Madam Charlie

by Sahara Kelly

  Charlie’s heart missed a couple of beats. “His woman?”

  “Unquestionably. I’ve known Jordan Lyndhurst and his family for many years, Charlie. We played together—well, I should say I played with his younger sister. I’ve never seen Jordan look at a woman the way he looks at you. It’s special, possessive and passionate and, oh I don’t know. It’s just unique. You’d better love him back, Charlie, because I’d hate to see Jordan hurt.”

  Elizabeth shot a very pointed look at Charlie.

  Charlie’s heart started up again, strong and solid. “How could I not love him?”

  The simple question hung there between the girls for a few moments. Then Elizabeth leaned forward and hugged Charlie tight for a few seconds. “I’m so glad.”

  She pulled back and swiped the last piece of toast. “Come on, hurry up and get dressed. I need to talk to you about something I brought with me that I’m dying to try out. Meet me in the breakfast room when you’re ready?”

  Charlie smiled and nodded, and steadied the tray as Elizabeth slid from the bed and left the room in a rush.

  Alone with her thoughts, Charlie stared at her teacup.

  “I love him.” She said the words out loud, as if trying them on for size. “I’m in love with Jordan Lyndhurst.”

  They got easier the more she said them.

  Now all she had to do was work out whether this was the best thing that could ever have happened to her in her entire life.

  Or maybe the worst.

  * * * * *

  It was late afternoon by the time they all met again in the small parlor for tea.

  Charlie and Elizabeth had spent the morning gossiping, chattering and muttering over something like two young girls in the schoolroom.

  It had warmed Jordan’s heart to see Charlie so carefree.

  He’d wanted to slip into her welcoming heat so badly last night when he’d finally staggered to bed, but he knew he was tired, she was tired, and he’d allowed Spencer to talk him into far too much brandy.

  So with a rueful smile to himself, he’d cuddled her against him, and had slept like a log with her weight nestled next to his heart.

  He realized he couldn’t imagine spending his nights any other way.

  Now all he had to do was formulate a new campaign to handle all the obstructions that life was doubtless going to throw their way. Prime amongst which was Charlie’s own very obvious hesitation about the possibilities of a relationship between a brothel-owner and an Earl.

  Jordan sighed. He was going to have to put in some thought on that one.

  Spencer, too, had given him food for thought.

  The brandy had mellowed both men, and not long after the women departed, cravats had been discarded, jackets tossed aside, and long legs hooked comfortably over the arms of chairs.

  “I can’t say I’m not thrilled to find Lady Elizabeth here, Jordan.”

  Jordan had narrowed his eyes. “It was you who saved her that night at the Crescent, wasn’t it?”

  Unabashed, Spencer had continued staring into the fire. “Yes. It was all rather a muddle, a lot of screaming, some smoke. Elizabeth was the only one who didn’t panic, but she never realized her gown was burning. I had no notion how rough I was until I saw her body.” Then he’d glanced up. “I truly meant no insult to the lady, Jordan. But my God, man, what breasts.” His cock stirred at the memory. “Yes, I know,” he said addressing his manhood. “But you can bloody well go back to sleep.”

  Jordan had chuckled ruefully. “Elizabeth is a law unto herself, Spence. But you’re a good man and I’m in no position to throw stones. I trust you with Elizabeth, wherever the dance takes you. She’s a handful, mind you, but perhaps you might be the man to keep her in line. Just don’t compromise her or hurt her, all right?”

  Spencer had sighed. “I’m just a little bit afraid of that woman, Jordan. And if you ever repeat that I shall be forced to call you out and rid the world of your troublesome presence.”

  Jordan knew that Spence was skilled in many areas, but marksmanship wasn’t one of them. He’d chuckled. “Why are you afraid of Elizabeth?”

  For a moment the room had fallen silent, the ticking of the clock and the crackling of the fire loud in the stillness that followed Jordan’s question.

  “Because when I touched her and looked into her eyes, I…I felt something. A shiver up my spine, like someone walking over my grave. She’s trouble, Jordan. And I’m running headlong into it.”

