The Runaway Duchess (16 page)

As
for now, he could not remain another damn minute in this room knowing she was right
across the hall.

Hoping
a long walk on a cool night would ease the constant ache in his loins, Gavin stalked
outside. 

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

There
was nothing quite so beautiful as Scotland in the full blush of evening. As the
sun sank down below the distant horizon, painting the sky in a blur of oranges
and reds, the moon, heavy and full, began to rise. Stars emerged, shyly at
first and then with more daring until they filled every inch of the night sky,
illuminating everything beneath them with a soft, heavenly glow.

Without
the sun to light the way the path to the top of the hill seemed wilder and more
overgrown, but the heather smelled divine, and Charlotte paused to pluck a
blossom free from its stem and tuck it behind her ear. She tipped her head back
and opened her eyes wide, drinking in the sight of a night sky unfettered by
smoke and dust. It was, in a word, breathtaking.

Below
her the inn glowed a soft, dusky gold and voices carried easily on the faint
breeze. Picking up the hem of her skirt and using the moonlight to guide her,
Charlotte continued up the narrow path, intent on reaching the top and seeing
everything with an eagle’s eye.

She
breathed deep, inhaling fresh, sweet air that grew noticeably colder with every
step. Grateful that she though to wear a cloak, she drew it tight around her
shoulders, welcoming the warmth it provided against the unforgiving chill.

Scotland, she was quickly learning, was a place of extremes. Extreme beauty. Extreme
warmth. Extreme cold. She hoped to visit again, already half in love with the
wild land that melded so perfectly with her soul.

A
twig snapped behind her and she jerked to a halt, every muscle tensing.
Foolish
,
she thought instantly. It was so foolish to go wandering by herself at dusk.
“Hello?” She sounded tentative. Uncertain. She cleared her throat and tried
again. “Hello, is someone there?”

“Charlotte?”

Relief
swept through her as she immediately recognized Gavin’s deep voice. Spinning
towards the sound of it, she watched him come charging up the hill towards her,
his frame outlined by the setting sun. Her relief was short lived, however,
when he grasped her arms and gave her a quick, hard shake.

“What
are you doing out here alone?” he demanded, anger evident in the flashing of
his eyes and the hard clench of his jaw. His hair was in wild disarray. Despite
the chill in the air sweat gleamed on his brow and his chest, drawing
Charlotte’s eye to the deep V formed by the half buttoned shirt that billowed
loosely over his lean torso. She bit her lip, dragging her gaze back up to his
face only when he shook her again.

“I
asked you a question,” he growled. “You know you should not be out this late.
There could be any manner of vagabonds in these hills. Thieves. Rapists.
Murderers. Men who would slit your pretty throat ear to ear before you could
open your mouth to scream. We are not in bloody Hyde Park, Charlotte!”

She
lifted her chin. “I know where we are.”

His
fingers flexed and tightened, digging into her flesh even through the thick
barrier of her cloak. “Oh you do, do you? Then why not enlighten me as to why
you thought it was such a damn good idea to go against my express command and put
yourself at risk like this! Was I not clear when I told you to remain in your
room after dinner?”

“You
were very clear.” And then, because she really couldn’t help herself, she
asked, “But why would you care what happens to me?”

“Why
would I…
WHY WOULD I CARE
?” Gavin roared. A vein pulsed in his forehead
and he released her so abruptly she stumbled. Linking his fingers tightly
behind his neck he began to pace back and forth across the trail, digging his
heels into the damp earth and kicking up clods of dirt with every furious step.
“I care because you are my WIFE! I care because it is my responsibility to
PROTECT you! I care because I – because you are my wife!”

“You
said that already,” she pointed out reasonably.

He
began to swear then. Long, drawn out, imaginative curses that Charlotte would
later try to remember so she could repeat them back to Dianna. He was
frightened, she realized as she watched him snarl and rage. Frightened for
her
.

The
knowledge that her safety could mean so much to him sent a thrill of delight
racing through her and she hugged her arms tight to her chest beneath the
cloak, fighting back a smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth.

“I
am sorry I worried you,” she said, doing her best to appear contrite.

