Max drew back, and his hand slid from her jaw to her shoulder. “There. Will that do, my lady?” he whispered, his voice low and husky and almost as delicious as his kiss.
Charlie swallowed. “I… It’s a start,” she managed. Tremors of desire still fluttered in her belly, and she seemed to be having trouble arranging her thoughts and feelings. They ricocheted between the urge to demand more kisses and the wild impulse to dance a little jig because at long last, Max had actually kissed her. And it had been wonderful and sweet and—
To Charlie’s amusement, Max gave a disgruntled harumph and cocked a brow. “A start?”
“Well, when you kiss that well, Your Grace, you can’t expect me to be satisfied with just one.” She let go of his jacket, even though her knees were still as wobbly as jelly. “But you’ve fulfilled your obligation. The custom has been observed. We may now continue on our way.”
“Not quite.” Max bent down and retrieved her Easter bonnet. “You’ve forgotten this, my dear Charlotte.” He very carefully placed it upon her head and tied the chocolate-brown bow beneath her chin. The heat of his fingers brushing the sensitive flesh beneath her jaw made Charlie shiver with longing all over again, but somehow she managed to keep herself in check. She dared not press him for another kiss. Perhaps later that night she could snatch another quiet moment alone with Max beneath another one of her strategically placed kissing boughs…
Offering his arm once again, Max said, “Shall we?”
Charlie readily slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow. “We shall.”
Chapter 12
Dear ladies of the ton, it’s time to don your Easter bonnets!
The Beau Monde Mirror: The Essential Style & Etiquette Guide
Hyde Park, London
Max had made some very bad decisions in his twenty-eight years, but his decision to kiss Charlie beneath her spring kissing bough would have to be one of the worst. Because ever since that moment, he could think about nothing else but doing it again. And again. Until he’d kissed her senseless and she was panting for more.
God, how he wanted more.
Of course, doing such a thing, right here, right now in the middle of Hyde Park, was out of the question.
Keeping his matched grays under control and steering the phaeton through the fashionable-hour traffic had kept his attention occupied for a short while, but when he drew the open carriage to a halt beneath a willow tree beside the Serpentine and Charlie turned in his direction to observe the lake, he found he couldn’t tear his gaze away from her mouth. With the lovely oval of her face framed by her new bonnet and her golden-brown eyes illuminated by the late afternoon sun, she was breathtakingly pretty.
Her lips, as soft and plump as ripe plums, were slightly parted, and when the breeze coming off the water lifted a tendril of her rich chestnut hair and blew it across her cheek, caressing the corner of her mouth, he was hard pressed not to give in to the urge to stroke the errant lock to one side and place his own mouth there instead.
Damn. Charlie had been right. One kiss wasn’t enough to satisfy him either. He’d initially given in to temptation because her contrivance of a kissing bough had amused him, and he’d mistakenly thought that perhaps one light bussing of his lips across hers would be enough to sate his craving and hers. Of course, that reasoning had turned out to be utterly foolish, especially after he’d surrendered to the impulse to taste the honeyed recess of her mouth.
Max almost groaned aloud as he recalled the flutter of her tongue against his, the silken press of her plush lips, the tiny moan she’d made at the back of her throat…
Charlie’s kiss was like a goddamned box of sweetmeats from Gunter’s. He could gorge on the entire contents of that box, and it still wouldn’t be enough to satisfy his hunger. If anything, his craving had sharpened. It was no longer just a gnawing pang but a wild need. A slavering, ravenous beast that longed to seize Charlie and—
Max stifled another groan of frustration. Yes, thank God he and Charlie were promenading in Hyde Park. Because it was Easter Sunday, there were members of the ton everywhere, constantly casting curious glances their way or even tipping their hats and raising hands in acknowledgement as they passed by. Because if they weren’t in a public space—
Charlie’s gaze connected with his. “Don’t tell me you’re thinking what I’m thinking,” she murmured, a mischievous smile playing about her lips.
Max swallowed guiltily. “And what would that be, Lady Charlotte?”