  Jordan’s shoulders had shrugged off the sense of inevitability. “It comes to us all, old friend. It comes to us all.”

  Looking at the girls seated across from him now, in the waning afternoon light, Jordan realized how prophetic his words had been. The “trouble” Spencer had described last night had come to Jordan and settled in his soul. Its name was Charlie.

  And he couldn’t be happier.

  Well, he thought he couldn’t. But then Charlie smiled at him, and watched him. Oh lord, she’d asked him something. He was so lost in his thoughts he’d not heard a word she said.

  “I’m so sorry, ladies. My mind was elsewhere.” Like between your legs, Charlie. “What was that again?”

  Charlie grinned at him, letting him know she had a pretty good idea where his mind had been, and liked it there. A lot.

  Jordan shifted uncomfortably, and offered a prayer of thanksgiving when Elizabeth took pity on him.

  “Jordan, Charlie and I want to prepare a special dinner this evening. Sir Spencer has told us something about his trip to Egypt, and Charlie has admitted to some fascination with the Middle Eastern stories she’s heard. So we thought it would be fun to dine ‘ à l’Egypte’ this evening. What do you think?”

  “Depends,” answered Jordan carefully. “What does that entail?”

  “Well, some very big cushions for us all to sit on. Not in the dining room, obviously. We can use those low tables in the back parlor. It’s got a nice soft carpet too. We must be barefoot, of course, and you gentlemen will be excused from cravats and such, find something close to an Arabian robe, will you? We girls will dress suitably too.” Elizabeth’s enthusiasm was infectious.

  “I’m sure Jordan and I can come up with something suitable, Elizabeth. And I, for one, can’t wait to see you as harem girls…” Spencer wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

  “Harem? Oh I don’t think so, Sir Spencer. Charlie and I would never settle for anything but the top wife’s job. We will be desert warrior women. None of your perfumed houris for us, right Charlie?”

  “Um, right,” agreed Charlie, helpless against Elizabeth’s determination.

  “Good. It’s settled then. Oh and I have a special tea I’m going to prepare. It does come straight from Egypt. Paul Faremont brought it for me from Paris—it’s all the rage there, I’ve heard. Some kind of stimulant tincture, nothing harmful, but very much in keeping with our theme for tonight.”

  She grabbed Charlie’s hand. “Come on, there’s lots to do.”

  Charlie looked at Jordan and threw him a quick smile. “And I suppose I have ‘lots to do’ along with you,” she said as she hurried along behind Elizabeth. “We’ll see you both later.”

  Jordan grinned as he watched the flurry of gowns bustle from the room. “Life is never dull with those two around,” he muttered.

  “Any news from London?”

  Jordan instantly sobered. “Not a word. I’ve men tracing down our would-be assassin and it looks like they may have discovered his whereabouts. I’m hopeful that a messenger will show up perhaps as early as tomorrow to let me know the situation.”

  “Well, we’re safe enough here. Nice job on the perimeter, by the way.”

  Jordan smiled at the military compliment. He knew it was warranted. He had posted men at unlikely spots around the grounds, with instructions to vary their positions randomly throughout the night. He knew the foolishness of having regular patrols.

  The house was locked and guarded, and the stables secured. Several of the stablehands
had professed themselves willing and able to help, and a couple of men from the village had arrived offering their assistance.

  They were amply staffed, well protected, and Jordan knew he’d done all he could for the time being.

  “What do you know about this stuff from Paris Elizabeth was talking about? Ever heard of it?”

  Spencer leaned back in his chair and raised his eyebrow. “Oh yes. Indeed. You haven’t?”

  “No. Buried down here at Calverton, I sort of lost touch with what was the rage in Paris. Not much call for that when you’re trying to decide where to rebuild a wing.”

  “True,” laughed Spencer. “Well, if it’s the stuff I’m thinking of, then Napoleon’s troops brought it back with them after the campaign in Egypt. It’s an herb, not harmful at all, but it sort of relaxes one. I tried it once, not bad.”

