Midnight Temptations With a Forbidden Lord (24 page)

“More,” she demanded this time, shocked by her determination to get what she wanted.

Tristan didn’t stop her, though he probably could have. Instead, he went up fully on his knees, his hands holding her hips elevated, and rocked in and out of her body slowly. She still twisted in his hold, needing to reach that fever pitch she’d felt before.

The thrust of his body against hers grew faster, stronger. She uttered little mewls of pleasure as he brought her to the precipice again. Her body felt as though it were spiraling out of control. Her heart drummed loudly in her ears as her body tightened and screamed silently for more. Always wanting more.

Tristan had her hips lifted so high off the bed that he bent over and nibbled an erotic path of kisses down the center of her ribs, never letting up on the pace as he thrust into her body again and again. His thrusts grew more frantic, and she knew that it would be over soon. She’d been on fire before, but now her body exploded like a shooting star blazing through the night sky.

He collapsed on top of her, their bodies sated and slick with sweat. They both breathed heavily, their chests rising and falling. Tristan rolled to the side, half on her, half on the bed. He tucked her head against his chest and languidly caressed her buttocks and thighs till their breathing regulated somewhat.

Her thoughts were jumbled and confused. She’d just given herself to a man. She was a ruined woman, just as she had wanted, but it felt wrong to have gone about it this way, to use a man who had become a good friend in the short time they’d known each other.

“You’ll sleep in here with me tonight.”

“I hadn’t thought to sleep anywhere else.” She wasn’t sure what the morning had in store for her. Exhaustion swept over her despite the thoughts that weighed heavily on her mind.

“Good,” he said, and the last she remembered was him kissing her temple and saying good night.

Chapter 13

As far as I know, the Marquess of C
^____
has never allowed a woman into his home. I know for certain he still owns a discreet townhouse where his mistresses and lovers meet him under cover of night. So why did he allow his cloaked visitor to stay in his private home last night?
—The Mayfair Chronicles,
August 1846 Tristan hadn’t slept since Charlotte closed her eyes and exhaustion finally overtook her. His thoughts were too occupied with the woman who slept in his arms and what would come of her future.

Their
future.

He had done the one thing that would ensure she could never marry Warren, yet he felt like the biggest ass for going about it the way he had. She’d asked him to lie with her, yes, but that didn’t make the weight of his actions any lighter.

He disentangled himself from her just as the sun started to rise. After dressing, he went straight to his sister’s room, and knocked softly. She was a light sleeper so he gave her a few moments to answer.

His sister opened the door bleary-eyed.

“I’m sorry to wake you so early. But I require your assistance … urgently.”

“What can you possibly need from me before six in the morning?” Bea rubbed at her eyes and gave a big yawn as she retreated into her room to grab her dressing robe and cinched it fiercely around her waist.

Tristan leaned against the frame of her door and crossed his arms over his chest. “I need you to pay a visit to our uncle. I’ll have a horse and groom readied while you dress.”

Her gaze snapped up to his. “Why would I need to see him so early in the day?”

“He has the ear of the archbishop. And I require something that only the archbishop has the authority to issue.”

Bea’s eyes widened as she stared at Tristan in astonishment. “What have you done?”

It was his turn to rub his hands over his eyes. He hadn’t realized how exhausted he was until he stood under his sister’s scrutiny. “I can’t leave the house for obvious reasons.”

“And those obvious reasons would be…?”

“There is a lady in my chambers who cannot wander freely about the house once the children are awake.”

His sister went to her wardrobe and pulled out a frock, tossing it on the bed. When she faced him again, she sighed with exasperation. “This isn’t like you.”

“The situation could hardly be avoided. I take it you’ll visit our uncle?”

“I will, but why can’t you go?”

“Because the lady in question will not stay if she finds me absent once she wakes.”

“Maybe you should let her leave.”

“You’re the one who’s been insisting on my marrying these past weeks. Now that the opportunity has presented itself, you’ve changed your mind. Not very sporting of you, Bea.”

“I didn’t expect you to go to these lengths. Can nothing in this house happen under normal circumstances?”

She referred to their living arrangements and the children. “There wouldn’t be much fun in doing the expected thing.”

Bea sat heavily on the edge of her bed. “Does she know you intend to marry her?”

“No. We discussed it too briefly. I think she thought my offer wasn’t sincere.”

“Was this before or after you spent the night with her?”

He smiled. “Before, if you can believe it. Now, enough questions, I’m going back up to my room. When the children are up, have Cook deal with them until you arrive back. And have her send up breakfast for two. I’ll explain everything when you get home.”

His sister reached out and clasped his shirtsleeve. “Are you sure this is wise?”

“I’ve never been more sure.” And that was the honest truth.

“How did she come to be here?”

“She came of her own accord, I can assure you.” Did his sister think he had lured her here? That he’d planned all along to ruin the young lady?

Her head tilted to the side as she looked at him. “Is this the lady you’ve been writing to?”

His grin widened. His sister was as observant as ever. “The one and only.”

“I do hope she knows what she’s gotten herself into.”

“That’s my worry, sister. Now I must get back.” He patted Bea’s cheek before heading back to his bedchamber.

He paced his room for some hours, not wanting to wake Charlotte, even when she slept past ten. A sweet breakfast for two with pastries, fruit, and scones lay ready for when she woke up. There was a bath off his room that he’d readied with hot water. Lady Charlotte would surely be stiff and sore from their evening together, and she’d probably want privacy while she thought over the events of last night.

