In the Bed of a Duke (19 page)

Before she could speak, he kissed her.

She wanted to resist. She tried. But she couldn’t. Her body always responded to his.

And even though she knew she had to give him up, that her pride, her sense of decency demanded it…she wanted one more night in his arms.

He moved her toward the bed, and she let him. Sex, the intimacy between a man and a woman, was the finest sort of communication. Words involved pride, but here there was no place for pride.

Charlotte used her body to let him know what she feared to say. She used it now to let him know she loved him. Inviting him into her, she held him tight, not wanting to ever let him go. He was her mate. A half of her soul.

But then, she grew angry. Why couldn’t he love her? Why did he not speak to her of what was in his heart? Or was she just a distraction?

She let him know what he was missing. She became demanding and furious and wicked—sliding her tongue across his skin, nipping him with her teeth.

Phillip didn’t stand a chance. He met her every step of the way. He thrust deep and hard…and brought to her eyes tears of pure, savage joy.

It would not be like that with anyone else. Ever.

And yet, he would not love her. If he did, he would have spoken of it by now.

Later, when all was done and the house was quiet because everyone else had gone to bed, she held her sleeping lover in her arms and waited for the sun to rise.

The adventure was over. Charlotte knew she had to return to the true world. She prayed she had the courage.

Lord Monarch was an early riser, much like Charlotte herself. The met in the breakfast room overlooking the garden. Phillip was still asleep upstairs.

His lordship greeted her pleasantly enough and offered a cup of tea. “Or do you prefer coffee?”

“Tea is fine,” she said. She’d dressed the best she could in what she’d been wearing for the past three days and had pulled her hair back in a modest and demure braid.

He set her tea by her place on the table while she helped herself to hot rolls on the buffet. Charlotte sat down.

There was a moment of awkward silence. She was just getting ready to frame the request she’d
been mentally rehearsing all night when he blurted out, “I don’t wish to insult you, Miss Cameron, but you seem a sensible young woman, and I must beg your indulgence a moment.”

“Yes?” she asked, stirring her tea.

“My wife and two children are expected to return home today.”

Shame rolled through her. She set her spoon down, dropping her eyes to her hands in her lap.

“It would be awkward if you and the duke are sharing the same room when they return.”

“I know.”

“Thank you,” he said, sounding as if it had been as difficult for him to bring up the subject as it was for her to hear it. A long silence stretched between them.

She knew what must come next, what decent people would expect—and the weight of her decision was lifted.

“We were thrown together unexpectedly,” she admitted. She took a sip of her tea. Her hand was surprisingly steady, a sign her decision was right. “I did not anticipate the turn of events.”

“How could you?” He had hardly touched his breakfast and she pitied him this awkward moment.

She reached over and lightly touched his hand. “Please do not feel poorly. I appreciate your honesty. You’ve helped me realize, I’m not good
mistress material.” She glanced away, not daring to meet his eyes as she said, “I do believe he cares for me…but not enough.”

“Then he is a bloody fool,” came Justin’s blunt voice from the doorway. He too was wearing the breeches, shirt, and well-worn boots of the last several days, but he’d combed his hair, and she was surprised to see that he had shaved, something he’d done every day since she’d taken off his beard.

She smiled, appreciating his support. “You’re right.” Reaching her decision, she turned to Lord Monarch, her head high, “My lord, I don’t want to move to another room.”

He paled. “What do you wish to do?”

“I want to return to London.” She should see Constance at Madame Lavaliere’s boarding school, especially since she was so close, but a visit to her sister would have to wait. She needed to return to her friends Isabel and Michael’s house. She wanted to know if there was word of Miranda and Alex. She had to return to
that
life and peace of mind. The one she’d had before she’d accepted Laird MacKenna’s invitation.

The one she’d had when she’d thought hers the most pressing problems in the world. “Life takes strange twists, doesn’t it, gentlemen?”

“Are you
and
the duke leaving?” Lord Monarch asked.

“I don’t believe he is,” she answered.

