by Dayna Quince
“What did Shelding do when I set the hops on fire?”
Thorn snorted. “I thought he was going to have an apoplexy. His eyes bulged out of his head, and his lips turned blue.”
She grinned. “I wish I’d seen it.” She dropped her gaze. “And what did you think when I set your crop on fire?”
He considered his words. She was expecting him to be angry—hell, he should be, but he wasn’t. He couldn’t figure out why. All he wanted right now was to hold her, to absorb her presence and safety. To banish the cold fear in his heart. There were a thousand ways their affair—if it could even qualify as such—could have gone wrong, but he never imagined this. He could see the blood in the basin; there were streaks of it on her clothes.
Tomorrow may bring more trouble. Things with Shelding were still turbulent. But tonight, tonight he would cherish her, and pretend that there was no tomorrow.
“Are you hungry?” he asked.
“Famished.”
“We don’t have a cook, but there is some food in the pantry. Stay here and rest. I’ll be right back.”
Down in the kitchen, Thorn came upon Pruitt. He slowed as he pushed through the door, knowing it was unlikely to escape the man without somewhat of a lecture. Pruitt turned as he entered. Thorn didn’t have the patience for an interrogation. He didn’t want questions and opinions thrown at him. He needed to get back to Charlotte, to see her to comfort, and then tuck her into bed next to him, so he could hold her all night.
Thorn nodded to Pruitt. “Having some tea?”
“I’m brewing a pot for our guests. Will Miss Angelwood be coming down?”
“She’s rather shaken.” Thorn shook his head.
“Understandable.”
“I’m bringing her some food,” Thorn added.
“Ah, that should help. You’ll be joining us?” Pruitt folded his arms, giving Thorn his full attention. Thorn sighed. This was how it always started.
Thorn turned his back to Pruitt as he sifted through their meager food stores. “I don’t think she should be alone. She’s still frightened and needs company.”
“Perhaps Kitty should see to her.”
Thorn tensed. “I’ll see to her.”
He could feel Pruitt’s gaze right between his shoulder blades. It had the intensity of a hammer and the delicacy of a drunk. “Say what you want to say. I’m tired. I don’t want to spend any more energy dancing around your judgments.”
“Fine,” Pruitt snapped. “Don’t go back up there. Deliver your food and leave her to her privacy. If she needs company, Kitty can room with her, but the last thing she needs—that our business needs—is further complications.”
Thorn turned and leaned back against the counter. He folded his arms across his chest. He masked his emotions behind a hard frown.
“We both know what will happen if you go up there. You will comfort her, and you will take comfort from her. Nothing good will come of this.”
Thorn shook his head. “She needs me.”
“Then marry her.”
Pruitt’s words struck him like lightning. All his thoughts evaporated like water, and he stood there, dumbstruck, until a flickering of sense came back to him. “Stop being a prude. Two adults can find comfort in each other and part amicably. I’ve been clear from the beginning where things stand.”
“Dammit, Thorn. You’ve never been more blind. Your entire yard is on fire. The deal is broken. Shelding will never bargain with you again and, likely, no investor this side of the Atlantic ever will. We can still go home and salvage the business there, but what you leave behind here, if you go back to her tonight, will ruin her.”
Thorn cursed and raked his hands through his hair. He didn’t need this now; he needed Charlotte. “What do you expect me to do? I can’t fight this. I need her. You must know what I’m talking about. Its bone-deep, clawing at my insides. I’ve never been so scared in my life. Not since…” Thorn stopped. His throat closed around the words.
Pruitt pushed away from the table and took the kettle off the fire. He calmly gathered the necessities for tea onto the tray while Thorn had an internal battle between his will and his desires. He clenched his fists tightly, ready to hit something.
“Well?” he barked at Pruitt. “Tell me what to do?”
