Seduced At Sunset (17 page)

Lastly, he met Lord Blake and his wife Chelsea, a
handsome, amiable couple, and Anne, who was married to Charlotte’s twin
brother, Lord Garrett. Garrett, a surgeon in London, was unable to join them
that particular week.

Everyone was pleasant and welcoming, but Drake was pleased
to begin the march up the steps with Lady Charlotte on his arm, for all he
wanted to do was determine the place and the exact moment he could make love to
her.

Not ten minutes after he was shown to his room to settle
in and change for dinner, Drake heard a creaking sound, like weak floorboards
in an old, broken down country house.

He recalled the stories Charlotte had told him about the
palace—that it had been built on the ruins of an ancient monastery
destroyed during the reign of King Henry VIII. According to legend, the
subterranean passages beneath the foundations were haunted by the souls of the
dead monks.

Charlotte told him she had lived here all of her life, and
her only terrors had come at the hands of her brothers, who, as children,
enjoyed frightening their younger sister. She also mentioned a few unfortunate
incidents with her father, the duke, in his final years when he suffered from
mad delusions, and carried on conversations—with one ghost in particular.

None of it was real, of course, yet for some reason, all
the little hairs on Drake’s arms stood on end when the ominous sound of the
creaking floorboards grew nearer, like footsteps approaching, yet he knew he
was alone in the room.

His gaze shot to the drapes as they wafted suddenly on a
draft, as if someone had opened the window, but he could see it remained shut
tight.

Drake moved to the desk, picked up a heavy brass
candlestick holder, backed up against the wall, and wielded it over his head.
“Who’s there?”

The tapestry beside the bed fluttered. Drake strode toward
it and wrenched it back. He nearly lost his head when Charlotte appeared, as if
she had passed like mist through the wall.

“You can put the candlestick holder down now,” she said
with a laugh as she pulled a secret door shut behind her and let the tapestry
fall back into place. “You looked as if you were about to brain me with it.”

With a sigh of relief, he set it down. “I thought you were
a dead monk,” he said.

Charlotte smiled at him, and her warmth was more radiant
than the sun. He wanted her instantly, ravenously.

“Do you not remember what I told you about the secret
passages?” she asked. “Not all the rooms have them, but I made sure you were
put in one of the good ones.”

Her hair was like spun gold in the early evening light
streaming in through the window, and like Eve, she stood before him, the
embodiment of temptation. He knew then that it had indeed been a mistake to
come here, for clearly he was losing control of this affair, he but it was too
late to turn back now, for he wanted her with a raging desire that was
unmatched in its intensity.

“I hope you don’t mind that I snuck in so soon,” Charlotte
said alluringly as she approached. “But I couldn’t wait until later. It feels
as if I have been waiting for days. I tried, but another minute without you
seemed unbearable. I needed to see you. Touch you. Feel your hands on me.”

Passion blazed through his senses so forcefully, that he
found himself tearing at his neck cloth with one hand while simultaneously
cupping the back of her head with the other. He pulled her close.

The kiss was hard and rough and when their tongues met, a
savage lust pounded through his brain and filled him with urgent discontent,
for he was tired of fighting this. He wanted to surrender to it, to enjoy her
body and her tender affections without any thought for the future.

The curve of her hips was somehow hypnotic as his hands
searched and stroked around to her sweet bottom.

“Take me to the bed,” she breathlessly pleaded, and he
swept her into his arms, carried her a few short steps, set her down, and
quickly unbuttoned his waistcoat. Seconds later he had ridded himself of the
garment and was tugging his shirt off over his head in a mad rush to feel her
luscious body against his bare skin.

He ached with need. It was a brutal yearning that reminded
him of days gone by, when he had yielded eagerly to his violent side. But this
was something else. He didn’t want to pillage or destroy. All he wanted was to
possess.

The next few moments were a frenzy of desperate gasps, as
if they were both drowning in their sexual appetites.

“Is the door locked?” Charlotte asked as he came down
naked upon her, about to penetrate.

“No,” he replied, though perhaps he should have lied.

“Pray God no one walks in,” she replied, and that was
enough. It was all he needed—permission to plunge into her with all the
savage intensity that had exploded like a bomb inside his brain over the past
few days, ever since their lovemaking under the willow tree by the river.

He drove into her smoothly and pleasurably, and she clung
to him with unbridled passion, as if he were her salvation. In that moment, he
felt transformed, like a man without sin or shame. His body trembled against exquisite
sensation as he continued to work in and out of her hot, slick depths, his mind
unaware of the physical world beyond the friction and slide of her lush body.
He made a sound of deep, primal satisfaction that caused her to moan softly in
response, like an echo.

Their passions grew together to a fevered pitch, and their
orgasms came in a matched rhythm that seared his soul. He convulsed above her,
clutching at her bottom, pushing into her as deep as he possibly could while
she thrust her hips forward and whispered in his ear, “Drake...”

Moments later, they lay weak, sated, and happy, clinging
to each other like two lost souls.

“I missed you so much,” she said, and the words aroused
him anew.

“I missed you, too,” he replied. “Nothing was the same.
All I did was count the minutes until I could see you again.”

