Potent Pleasures (25 page)

Charlotte smiled.

“But Charlotte,” Alex said seriously. “We need to sort this out. The fact is, darling, that you undoubtedly met my brother Patrick. We look like a matched set of pistols, my father always said.” And, in response to her questioning look, “all black with silver trim.” Her smile peeked out again. That’s twice, Alex thought. “Our own nurse couldn’t tell us apart…. She used to complain dreadfully when we would play tricks on her, which we did up to a few years ago. If Patrick were here, in England, he would clear up the whole mess. But since he’s not, we simply have to forget it.”

Charlotte nodded silently. Of course, he was absolutely wrong. She could never, never have mistaken Alex’s endearing dimple for anyone else’s, or the bullish set of his shoulders, or the arrogant way his eyebrows flew up. Those weren’t even characteristics that were attached to one’s face. She had a painter’s eye, and she looked past faces, at mannerisms, all the time. Maybe after they were married for some time she would feel more comfortable about mentioning something so intimate. And then she could tell him and perhaps he would even laugh.

Alex sensed it as her body relaxed. He pulled her back into his arms, his hands ruffling her soft curls.

“So, will you marry me?” he whispered against her neck. “Because I think I could easily love you … and perhaps you will love me … and I can watch you paint, and we can even have another baby like Pippa, but with your lovely mouth.”

Charlotte nodded shakily against his shoulder.

Alex pushed her back, his eyes laughing down at her. “Did you say something?”

“Yes,” she said. “Yes, yes, I will marry you.”

“Ahhhh,” Alex said, seizing her again. “Now you are my betrothed. Do you know what that means?”

Charlotte shivered. Was he thinking of doing something here? Here, in her mother’s Chinese Salon? His lips were tracing a pattern down her neck that made her feel short of breath. Meanwhile his hands slid from her neck down her back, making her body instinctively bend toward his. Their knees knocked together awkwardly and Charlotte giggled.

Alex gave her a mock glare. “I’ll tell you right now that a good wife
never
laughs at her husband!” he growled.

Charlotte felt light, giddy with happiness, emboldened by his dancing eyes. She put her slender hands against his cheeks and slowly drew them down, over the strong brown column of his neck, down his hard chest, just as she had during the fireworks.

“I like everything you’ve taught me so far,” she said wickedly.

“Oh yes, my lady?” Alex whispered back. His eyes shone with mischief. “And how low will you go?”

Charlotte snatched her hands away, giggling furiously.

“My turn!” Alex announced. He put his large brown hands on her cheeks. His palms almost covered her whole face, they were so large. And they felt intriguingly hard. Charlotte turned her head slightly and kissed the edge of his hand.

“No fair distracting me,” said her betrothed sternly. His fingers ran delicately over her face, pausing at her mouth. One rough finger traced the outline of her generous lower lip. Charlotte suddenly opened her mouth and small teeth bit down on his finger. Alex grinned. He stopped grinning when a warm tongue touched the tip.

“You taste like honey,” said Charlotte, staring at him, her eyes bemused.

Alex smiled and pulled his finger from her mouth, quickly bending his head down and replacing his finger with his tongue. Charlotte gasped. Two tongues met, at first discreetly questioning, but then Alex’s kiss changed. His mouth settled over hers with intent, demanding, forcing her mouth wider open. His tongue took on a wicked rhythm, coercing, mastering her. Charlotte found herself clinging helplessly to his shirt front, her head thrown back, completely vulnerable to Alex’s onslaught. Her heart was beating like a wild bird’s and she had instinctively closed her eyes … until his mouth withdrew. Then her eyes flew open. He was grinning at her.

“Now, where was I?” Alex murmured. He put his hands back on her face and drew them past her determined chin and languorously down her neck. Charlotte felt as if her lower belly were on fire. Even her fingers were trembling, she thought dazedly. She watched his black eyes as if they were the only objects in the world. Alex’s fingers trailed over her collarbone and down the smooth, smooth skin of her chest. He reached the small ruffle that adorned the bodice of her morning gown. His fingers slid inside. Charlotte didn’t know what to think. More than anything she wanted him to cup her breast, but his fingers slipped sideways, along the ruffle. They reached her armpits and Charlotte tensed. She was frightfully ticklish, but somehow, his caress didn’t seem to make her ticklish…. The pressure in her lower stomach increased.