“I already did. Don’t go back to that room.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Then you’ve made your choice.” Pruitt picked up the tray. “If you can’t let her go now, will you be able to do it later?” He paused by the door. “You’ve put your precious brewery before everything, until now. If that isn’t love, I don’t know what it is.” Pruitt pushed through the swinging door and was gone. Thorn watched the door swing closed, stunned, and no closer to identifying what exactly was the right thing to do. His wants and needs had shifted. He needed Charlotte, and he wanted to do right by everyone. But could he do both?
He gathered the food, his mind a muddled pit of dark thoughts and emotions. He returned to the room, opening the door and closing it softly as he saw her lying on the bed, her eyes closed. He set the tray down, fighting the panic of indecision.
He evaluated the risks. It always helped when he broke things down into simple tasks. Leave the food and sleep somewhere else. She’d be safe, and he’d be that much more clear-headed in the morning.
Or stay. His body clamored at the thought, his heart murmuring idiotic things like hold her, soothe her, touch her, and protect her all night. But there was another part of his body that echoed his heart’s desires and more. Claim her, take her, make her yours so that no man will hurt her again.
Then marry her.
It sounded so easy, didn’t it? She’d be his, the land would be his, and Shelding could never harm her again. He could keep building his brewery here, grow his hops, and expand from there. A perfect solution for everything, if one didn’t care to dwell on the heart of the issue. Though Shelding had suggested it, Shelding intended to reap profits from it. Thorn could never let that happen. He couldn’t predict what Shelding would do next. Thorn removed his jacket and laid it over a chair.
If he stayed, there was a very good chance he’d make love to her. He’d resisted for so long, his body an infinite flame of burning desire for her, that it would not be possible to refuse her again.
And then what? She’d never be welcome by the people she once knew. Some might be polite to her face, but Thorn knew the true scorn she could face. Despite his level of wealth, he was still a commoner, still a tradesman. He was not welcome in homes, not introduced to wives and friends.
Shelding had been an odd exception. But then again, Thorn had a feeling that Shelding was an outsider himself. He cared more for money than status. Thorn spent his life overcoming his lower class, fighting to be seen as more than a poor farmer’s son. He could still see the jeering faces of the innkeepers who spat out his ale, who refused to give him the slightest opportunity to be more than he was. How could he ask Charlotte to step down to his level?
Not only that, she’d have to leave England and everything she knew. She talked warmly of friends, despite not having seen them for some time. She’d certainly never see them again if she married beneath her and moved to America.
Charlotte jolted awake. Thorn stood, he didn’t know how long he’d been watching her sleep. He cleared his throat.
She sat up slowly, her raven hair falling down her shoulders in a slow, sensual cascade. He swallowed and cleared his throat again. His body tightened.
“I’ve brought some ham and rolls, if you’re still hungry.”
She yawned. “I didn’t realize I’d fallen asleep.” She slid off the bed, her dress sliding up to her thighs as she did so.
Thorn looked away. He couldn’t decide. He wanted her, but wanting her and having her were two different things. Pruitt was right, damn him. Taking her to bed would only complicate matters more, making the inevitable decision all the more difficult. He took a deep breath, the pat of her feet on the carpet alertin
g him to her proximity. He took a firm grip on his desire and turned to face her.
“Are you thirsty?” He poured ale from a growler into a mug. “It’s my own brew, a lighter ale, refreshing and sweet.”
She picked up a mug and sniffed it before taking a sip. She set it down and smiled. “It’s wonderful.”
He gave her a closed lip smile and handed her a sandwich. It was simple fare, but it would do. “There isn’t much food in the house, I’m afraid.”
She took a bite and chewed. “This is marvelous,” she said after she swallowed. “Aren’t you going to eat?”
He filled his own mug. “I ate at the inn earlier. Your companions are still downstairs having tea if you would like to join them.” He tested himself. He didn’t want her to go, but the distance might help him.
She shook her head, and he wanted to cheer.
“No. To tell you the truth, I hardly know them.”
