That night, after dulling herself into incipient hysteria with the queen’s elderly guests, she could finally go to her room. The vision of her husband’s wounded wrist had touched her to the core. Even as he pushed her away, there was a part of him that tried to keep her close. She wished she could think he was wrong about war in Canada, but violence was his business and he and his brothers knew how to read the signs. Still, she would rather take the risk of being with him than stay shut up at court. Her mother had robbed her of years of happy wedlock. She would not think about her family’s demands on her now. Edward was her primary concern. What would the silly man do to himself if she wasn’t there? Mark his entire body with her name? Take to heavy drinking? She’d smelled spirits on him this morning. He had to be in pain.
In her room, she changed into a simple gown and crept out of the palace as she had done before, the night they had gone to Murdo Ogilvy’s house. She told a man at the stable that she was on business for the queen, and was soon in a closed carriage headed to Jermyn Street. Though it was dark, the half-moon shone down on the buildings they passed. They made good time. It had cooled now, close to the end of summer. September was coming. She could be gone before the dreaded fogs of autumn were upon them. What was Canada even like? She had no idea.
At Jermyn Street, she risked telling the driver not to wait, and went upstairs and rapped on the door. Edward’s man opened it, already in a ragged robe that was too large on his wizened frame. He let her in without speaking, though he did sigh.
She found Edward with his feet up on his sofa, reading his favorite Pickwick. His mouth went slack when he saw her, and he snatched up his candle and jumped to his feet. “Has something happened? Did Victoria send for me?”
“No, I came of my own accord.”
“Oh.” He set down his candle and put his hands on his hips. “You concerned me. You look so solemn.” He came to her then and put his arms around her.
She thought he would embrace her, but he helped her take off her cloak and gave it to Quintin. Then he nodded at the man and they were left alone.
She tilted her face up to his. “You didn’t want to be seen with me in public, so I thought I would come here.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “You dare a great deal, Charlotte.”
“I know, but what do I have to lose?”
He lifted his brows. “A secure position. The favor of the queen?”
She sensed his frustration with her impractical behavior, but she had to fight for what was most important. “My husband’s love? You can’t blame me for seeking you out.”
“We aren’t ordinary married people.”
“Do you think I have not noticed? Have you told Victoria your decision? As soon as you do you might be escorted straight to the docks.” She put her hands on his arms, pulling them away from his chest.
He didn’t put them around her. “No, I left after I’d seen you.”
“Why?” He wasn’t a coward, far from it.
“I wanted you to agree with my decision. I would never leave with dissension between us. I mean to return for you.”
“Oh, Edward.” One day, maybe, if the tides of fortune went their way. She clenched her hands into fists, ready to scream. “Don’t you love me?”
“I’m trying to show you how I feel, by giving you the safest life I can.”
Her chest hurt as she loosed the words buried deeply inside her. “I don’t want safety, I want passion. How can you offer me the pleasures of our flesh, then leave me again to my lonely bed?”
He winced. “It is for your own good. Charlotte, you know that. We have to think long term.”
What if he became some other woman’s lover in the meantime? He could do that; she could not. The thought was vile. “I do not want to. I am going to stay here tonight until you’ve changed your mind.”
“You are?”
She smiled tightly and twisted her wedding ring. “I’m going to persuade you to take me with you.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I can’t let you go back to Canada, to die in some stupid war, Edward. I lost eleven years of our life together and I’m not going to lose more. I love you.” She clasped her hands together under her chin.
“You do?” Something in his expression softened.
“Yes, Edward. I do.”
“I see.” He turned away.
“I know you love me too,” she called.
“Oh?”
She pointed to his wrist. “You may want to carry me with you, but I’d rather be on your arm, instead of just an initial on your wrist.”
He turned back and squinted. “You want me to have a portrait of you tattooed on my arm?”
“No, I want all of me there. On your arm, in your bed. I’ll follow the drum, just to be with you.”
“You are a princess.” He spoke the words as if exasperated.
But she wasn’t a child. She could fight back. “And you should be king of England. What has royal blood done for either of us? I can serve the English queen’s whims here. I can shut myself up in a drafty castle in Germany. You can go spill your blood on a battlefield thousands of miles away. I say, let us steal what time we have.”
“What if you have a baby?”
She shrugged. “Many women have survived to raise them. It’s a risk anywhere I go, but at least we would be together.”
He opened his hands to her. “I like the idea of you safe here in London.”
“My body might be safe, but my heart would break, my spirit too. Is that what you want?”
He winced again, shook his head. “No. I don’t want that fiery light in your eyes extinguished.”
She smiled. She’d won. “Then love me. Tonight. And forever. On the ship, in some grubby little room in a town in Canada, whatever and wherever life takes us.”
“You are a fool, darling.” He said it tenderly, cupping her jaw in his large hands.
She turned and kissed his palm. “I’m your fool, and I’m going to stay that way. Now help me undress, and show me what having a husband is like.”
“We’ll risk a baby again, just when we know you are safe.”
“That is the hope of any woman’s marriage. You shouldn’t deny me the chance to carry your heir.”
