His eyes hooded, and no longer making light of the matter, he showed her where to touch him over the material of his breeches. He slid her hand up and down the long hard ridge. “This is what you do to me. The mere thought of you fills me with need.”
The look in his eyes was a mixture of vulnerability and pain.
“You’ve done this before.”
He dipped his chin in acknowledgment. “But it’s never felt like this.”
The combination of a man so confident, so proud and sure of his place in the world and—and this man—the one before her, who appeared tentative but determined—broke her.
“There’s no turning back,” she whispered.
“No turning back.”
With all barriers crushed, her inhibitions fled. His mouth devoured hers at the same time she clawed her hands around his waist and tugged until he was free. She came to life everywhere he touched her. She wanted him to consume her.
The slow and tender exploration of earlier was replaced with a feverish need to join. The shirt she’d been wearing was gone. He kicked his breeches off.
“My hair.”
“Sorry.” He moved to release the strands trapped under his hand. “I love it.” He took a moment to bury his face into the mass of curls he’d released and then gathered them in his fist and laved at the most sensitive skin of her nape.
Charley tentatively moved her hand up and down silky-smooth skin, awed that it could feel so soft and hard and…
Big.
His cock. Rolling the word around in her mind, chanting it, picturing it, had her widening her legs for him. He was ready. She was ready.
Hot gasps for air mingled between them, and she could hardly tell which were his and which were hers.
And then he was at her opening. The dancing light of the fire reflected off the beads of sweat glistening on his brow as he hovered over her.
And as he eased inside, the same light flickered in his eyes as he gazed into hers.
Her intimate flesh stretched as he inched forward. A tiny droplet of sweat formed just above his lip. It was no small feat for him to show so much restraint. Even in their passion, he would protect her.
He stopped, winced, slid out but then eased inside again, deeper. Out. And then in. Out. And then deeper. She knew something was supposed to tear. It was supposed to hurt. But as he worked her body slowly with his, all she felt was growing pleasure. A completeness. A little twinge that she barely recognized and then his pace increased.
He’d told her to let go before but he didn’t have to tell her now. He was hers. She was his. She clung to him with both her arms and her legs until all she knew was the sensation of becoming one.
It was almost like falling and even better than whiskey.
“Am I squashing you?” Julian had collapsed on top of her, still inside of her, both of them slowly catching their breath. He went to move but she tightened her arms and legs around him.
“No.”
He chuckled and relaxed. The cot was soft and his weight, although considerable, comfortable and warm. He prevented her from floating up and into the clouds of wonder and an odd state of exhaustion.
“Was it painful?” he murmured into her hair.
“Not at all.” She stroked his back lazily. “I liked it.”
Again, he laughed softly, but it rumbled through him and she felt it with her entire body. They were pressed together, naked, still joined, messy. She glanced down.
“Next time I’ll remove my shoes.” She should have removed them before, but he hadn’t given her a chance.
He pushed up onto his elbows. “However you wish.” He grinned and she recognized the same wonder that she was feeling. “Whenever you wish and as often as you wish.” The look in his eyes could almost be love. She had never known true love, but she was halfway certain that she was not mistaken.
Was that what she felt for him?
“Did you like it then?” She imagined that he had enjoyed it as much as her, but it never hurt to be sure.
“Very much.” He dropped a kiss on her mouth. The kiss was meant to be a quick one, but when she parted her lips and arched into him, it deepened and went on and on. His member had slid out of her but now she knew exactly what was happening when he hardened and grew to press against her again.
He tore his mouth away from hers and groaned. “Do you hear that?”
She paused, temporarily distracted enough to focus on anything but the two of them lying here together and touching and kissing and feeling…
“I don’t hear anything.”
He winced. “Precisely. The rain has stopped.”
“Oh…” They needed to return to the manor. She would have to face Mrs. Crabtree. And Bethany. And possibly his mother.
“I—What—How—?” Did he have anyone to answer to? Would they have to make some sort of an announcement to the other guests? “Will we have to sneak back in?”
She’d promised to marry him. Would that mean all was forgiven? Would that cover their indiscretions?
He pressed his lips to hers again and then pushed himself up. “We will not sneak into my own home.”
She hadn’t had a chance before, but now her mouth went dry as she got her first glimpse of him, wearing nothing and exactly as God must have intended. She’d known he kept himself fit by the ease with which he carried himself, but she’d had no idea exactly how fit. Muscles rippled as he bent over to retrieve something from the floor.
“Where the devil are my blasted trousers?” He turned and sent her a wicked glance before tossing her chemise onto the bed. “You’d better put this on or we’ll never make it back to the manor.”
Suddenly, the thought of going outside, of riding through the mud and having to face all the guests at Westerley Manor was almost too much to bear. Charley drew the light linen covering over her head but then clasped her arms around her knees.
“I wish we could stay here forever.” The fire was dying down, though, and now that the storm had passed, it was becoming apparent that the sun would soon set.
Jules tucked his shirt down into his breeches but paused to meet her gaze. “I do too, but soon enough, we’ll have a lifetime to be together.”