A rich, throaty laugh tumbled forth, and her elbow nudged his. “I know you asked me to be your fiancée to repair my reputation, but the wicked part of me can’t resist the idea of giving the ton something else to talk about, even if it’s only a kiss that sets tongues wagging. I mean, I don’t know about you, but I might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb.”
Max shook his head. “Charlotte Hastings. What on earth am I going to do with you?”
Her eyes gleamed and when she murmured, “Whatever you like,” in a low, husky voice full of sensual promise, Max’s cock stirred in appreciation. Lust slithered and curled through his belly.
Dear God, this minx—no, this woman—would be the death of him. Valiantly harnessing the urge to flick the reins and send his horses barreling straight for Exmoor House so he could really do everything he wanted with Charlie, Max reached for her gloved hand and captured it in his. “You’re playing a dangerous game,” he warned. “I know you claim to know what you want, but have you really thought this through? What would happen if we both succumbed to temptation and the possible consequences that might follow? I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but I may very well do just that if we go too far and we have to wed. While I would endeavor to be a good husband, I know I won’t be able to give you what you want. I…I’m not like Nate or even my other friends, Gabriel and Hamish.” He deliberately hardened his voice. “They might be rakes who fell head-over-heels in love, but I’m different. I’m fundamentally flawed in that regard. I’m simply not capable of forming close attachments, and never have been.”
Charlie’s full bottom lip jutted out in a determined pout. She didn’t look convinced, so he prepared another argument.
“See those swans over there?” He nodded at a pair floating serenely by, their necks intertwined like lovers.
She sighed. “Yes.”
“The male finds a partner, and they mate for life. It’s within a swan’s nature to do that. It’s not within mine. I’m more like a—”
Charlie arched a brow. “Tomcat?”
Max grimaced. “I was going to say lone wolf. But yes, tomcat would fit just as well.”
Gold sparks of challenge flared within Charlie’s eyes. “How can you be so sure that you cannot love? I sometimes feel that when we’re together, there could be something more. The way you look at me. The sweet things you do for me…” She touched her fingers to the elaborate bow of her bonnet. “You fought a duel for me, Max.”
“I’ve known you for a long time, Charlie, and it would be a lie if I said that I didn’t feel a…a deep and abiding fondness for you. As for the rest…” He drew a deep breath. “It pains me to admit something so disrespectful, but it’s lust. Pure and simple. And it would be unconscionable if we…if you and I became intimate but I ultimately disappointed you because I cannot give you the lifetime of love that you so clearly want. And deserve. I won’t be that selfish cad.”
“But—”
“No buts. I’ve never been in love with a woman before. I’ve never shared a close bond with anyone at all, for that matter. You know my mother; she’s aloof at best. Always has been. And my father…he was far, far worse. Anthony and I were rivals most of the time. I grew up in a cold, loveless household, Charlie. I cannot change who I am. How I think. What my heart feels, or to be more precise, what it doesn’t feel. I might feel strong emotions like passion or anger when I see an injustice perpetrated, but I am also inured to the absence of warmth or affection. I do not crave intimacy of any kind. I
was brought up that way.”
Charlie nodded. Beneath the bow of her bonnet, her delicate throat worked in a swallow. “Yet you’ve formed a close bond with my brother and Gabriel and Hamish.”
“Nate and I became friends at Oxford. And all of us—your brother, Gabriel, Hamish and I—were brothers-in-arms at Waterloo. Male bonds of friendship are entirely different.”
Charlie lifted her chin. “I don’t know if they are, Max. I suppose we’ll have to agree to disagree on that score.”
They lapsed into tense silence for a minute, and Max wondered if he should give the reins a flick to return to Hastings House. But then Charlie gave a wistful sigh and said, “I’m sorry to push you, Max. Although a lady shouldn’t admit this, I seem to be suffering from a most unseemly bout of lust too. Of course, impulsive creature that I am, I often say and do things without thinking them through. But I do understand your reticence to pursue a relationship of a more intimate nature with me, and from now on, I’ll make a concerted effort to behave with a greater degree of decorum. Besides”—she shrugged a shoulder—“there are only so many times I can throw myself at you before I appear utterly foolish and as desperate as those other debutantes who were chasing after you. I won’t be that annoying ninnyhammer. I don’t want you to grow to despise me.”