“An heir,” he scoffed. “An heir to what? All Victoria offers me is a knighthood. That can’t be transferred to my heir.”
“I only care for you, not your title. We are wed. Give your wife what she wants.” He was in his shirtsleeves, without a frock coat to hide his trousers. She reached down easily and cupped him between his legs. The hot length of him came instantly to life and his hips canted, instinctively recognizing his mate.
“Charlotte!”
“Husband,” she whispered, raising herself on her toes to speak into his ear. “Give your wife what she wants.” She squeezed gently, the feel of him, long and hot and hard, moistening the insides of her thighs. She licked his earlobe.
“You’ve lost your mind.”
“I never thought very clearly when it came to you.” She took his earlobe between her teeth and bit down.
He gasped and pulled away.
“Sensitive there, darling? It is past time I learned your body.”
“When did you become so bold?”
“When I realized I had to fight for my life with you.” She undid the knot keeping her light shawl around her shoulders. Underneath she still wore her low-cut, sleeveless dinner dress. “Don’t I look nice?”
“It’s nearly dark in this corner,” he rasped.
She smiled and pulled him into his bedroom. The curtains were open, exposing the room to the half-moon. The tiny chamber had little to offer in the way of comfort, but the bed was large enough for them. She turned so he could undo her dress. His fingers kept moving, taking apart the rest of her clothing. Soon, only moonlight bathed her. He reached for her, but she danced away. “It is my turn to know you.”
“You can know me inside of you, wife,” he g
rowled.
“You wanted me to do something to your body, something I was too shy to perform. But that was weeks ago and I haven’t been able to remove the idea from my thoughts since.” She undid his trousers, slowly pulling the fabric down his powerful thighs. When she had him naked from the waist down, she realized his shirt still covered too much, so she stood and took off his shirt, until he was as naked as she.
“There, as God intended us.”
He held his arms away from his body. She bit her lip to keep from moaning as she saw the way the muscles moved on his powerful form. But what he had wanted, and what she now desired, was centered on that dark, erect part of him. It had fit inside of her, but it looked so awfully large for her mouth.
She went to her knees to worship him properly, and began to touch him with her fingers at first, learning the weight of what hid behind his erection, smelling the clean musk of his body. She ran her fingers through the springy dark curls above, and traced down his thighs. Only then was she brave enough to rest her cheek against the soft hardness of his erection. She placed a tender kiss on the tip as her first offering.
“Why, it just beaded up with moisture.”
“A foretaste of what happens at the end.”
“I see,” she said, fascinated. She put her tongue to his essence and tasted salt and creation. Gently, she began to kiss him all over, taking the root of him on one hand to steer her movements better.
He shuddered a little, and breathed hard. Feeling daring, she opened her mouth and slid up his hot length, taking as much of him as she could. When he moaned, she relaxed the back of her throat to take him even deeper. He shuddered. She moved her head back and did it again, using her hand to change the depth of his penetration.
Not knowing what to do with her other hand, she wrapped her arm around one of his thighs. His hands came down on top of her head, as if blessing her actions. She sucked until her cheeks pulled in and he gasped, then she released him and began licking the engorged head as more essence beaded.
“Take me again, deep,” he begged. “Oh God, Charlotte, you are made for this.”
“I’m made to be your wife,” she said, and bent her head to accept him deeply again. His hips moved and she felt like one with him, in a different way than when he’d been inside her. She felt even more powerful, that she could bring a strong man to this trembling, imprecating, focused place. Before too many more minutes had passed, he stiffened and cried out, shuddering as a hot trickle of essence flowed down the back of her throat.
Eventually, she sat back on her heels and he half-sat, half-fell onto the bed, both of them gasping like water-deprived sea creatures.
She swiped at her mouth. “Now I understand why you wanted me to do that to you. You loved it.”
He chuckled, the sound rough and raw. “There is a jug of water on my washstand. Drink your fill then bring it to me, please.”
She drank deeply, not having realized how truly thirsty her labors had made her, then brought the jug to him. He tilted it up and drank the contents, then rested the jug in his lap. His breathing slowed.
“Will you sleep now?” she asked.
“I’m going to find my robe and refill this jug in the kitchen, then come back here and give you your just deserts.”
“Oh?” She wiped her mouth.
“Did that excite you at all, Charlotte?”
She thought about it. “Yes, my body feels like it does after you caress me.”
“Good. Wait for me.”
She sat on the bed, an obedient wife, while her husband shrugged into a robe and left the room with the jug. Was it wrong that she wanted to touch herself, to keep the sensations going? She lay back on the bed and stroked her fingers into her own curls at the top of her thighs, feeling the sticky moistness there. Her finger brushed in just the right place quite by accident and she gasped.
Edward reappeared. “Are you well?” He leaned forward, peering down. Drips from the jug rained down on her torso, but in the heat it felt so welcome that it didn’t startle her. “What are you doing?”
Charlotte snatched her hand away, embarrassed. “I, ah…”
He knelt down and set the jug on the nightstand, then put his hand where hers had been. “I made you feel very sensual indeed, to touch yourself so.”