Alex’s hands lingered on her slim sides, inside her dress, for an instant, and then suddenly his right thumb ran over the light cotton of her bodice and touched her nipple. Charlotte jumped. His left thumb did the same. Charlotte gasped and nervously licked her lips.

At this Alex almost groaned. He didn’t know how long he could prolong this particular game. Flames were licking at his groin; the only thought in his mind was to push Charlotte back against the arm of the couch and … and what?

He was the one who wanted a virginal bride. He looked at Charlotte. She was lying back against the couch, her head thrown back, moist lips apart as his thumbs rhythmically stroked her small, straining nipples. She was his; he knew that as clearly as he had ever known anything. But he didn’t want to take her now, in her parents’ house. He wanted to say vows that meant something, and then make love for the first time in the shadow of those vows.

“No,” he whispered. And then he leaned forward anyway. “No,” he said again, his breath warm against her skin as he pushed down the white chambray and took her rosy nipple into his mouth.

Charlotte instinctively arched her back and moaned. Alex’s left hand rubbed her other breast, roughly now, and his teeth feathered over her nipple, nipping and sucking. Charlotte felt boneless, limp. The fire in her lower belly had been replaced by a feeling of wetness and aching, open longing.

“Alex,” she gasped, her voice breaking.

But Alex had momentarily lost control. Charlotte’s breast was so sweet, so perfect: surprisingly heavy for such a slender body, and yet not too large, just right for his hand. He had her whole bodice pulled below her breasts now, the little cap sleeves slipping almost down to her elbows. Her breasts were silky white, with just a delicate pink circle around her nipples … and her nipples! They were a deep crimson, swollen, begging. Alex took a deep breath. He felt intoxicated. He had never been so wildly aroused. My God, he was close to taking his own future bride on a damned uncomfortable Chinese couch full of knobs.

“No,” he said hoarsely. He took his mouth off Charlotte’s breast but his hands couldn’t seem to stop caressing her. She opened her eyes and looked at him, a look drugged with desire. Alex looked back in wonder. She was everything he wanted: sweet, intelligent, chaste,
and
wanton. She seemed to be so wholesome and yet she was wild … even as he looked, Charlotte reached out and pulled him forward.

His lips met hers softly but then, as if she just remembered how to kiss, her mouth opened, moistly welcoming. And Alex couldn’t resist; his tongue drove savagely into her, an erotic assault that vanquished an already subdued victim. Charlotte moaned and arched forward, pressing her breasts against his hard body. Alex pulled her around and onto his chest. His mind had gone blind again; his mouth savaged hers and his hand slid seductively up her stocking, pushing her dress aside as if it didn’t exist. He was raw, hungry with the need to touch her. Charlotte half sobbed with excitement. The place between her legs was heavy, throbbing, scalding with liquid warmth.

“Alex,” Charlotte whispered, shuddering. “I don’t know….”

“It’s all right, darling.” Alex’s voice was raw, strained. He slid his fingers into the place between her legs and Charlotte almost jumped out of her skin. Her hand involuntarily gripped his arm like a vise.

“No!” she said fiercely. But his fingers moved languorously into her hot, wet warmth. Stabbing shocks of desire traveled all over Charlotte’s body, especially her legs and stomach.

“No …” she said again, her tone wavering a bit.

Alex leaned forward and silenced her with his mouth. His fingers suddenly moved from being gentle and soothing to being hard and sure. Charlotte couldn’t help it. Her hand fell from his arm; she tore her mouth from his and moaned out loud. Alex’s heart was racing and he had an erection that would take a week to subside, but he felt ecstatic. Not only had he talked sweet, sweet Charlotte into being his wife, but she had a natural passion to match his. The tales he had heard so often from men in the
ton
, about wives who lay like unhappy sticks, the unpleasant matings endured on both sides only in order to have children, flashed through his mind. Charlotte’s mouth was open, her lips crimson and swollen from his kisses. She was breathing in small, fast pants. He moved a finger into her tight, wet canal and she shook visibly, moaning again, her head moving restlessly from side to side.

Alex leaned over her, his left hand caressing her breast, his mouth taking hers again, stifling her imploring moans as she strained forward against his finger. It was all Alex could do not to jerk down his breeches and drive into her. The only thing stopping him … well, the only thing stopping him, he thought, was himself. Charlotte was completely lost, her breath coming in catches and starts, sensation racing through her body.

