Lady of Sin (24 page)

They joined the others. With cheerful confusion the last of the party headed to the front of the house, where the carriages waited.

Dante strolled beside her and Nathaniel, asking about events in town. When Nathaniel bid farewell, however, she peeled away with him instead of following Dante to Laclere’s coach.

She entered the carriage and peered out the window. Dante still stood on the drive, looking in her direction with surprise.

Vergil and Bianca emerged from the house and passed him. Still glancing toward Nathaniel’s carriage in befuddlement, Dante fell into step.

His complaint carried to Charlotte on the breeze. “I am always the last in this family to learn anything.”

“You were down at Laclere Park,” Vergil said.

“You say that like I was in China. Someone could have written.” The carriage door closed on him. “Charl and Knightridge?”

“I fear meeting him,” she admitted that night. She and Nathaniel ate supper in a small, private room at a large coaching inn near Hertford. They had taken two chambers for the night, but Nathaniel had given false names. Married names.

Jump with me.
If she did, what would it mean? A brief, intense love affair of the heart, or a more permanent alliance?

She had practiced with the idea of marriage on the ride here, imagining the day-to-day living with this man. It had been a startling experiment that provoked wonder and mystery. All she knew for certain was it would not be like the last time.

“You do not have to meet with Yardley. I advised against it,” he said. “We will depart for London at once in the morning. Or I will speak with him alone.”

He had turned her worry into retreat very quickly. “I cannot permit that. It would be cowardly of me. Also, I do not think you would tell me everything.”

“You think I would lie?” He scowled deeply enough for the patrons in the last aisle of a theater to see.

“I think that you would tell me the truth, just not the whole truth.”

He puffed up. “I am insulted.”

She laughed at his theatrics. “No, you are not. It is your kindness that would make you choose which truth I hear, Nathaniel. I would wager that already there are some things you know or suspect but that I have not heard.”

“No truths have been withheld.”

“Mere speculations, only?”

The actor melted into the man. “I speculate a lot and am often wrong. Such speculations led us into this mystery, to my regret.”

“Not wrong ones, unfortunately.”

The air got heavy with the truths those speculations had revealed. A little squeeze in her heart reminded her that while she was no longer numb, and she no longer raved, it would be some time before her essence did not grimace when reminded of the shock.

His hand lay on the table mere inches from hers. A strong hand, masculine and handsome. Just seeing it conjured up sensations of the way he caressed her body, and how quickly she submitted to the exciting power his touch cast.

The lamp glow made his eyes very dark and his face very handsome. He gazed at her with the all-seeing warmth he so often displayed now, so different from the provoking amusement of the past. Or maybe not different at all. Perhaps the warmth had always been there, subtly, but she was too self-absorbed to notice. Or too cowardly to risk her dull peace for the turmoil that his gaze incited.

“After the truths of the past are discovered, we need to face the truths of the present,” he said. “You risk much with this affair. I am no prize, but I would like to marry you. I would like to do so as our choice, and not in a rush when you find yourself with child.”

It was a calm little speech, quietly and casually spoken. The servant standing near the fireplace would never guess it had included a proposal, and so much more.

She slid her hand over his. “I am flattered, Nathaniel. Truly so. However, since you are serious, I am bound to tell you that there is some question whether I will ever find myself with child.”

He barely reacted, but a subtle surprise affected his expression. “He was ill for most of your marriage, Charl.”

“I told myself later it was the illness beginning, or that whatever problem existed was not with me. I always knew there might be another explanation, however. Now there is a boy in Durham who proves it was not any lack in my husband.”

“I believe you are wrong. If time proves you are not, that is how it will be. This is not about begetting an heir. And, since others will whisper, let me emphasize that it is also not about obtaining your fortune.”

“We both know that if you wanted a fortune, an estate waits for you that requires much less disruption to your life than taking on a wife.” Alluding to that caused a jolt in her heart. “Oh, my. If we discover that Harry’s mother was indeed married to Philip, a marriage to me will close that path to you forever. A man of the Church could not have a wife stained by the scandal of bigamy, even if the fault were not mine in any way.”

His response was a knowing smile. “I thank you for clarifying the cost, Lady M.”

“You should have waited to make this proposal,” she said, distressed by the implications that had not been foreseen. “You should have seen what transpired tomorrow first. You have said that you believe there was no lawful marriage, but—”

“Should you marry me, Charlotte, I will take great pleasure in laying down a few laws. The first will be that you do not tell me what I should do, or whom or what I should protect.”

His scold left her chagrined. Of course he had seen all the eventualities and costs, long before she had.

He spoke more gently. “I do not care what is learned tomorrow. I will not allow the truths of another man’s past to create the truths of my future. I know it is harder for you, and I do not expect an answer now. I am only making my intentions plain so you do not doubt my loyalty or misunderstand the nature of my interest.”

It was an astonishing declaration. An enormous commitment. He would stand by her no matter what was learned, and what scandal resulted. Her entire past might become the subject of gossip and public investigations, but she could anchor herself to his strength through it all.

His hand had turned, and he was holding hers. A sweet, wonderful ache filled her chest.

She could not answer until she knew what they faced. She had to do her own weighing once she saw all the costs. Until then, until tomorrow, she would not deny the profound emotions saturating her, however.

As always, he understood. He knew exactly what she was thinking, she did not doubt it.

“Shall we retire, madam?” He spoke almost formally, but his gaze said so much more. The whisper from the afternoon was in his eyes, seducing her to much more than pleasure.

Jump with me.

She both thrilled with and cringed from the sensation of being poised on the brink of an unknown space, whose mist promised both wonder and danger.

They walked up the stairs in silence. She felt him behind her, benign in step and manner but not entirely in spirit. A caution, such as she had experienced the first night in Elmcrest, slid through her. The difference was that her vulnerability was not physical or sensual this time.