Gavin
stopped short. He swung his head to look at her suspiciously, as though he
could not quite believe what he was hearing. “You are?”

“Yes.”
Would it be too much if she lowered her gaze and bowed her head? She didn’t
think so. “I never should have left the inn so close to dark. I apologize.”

“You…
you apologize,” he said dumbly.

Nodding,
she peeked up at him from beneath her lashes He was frozen in place, an odd
expression on his face. “Yes, I do. I apologize. It will not happen again.”

“Well,
good. You are lucky I was the one who came upon you and not someone else. Do
you know how easy it would be for a man to harm you?” He closed the space
between them and slipped his hands beneath her cloak to encircle her arms. Charlotte instinctively flinched, ready for him to shake her again, but this time his touch
was softer. His thumbs pressed lightly at the sensitive spot on the inside of
her elbow and something low in her belly jerked in response. “You are so
beautiful,” he said huskily. “A man would be a fool to pass you by.”

He
stared into her eyes, his gaze so deep and true Charlotte feared he was seeing
all the way down to the depths of her soul. She ordered herself to move, to
pull away, to do
something
, but her body wouldn’t listen. It was
transfixed, as mesmerized by Gavin’s piercing gray eyes as a fluttering moth
would be before a flame.

In
the distance the sun finally slipped below the mountains, shedding the last of
its light and plunging the hill into a silvery darkness. From the deep tangles
of heather a thrush whistled, its haunting tune echoing in the sudden stillness
before it went silent.

“We
said we would not do this,” Charlotte whispered. Of their own accord her palms
pressed flat against his chest. She felt the rise and fall of it, as well as
the steady beat of his heart. He was hot to the touch and she leaned into him,
drawn by his warmth and some invisible force she could not name.

He
cupped the curve of her jaw, his fingers resting gently against her cheek. His
thumb dipped to the corner of her mouth and because it seemed natural, because
it seemed right, she parted her lips and sucked gently on the tip, tasting the
faintest hint of salt. He groaned, and before she knew what was happening his
other arm yanked her tightly against him. Then his thighs were braced against
her thighs, his lips were on her lips, and his tongue was sliding next to her
tongue.

She
rose up on her toes and grabbed the collar of his shirt, using it to angle his
mouth more firmly against hers. His fingers tangled in her hair, pushing the
hood of her cloak back and sending metal pins scattering across the ground.
When her long curls sprang free he drowned his hands in them, wrapping the
sinuous red tendrils around his fingers until it was impossible to tell where
she ended and he began. They moaned and writhed, clinging to each other with a
mindless passion that overruled all sense and reason.

Charlotte
gasped for air when Gavin finally dragged his mouth away to suckle at her neck,
nipping and licking the quivering flesh until her knees felt weak and she
sagged against him. A pull, an unraveling of velvet string, and her cloak
pooled at her feet.

“Gavin,
wait,” she gasped. Bringing her hands up between them, she pushed against his
chest. She might as well have been trying to topple a stone wall. “Wait,” she
repeated, bracing her fingers. “Wait,” she moaned as he cupped her breasts
through her gown and bent his head to draw one taut nipple into his mouth. She
clutched his hair as a bullet of heat shot through her, pulling the dark
strands up by the roots and arching her spine.

“Once.”
Suddenly his mouth was at her ear, his tongue sliding along the edge of it. She
felt his hands slip down to her hips and around until he cupped her buttocks
and squeezed, pulling her into the hard length of him. “Just once, Charlotte,
and I can forget you.”

Through
a hazy cloud of lust his words slowly registered. It was as though someone had slapped
her. Every muscle in her body went rigid. Every soft, dewy thought fled. “You
want… You want to
forget
me?” Ripping her fingers out of his hair she
tried to pull free from his embrace, but he held her tight.

“Calm
yourself,” he demanded when she began to struggle in earnest.

It
was the wrong thing to say.

Freeing
one arm with a grunt of effort, she drew it back, made a fist, and drove her
knuckles into his shoulder as hard as she could. The pain of it brought tears
to her eyes and she shook out her hand with a gasp. Gavin did not so much as
flinch.