Max squeezed her hand. “You must know I could never feel that way about you. And you don’t need to pretend to be someone you’re not, Charlie. Don’t ever do that.”
Her mouth twitched with a wry smile. “To thine own self be true?”
“Something like that.”
“Hmm. If only my true self were a little less impetuous and prone to wicked thoughts.” She sighed and withdrew her hand from his. “While we are exchanging confidences…just out of interest, what sort of wife are you looking for, Max? You told me once before that you anticipated on marrying five years from now. If you do not want a love match, what do you want?”
He frowned and fiddled with the reins. “This will sound dreadful and terribly shallow, but I always imagined that I would wed someone a little like Lady Penelope Purcell. Someone who is agreeable, and who can manage my household. Someone who will be content to share my bed until I have my heir and a spare. Someone who will make my life easy, I suppose.” He winced. “Good Lord, does that sound as bad as I think it does?”
Charlie smiled. “A little. But for someone in your position, it also sounds eminently sensible. No one could fault your reasoning. Oh, no. Speak of the devil,” she muttered.
Max looked up, and sure enough, Lady Penelope was headed their way in the company of her brother, Nigel, Lord Mowbray. The marquess was driving a nicely sprung curricle.
Wonderful.
“Hey, ho,” called Lord Mowbray as his vehicle drew close. “Fancy meeting you here, Exmoor. Oh…” His light blue gaze slid to Charlie, and his smile widened as he added, “And your charming fiancée. Lady Charlotte.” The marquess tipped his top hat. “Happy Easter. And may I offer my congratulations to you both on your engagement? Such an unexpected but no doubt felicitous union.”
“Yes, Happy Easter, Your Grace, and congratulations,” echoed Lady Penelope. The smile she turned on Charlie was as false as the clusters of enormous silk peonies on her Easter bonnet. “Lady Charlotte, you must be very happy.”
Beside him, Max felt Charlie’s body stiffen, but nevertheless, she returned the young woman’s smile. “Yes, thank you. I am. Over-the-moon happy.”
“I say, I’m rather looking forward to your betrothal celebrations later this week, Exmoor.” Lord Mowbray winked at Charlie. “I’m sure you are too, Lady Charlotte, eh? There’s nothing quite like a house party to lend some excitement to the Season. Why wait until summer when we all quit Town?”
“Yes,” drawled Max, only just restraining the urge to plant a facer in the vicinity of the marquess’s nose. He didn’t like the way the man was looking at Charlie. “Quite.”
“It was so kind of your mama to issue our entire family with an invitation, Your Grace,” purred Penelope, drawing Max’s attention. “I’ve heard Heathcote Hall is lovely. I can’t wait to explore the gardens. Perhaps we could take a turn about the grounds sometime, or even venture onto the heath…” A tinkling laugh escaped her. “That is, if you can bear to let your handsome fiancé out of your sight, Lady Charlotte. He’s quite the catch, isn’t he?”
“Yes,” replied Charlie with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “He is.”
Max reached for Charlie’s hand. “I’m afraid I must beg to differ with you, Charlotte,” he murmured. “You’re the one who’s the catch, my sweet.” Raising her gloved fingers to his lips, he held her astonished gaze as he glanced a gentle kiss across her knuckles. “I consider myself the luckiest gentleman in London, indeed the whole of England, to have you as my bride-to-be.”
Charlie blushed, but she didn’t look away. “I think the feeling is mutual, Your Grace. I mean to say, I feel lucky too.”
Max threw her a deliberately rakish, lopsided smile. Lord Mowbray cleared his throat. “Yes. Well. What say we bid these two lovebirds adieu, dear sis?”
“Yes,” agreed Lady Penelope. The smile on her face looked decidedly fixed and icy now. More of a forced grimace. “I think I spied Lord and Lady Bartlett on the other side of the park earlier on. We should pay our respects.”