He sat on the edge of the bed, and brushed his hand over Charlotte’s shoulder. “It’s time to greet the day, my lady.”

She let out a big yawn and stretched like a cat that had lain curled up for too long. Her eyes slowly opened, her expression neutral as she stared back at him, pulling the sheets tighter around her as though to protect her modesty, something that had thankfully been absent last night as they had made love.

He couldn’t blame her since the light from outside shone brightly into the room and he’d dressed in trousers and a shirt.

“I’ve drawn a bath for you.”

“You needn’t be so kind.”

“Charlotte … about last night.”

“It was beautiful.” She sat up, making sure to pull the sheets tightly around her, shoulders and all.

“Yes, but there are consequences to face the next day,” he said.

She stood up from the bed and went to the tray with sweets and fresh berries. She took a raspberry and popped it into her mouth.

“I could just dress myself and leave through the front door, I suppose.”

“I’m afraid it’s not so simple as that.”

“Why not? I’m a fallen woman now, aren’t I? Mr. Warren certainly won’t have me now that I’ve lain with another.”

“Nor do I think your father would so easily accept you back into his home.”

“My father adores me.” The conviction of her statement had him shaking his head. He’d explained last night how this would affect her relationship with her father, but she seemed to think Ponsley would ignore the reproach society would aim at his daughter. “My father could not stay angry with me for very long. He’s a very forgiving sort.”

“You’re too sure of yourself, my lady, and you forget that your decision to stay with me last night means that you are now judged by society and not simply by your father.”

“You’re wrong. My father has influence and cannot be so easily dictated by society’s opinion.”

“Had I realized you were so misguided last night, I would have sent you home so you could cause no harm to your reputation.”

She picked out a few more berries, and gave him a long assessing look before she shrugged her shoulders. “I will find out soon enough.”

“I’m afraid that is impossible. You made your choice last night, Charlotte, and I’ll see to it that the consequences are resolved satisfactorily.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll not be used for your little child’s game. We’ll discuss what happens next after you’ve had a chance to wash up.” He pushed open the door to the bathing room. “I ran the bath for you a short while ago. It should still be warm.”

She pushed past him in a huff, but turned to him on the threshold of the door, her eyes narrowed. “There is nothing further to discuss.”

He put his hands in his pockets. He’d save his argument for later.

“I’ve borrowed some fresh clothes from my sister; yours were damp from the rain last night and didn’t fare well on the floor. There is plenty of soap and other bathing accoutrements for your use in the bathing room.”

She shoved the door shut in his face and he could hear her grumbling some nonsense about him being annoyingly impossible.

He didn’t think today would go well. But there was nothing to be done about it right now. He’d given her plenty of opportunity to return to the safety of her home and the life she was used to last night. And though she’d scoffed at his offer of marriage, he’d never been surer about giving her the means to avoid marrying that cad Warren. Theirs might not be a marriage founded on love, but Tristan had a great deal of respect for the lady currently residing in his room, and he would not take no for an answer. He hoped she felt the same type of respect for him. And that would have to be a good-enough foundation for beginning their marriage.

*   *   *

Who did he think he was that he could order her about as though he had a say in what she did? The hot bath had been a welcome sight, as was the tray of sweets and fruit when she had awoken. She dropped the sheet she’d grabbed from the bed and stepped slowly into the water. Her body ached in places that had never before ached. Her body was tired, and some parts were more sensitive than usual. She sank chin deep into the bathing tub and leaned her head back against the edge, closing her eyes.

How should she proceed today? Did she leave Tristan’s house in full light hoping her reputation sufficiently ruined that her father would cancel the reading of the banns?

Did she let the marquess escort her around Town with no maid or chaperone in sight? Surely gossip about her cousin was already circulating.

When the water cooled, she pulled the stopper for a short while and turned on the hot tap to warm the water again. She wasn’t quite ready to face the day. Though she wouldn’t mind filling her stomach with the sweets on the breakfast tray—she hadn’t eaten well before arriving at the marquess’s house because her nerves had been on edge since she’d been back in Town.

She took the soap from the tray on the table close by and dunked it in the water, the sweet scent of bayberry filling the steamy room. After rubbing a washcloth with the soap, she washed her body. She didn’t bother taking down her hair even though she was sure it was a tangled mess. She’d put it up in a simple chignon once she was dressed. There were a multitude of bath linens to choose from as she stepped from the tub. The marquess had thought of everything, wanting her to be comfortable.

All the clothes she’d need for the day were before her. Stockings and pantalettes, freshly laundered and smelling of lavender, a corset that looked a tad large for her but would do until her clothes could be brought from her father’s house, a chemise that was made of a fine linen with lace trimming the sleeves. His sister’s clothes were of the finest material. Why it surprised her she couldn’t say, but she supposed his sister was well looked after since they seemed to get on well living under the same roof.

And then there was the dress …

She stood and walked over to the door where it hung, and fanned out the satiny material. It was no simple day dress; it looked almost—dare she think it?—like a wedding dress. It was ivory with no other color adorning the full, rounded skirt. She would need a crinoline to wear it properly. The sleeves were capped and trimmed in lace. The bodice was cut with a deep vee at the front, and a fine overskirt of lace fanned out around the back, falling in a delicate train.

She eyed the dress she was to don as she pulled on her underclothes. The long corset covered her from chest to hip and she felt the burn of the laces as she cinched it closed too fast.

She didn’t bother with the dress. She left it hanging as she yanked the door open and stormed into the next room.

The marquess sat in the chair next to the window. His elbows were on his knees, and his gaze focused on her as she stopped in front of him.