Madam Charlie

by Sahara Kelly

  It was simple lust.

  And tonight was the night he was going to do something about it. To finally complete his campaign.

  If all remained quiet at the Crescent then he could no longer, in all conscience, keep Charlie at Calver House. This might be his last chance for action, and he was damned if he was going to waste it. Once seduced, fucked, and his, perhaps he could get his mind off her and back onto the business of being an Earl, where it belonged and where he still had huge amounts to do.

  He’d rather enjoy having her for a mistress, he thought. Provided she’d agree. Of course they’d have to be quite discreet, but he was an ex-soldier. Cunning was his middle name.

  Well, all right. Actually it was Edward, after his father, but Jordan knew that should he succeed in persuading Charlie to become his mistress, he would have no problem in continuing the liaison in a private and confidential fashion. Unlike many in the Ton, he did not believe in flaunting his sexual conquests.

  Charlie had no notion that she’d revealed much more about herself than she’d intended when she unburdened herself to him in front of the fire.

  He now knew, for example, that she’d been intended for a come-out. This indicated that she was certainly a member of the aristocracy, and probably from the country, as most debutantes of her age would have been noticed, surveyed and catalogued by the fashionable London Ladies as they moved from the cradle to the altar.

  Clearly she had not been in the public eye, or her marriage would have made headlines, again bringing her notoriety. The fact that she was able to mingle with the Ton within the walls of the Crescent and had never had anyone regard her as anything other than Madam Charlie, told him she was not from London, and had never been to town in any other capacity.

  Consequently, he’d tallied up his “clue” list, handed it over to Jeffreys, and was even now awaiting the answer to his questions. Who had married a young woman some three or perhaps as much as four years ago? Who had died shortly thereafter? He had to be older, probably titled, and not from London.

  There had to be records somewhere, and Jordan had confidence that Jeffreys would be able to root them out even though they still had no last name. There couldn’t have been too many Charlottes that fit the criteria he’d so carefully assembled. The man was amazingly efficient when presented with a challenge, reminding Jordan of a terrier with a bone.

  Before too long, they’d solve some of the mysteries that still surrounded this unusual woman. Within days perhaps, he might know all the other things she hadn’t told him while she was curled so comfortably in his arms. She’d shared some difficult experiences with him, and perhaps explained some of her behavior, but Jordan had a gut feeling that there was more involved.

  He wanted to know. More than that, he needed to know. What he couldn’t fathom was why he was obsessed with these unanswered questions.

  With that thought in mind, he watched Charlie as she bade farewell to Matty, hugging the older woman and smiling at her in her usual innocent style.

  She had no notion that her smile crept into his breeches, and her dimple—on the rare occasions it peeped out—made his balls clench.

  Perhaps that lack of awareness was part of her charm.

  She may have been ignorant of her effect on him, but he could tell that he had an effect on her. He grinned inwardly as he noticed her obviously “not” looking at him.

  He politely bowed to Matty and gave her into his valet’s capable hands.

  He suppressed a smile as Charlie’s step quickened and she hurriedly put the desk between them.

  “May I take it all is well at the Crescent?” he asked politely.

  “Indeed. Matty has handled everything in an amazingly competent fashion. I find myself hardly needed.” Her response was calm, her eyes controlled, and the little pulse at the base of her neck was fluttering madly.

  “You are always needed, Charlie,” he murmured. “In fact, I find I need you myself.”

  Charlie raised an eyebrow, not letting any emotion into her expression.

  Jordan saw a tiny muscle move in her cheek.

  He smiled at her and moved towards the door. “I’m here to ask if you’d care to join me for a game of chess later this evening? I have to attend an annoying business dinner, but it will be concluded by ten at the latest. I find that at present I have no interest in pursuing some of the more mundane Saturday night pursuits. A quiet game or two of chess would be a pleasure for me. Might I ask that you grant me your company?”