A loss waited in the mist as well as a gain. She had forever been separate, even in her prior, peaceful love. She had only relinquished a part of her essence to little Ambrose, not to any man.

It made her shy suddenly, that aura of decision behind her. For all their comprehension of each other, for all their knowledge of each other’s games and each other’s bodies, she became more virginal than she had ever been. Giving one’s favors was one thing. Giving one’s heart was another. Giving oneself was fearsome. She did not know if she had the courage for that ultimate selflessness.

She did not look at him when the door closed on the chamber. While he lit two lamps, she began unfastening her dress. He came up behind her and helped. His vitality encompassed her even though his hands barely touched as he tended to these practical matters.

She closed her eyes to both fight and absorb his energy, but it stirred all her senses and intuitions, provoking again the instinctive sense of danger that he had always called forth, and that had given rise to every other sort of provocation in turn.

“I am afraid of you,” she said, admitting to herself what these reactions had always meant. “I am afraid of how I respond to you, and what it might mean.”

He turned her around so he could see her face. “And I am a little afraid of you. But not enough, anymore.”

He continued to undress her, his fingers calm and firm on the hooks and ribbons. His confidence unnerved her.
Jump with me
. He had made his decision, but she still experienced a visceral wariness.

Loud, dramatic music, Vergil had called great passion. He had also been describing Nathaniel the man. Such men drowned out the people around them with their mere presence. One had to struggle to avoid becoming a mere echo of their symphonies.

She barely knew who she was anymore. Revelations and new emotions kept remodeling her like so much pliable clay. If she allowed herself to love him, fully love him, she might lose any clear distinction. She might become a girl again, unformed and vague.

She stopped fumbling with her garments and allowed him to finish. He swept away her dress and petticoats, and released her stays. Sly fingers skimmed her drawers over her hips and they fell to her feet. She stepped out of them, wearing only her hose.

He embraced her from behind and the submersion became physical. That helped. His embrace had always defeated her hesitations. His physical strength comforted in ways his presence did not.

His embrace also aroused her more. She had been excited all day, all week—a long time, actually. Long before they ever found common ground, she knew now.

His hands moved wonderfully over her breasts and down her stomach. Warm, slow strokes caused her to sink against him. Into him.

“You are beautiful, Charl.” His palms circled her breasts, sending luscious shivers down her stomach to her vulva. “You haunt me, day and night. I do not want to scheme at having you. I do not want the calculation and the deception.”

Neither did she. Right now she did not want anything except his hands on her every day. That is what he did to her.

She turned and helped him, as he had helped her. Impatient now, the familiar craving beckoning, she plucked at his shirt buttons while he shed coats and cravat. She almost rent the linen to get to his warmth. When his chest was finally bare, she laid her cheek against it to feel him and smell him and hear his heartbeat.

He held her. Enclosed her, and his wrapping arms were a physical reminder of all the enclosures he might cause.

She assessed the incredible comfort she felt, and also the alarming excitement. A poignant sweetness drenched her. She pressed her hands and lips to his skin. Her heart smiled at her confusion and spoke its silent words.

She loved him. That was what this was, this lovely ache in her chest. She looked up to find him gazing down, waiting. Soulful trust poured through her, as it had at that party and so often since. He might know her game, he might know she was helpless against all of his strengths, but he would never use them against her.

She could not help smiling, almost laughing. Her heart had already jumped. She only had to admit it, and allow her mind and will to follow.

She wondered what it was like to make love to the man with whom you shared both love and earth-shaking passion.

Her fingers sought the closure on his trousers so she could find out.

They made quick work of his garments, and their next embrace was all skin on skin. Her hands moved slowly over the hard lines and taut strength of his body. Pride of possession tinged her pleasure. Love gave her rights greater than any law’s.

He carried her to the bed and laid her down. “Muslin and a lumpy mattress,” he said as he joined her.

“It could be a rocky beach and I would not care tonight.” She could not stop smiling. The sweet ache inside her had turned to joy. “I had no idea there were choices in these things, Nathaniel.”

He covered her with his body, his skin warming her length and starting a hundred little happy shivers. He rested his weight on his forearms so he could look at her. “What choices have you made, Charlotte?”

She hesitated only a moment. Trust conquered her shyness. “I suppose I chose to admit to myself that I love you, Nathaniel.”

“As I love you, Charl.” His gaze carried the old amusement along with a beautiful warmth. “We have done this backwards, haven’t we? First a bond of the spirit, then one of pleasure and passion, then declarations of love. Perhaps, in the future, vows of marriage. It normally goes the other way.”

“I think I have enjoyed our way better.”

“For us, perhaps it was the right way, if it brings us here now.” He kissed her so sweetly her heart sighed. “I would not have wanted to wait on your choices to have you. I might have waited forever then.” His kisses sought her neck and shoulders. “However, I am glad for your choice, Charlotte. This is too right to deny what it is.”

Very right, and so beautiful. He seemed to feel the new power within the passion, just as she did. His hands moved over her body very slowly and deliberately, wringing every emotional nuance out of the sweet pleasure. His mouth praised as much as aroused when his tongue teased at her nipples and his lips gently drew on her breasts. She held him to her then, her fingers stretched through the hair on his crown, while euphoria joined the desire that claimed her mind and body.

The passion could not be contained, but it never eclipsed the love. She lost herself in both, but the part of her that relinquished itself to love would never be reclaimed. She sensed that even as it happened. They both gave and took in that sharing, trading parts of their souls so they would be forever linked.

There were no erotic games this time. He took her like the virgin she had been on entering this chamber, his desire waiting for her at each step. She realized there had been love within the pleasure before, potent but unnamed. The power of this passion had always come from its seeds and growth.