“Tallyho, then.” Mowbray lashed the haunches of his matched bay geldings, then they were off, careening down the bridle path at breakneck speed.
Max groaned. “Dear God. I take back what I said earlier. I don’t wish to wed anyone like Lady Penelope.”
Charlie laughed. “I’m relieved to hear it. And while I also appreciate your display of support and kind words just now, you might also be relieved to know that it’s not a foregone conclusion that we will wed. That is, in case you are worried you’re well and truly caught in the parson’s noose.”
Max arched a brow. “It sounds like you’ve already made up your mind about what will happen at the end of the Season. But I want you to know that I will do the honorable thing and gladly, if that is what you want.”
“I…” Charlie straightened her shoulders. “To be perfectly frank, I’m not sure what I want, Max. You see, a little while ago, I received a letter from my aunt Tabitha inviting me to accompany her on a Grand Tour in the summer. And I would like to see the world. Very much. And who knows”—her mouth curved in a bright smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes—“Arabella met Gabriel in Switzerland. Perhaps I shall meet my love match on the Continent too if you and I don’t… Well, what I mean to say is, I have options, Max. So you needn’t worry that you’re destined to become leg-shackled to someone like me—a woman who isn’t overly agreeable and who’s bound to make your life difficult rather than easy. It wouldn’t be fair to either of us if our union was forged on a foundation of fleeting lust and obligation and that alone. I know we would both do our best to maintain an amicable relationship, but as you’ve said, in the end, we both want different things from marriage.” She gave a little laugh. “No doubt your mother will be glad to see the back of me. Unfortunately, I think I might have cemented her bad opinion of me when I shared afternoon tea with her and Diana.”
The fact that his mother had insulted Charlie about her figure made Max’s gut tighten with anger. Resisting the urge to scowl lest Charlie misconstrue the reason for his temper, he asked in a deliberately mild tone, “Why, what happened?”
Charlie winced. “I let slip that I know how to fence, drive a curricle, and shoot a pistol. Not ladylike—let alone duchess-like—accomplishments at all.”
Max gave a snort of laughter. “I would have liked to have seen her face. Her expression would have been priceless.”
Charlie blinked at him. “You’re not shocked? That I can do all of those things?”
“Of course not. I knew you fenced. I’ve heard you talk about it before. And there’s nothing wrong at all with being able to drive a curricle. Many women do. And as for being able to use a pistol, we
ll, to my way of thinking, it’s nothing but practical. Knowledge brings power, after all.”
“Well, I’m relieved you agree,” said Charlie. “Although, I might have told your mother and Diana a tiny white lie about my shooting skills. I intimated that I’d only used a pistol once. But in actual fact, Nate has taken me shooting at our father’s estate many times. During the summer holidays, when we were both bored. Although I’ve never shot at anything but a fixed target. Mainly empty champagne and brandy bottles, actually. I can’t abide the idea of hunting.”
Max gave her a wry smile. “Remind me never to get into your black books, Lady Charlotte Hastings. If you decided that running me through wasn’t sufficient punishment, it sounds like you could also run me over with a curricle, then finish me off with a pistol.”
Charlie laughed at that. “Yes, you’d best remember that, Your Grace. I’m not someone to be trifled with.”
Max’s smile widened to a grin. “Oh, I know, my lady. I know.”
“In any event, despite my penchant for less than genteel activities, Diana didn’t seem to think ill of me,” she continued. “In fact, I rather think that given a little time, we could become firm friends. When your mother began to discuss the arrangements for the house party at Heathcote Hall and our betrothal ball, Diana asked for my opinion on anything and everything. I truly appreciated her support.”
“Well, I’m glad,” said Max. And he truly was. “And it’s my fond hope that other members of the ton with influence will change their opinion of you and will be singing your praises to all and sundry very soon. I’m sure this house party and ball will only be the beginning of your acceptance back into Society’s fold.”
How to Catch a Devilish Duke: The Disreputable Debutantes Page 16