  Charlie allowed her eyes to meet his. For a second, he could have sworn he saw them heat up and turn stormy. But then it was as if a curtain fell and the calm tranquility that was her usual expression returned.

  “It would be my pleasure, my Lord. A game of chess is small recompense for the kindnesses you have shown me. I trust my skill will not disappoint you.”

  “On the contrary, Charlie. I have to trust that my skill won’t disappoint you.”

  Knowing he’d given her plenty to chew over, Jordan bowed and left, wondering if he could possibly survive the next few hours. He reminded himself to check and see if he had a pair of evening breeches that would conceal the fact that he had a raging erection, which he fully intended to take care of this very night.

  * * * * *

  The light shower that had greeted Jordan when he left his house that evening had turned into a soaking downpour by the time he returned, necessitating a much-needed change of clothing.

  “Arthur, please ask Miss Charlie to join me in the Book Room in half an hour? She’s expecting the invitation,” said Jordan as he ripped his wet clothes off and dumped them in a pile on the floor.

  “Yes, Colonel.” Arthur sighed and picked up the wet clothing.

  “Dammit, where’s my favorite shirt?”

  “Next to your favorite breeches, sir,” responded Arthur dryly. “May I suggest a towel before you dress?”

  Arthur regally extended a towel for his wet master’s convenience.

  “Don’t get on your high horse with me, man. Remember I’ve seen you roaring drunk with your pants on the floor and two women on your lap.” Jordan’s muttered warning came from the depths of the towel he was violently rubbing across his hair.

  Arthur sighed. “I do remember that night fondly. And you, if memory serves me correctly, were entertaining the other two.”

  Jordan coughed. “Yes, well. Perhaps we should both strive to purge our memories of that little incident.”

  “Will you and Miss Charlie be requiring anything further from the servants this evening?”

  Jordan cocked a suspicious eyebrow at his valet. The question had been just a little too smoothly phrased.

  Arthur looked urbane. “A natural question, Colonel. The staff will be happy to retire early for the evening once you signify your needs have been met. I, myself, will ensure the house is secure and take to my own rooms as well.”

  Having thus been informed that his staff was leaving the coast clear for him to play with his “guest”, Jordan shook his head. “One of these days, servants will rise up and conquer the world. The aristocracy will find themselves out of a job.”

  “And a better world it will be, too, Sir.”

  Jordan slipped his shirt on, and left the neck open, waving away jacket and vest.

  “I’m not ‘at home’ this evening. To anyone. Not that I’m expecting company, but I’m damned if I see why I should have to sit uncomfortably by my own fire in the privacy of my own house. Charlie won’t mind.”

  Perhaps Charlie would even like seeing his chest. Good lord, where had that thought come from? Perhaps the same place that was telling him to just leave all his clothes off and save time.

  He gave himself a mental shake and grinned at Arthur. “You’ve placed everything in the Book Room as I asked?”

  “Indeed, Sir. I believe you’ll find everything to your satisfaction.” Arthur paused. “It is to be hoped that Miss Charlie does too.”

  Jordan cocked an eyebrow at his val
et. “You know, Arthur, I believe I liked you better as my permanently drunk batman. Once you sobered up you developed a very nasty streak of sarcasm from somewhere.”

  “Perhaps I learned it from you, Sir.” Unfazed, Arthur cleared up the detritus left by Jordan’s hurried change.

  “Now, if you will permit me, I will summon Miss Charlie and ask her to join you? I assume you would prefer not to wait too long?”

  The formally polite phrase was accompanied by a pointed look at Jordan’s crotch where the beginnings of a healthy erection were already distorting the soft fabric of his breeches.

  “Arthur, you are a devil sent to plague me. I’d be offended if I didn’t know that you could outgun me in just about every battlefield and every bedroom I’ve ever been in!” Jordan chuckled ruefully.

  “I am glad your present case of lust hasn’t blinded you to some fundamental truths.” Arthur took the compliment as his due. “Subject to future developments, I am considering broadening my relationship with Miss Charlie’s duenna, Mistress Matty.”