  “We’re not talking opium or anything here, I trust?” Jordan raised one eyebrow.

  “God no. Not even laudanum. No, this stuff doesn’t even leave you with a headache, although I have to admit it made me hungry as the very devil. And making it into a tea weakens it too. I have heard that some sect of Assassins uses it in its native form as part of their rituals, but that’s just hearsay. Probably Elizabeth has herself a bottle full of dandelion juice, and doesn’t know the difference.”

  Jordan shuddered and stood, stretching his arms behind his head. “Oh well. Anything to keep them happy and stop them worrying about our problems. I suppose we’d better go and cobble up something in the way of a costume.”

  Spencer grinned and rose from his chair. “Of course if it’s the real stuff, it will keep us all happy.”

  On that rather enigmatic note, he followed Jordan from the room.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Charlie leaned back on her heels and surveyed the room. She and Elizabeth had worked quite hard for the last couple of hours getting it to match Elizabeth’s vision of an Egyptian bower. Or harem. Or whatever it was that Egyptians had in their homes.

  At this point, Charlie wasn’t quite sure they’d succeeded.

  Candles were burning in several branches around the room, and many yards of almost transparent silk caught the flickering beams of light. The silk had softened the traditional lines of the room, and, along with the fragrant herbs that Mrs. Hughes had donated to the evening’s entertainment, the room now possessed an aura of mystery.

  Enormous pillows had been found in one of the attics, and Elizabeth had hastily thrown soft blankets over them to cover the rather worn brocade. The fact that the occasional feather sneaked from several small holes simply added to the ambience of the occasion. At least that’s what Elizabeth said as she blew on one of them and allowed it to twirl its way to the floor.

  Charlie shivered a little and moved to bank up the fire.

  She wondered for the seventeenth time why she’d gone along with this plan, especially as she glanced down at herself. She couldn’t help blushing.

  “You’re doing it again,” chided Elizabeth.

  “Doing what?”

  “Blushing. Thinking you’re indecently attired.”

  “Well, for heaven’s sake, Elizabeth. Why would I think that? I am wearing several yards of sheer silk and a pair of scandalous pantaloons. Nothing else. What could possibly be indecent about that? Other than the fact that I’m convinced you can see right through it, and I miss my chemise. Oh and pantaloons…well. There you are.”

  Elizabeth giggled. “And very decadent you look too, Charlie. Of course, the blonde hair does rather kill the illusion of a Middle Eastern woman, but never mind, we do make a nice contrast to each other.”

  Charlie couldn’t argue that point. Her gold hair had been left free for the evening, according to Elizabeth’s instructions. Another thing that made her a little uncomfortable. It was rare to see a woman with her hair loose anywhere other than her boudoir.

  But next to Elizabeth’s exotic looks, Charlie knew she would have looked ridiculous in her regular attire.

  Elizabeth’s midnight black hair hung in a curtain down to her buttocks. Charlie admitted that it was probably a sin to try and twist those locks into a fashionable style every day. This was how they should always be seen.

  Both girls had fashioned draped costumes from the silk they’d found on their earlier scouting expedition, Charlie’s was a dark blue and Elizabeth’s was blood red.

  Their breasts were covered with soft drapes, and they’d wrapped soft folds of the stuff into skirts that were fastened low on their hips. Every now and then a little glimpse of white skin appeared between the silks.

  Elizabeth had rummaged through an old jewelry box and grabbed the most unlikely items. A large and very heavy collar that looked Elizabethan and was probably metal was now busily rusting around Charlie’s slim hips, while Elizabeth was sporting an enormous and very fake looking teardrop ruby between her eyes.

  They looked exotic, and, Charlie had to confess, quite sensual. Elizabeth had revealed another secret when she’d dragged Charlie into her room and demanded she try her cosmetics.

  Charlie, who had never so much as wiped rouge on her cheeks, was fascinated. She’d allowed her girls at the Crescent color on their cheeks and eyes, but had never considered it for herself. An hour later, she had eyes bigger than she’d thought possible, and a delicate touch of pink on her cheeks.