“They seem nice.”
“More than nice. They risked their lives for me. I don’t know how I will repay him.” She set her sandwich down and took a sip of beer.
“You don’t have to worry about that tonight. They are safe here. Tomorrow we’ll figure it out.”
She smiled at him. “You’re so positive. How do you manage it?”
She caught him off guard. “What?”
“You always know the right thing to say to make me feel better.”
He let himself taste a bit of triumph. Outwardly, he shrugged. “I don’t see the use of worrying. Nothing more can be done tonight. Pruitt has seen to their care.”
“And you’ve seen to mine.” She moved to him, her arms slipping around his neck.
Emotions collided inside him. He wanted to pull her tighter and push her away. Everything had changed, and yet this was still the same. They couldn’t do this. He needed to tell her gently, before things moved too quickly as they had this afternoon.
She wanted him, and he would have to refuse her. The thought alone made him physically hurt. His body was already responding to the soft press of hers.
“Charlotte,” he sighed. This was hell.
She came up on her tiptoes and lightly kissed his lips. Her delicate fingers touched his beard, tugging gently. “Don’t push me away, please,” she whispered, her lips brushing his as she spoke.
It shattered him. He could not move. Her plea went straight to his groin via his heart. All his strength, his determination to do the right thing disintegrated under her simple words. They must not have been as firm as he thought they were.
He was going to take her to bed, make her come apart in his arms. He was going to watch her face as she came, moaning his name. His arms came around her, lifting her against him as he took her lips. He walked to the bed, mirrored what they’d done this afternoon. Only this time, he would not stop until he tasted all of her.
He set her down on the bed, unbuttoning her dress and pulling it down her shoulders. “Tell me to stop.” He grasped her bodice and tugged it down, her small perfect breasts spilling into his hands.
“Never.” She undid the buttons of his shirt and began to pull it from his trousers.
He dipped his head to taste her rosebud nipple. She let out a breathy sigh, her fingers diving into his hair, holding him to her. He was lost now, his ship crashing against the rocks. He was going under.
Chapter 20
August 4th 1823
Dear Mother,
I received yours and Christine’s letters today. As I read them, I could hear your voices in my head. It brought me comfort and made me wish for home and the smell of your buttermilk and honey biscuits. You always made them for me when I was sad or had a terrible day. Those things usually went hand in hand. I could use a biscuit right now.
* * *
Christopher
A sweet zing of pain followed by warm velvet. Erotic. A slow burn inside her body. Heat and honey swirled inside her limbs and pooled low in her body. She felt damp between her legs, a sign of her need for him. She prayed he wouldn’t stop this time. She needed to see this through. Tomorrow didn’t matter, nothing else mattered but what she felt in his arms.
She helped him pull his shirt over his head. She set her palms to his broad, smooth chest, marveling at the sculpture that was his body. Hot skin and banded muscle covering every inch of him. She pressed her mouth to his chest, tasting his skin, feeling the reverberation of his heart, fast and hard against her lips. She dug her nails into his skin, thick and pliable, kissed by the sun. He was a marvel. A specimen of what a man could be when he used his body for more than leisure. A man who used his body to build an empire. His strength, his perseverance. Things that she’d been taught to care little for in the search of a partner. These were the things about him that awed her. And above all else, he was good. His muscles were big, but his heart was bigger.
There was no one more worthy of giving her heart and body to.
Charlotte expected to feel trepidation, or at the very least, a bit of modesty. They’d been here before, but she knew this time would be different. She could feel it in the desperation of his touch, the way he peeled her dress from her, not with the skilled hands of a practiced seducer but with hungry, impatient hands. It made her feel like a goddess.