His Lordship set his elbow on the table and buried his face in his hand. “He will not be happy if you leave alone.”

“Well,” Justin said cheerfully, “sometimes each of us has be a little unhappy. You go, lass. Leave my twin to me.”

“I have no money,” she confessed. “I shall need a loan. I will pay it back as soon as I arrive, but right now I’m without funds or very much clothing.”

There, she’d said it, and she felt completely exposed.

Lord Monarch looked as if he wished she hadn’t spoken. She understood. She’d placed him in an awkward position.

“Give her help,” Justin growled. “I’ll be the new duke, and you and I will be the best of friends.”

“I suppose I don’t really have to worry about him,” Lord Monarch said.

“No, just worry about me,” Justin said, grabbing a warm roll from the basket on the sideboard. “If you can loan her the money, Monarch, give it to her. There’s no honor in loving someone who holds all the cards. And if he doesn’t come for you, Charlotte, he isn’t worth it.”

“Will he come for me?” she dared to ask, hope in her voice.

The light of a thousand devils danced in Justin’s eyes. “I could guarantee it. But first, let’s give him a scare, and then you won’t have problems in your future.”

Within two hours, and while Phillip still slept, Charlotte found herself wearing one of Lady Monarch’s dresses and crammed on top of the stage for London.

The first thing Phillip did when he woke was reach for Charlotte. It had become his habit.

She was not there.

He sat up and looked around the room, listening. The house was quiet. A glance out the window told him he’d slept unusually late.

She was probably downstairs.

Phillip washed, using the razor they’d purchased in the inn, and dressed. He was growing tired of these clothes. He looked forward to taking her shopping. Edinburgh was known for its tailors, and he planned on sampling several.

The hallway outside his room was silent.

He went downstairs. Breakfast had been cleared from the dining room. Voices could be heard farther on down the center hall.

Phillip followed their sound and found his brother and Monarch in a companionable game of chess in the library. He looked around the room, expecting to find Charlotte tucked in some place.

She wasn’t there.

“Oh, hello, Phillip,” Justin said, and moved his pawn to take Monarch’s bishop.

Monarch pounded the game table. “I just taught you this game an hour ago, and now you are beating me.”

Justin smiled. “It’s not that hard.”

“It’s torture,” Monarch countered. “I’ve studied it for years.”

“Do you want me to put your game piece back?” Justin offered.

Phillip interjected himself into their discussion. “Where’s Charlotte?”

“Gone,” Justin answered, not bothering to look up at him.

“Gone where?” Phillip asked with undisguised impatience.

“Gone to London,” Justin said.

“She left?”
Phillip couldn’t imagine such a thing.

“Aye,” Justin confirmed. “She said she wasn’t good mistress material. Isn’t that right, Monarch?” He grinned up at Phillip as if he’d just performed a trick. “Did you admire the way I spoke to him? Very ducal.
Monarch.
”

Phillip wasn’t amused. “You let her go?” The tension in his voice sucked the air out of the room—but Justin appeared unbothered.

“Monarch, would you give my brother and me a moment alone?”

He didn’t have to ask twice. Monarch shot up and left, shutting the door behind them.

“What is there about you, Phillip, that makes some people so afraid? Is it because you are the duke?”

“Or because they
should
be afraid?” Phillip suggested tightly. “You let her go. You probably encouraged her.”

“No, brother,
you
let her go. I just didn’t stop her.”

Phillip doubled his fist. He could have hit Justin right in the face. His brother knew it. “Go ahead. I know a bit how you feel.”

“If you did, you’d not have helped her.”

Justin didn’t deny it. “Helped her what? Protect her heart? Phillip, you didn’t give her a choice. You haven’t made an offer.”

Phillip looked around the room, not seeing anything. “She’s not given me a choice either. I don’t want to be like you.”

“Like me?”

“Charlotte. She could own me.”

“She could hurt you,” Justin amended. “Aye, Moira hurt me. But at least I let her close. I doubt if you’ve ever done that. What is it, Phillip? Have you been alone for so long, you can’t take a risk?”