  Jordan tipped his head. “Oh really?”

  Arthur shot him a disapproving glance. “Yes, really. Mistress Matty is a charming lady, of great intelligence and vast personal appeal. She has a ready sense of humor, a good head on her shoulders, and although others might find her scars unpleasant, I happen to think they add a touch of piquancy to her character.”

  Jordan’s eyebrows rose. “Piquancy? Did I hear you say ‘piquancy’? What did I tell you about reading those dreadful Fanny Burney novels?”

  Arthur sniffed. “I might have known a young whippersnapper such as yourself, begging your pardon, my Lord, would scoff at my assessment of the lady’s charms.”

  Jordan laughed. “Tread carefully, my friend, but follow your heart.”

  “As you intend to, Colonel?”

  The question brought Jordan up short. Was that what he was doing? Following his heart?

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Thank you for joining me this evening.”

  Jordan’s voice was steady Jordan spoke calmly as he ushered Charlie into the Book Room. Her head swiveled as she surveyed the massive racks of books that towered to the ornate ceiling and gave the room its name.

  Several candles flickered in wall sconces, and the curtains were drawn tight against the rain that hissed against the windowpanes. It was not a large room, but certainly gave the impression of being well cared for and well used.

  “How lovely,” she smiled.

  “I like it. Would you care for a little sherry, or perhaps port?”

  He led the way to a small table where glasses and decanters stood.

  “Thank you. Sherry would be nice.”

  The candlelight sparked crystal rainbows from the delicate glass as Charlie raised her sherry to her lips.

  Jordan’s eyes followed her every move.

  “Your business meeting was concluded successfully?” The question was polite and impartial.

  “Yes. Dull as dishwater, but necessary. Some investments are now secured, and others perhaps to be considered. I had to go, but I’m glad I’m home.”

  A pleasant fire crackled and popped in the large hearth and Charlie moved toward it, drawn perhaps by the lure of the two high backed chairs that had been arranged in front of it.

  “I see you are ready for our match, Sir,” she said lightly, running one finger along the side of the table.

  “Indeed, I am, Charlie. Playing with you will be a very great pleasure, I’m sure.”

  The finger halted in its progress over the shiny chessboard.

  “I trust you will not be disappointed.”

  “Never with you.”

  The answer was firm, and brought Charlie’s head up quickly. Their eyes met for a second or two, then he was seating her across from him and reaching for a black and a white pawn.

  With hands behind him, Jordan mingled the pawns, bringing his hands around him again, each closed around a different pawn.

  “Ladies’ choice. Would you care to select your color?”

  Charlie raised her hand and lightly touched the back of his left hand.

  Jordan opened his fist and revealed the white pawn.

  “The lady plays white. The opening gambit is yours, Charlie.”

  Charlie nodded in agreement.

  Jordan took his seat opposite her and the two players bent to their game.

  The white pawn made the customary opening move and was parried by an equally customary response from black.

  Charlie bent towards the table slightly as she considered her next move. A white knight joined the fray.

  Jordan narrowed his eyes, thought for a few moments, and then moved another pawn.

  Charlie countered with an additional pawn, starting slightly as a log settled in the fireplace. The rain pattered against the windows, punctuating the sound.

  Jordan slid his pawn diagonally across and claimed hers. “You have some experience with this game, I take it, Charlie.”

  “I do indeed, my Lord. My father taught me at a young age, and I have always enjoyed the challenge.”

  “You certainly indicate your willingness to sacrifice the small things in your pursuit of the greater goal.”

  Charlie pressed her elbows inwards a little, deepening the valley between her breasts. “I hope I will always know which stratagem to use to achieve victory, my Lord.”

  Jordan’s gaze fell to the soft mounds that were revealed by the low neckline of her gown.

  He shifted on his chair.

  Charlie allowed her knight to remove the offending black pawn and brought a surprised look to Jordan’s face.

  “I see you also believe in aggressive play?”