His confidence was reassuring but a shiver of doubt crept up her spine. It wasn’t as easy as that, was it? One didn’t simply meet a person, fall in love, and live happily together forever, did they?
Do they?
Chapter 25
A SNAG
“You have a problem, my darling son.” His mother’s voice halted him as he turned in the direction of his chamber.
Jules was soaked through to the skin for the second time that day, and after having safely delivered Charley to her chamber, all he wanted was a hot bath and a good meal. And afterward, he would announce his betrothal to Charley.
“I realize our absence will have been noted.” He turned, his boots making a cringeworthy squishing sound as he did so. “But you needn’t worry.” The road had been so slippery and muddy that twice he’d had to climb down and lead the animals on foot. They should have remained at the mill and he’d chastised himself more than once for putting her in danger.
His reassurance did nothing to relieve the concern on his mother’s face. “Precisely why we must speak now.”
Jules gestured with one hand to indicate the condition of his clothing. “Can it not wait until I change out of these wet clothes?” That was when he noticed her hands clenched together. Hell and damnation. “I’ll meet you in my study in ten minutes.”
She nodded in agreement.
Jules rushed into his chamber, eager to put the discussion with his mother behind him. Whatever she had to say would be secondary to all that had transpired with Charley today. He’d not allow anything to steal this euphoric feeling that had eluded him for so long.
Charley had agreed to marry him. He’d made love to her. He hadn’t expected this sensation that they had somehow become a part of one another.
He’d waited his entire life
to become whole. He’d waited his entire life for her.
Mr. Robbins had Jules dressed in dry clothing and sitting in his study in just under a quarter of an hour.
Leaning back in his chair, Jules closed his eyes, reliving moments he would never forget. His heart and his mind quite agreed that meeting Charley would forever be one of the most momentous occasions of his life.
He could hardly wait to begin living it with her—spending his days making her happy. Protecting her. Spending his nights inside of her, pleasuring her.
As the door pushed open to admit his mother, Jules sat forward, not really caring that he likely was wearing something of a lovesick expression on his face.
That was, until Lord Brightly followed her inside.
The older man, who had always seemed more of a distant uncle to him than a family acquaintance, strode directly to the large desk Jules was sitting behind and slapped down a collection of papers.
With barely a glance, the familiar scrawl of his father’s signature at the bottom of the page had Jules feeling as though he was falling. Falling from the highest pinnacle of his life and landing in a pit of despair.
As he leaned forward and skimmed the contents of the first page, he didn’t only feel like he was in a pit, but that the past was shoveling dirt into that pit, covering him.
He was breathing and yet somehow no air filled his lungs.
The date at the bottom sent a sharp pain shooting from his heart. His father had drawn the document up and signed it the night before the duel—the night before he’d been mortally wounded. While Jules had been drinking and whoring.
“There was an agreement,” Brightly announced unnecessarily. He at least had the good judgment not to appear overly satisfied or gleeful. “My daughter will not be disappointed.”
Cracking sounds echoed in the room, and his mother cleared her throat uncomfortably.
He knew what this meant. He jerked his head and bloody well didn’t give a damn that the two other occupants in the room winced at the sound.
He’d promised himself to Charley. He’d given her his word. He’d taken her innocence.
But his father had promised Jules to Felicity. Without his knowledge. Perhaps if Jules hadn’t been passed out in a brothel, his father would have seen fit to inform him of the fact.
“Why that night?” Jules met Lord Brightley’s stare. “What did he say to you?” Had his father felt a sense of foreboding for himself?
Lord Brightly turned away. “He said you had been living debaucherously and it was time you settled down. He was disappointed in you. It was a means to rein you in so you would take your responsibilities seriously.”
“Why didn’t you say something to me before now?” Damn it all to hell. This was something he ought to have been informed of immediately.
Brightly turned and gave him a sad smile. “You had just lost your father. And… after he passed, you changed. You were settling down and taking care of your estates. A few gentlemen remarked upon the fact that you were no longer attending the less-reputable establishments. Every indication was that you planned to offer for Felicity this spring. I saw no need.”
“And you wanted to marry Felicity, Westerley.” His mother interjected. “Until that American girl—"
“If I’d wanted to marry her, I would have done so by now.” Speaking the words aloud, it struck him that he’d known this for some time now. If he’d wanted to marry Felicity, he never would have accepted Jackson’s bet.
But if he’d known his father had drawn up an official agreement, he wouldn’t have had a choice.
And now?
Bile threatened to rise in his throat.
The older man scowled. “Felicity informed me of your intentions toward Miss Jackson, but I’ve explained to her that you were mistaken—that your decision was nothing more than a momentary lapse of judgment. Your father wanted this.” He pointed at the contract. “He wanted you to marry a lady of quality, a lady who would uphold the dignity of your family name, represent the title as it should be.”
“Marrying Miss Jackson is the opposite of what your father would have wanted.” His mother spoke up from where she stood, arms folded in front of her.