Oh God, had he really said that aloud
?
Had he let down his guard completely? He—the undefeated boxing champion
of England—was surely down for the count, blinking up at the ceiling in a
foggy haze of semi-consciousness.

But he wasn’t about to let go. He hugged Charlotte as
tight as he could without crushing her, and reveled in the sensation of her
legs entwined with his.

He was still inside her, drowning in sweet bliss and the
liquid heat of her juices mixed with his own. It was the second time he had
taken such a risk by neglecting to withdraw before he climaxed. The fact that
he was not concerned about that was a miracle in itself, for if they conceived
a child, he would have no choice but to marry her. Despite what some might say,
he was a man of honor.

But it was more than that. Perhaps a part of him wanted to
face such a future. Her pregnancy, though dangerous, could tie them together
forever and not permit him to leave her behind.
But a
pregnancy?
No one knew better than Drake the risks of such a condition.

Charlotte shifted beneath him and he felt her delicate
ribcage expand. Recognizing the effort it took for her to breathe with his
weight upon her, he carefully rolled to the side.

Charlotte reached down to pull the coverlet up over their
naked bodies, then curled into him. He wrapped an arm around her. She rested
her head on his shoulder.

“This is the room where my mother stayed the night before
her wedding to the duke,” Charlotte said. “Remember when I told you that she
almost didn’t go through with it?”

He nodded.

“Well, that was not nearly half the story,” Charlotte
continued, “for she actually planned to run off with her young man. He came
into this very room from behind the tapestry, just as I did tonight, and they
tried to leave together to make their way through the tunnels. Her father
caught them before they could flee, however, and dragged my mother back after
beating the young man to a pulp. She went through with the wedding only to protect
her love, because her father threatened to kill him otherwise.”

“Good Lord,” Drake said. “How barbaric.”

“I agree.”

“Did you know your grandfather?”

“No, he died before I was born.”

Drake stroked Charlotte’s bare shoulder and kissed her on
the forehead. “Was your mother very miserable in her marriage?”

“At first, yes, but she says they eventually grew to care
for each other. The duke mellowed in his old age.”

He sighed. “Well, from what I gather the dowager duchess
seems like a lovely person. She deserves happiness. I hope she finds it.”

“I hope you find it, too.” Charlotte lifted her head to
look up at him.

“Who says I haven’t?” he replied without smiling, for that
very serious confession was unplanned and left him reeling. He felt caught in a
vortex, spinning and spinning, deeper and deeper into passion. Now that he was
here at Pembroke, he didn’t want to spend a single moment away from Charlotte.
He wanted to make the very most of it.

Perhaps they both simply needed to take their fill before
summer’s end, and then they would part as friends. But when her lips touched
his, something swelled inside of him, and he felt a deep connection to her, one
he knew could last a lifetime, if given a chance.

He thought of how she must have mourned the death of her
fiancé and unborn child, just as he had mourned the death of his wife and
child. Charlotte had not gone on to marry another; neither had he. Now she
wanted her mother to be happy and settled, which was the same reason he had
come home—to ensure that his own mother was taken care of. So many things
the same...

He kissed Charlotte tenderly in the twilight and was very
glad he had not told the coachman to turn around. It didn’t matter that she
lived in a palace, nor would it have mattered if she lived in a hovel. He
desired her, and he simply had to have her.

“I’m so glad you came,” she said with a smile.

“So am I.” He kissed her again, but she pulled away and
slipped out of his bed.

“Where are you going?” He didn’t want her to leave.

“It’s time to dress for dinner,” she said. “I need to
sneak out of here before someone catches us.”

He lay back on the pillow, tossed his arms up behind his
head, watched her don her chemise and petticoat. “What would your brother do if
he did catch us?” Drake asked. “Give me a good thrashing, I suppose.”

“Heaven help him if he tried. He’d end up unconscious on
the ground. He wouldn’t even know what hit him.”

She bent to pick up her corset and fastened the hooks in
the front, then pulled on her skirt.

“Maybe he’d bring out a shotgun and force me against my
will to marry you.”

Charlotte picked up a pillow and pitched it at him. With
lightning fast reflexes, Drake caught it in front of his face.

“Maybe he’d have to hold a shotgun to
my
head, to force me to marry
you
.”

She was laughing as she said it, but Drake suddenly found
himself leaning up on an elbow, studying her expression. “Is that what it would
take? Or would you surrender to me willingly?”

Her expression grew serious, then she turned to pick up
her bodice. “I don’t know,” she said, pushing her arms into the sleeves. He
wished he could see her face. “I never liked hypothetical questions.”

It was better than a ‘no,’ he thought.

Feeling rather satisfied, he lay back down on the pillow
to watch her fasten the buttons up her front. She had turned around at last,
then leaned over the bed and kissed him quickly on the mouth. “I have to go
now. Otherwise we might find ourselves facing shotguns—
un
hypothetically.”

“If you would stay ten more minutes,” he said, “I
guarantee it would be completely worth it.”

She gave him a mischievous smirk, then circled around the
bed and disappeared behind the tapestry, leaving him alone to ponder his life.