An Heir of Deception (29 page)

“You needn’t worry. I shall take care of it in the future. Until then, I shall take care not to spill inside you.” He stroked the length of her arm, his touch both equal parts sensual and soothing.

A diversion from talk of contraception? Charlotte could only wonder. But what wasn’t at question was how her body responded instantly to him. How her blood thrummed at his touch and the revival of his erection pressing stiff and hot along her inner thigh.

“I was so eager after so long, I fear I neglected these.” His hands cupped her breasts and began playing with her nipples; lightly pinching, flicking and thumbing them into stiff buds. “I shall do my best to make it up to you,” he murmured, his voice thick with lust.

The fire in her blazed back to life as if it hadn’t been doused a short time ago. She was insatiable. She moaned and began kneading the outside of his thighs. Alex grew harder and hotter beneath her.

In a sudden movement, he went from being under her to over her, his mouth pulling her nipple between his lips. Charlotte’s breath became choppy and she stroked his nape as he suckled her.

If he was determined to improve on the experience, who was she to stop him?

When Charlotte awoke the next morning, it was hideously bright. The sun in one of its more generous moods had decided to bless them with its singular presence.

The evening’s events came instantly to mind and when she gave a lazy stretch, her body’s pleasurable aches and pains further reinforced how deliciously she’d passed the night—and a good portion of the early morning.

Alex had been insatiable—and admittedly, so had she—taking her three times. The last time had been in the wee hours of the morning when he’d turned her on her side and taken her from behind. But as late as he’d stayed, he must have left her bed frightfully early.

But the sun proclaimed she had slept well beyond the hours she’d hence been accustomed to. A glance at the clock on the fireplace mantel indicated it was half past ten; she’d been well on her way to sleeping half the day away.

Alex.

She smiled at the thought of him. It was hard to believe he was the same man who’d, up until that very day, been determined not to make love to his wife. He was so good at it, his skill unparalleled—not that she had the intimate knowledge to make any comparison, but she knew.

Another stretch triggered the pleasurable soreness between her thighs. She’d been well and truly ravished.

Their lovemaking hadn’t only satisfied a five-year longing, but it represented a change in the marriage Alex had so coldly laid out. They could not go back to that arid wasteland. The fire between them blazed hotter than ever before.

For the first time in too long, contentment seeped from her pores. Of course it would be better if Alex loved her in return. But he had softened, his manner a great deal more tender toward her. Now if they could achieve the same sort of intimacy outside the bedchamber, their marriage would have a chance.

Chapter Sixteen

Charlotte entered the breakfast room a half hour later and was surprised to find Alex sitting alone at the table reading the newspapers. Their paths rarely crossed in the mornings. When it did it felt like two strangers engaged in a waltz, each ever conscious that one wrong step would upset the precise rhythm of the dance.

The first thing that struck her when he lowered the paper was his smile. It’d been so long since he’d directed one at her devoid of mockery or derision. She became flustered.

“I see you’ve finally awoken.” Folding the papers, he placed it on the table before pushing back his chair and rising to his feet. “I thought I’d perish of hunger.”

It was only then Charlotte noticed that his silver utensils sat unused beside an empty bone white plate.

“Why have you not eaten?” Surely, he hadn’t been waiting for her to join him.

His eyes trapped hers in his gaze. “I was waiting for you.”

As much as Charlotte tried not to read too much into his meaning, it was impossible when he looked at her like that. As if he was remembering every second of the evening they’d spent pleasuring each other.

“Come, let’s eat.” He gestured toward the sideboard where they proceeded to serve themselves from platters holding thick slices of bacon, scrambled eggs, freshly baked bread and rolls, thick slices of cheese and kippers.

Once they were both seated, Alex said, “Shall I presume you passed the night agreeably?”

Charlotte, who had already commenced eating, nearly choked. Her gaze snapped to his. His expression was all feigned innocence.

The devil.

It took a moment to recover her composure and swallow. “I passed the night agreeably enough,” she replied primly, suppressing a smile. Two could play at that.

With a brief nod of dismissal to the footman, when they were finally alone, Alex turned a heavy-lidded gaze back to her. “You do make a lot of noise for a woman who only passed it agreeably
enough
. You kept me awake with all your panting and moaning.”

A shock of heat burned her face. Alex now watched her as if breakfast wasn’t the only thing he was hungry for, which had her body instantly responding in kind.

“You are incorrigible.” As reprimands went, it sadly lacked the proper reproachful tone.

Alex’s mouth curved into a thoroughly wicked smile. “And you are insatiable. But don’t fret, I shall do my utmost best to ensure you pass tonight far more agreeably.”

An ice age had passed since Alex last flirted with her, since the full force of his charm had been directed at her.

“And I shall look forward to your most ardent endeavors.” She spoke with a calmness and bravado she didn’t feel. Fireworks of anticipation were going off inside her.