“You’re
going to hurt yourself.” Reaching out, he attempted an awkward pat to the side
of her head. Charlotte jerked away and bared her teeth.

“Let
me go!” she cried, pummeling his chest. When he continued to ignore her, she
did what she had seen a doxy do to a man who was being too high handed: she
bent her knee and brought it up hard between his thighs.

That
got her the instant result she was hoping for, and she looked on with great
satisfaction as Gavin cupped himself and staggered away, his face drained of
all color beneath the silvery shards of moonlight. “You little hellion,” he
gasped, doubling over.

“Sleep
with me and then forget about me? Is that your new plan?” she sneered,
disgusted with him, but even more disgusted with herself for being stupid
enough to believe he cared. She could kick herself. How could she think, even
for one moment, that he had changed his mind? That he wanted her, as a husband
should want his wife? That he desired her, as a man should desire a woman? Did
she truly believe things between them would change in a matter of days?
You
are a silly little fool, Charlotte Vanderley,
she scolded herself.
A
silly little fool who has allowed herself to be turned inside out by a man
.

Still
bent over at the waist, Gavin tilted his head to the side. “Yes. I mean no,” he
corrected with a visible wince when her mouth gaped open. “Charlotte, I did not
mean to say—”

“You
floundering ox!” she cried. “You great ape of a man! You… You beef-witted
tosser!”

“Beef-witted
tosser?”

“It
was the only thing I could think of,” she said defensively.

Standing
gingerly, Gavin stepped towards her with one arm extended, but she recoiled as
if his outstretched hand contained a poisonous serpent.

“Do
not touch me,” she spat, glaring down at his outstretched fingers. With a sigh,
he let his arm drop.

“Charlotte, I am sorry. I did not mean to say what I did.”

“But
you said it.”

“Yes.”
Solemn faced, he nodded. “Yes I did.”

Crouching
down, Charlotte retrieved her fallen cloak, shook the bits of grass and debris
from the soft fabric, ad wound it tightly around her shoulders. She directed
her gaze to the heavens, taking a moment to study the stars that stretched
above their heads as far as the eye could see. In the midst of the endless
night sky the moon hung down like an enormous pearl, round and full and
luminous. It evoked a sense of sadness inside of her, a brittle aching that
started in her heart and spread through her veins like ice. “Why?” she
whispered. “Why would you want to forget me? Do you truly hate me that much?”

“I
do not hate you.” This time when Gavin reached for her she did not pull away.
He grasped her hands, holding fast to her lifeless fingers. “Look at me.
Charlotte, look,” he said roughly.

She
tilted her chin down and met him stare for stare, even though she wanted
nothing more than to run back to her bed and find solace beneath the covers.
With the first initial surge of anger all but gone, she was left feeling empty
and tired.

It
was emotionally exhausting to care for someone as deeply as she cared for Gavin.
To depend on him to bring her to the highest peaks, only to have him drop her
to the lowest lows. She felt like a ball that had been bounced. Soaring so high
at first toss only to slowly dwindle down, sinking lower and lower with each
strike of the ground until she stopped moving all together.

“Whatever
you want,” she said tiredly, “I do not have it in me to give you. I cannot
feign coldness one moment and heat the next. If I could be more like you—”

His
bitter laugh cut her off. “You do not want to be like me.”

In
the shifting light his face looked impossibly bleak. He was not a man happy
with his life, nor one content with what he had. He would always, Charlotte
feared, want more of everything except what mattered most. For that he earned
her pity, and as she reached up to cup his jaw she could only sigh. “This
cannot happen again, Gavin. I can give you my heart as a whole if you want, but
I will not sell it off piece by broken piece.”

He
leaned into the weight of her palm and closed his eyes.

For
a moment, one blissful, lovely moment, the lines in his face eased, his
breathing evened, and he was at peace. Then his brow creased, his eyes opened,
and something shifted in them, like a curtain being pulled into place to shield
whatever emotion may have been hiding in the depths of his stormy gray gaze.
“There does not have to be any emotion in what we do. It is, after all, a
purely physical act. Two willing bodies, coming together to give the other pleasure.
Nothing more, and nothing—”