She turned her head away on the pillow. “I’m sorry.”
“No, don’t be. I wish I hadn’t left you alone. I’d have liked to watch. Do you want to show me how you like to pleasure yourself?”
“It’s a sin.”
She could see his grin in the moonlight. “Not if I’m watching.” His fingers dipped inside her and circled, the sensation making her arch against the sheet. “My wanton darling. No wonder you can’t stand the idea of letting me leave.”
His mouth went to work on her aching flesh. He danced his fingers along her legs and belly, never letting her become complacent. When she rewarded him with a moan, he moved his hand up to her opening and slid two fingers in, simulating the carnal act.
She tried to focus her thoughts, though the spiraling pleasure made it difficult. “What I did to you? Does that mean you cannot join with me?”
He lifted his mouth. She wanted to put her hands on his head and press him back against her. “No. Is that what you want?”
“Please,” she whispered.
Before she finished pronouncing the word, her husband was above her, his reborn erection pressing into the heat between her legs. She’d never felt anything so pleasurable in her life as the sensation of him filling her.
“My husband,” she cried, burying her face in his neck. Her hips moved with his, pulling him in deeper. He thrust harder, catching her rhythm and mood, giving her everything she needed. She lost herself around him, coming in hard, jarring spasms of sheer pleasure. He drove on, relentless, his back slicking with sweat, until she found another peak, which overwhelmed him as completely as he’d taken her.
There seemed to be no air in the room as they lay next to each other on the mattress, gently panting. Eventually, Edward rose and opened the window. Charlotte rolled over in the damp sheets, feeling relief as a soft breeze caressed her back. The mattress sank as Edward moved next to her again.
“I went up in flames,” she murmured as he ran a finger down her back.
“Is it selfish of me not to have been stronger?” he asked.
“We are meant to be together, Edward. No fighting it.”
“So instead, I go off to fight a war and take you along? I had a letter from my brothers. It doesn’t look good. There is so much frustration there about the lack of political reform.”
“Maybe it will all boil over while we are traveling.”
“Then my brothers will be in the fight without me. That will not do. If I don’t have a way to be useful to my family here, I must return soon.”
She rolled on her side and patted his rump. “Don’t be too eager. I don’t want to see you hanging over the side of the ship, trying to spot land, when you could be in our cabin pleasuring me.”
“If we get a cabin,” he said. “You have no idea what my life is really like.”
“The von Scharnburgs are poor.”
“For royalty,” he scoffed.
“I suppose you don’t remember how shocked I was by the luxury of Linsee Castle, that summer. You grew up with warm-water baths, the best candles, luxurious fabrics, all the books you could hope to read.”
“I’ll give you that much,” he conceded. “But I’ve been a soldier for a long time.”
“Do you have a Quintin in Canada?”
He nuzzled her hair. “Quintin is a unique soul.”
“What will happen to him when you go?”
“I’ll give him enough to keep him until he can find another post. He is much better now than he was, not the scarecrow he seemed in June. He can get other work now.”
“I am glad.”
He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her to him. She lined her hip snugly against his, then
put her head on his upper chest. “Will you stay the night? We can go to Victoria, cap in hand tomorrow, and beg forgiveness. I’ll send Quintin to the docks to look at the ships.”
She pulled his wrist to her mouth and blew on his tattoo. “No, I’ll see Victoria alone. I don’t want to run the risk of her running you through, just when she’s made her peace with me.”
Her head bounced as his chest rumbled with laughter. “I’d like to see that. I’m twice her height!”
“Very funny. We could delay another month. I could stay in waiting.”
“You want to see if you are expecting again?”
“You are right,” she reflected. “It is silly to wait any longer. Send Quintin to find our ship and I will reinstate my resignation. A chat with Victoria, a letter to my mother, and I will be baggage on your doorstep, ready to leave.”
“God willing it is the right thing to do.”
She kissed his wounded wrist. “Are you happy?”
“Very.”
“Then it is the right thing.”
Chapter Twenty
Charlotte stood in front of the queen the next day. Despite their age difference, she felt like the naughty child. Victoria might be dressed in a sweet blue gown that matched her eyes, her hair loose, holding her dog in her lap, but she had all the power.
“You want to follow the drum?” the queen asked, screwing up her mouth.
“I am very aware of the honor you have done me, by reinstating me as a lady-in-waiting, Your Majesty,” Charlotte said. “But my place is with my husband. I was forced by my emotional attachment to seek him out yet again, and I promise you, ma’am, I could not stand to be parted from him.”
“It has not been a constant sort of love.”
“It has been very strange,” Charlotte admitted, looking down at her wedding ring. “You will agree, however, that I have a duty to him.”
“You are certain this marriage of yours was legal?”
“I will remarry him if you insist, ma’am, but I am a fallen woman if we are not wed.”
“You are the only one of my ladies who does not go in and out of waiting,” Victoria said. “We could change our arrangement.”
The Princess Dilemma: A Victorian Royal Romance Page 27