Chuckling quietly, Alex commenced eating, his gaze frequently returning to her flushed face.

Although she’d prayed last night would be a new beginning for them, this morning far exceeded her expectations. Being with him like this felt…right. It reminded her of how they used to be; how he’d once treated her. How special she had felt. How desired and wanted. It made her feel the same way now.

Alex broke the stretch of amiable silence. “I had your maid take Nicholas to your brother’s until the afternoon. I thought you’d like to accompany me on my tenant visits. They have yet to meet the new marchioness.”

Charlotte swallowed a mouthful of hot chocolate and placed the cup back in the flowered saucer. She met his stare and something warm passed between them. “I would be happy to accompany you. I would like that very much.”

Rutherford Manor, Lucas Beaumont would admit, was an impressive piece of architecture.

So this was where Charlotte had lived before she’d gone to America. He recalled her small and fastidiously clean flat on Willow Street in Manhattan. The two dwellings were worlds apart. Not for the first or second time since he’d made her acquaintance, Lucas wondered what had really driven her from England. Her story of a husband who had succumbed to scarlet fever had never rung true.

Nonetheless, she’d been gone over a month and the letter she’d promised to send to let him know she and Nicholas arrived safely had never arrived. He was worried.

He rang the bell of the residence and waited. Seconds later the door was opened by a liveried footman. How the English did love the pomp and ceremony, especially when it came to their servants.

“Good afternoon, I am looking for Miss Charlotte Rutherford,” Lucas said politely, remembering from his last visit that she went by her maiden name. A fact she’d yet to divulge to him.

Before the young man could respond, a woman appeared in the foyer behind him.

“Charlotte.” Lucas smiled, relieved to see her looking so well.

But as she advanced toward him, he knew she wasn’t Charlotte but her twin, Catherine, whom he’d met on his last trip to England. His feelings immediately shifted from one of friendly warmth to lustful interest.

Miss Catherine halted so abruptly he nearly laughed aloud. Her lips parted and her finely arched brows shot up. He hoped her shock was one of pleasure as he’d been looking forward to seeing her again.

A moment later, she seemed to catch herself and with a straightening of her spine and tossing back of her shoulders, composed her expression, although she didn’t quite achieve the nonchalance it appeared she strived for.

“Mr. Beaumont.” There was a slight inflection in her voice where one could have easily taken it as a question even though he knew it was not.

She quietly dismissed the footman as she approached him, stunning in a blue dress that lovingly adhered to her curves yet left much for the imagination. Lucas still found it surprising that although the sisters were identical in appearance, there was something about this one that had immediately, almost viscerally, affected him in a way he’d not felt before or since.

“Miss Catherine.” He bowed formally, long familiar with English and how strictly they adhered to the formalities of aristocratic propriety. She hadn’t struck him as that kind of person but when in England, etcetera, etcetera.

“Mr. Beaumont, wh-what are doing here?” A small, hesitant smile curved a pair of lush, pink lips. “Oh dear, how very rude of me, do come in,” she said, opening the door to admit him.

Lucas smiled as he entered, finding her forthright manner refreshing. “I am looking for Charlotte.”

Was it his imagination, or did her smile falter the tiniest little bit? Had she thought he’d come to see her? One could only hope.

“Charlotte? Does she know you’re in England? I hadn’t thought you’d be back so soon.”

When Lucas had been in England last, he’d met Miss Catherine at Sir Franklin’s supper party where he’d mistaken her for her sister. But when she’d turned and stared at him blankly, he’d known then Charlotte didn’t just have a sister but an identical twin. Their resemblance was uncanny but discernible if one cared to look very close. He had.

He’d soon received an introduction and had immediately struck up a conversation with her. And the things he’d learned had been very informative.

Lucas cast an idle glance around. The house was typically English in appearance, as dwellings go, and a bit on the large scale. “I hadn’t intended to come back until the fall but when I didn’t receive a letter from your sister telling me she and Nicholas arrived safely, I thought it prudent to come early. I assume she did arrive safely, no?”

Her welcoming smile cooled by several degrees.

“Perhaps we should go to the drawing room to talk. I don’t believe the entry way is the appropriate venue to carry on this sort of discussion.” She spoke more formally now, her English accent crisp and more pronounced than her sister’s.

Lucas removed his hat and followed her to the drawing room, while admiring the gentle sway of her hips and her nipped-in waist. God, he had almost forgotten how alluring she was.

The drawing room was like the many he’d seen in aristocratic English homes, although this one was less formal—not quite as stuffy. The sofas, two in number, were covered in a tan fabric and the fireplace was of a dark wood and very grand.

“Please, have a seat.” She motioned to the sofas and armchairs. “And yes, my sister and nephew arrived safely some weeks back.”