sarah and I attended that charity to raise money for it. And after her death, I knew I wanted you back.”
This time when he lifted a hand to her cheek, she did not stop him. “But I also knew you’d be suspicious if I offered you the money outright, and you would never have let me court you while I was in mourning. You needed the funds sooner than that, what with Pritchard starting all his nonsense. So I decided upon a different plan.”
Everything he had said that first day came back to her—his insistence upon rebuilding the school elsewhere, about being involved. Surely if he had wanted revenge, he would not have wanted to spend so much time with her. And could she really think that David could make love to her while hating her?
Still, given what she had done to him, given how things had stood between them at that point, it was incredible. Why, he still hadn’t even known that her foolish letter had only been published by accident. “How can I believe you?” she whispered.
He drew her stiff body into his arms. “I never stopped thinking about you, Charlotte. Never. Every time I saw you in society after I married, I had to force myself not to care, not to wonder whom you turned to in your lonely nights.”
When he kissed her hair, she didn’t resist him, though she hated herself for her weakness. It frightened her, how much she wanted to believe that he cared. How could she want him in her life so badly that she would throw away everything for him?
“But once Sarah died,” he murmured, “there was no reason to fight my feelings. I had a chance to gain the wife I’d always wanted. So I did something stupid. I just didn’t know what else to do.”
“You could have told me the truth,” she said against his shoulder. “You could have said you knew why I’d written the letter. You could have said all of it was in the past, and you wanted to start over.”
“And would you have believed me?”
“I don’t know.” She lifted her gaze to him, her feelings still confused. “But you never even gave me the chance to believe you.”
“I was afraid you’d dismiss the idea outright. I didn’t know how you felt about me, if you even cared for me anymore. I needed a bridge to get to you. The legacy was the bridge.”
Godwin had said as much the first time she’d talked to him about it, but she’d thought him mad. And now…
Now everything was so much more difficult. David had made it more difficult. “I cannot take your money. You realize that.”
His eyes blazed down at her. “Yes, you can.”
“I cannot. How would it look?”
“If you marry me, it will look like your husband helping your school.”
She pushed free of his arms. “Surely you realize I cannot marry you now, not with Sarah’s death hanging over your head. They will think that we…that you and I…”
“Oh. Right. I keep forgetting about this madness with Sarah. I can hardly even believe they think she was murdered. It makes no sense.”
“So you understand why we cannot marry right now.”
Uttering a groan of pure frustration, he stared down into her face. “Of course. I certainly don’t want them coming after you. But this won’t go on forever. They’ll find whoever killed her. We just have to wait to marry until they do. In the meantime, let me loan you the money—”
“Oh, yes,” she said with heavy sarcasm, “that would not look suspicious in the least, you loaning a widow thirty thousand pounds.”
A look of uncertainty crossed his face. “Perhaps if we are careful in how it’s done…”
“Have you gone mad? That man Pinter wants your head! And I will not be the cause of your being hanged.”
He snorted. “They’re not going to hang me. I have an alibi for that night.”
“Then why did Mr. Pinter not mention it?”
His expression grew more guarded. “It’s…complicated.”
A cold chill seeped through her. She could think of only one reason he would have an alibi for that night that he did not want to tell her about. “Were you…with another woman, is that it?”
“God, no!” The shock on his face looked genuine. “I never broke my marriage vows. Not once.”
The fierceness with which she wanted to believe him frightened her. “I would not blame you, you know. You said that you and she had not shared a bed in some time.”
“That doesn’t mean I felt free to take a mistress. I told you years ago, I believe in fidelity. And I always hoped Sarah and I could find some way through to repairing our marriage. I thought if I could wean her from the gambling…”
Pity rose up in her, despite her attempts to squelch it. “Then what is your alibi? And why did you not tell Pinter of it?”
He closed up, as he always did. “The secret is someone else’s. And it has nothing to do with us, anyway.”
“Your secrets never seem to involve us—until they blow up in my face, as they did this afternoon,” she snapped.
She turned for the door, tired of trying to sort through his evasions, wishing to escape the emotional maelstrom he stirred up inside her whenever he was near. She did not need this agony in her life.
“Where are you going?” he demanded.
“You do as you please, David. I want none of it.”
“What the bloody hell does that mean?” he growled as he followed her.
“That means this is not a good time for us to be…involved. We need some time apart.”