Had everything happened for no reason? He couldn’t believe that. He…
He loved Charley. Now he couldn’t have her.
Was this to be his punishment for failing to show up at the duel?
The bold slash of his father’s signature glared up at him like a stern reprimand. “I’ll go over this tonight.” It was the only thing he could think to say, suddenly caught between immense pain and numb disbelief.
Brightly nodded. “It’s perfectly legal. Both of our solicitors went over it at the time.”
Jules’ mother nodded graciously toward Felicity’s father. “Thank you, Milton. I’m so sorry for the misunderstanding.”
Brightly pursed his lips as though he had more to say but then excused himself with a shallow bow and exited the study. Tension weighed heavily in the wake of his departure.
His mother crossed the room and cautiously lowered herself into the seat in front of Jules. He didn’t look up at her. He sat as though in a trance, staring at his father’s signature.
“We can pay her father off,” his mother attempted to cajole him. “She is a nice enough girl, but this is not her world.”
The words made sense—to the man Jules had been a few years ago—slightly, even, to the man he’d been little over a week ago.
But not to the man he was today. Not to the man who no longer possessed his own heart.
“It is,” he asserted. Because it was her world. And she was his. He couldn’t marry Felicity. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t walk away from the promises he’d made to Charley. Even setting aside the wager he’d lost to her father, he could never dishonor a woman that way.
He’d promised Charley that he’d never hurt her. He’d rather cut off his own arm than cause her a single moment of pain.
“Your father made this promise years ago. He did it for you. And then he gave his life for you,” his mother reminded him softly.
Jules scrubbed his hand down his face. “Leave me.” He did not need additional recriminations for what he’d done in the past. “Now please.”
She hesitated but then rose silently. Jules dropped his forehead onto the desk and didn’t look up until the door opened and the men he’d considered brothers ambled into the room. It was Chase, of course, who insisted he stop wallowing and ponder his fate in the only manner a gentleman ought.
By sending for more bottles of his grandfather’s scotch whisky, of course.
“I was half-worried I’d have to tell your father you were washed away in that storm. After everyone else had returned and you still hadn’t come back here to change for dinner.” Daisy fussed at Charley the second she stepped into her chamber.
Even after the harrowing ride back to the manor, the joy and excitement of the afternoon stayed with her.
“I was perfectly safe.” Charley gratefully slid her arms into the warm dressing gown to wait for the bath to be filled.
“But to be gone with a gentleman. Alone.” Daisy led her to a chair set up near the hearth and then handed her a small quilt. “Gossip is like a wildfire, Miss Charley. I did my best to hush a few of the lower maids but there was no stopping it.”
Jules had told her to expect this. But not only amongst the servants. Amongst the guests. And as one of the persons involved in the scandal was an eligible earl, it would eventually travel to London.
“What are they saying?” Perhaps it wasn’t as bad as she feared. After all, it had been raining and even after they’d waited, the roads had been treacherous to traverse.
“Would you prefer the watered-down version or the worst of it?”
Charley winced. “Tell me the worst.”
A knock interrupted them, and Daisy kept her mouth pinched tight while a laden-down tray was brought in and set on a low table nearby.
The h
ousemaid glanced suspiciously in Charley’s direction but then quickly looked away, fueling the inklings of trepidation Charley had begun to feel.
“Tell me,” Charley demanded while Daisy poured a hot cup of tea.
“The Westerley family, it seems, has always been one of the more popular amongst the ton. The English—not I, of course, but the higher ups—well, they are not overly keen on him consorting with an American. Word is that you’ve thrown yourself at him. One of the manservants says you are giving him a magic potion to keep him under your spell.”
Charley frowned. “A magic potion?” And then it dawned on her. “The whiskey.” Good Lord!
“Yes. And Mrs. Crabtree says that Lord Brightly went to his estate this afternoon to retrieve documents signed by Lord Westerley’s father.”
“How does Mrs. Crabtree know this?”
“She was in the room when the earl informed the countess of his departure. Something about a marriage contract between the Lord Westerley and Lady Felicity.”
That inkling of concern was quickly becoming a wave of panic. Mrs. Crabtree, it seemed, was quite in the know. “She told you all of this today?”
“She did.” Daisy stared down at the floor. “Apparently, most of the guests had barely made it to the Abbey before the rain began, and Mrs. Crabtree was one of the last to return. She came to me, looking for you. Said you’d gone off with the earl. The other talk began shortly after tea with the sentiments growing meaner when you and his lordship failed to return before dark. I’m worried about you, Miss Charley.” She met Charley’s gaze with her own, frowning in concern. “Mrs. Crabtree insists you are ruined. When your father returns, she says it’s likely you’ll have to remain at your grandparents until you can catch a ship back home. I’m so sorry, miss. These people have nothing better to do than talk.”
“The gossip doesn’t bother me.” Although she hated to think that Bethany and Tabetha thought poorly of her. As she considered the two sisters, her mind then jumped to other guests who’d been friendly to her. Did they consider her a woman of loose morals? Had all of them been kind to her face and then turned around and speculated on her character?
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