  Charlie held the pawn in both hands, rolling it backwards and forwards as if warming it between her palms. She licked her lips, leaving a sheen of moisture behind. “Can such moves be termed aggressive? Is not the object to win, whatever the stratagem employed?”

  “It would seem that you have placed my pawn in jeopardy,” said Jordan, leaning back in his chair and allowing his shirt to separate across his chest. “You are quite a daring woman. Especially when you set out to win.”

  Charlie’s eyes jerked away from the spectacle of Jordan’s solid muscles reflecting the golden firelight. Her throat moved as she swallowed silently.

  Jordan’s hand stretched across the table and touched the top of her knight, circling, scraping with his nail, and finally flicking.

  She leaned forward, bringing her breasts closer to that finger.

  Her nipples hardened beneath their light covering, standing out proudly through the muslin. “I was taught that only the victory counts, my Lord. No sacrifice is too great.”

  Jordan smiled and moved his knight into play. “We are well partnered here, then. See how my moves so closely follow yours? Perhaps even match? Are we fated to follow each other in the game…of chess? To move together, in concert, two minds as one?”

  Charlie brought her hand to the board and her fingers caressed the tall figure of her rook.

  Up and down they went, sometimes circling, sometimes holding, idly playing as she considered her next move.

  Jordan shifted in his chair once again.

  “Are you comfortable, my Lord? Is your chair perhaps too low?”

  Charlie’s question pierced the silence of the room and brought one of Jordan’s eyebrows up. “I think it is more a case of my anticipation being very high. The thought of mastering you has me very much…aroused…”

  “Mastering me?”

  “At chess, of course.” Jordan picked up his queen and raised it to his lips. “The thought of taking that final move, Charlie…” He rolled the piece over his lips and down to his chin, “The mere suggestion that I may well triumph over your strategies this evening has me tied up in knots.”

  “And if you should win, my Lord,” Charlie brought her other knight into play. “We have not discussed the prize, I believe.”

  Jordan stared at the board.
<
br />   “It is your move, my Lord.”

  Jordan raised his head and looked at her. He carefully replaced the queen on the board. “If I win, Charlie, I believe I shall claim as my prize…a kiss?”

  “A kiss, my Lord?”

  “A kiss, Charlie. Freely given. Is that fair?”

  Charlie’s answer was swift and decisive. “Agreed.”

  Jordan moved a black pawn forward one small space with a hand that shook very slightly. “And if you should be so fortunate as capture my king, Charlie? What would you wish to claim as your prize?”

  His eyes roved across her body, as a bead of perspiration rolled down between her breasts. He licked his lips and spread his legs wide beneath the table, just brushing her thigh with his knee.

  Her indrawn breath could barely be heard over the sound of their clothes as they rustled against each other in the stillness of the room.

  “What shall I claim?”

  “That was my question, yes.”

  Charlie’s gaze remained fixed on the board as she danced her fingertips over the pieces. Her thigh moved against Jordan’s beneath the table, pressing very slightly, and making the pulse in his neck beat faster. He watched as she countered with yet another pawn.

  “It is an interesting question. There is much I would like to claim.”

  He drew in a ragged breath. “You have but to ask.”

  Charlie’s gaze remained fixed on the board. “It is your move.”

  Jordan ran a hand through his hair and stared at the game. He grabbed a bishop and roughly slid it forward. “I’m waiting…”

  “And I’m thinking.” Charlie leaned forward even more, allowing Jordan to enjoy her breasts and the sight of her running a hapless pawn over the skin beneath her neck and down towards her cleavage.

  “What are you thinking?” His words were almost harsh now, as harsh as the sound of his breathing. His feet locked around one of her legs and pulled it towards him under the table. She looked up at him.

  “What are you thinking?” he repeated, moving her leg back and forth with his own.

  “I’m thinking that if I move this pawn here…”

  Jordan’s hand stayed her move. “No more moves until you tell me what you will claim at the end of the game should you win.”