“Look here, Charlotte, I know we cannot see each other until they’ve found Sarah’s killer. It’s too risky, not only for me, but for you. I can’t have them thinking anything wrong of you.” A note of desperation sounded in his voice. “But surely once this matter is settled, and things go back to normal—”
“You don’t understand.” She could not bear even to face him as she spoke the words. “It’s not just about the danger or any of that. I…I just don’t think that you and I are…a good idea right now. Not until I’ve settled the school’s problems and made up my mind about how I feel about marriage. Until then, it is better if we do not—”
“No, damn it!” he hurried up behind her just as she reached the door. “You can’t be saying what I think you’re saying!” He grabbed her from behind, his fingers digging into her arms. “I won’t let you do this. I need you too much.”
Not love, but need. It was not enough. Not anymore. “You clearly do not need me enough to let me know your secrets.”
“So you’re just going to give up on us? Again? The way you did eighteen years ago? Is that what you’re telling me?
Because you know damned well that the school’s problems are never going to be solved entirely, and you’ve made it perfectly clear that you’re afraid to try marrying again.”
She whirled on him. “That is not fair! I will not let you blame me for this. Every time I turn around I uncover another untruth or evasion. You are the one who keeps secrets and protects your heart at every turn!”
“And you’re not protecting yours?” He stalked toward her, determination on his face. “You use your bloody school as an excuse for not taking risks in your private life, for not letting any man close enough to gain your heart. And do you want to know why?”
She stared at him sullenly.
“Because you’re a coward, Charlotte Harris,” he growled. “And we both know it.”
Chapter Twenty-one
David felt as if he were drowning. Everything was slipping away from him—Charlotte and his hopes for the two of them. Why was this happening to them? Why did she have to make it so hard?
If she used this thing with Sarah to cut him out of her life until she “settled the school’s problems” and decided how she felt about marriage, it would be the end of them. She always ran away, always found an excuse to ignore what lay between them.
Well, by God, he would not let her. If it took making her angry to make her listen, then that was what he’d do.
And she was angry, oh yes. She hated being accused of any weakness, but especially cowardice. She prided herself on her strength and independence, and those were the qualities in her that he found so intoxicating.
But he’d be damned if he let her hide behind her independence right now.
“How dare you!” she bit out. “You are the one who lied to me. You are the one who is keeping secrets and asking the impossible.”
“The impossible?” He walked up to loom over her. “You mean, by asking you to share my life?”
“Right now it is not wise—”
“Yes, right now. But you said that you mean it to go on beyond right now. That even after they find Sarah’s killer, you mean to stay away. So you can think.” His voice hardened. “Talk yourself out of marrying me, more like. And there’s only one reason for that.” He braced his hands on either side of her shoulders. “Your cowardice.”
“Stop saying that! I am not a coward!”
“No? You’re afraid to give up even a tenth of your precious independence in order to marry me.”
She met his gaze squarely. “Oh, but you do not want only a tenth. You want everything I have. In exchange, you offer me nothing.”
“Except my name. And my money.”
“That is not what I mean, and you know it. You offer me nothing of yourself.”
“I offer you this,” he murmured, bending his head to kiss her.
She shoved him hard enough to make him stumble back. “That is only your reckless desire, nothing more.”
He glared at her. “Don’t you dare play the offended schoolmistress with me, sweeting. I am not the only one feeling a reckless desire, and you know it.”
“Yes. I desire you.” Her eyes were glittering now, her face alight with her anger. “And you use that desire to control me.” To his shock, she shoved him again, forcing him back another step. “You want to make me swoon so I don’t notice you slowly taking over everything in my life: my school, my future, my heart.”
She shoved him so hard that he fell back onto the settee.
His own temper rising, he grabbed her and pulled her down on top of him. “If it’s control in our lovemaking that you seek, sweeting, I am perfectly willing to give you that.” As she struggled off his lap, he stretched his arms out along the back of the settee. “Go ahead, take control.” He let his thighs fall open just enough to show his rampant arousal. “Ravish me. I won’t stop you.”
Standing in front of him, her hands on her hips and her dander up, she was as fine a sight as he’d ever seen. “I do not see what that would prove,” she snapped, though her gaze dropped to the painfully obvious bulge in his breeches.
“It would prove that I’m not the only one who can use desire to control.” When a fetching blush spread over her cheeks, it aroused him even more.
“That’s not the sort of control I meant,” she shot back.
“No? That’s what you said—that I use desire to control you,” he goaded her. Right now, goading her into letting down her guard seemed the only way to stop her mad urge to be free of him. “But if you want to deny it because you’re all talk and no action, as most women are—”
Her hands knotted up into fists. “You are the most infuriating, insufferable, arrogant—”
“As I said, all talk and no action.” He taunted her with a smile. “Or perhaps you’re merely afraid that you can’t take control. What does a stiff-necked schoolmistress like you know about controlling a man by using his desire?”