“Would you risk it?”

His question made Justin pause. “I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I won’t know until I meet
someone who makes me feel the way Moira once did. But Charlotte’s no Moira. You know that.”

He did know that.

“I’ve been an idiot.”

A smile sprang to his brother’s face. “Aye.”

But he spoke to the air because Phillip was already on his way out the door, where he paused long enough to say, “Handle that MacKenna business, will you?”

He didn’t wait for an answer.

He
had
been an idiot. It was pride that made him so. Pride that had caused problems between them in the beginning when he should have been thanking God he
hadn’t
married her sister. And pride that was almost going to cost him Charlotte.

He loved her.

There it was. No more hesitation. He should have said the words last night. He prayed he wasn’t too late.

Monarch was only too happy to loan clothing, money, and have Homer saddled and ready. He even knew which coach Charlotte had taken. Within the hour, Phillip was on his way.

Charlotte refused to cry although she was tempted several times. She tried to focus on anything but Phillip. Sitting in the middle of a row on the roof of an overcrowded coach, she struggled to muster
the enthusiasm and sense of adventure that had led her to cross an ocean and meet her future head-on.

Instead, she was exhausted. It would be a long time before she would recover her spirits after this. She wasn’t one to fall in love easily and, next time, she vowed, she’d be more guarded with her heart.

Her seat on the coach was situated with her back to the coachman and guard. The dust from the horses made the man beside her sneeze repeatedly. On her other side, two women chattered about very personal problems that were a bit embarrassing to overhear.

Charlotte would be very happy when this trip was over. Maybe then, in the privacy of her guest room at Michael and Isabel’s, she’d have a good, hard weeping session—one that would last a month.

The coach had just rounded a sharp bend in the road when it suddenly came to a screeching halt. The passengers fell all over the top of each other.

It took a moment for Charlotte to right herself. Their driver was furious. “What are you doing standing out in the road, man? I could have crashed into you.”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” a familiar voice said.

Phillip.

Charlotte didn’t dare to turn to see him. She ducked down, wanting to become invisible and yet secretly thrilled.
He’d come.

“I’m the Duke of Colster, and you have a passenger who is needed by authority of the Crown,” Phillip said. He tossed a coin purse to the driver, who caught it with one hand.

He opened purse and said happily, “Your Grace, you can search them all, but please make it quick.”

“I shall,” Phillip answered. But he didn’t move forward. Instead, he stayed on the ground and said in a loud, strong voice, “Charlotte Cameron,
I love you
.”

Charlotte swallowed her breath, and then bolted to her feet. She faced him.

“I shall always love you,” he admitted. “And if you come down from the coach, I shall carry you off to the closest village and marry you posthaste…if you will have me as not a duke, but as a man.”

Tears filled her eyes. She stood, feeling windblown and jostled and so much in love it had to radiate from her.

He saw her and smiled. “I love you, Charlotte. I love you.”

The two biddies that had been sitting beside her gave her a shove. One said in her brogue,
“Well, go down to him, missy. If you don’t, one of us
will
.”

All the passengers laughed. Charlotte joined them, laughing with happiness through the tears.

Phillip came for her. He leaped up the ladder and offered her his hand. “Will you marry me, Charlotte?”

“Yes.”
The word burst out of her, and being said once had to be repeated. “Yes, yes, yes. And I’ll even take you for better and worse.”

The passengers started cheering as she climbed down the ladder with him. He swept her up into strong arms with a kiss that stole her very breath.

With a crack of the whip the coach was on its way, leaving a trail of dust.

“You came,” she said when she could speak at last.

He held her close. “Charlotte, I knew I loved you, and yet, I—” He paused as if words failed him.

“I know,” she said. “I understand. I had those same fears and yet, I felt worse without you. Please, let us never let go of the other.”

And she realized that it was true. All her fears and doubts had been laid to rest. At last, she understood. Love was what gave life meaning.
It was what her mother had searched for, what Miranda had run for, and what she’d found.

She prayed Constance would be as fortunate.