Suddenly her body stiffened and she grabbed his shoulders with a fierce grip.

“Alex!” she cried, and “Alex!” Alex devoutly hoped that no one was in the hallway. Charlotte’s body convulsed into a hundred starry, shattered pieces. Prickles of sweat broke out all over her body. Alex grimly hung on to the last of his self-control as her lovely body convulsed against his, ragged moans escaping her lips.

There was silence in the Chinese Salon. Alex looked up at the ceiling and prayed for mastery of his body. He hadn’t felt this close to disaster since he was an adolescent. Charlotte would undoubtedly be wrenchingly embarrassed when she realized what had happened. He had to resume control of his aching, throbbing erection. Finally he looked back.

Charlotte was leaning against her corner of the divan, looking not embarrassed, but stunned.

Alex leaned over and caressed her face.

“What
was
that?” she finally said.

“What?” Alex said. He didn’t understand her question.

“What happened to me?” She looked straight at him, her slender eyebrows flying toward her curls.

Alex couldn’t help it; he grinned. “You had an orgasm. In France they call them
la petite mort—
the little death.”

Charlotte looked thoughtful. “Will it happen again?”

Alex almost laughed aloud. “I promise,” he said. “I promise.”

Charlotte thought about this while she pulled up the sleeves to her morning gown and shrugged her skirt down to its proper position. Then she reached past Alex and took a cucumber sandwich from the tray Campion brought.

Alex concentrated on thinking about horse racing. Horse racing bored him to tears and so it had become his private instrument for bodily control. Wonder crept through him. His betrothed had just had an experience that many women
never
had, and she was coolly eating a sandwich. His eyes narrowed and he looked closer. Charlotte’s hands were trembling. In fact, as he watched, a tear snaked down her cheek.

Alex sighed. Miraculously the uncomfortable bulge in his pantaloons disappeared. He grabbed a cucumber sandwich for himself and slid over to sit beside his teary betrothed.

“Actually,” he said meditatively, “it won’t just happen again; it will be much better next time. Because this time I gave
you
pleasure, but next time we’ll give each other pleasure.”

Charlotte started. She hadn’t thought about him at all. “Is there something?” she asked.

“Oh, no. If you even touch me, I’ll detonate,” Alex said cheerfully. “You see,” he continued in a silky voice, “my body is clamoring to leap on top of you and
ruin
you, as they say, and it is only my great gentlemanly control and sense of honor that is keeping me here, eating this dry sandwich.” He put it back on the tray and frowningly selected another. “What I ought to do is kiss you in the carriage and then stroll into my club wearing these deuced uncomfortable pantaloons, and it would end all the rumors about my capabilities.”

Charlotte looked at him from under her lashes. His dark eyes slanted over to meet hers, the message in them undeniably seductive … and amused. Suddenly Charlotte giggled. It was rather funny, although not exactly as he thought. He didn’t want to ruin her by going any further on her mother’s Chinese divan, but he already
had
ruined her.

She touched his sleeve, still feeling a bit guilty. “Thank you,” she said.

At that Alex looked really startled, even shocked.

“What’s the matter?” she asked.

“Only one woman ever thanked me before—” He broke off, taking a bite of his sandwich.

“Have you had many lovers?”

“Hundreds … thousands …” Alex waved his sandwich in the air. Charlotte made a little moue of disapproval. He leaned over and looked into her eyes. “A gentleman never discusses his other conquests,” he said. “But since you will be my last conquest, I might as well tell you that I don’t remember ever being as aroused as I have been this afternoon … not in my whole life, and with all those thousands of women.”

Charlotte blushed.

“We stopped,” Alex said, “because I want to make love to you for an hour, two hours, on a comfortable bed.” His eyes glinted wickedly at her. “And I want us to be married. You’ll be wearing my ring, and you’ll be mine, and no one else’s. And I want your first experience to be the beginning of a long series of nights and days together.”

“Days?” Charlotte repeated, mystified.

“Days,” Alex affirmed with a decadent smile. “My bedchamber has large windows, and I am going to lay you on my bed with the midday sun pouring in on us, and”—his voice was a thread of a whisper now—”I shall feast on your body for the whole afternoon.”