“Oh, believe me,” she hissed as she marched up to him, “if I wanted to, I could have you wrapped around my little finger. But I do not want a man who lies to me, who will not let me into his life.”
“A likely excuse,” he said. Considering how she was reacting to the news about the fake codicil, he could only imagine how she’d cut him out of her life if she learned the rest of truth. “You’re just afraid to try. Deep down, you know you can’t handle me.”
He let his gaze trail down over her delicious body. “The idea of you using desire to control a man with my experience and sophistication is ludicrous.” If that didn’t provoke a response out of her, nothing would.
“Ludicrous, is it?” She climbed onto his lap and grabbed his head in her hands. “I can have you begging in moments, you insolent devil.”
He held her gaze. “I never beg. Not for you, not for any woman.”
“We’ll just see about that,” she bit out.
When she then took his mouth in a deep, soul-searching kiss, it was all he could do not to wrap his arms about her, lay her out on the settee, and take her like a savage.
But he wanted her to see that desire went both ways, that she had a certain amount of control over him, too. That marriage would not mean giving up her entire life to him the way she seemed to think.
So although he responded to the kiss, he deliberately let her control it, though it was pure torture to do so. It had been three long days since he’d made love to her, and all he could think of as she settled herself across his lap was how badly he wanted to be inside her.
Dragging her mouth from his, she said, “Take off that silly footman’s coat. I feel as if I’m seducing a servant.”
He was more than happy to comply, removing the cravat, waistcoat, and shirt as well. “Don’t I get to see you naked?” he rasped as she ran her hands over his bare chest, thumbing his nipples until he groaned.
She bent close and pressed her fully clothed bosom against him, only to whisper in his ear, “Perhaps later. After you beg.”
That’s when he realized how badly he’d miscalculated. Still angry, she was determined to make her point by tormenting him.
“Afraid?” she whispered.
Her body squirming atop his bulging cock was driving him slowly mad. “Of you?” he managed to choke out. “Never.”
“You should be.” She moved her hands down between them to stroke his thighs, rousing the ache in his cock to such intensity that he thought he would die if she didn’t touch him there.
“Oh God, Charlotte…” he said before he could stop himself.
“Did you want something, Lord Kirkwood?” She rubbed her lower body against him just enough to arouse him even more. “All you have to do is beg.”
Though he had started this with the idea of letting her have control, now that she did, he was having trouble enduring it. The idea of begging her for his pleasure really galled him.
He reached between them to stroke her, hoping to inflame her, but she slid off his lap.
“Ah, ah, ah, my lord,” she said, taking down her hair and shaking it out. Damn her if she wasn’t enjoying thi
s. “I didn’t say you could touch me, did I?”
He watched hungrily as she reached up beneath her skirts and removed her drawers without showing him a damned thing of what lay under them.
“This is not what I meant by control,” he growled.
“No? That’s what you said,” she mimicked his earlier words with perfect accuracy. “You said I should use desire to control you.” She drew her skirts up above her knees, revealing the long, stocking-clad legs that he wanted to kiss and stroke. That he wanted to be between. Right now.
She swished her skirts over her thighs like some Drury Lane whore teasing a client. “But you’re all talk and no action, as most men are.”
Her deliberate echoing of his words earlier was starting to irk him. “If you want action—” he bit out, lunging forward to grab her hips.
But she resisted his attempt to pull her astride him. Instead, she lifted her leg and planted it on the settee next to his hip, exposing her lovely honeypot. “Actually, I would like a different sort of action. I want you to pleasure me with your mouth.”
He looked up at her in shock. He’d done that with barmaids and the occasional mistress in his salad days, but never with a respectable woman. Sarah would have been appalled at the very idea. He hadn’t even been able to coax her into removing her nightdress most of the time. “You…you know about that?”
“Looks like I’m not such a stiff-necked schoolmistress after all, am I?”
“Apparently not.” And thank God for it.
More than eager to comply, he leaned forward to bury his face in her flesh. But within moments, he realized how well she had chosen her pleasure. Tasting her, smelling her pungent female flesh, aroused him while not even beginning to satisfy his rigid cock. The more he licked and sucked and delved with his tongue, the more he thought his breeches might actually burst before he got to be inside her.
Her hands closed on his head to hold him to her. “Yes…David…oh…dear heaven…like that…”
The School for Heiresses: 'Wed Him Before You Bed Him Page 23