  Elizabeth was certainly a fount of surprises.

  She was also a fount of nerves, and Charlie could see her hand tremble as she straightened the fringe of one of the exotic shawls that she’d spread over the low table.

  “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Elizabeth.”

  Charlie touched the other girl on the shoulder in reassurance.

  “I know, Charlie. I know. But I do want this. I want it so much I ache with the wanting. Suppose I get it wrong…” She turned agonized eyes towards Charlie, who tried valiantly to hide her smile.

  “My dear girl, there’s nothing to get wrong. Your body will tell you what it wants when the time comes. Your heart and mind knows that Spencer is your choice, let your body follow and trust it to guide you well.”

  Elizabeth sighed.

  The door opened, and two exotically garbed gentlemen walked in.

  Charlie and Elizabeth gaped.

  * * * * *

  For Jordan, walking into the room and seeing Charlie on the floor dressed in some flimsy silks was a moment that would remain etched in his mind forever. It was as if someone had rummaged around in his deepest desires and brought one of them to life.

  The fact that he was wearing little more than a sheet with a hole cut in it and an old bathrobe with its arms removed mattered not one whit.

  He’d slit the sheet down to his navel, in the hopes that his Charlie would like what she saw. He knew she liked to play with his chest…might as well show off the toys.

  Spencer had gone one step further, manufacturing a headdress with a piece of fabric and some cord. With blond hair covered, this tall man looked the very essence of desert barbarian. The toy scimitar he’d stuck into his belt didn’t hurt, either.

  Jordan mentally pouted. He’d wanted to carry the sword and there had only been one of them. Damn.

  However, he felt redeemed when Charlie seemed unable to take her eyes off him.

  His cock stirred and he immediately recognized the advantages of the loose garment he’d fabricated. There was much to be said for the Arabian style of dress, not the least of which was that it served to hide a nice healthy arousal. For a while, anyway.

  Roused from their shock, the girls led their sheiks to the pillows, settling them in what was supposed to be a subservient slave girl fashion.

  Elizabeth’s orders about where to sit, what to eat first, and a hearty slap to Spence’s hand which was about to crawl up her skirt rather destroyed the slave girl image, but the illusion was still one of magical decadence.

  The burning bundles of sage around the room infused the air with a sweet tang, and Elizabeth carefully
poured her special tea.

  She’d procured some small oriental cups without handles, so she gingerly presented each person with their beverage using both hands.

  They settled onto the pillows with muttered laughter and fidgets, finding a comfortable position and sipping the tea.

  Spence’s eyebrows rose at the first taste and he shot a quick glance at Jordan.

  Jordan read his friend clearly. This was the good stuff.

  “I’m impressed, Elizabeth. Not only is your tincture genuine, it’s very tasty indeed.”

  Elizabeth raised her nose. “I’m worth nothing short of the best, Sir Spencer. I am surprised you doubted the gift I received…”

  Charlie silently sipped her tea, as Jordan watched. He’d decided the brew was acceptable. It tasted a bit like new mown grass, with a few herbs thrown in, but he could tolerate it.

  He drained his cup and made no demur when Elizabeth refilled it, as she did for the others.

  They casually nibbled on the trays of foods that the servants had prepared. Although Spence had said that to be quite genuine they should all be eating lamb stew from the same bowl and with nothing but their fingers, no one had felt like taking the illusion quite that far.

  So instead, they enjoyed the simple meal of cheeses and fresh bread and fruits that Jordan’s kitchen staff had prepared.

  Jordan smiled as Charlie, entering her role as slave girl with enthusiasm, fed him a grape.

  A shiver of desire crossed his flesh and he hardened even more beneath his robe. He watched Charlie closely and saw her nipples beading under their light shielding of silk.

  Spencer was also enjoying the feast, persuading Elizabeth to offer him a piece of fruit with her lips. Which led to the inevitable—a quickly snatched kiss.

  Only Jordan was at the right angle to see Spence’s hand brush Elizabeth’s breast as he leaned in for his food.