She pulled her arms from the sleeves, and wiggled as he pulled the dress out from under her hips and down her legs. Next came her stays, and then he was pushing her back onto bed, following her as she lay back. He lay beside her, cupping her bare breast. He kissed her deeply, his tongue stroking hers in long, languid caresses. Was it possible to feel worshipped through a kiss? She was a novice, but she felt cherished. The heat inside her transformed into a ravaging fire. She couldn’t wait; she needed him to do more, to take her deeper into the inferno until they melted into one.
Her heart tripped and faltered in a painful rhythm. She wanted so much from him, but she was so scared. How was it possible to love a man so deeply, knowing he had so much power to hurt you? She pressed her eyes closed, kissing a trail to his mouth and giving herself into the kiss. She didn’t want him to see how affected she was. Her eyes burned, tears stinging behind her lids as her heart and body yearned fiercely for him. He was so close and yet so far.
She wanted to be his wife. She’d searched for years for this feeling, for a man she could entrust her heart to. For months, she’d despised the thought of being trapped by Edward, the thought of never knowing love at the hands of her husband a bitter taste in her mouth. But now she had it within her grasp, if only she could convince him that it was worth the risk.
She’d do anything, go anywhere, as long as she was by his side.
His hands pulled her tightly against his hardness and she gasped. His hand moved between her thighs, fingers sliding to her molten core.
“Yes,” she whimpered. Her mind was busy, but so was her body. It was a struggle to think, but a voice clamored inside her. She would not settle this time. She would make him see that they belonged together, no matter what it took.
“Please, Thorn.”
“Christopher,” he ground out. His mouth was busy at her breast again, the scrape of his beard against her tender nipple causing goosebumps to erupt over her skin. She shivered, her nerves singing an aria of joy.
“Christopher, I need you.” She moaned. Her head was spiraling, her heart soaring.
He moved over her, pushing her shift high over her hips. His tongue seared a path to her navel then lower. He spread her thighs wide, his fingers thrusting in her core. Her hips jerked. She cried out in relief. Then his tongue touched her hood, the sensation so acute she let out a small scream, startled by the intense feeling.
“Shhh,” he said, growling against her flesh. The vibration made her legs twitch involuntarily. He did it again, and Charlotte bit her lip to keep from crying out.
She fisted one hand in the coverlet and another in her hair. She was barreling toward her release, so fast it was overwhelming. Her toes curled as he flicked his tongue over her sensitive pearl, ov
er and over, and then he sucked.
She bit her knuckle to keep from screaming. Fireworks exploded in her body, pure, unbridled pleasure coursing through her limbs. The paralyzing bliss eased, leaving her boneless.
The heat and fire dissipated quickly, leaving her chilled until he crawled over her again, tucking her against him, the hot brand of his arousal against her stomach.
She wanted to explore him but was too sated to move. Lethargy took hold as he brushed damp wisps of hair away from her forehead and pulled the blanket over them. It would be so easy to let sleep claim her, but she fought it. She didn’t want it to be over, not yet.
He was stroking her hair, kissing her ear and forehead.
“Christopher?”
“You should sleep.” He rested his cheek on her crown.
How sweet, Charlotte thought, but she wasn’t about to let this be the end of it. Tomorrow would dawn, and reality would be back to pester them. She nuzzled his neck, darting her tongue out to taste the salty tang of his skin. She felt his breathing hitch. His hips shifted ever so slightly, the bold tip of his manhood prodding her. She wanted to feel it between her legs; she throbbed there, once again aching and empty of him.
She wanted to touch him. That part of him that beckoned from his trousers, so hard and proud. She hitched her leg over his hip, tilting her hips closer.
“Charlotte.” His voice was hoarse.
“You need relief too.”
“I have you here safely in my arms. That is all the relief I need.”
She reached around his neck, pulling herself higher. His manhood slipped between her thighs, sliding against her hood.
Pleasure shimmered through her. Oh, yes… She moved her hips again, rewarded with the same burst of pleasure. His arousal twitched, a caged beast, wanting to be set free. Her hand snaked down between them, but he caught her wrist.
Their eyes met.
