Seduced At Sunset (18 page)

With a burst of excitement, Charlotte left Drake’s room,
entered the dark passageway and picked up the candle she had left in one of the
wall sconces. Had he really just said those things to her? Was he only teasing,
or did he mean it? Would he welcome a shotgun wedding?

Would she?

Why was she so inconceivably happy at the thought of it?
How ridiculous!

It was not a proposal, and even if it were, she was not
sure she would want to marry him. She must maintain control of her intellect
and not become swept away by the magic of his kiss and the pleasure of his
hands on her body. For all she knew, he could make a terrible husband, and she
certainly did not want to live like a recluse.

No, she mustn’t become swept away.

But she
would
enjoy this. She
would enjoy the dream of him for as long as it lasted.

Chapter Fifteen

After dinner, when the ladies retired to the drawing
room, the men remained at the table to smoke cigars and partake of some
excellent brandy in a sparkling crystal decanter, which was brought to the
table by a servant in black and white formal attire.

The duke was the first to snip off the end of his cigar
and light it. Soon they were all lounging back in their chairs in conspicuous
silence.

“Am I about to be interrogated?” Drake asked, sitting
forward to tap his cigar ashes into a gold-plated tray.

“Bloody well, right,” Lord Vincent replied. “We heard all
about your gallant rescue of our sister’s reticule, but we have yet to hear the
gory details. How hard did you really hit the scoundrel? Did you break
anything? A nose? A jaw perhaps?”

The duke chuckled and shook his head. “Vincent, you have
no shame.”

“I never have, and I make no apologies. Come now,
brothers, don’t lie. You know you want to hear about it.”

“Speak for yourself,” Blake said. “I am sure Mr.
Torrington doesn’t wish to go into it, and certainly not at the table.”

“The ladies are gone,” Vincent said. “What could it hurt?”

Drake glanced at the duke who sat back leisurely in his
chair with one leg crossed over the other. He and Lord Vincent shared similar
looks. Each had jet-black hair and a commanding physical stature. In fact they
could have been twins.

The duke shrugged a shoulder as if to suggest that Drake
could speak as freely as he wished.

“I didn’t break anything,” Drake explained, “but the
scoundrel was out cold for a good twenty minutes.”

“A concussion, then,” Vincent said.

“No doubt,” Drake replied.

Vincent took a deep drag of his cigar, then leaned forward
to tap the ashes into the tray. “Violence is a dreadful thing, but when you’re
a purse snatcher, you take your chances.”

“Charlotte mentioned,” Blake said, “that he was a gambler
who owed money to the wrong people.”

“That is what the constable confirmed,” Drake said.

The duke also tapped his ashes in the tray. “Please allow
us to thank you, Mr. Torrington, for coming to our sister’s aid. She means a
great deal to us.”

“Naturally,” Drake replied.

“So I don’t need to remind you that we do not wish to see
her hurt. I am not sure what you know, but she has been through some difficult
times in her life.”

“For pity’s sake, Devon,” Vincent said. “Give the man
space to breathe. Charlotte is a grown woman. She can take care of herself.”

There it was. The implication was clear. They all knew he
and Charlotte were involved in more than just a polite acquaintance, though he
suspected they would be shocked if they knew the whole truth of it.
Or perhaps not.
Lord Vincent certainly seemed a liberal
sort of man. But still, Charlotte was his sister.

No one said anything for a long moment. Then Devon changed
the subject. “We thought to go riding to the lake house tomorrow,” he said,
“and do some fishing. The ladies will join us for lunch. Do you ride, Mr.
Torrington?”

“I do,” Drake replied.

“Good. By the look of things, the weather promises to be
fine. I predict it will be a most enjoyable day... whether we catch salmon or
not.”

The following day, it rained buckets. The wind howled
like a fiend over the palace rooftops. Since the fishing trip was called off,
Charlotte thought carefully about how best to keep Mr. Torrington entertained,
and settled upon an old family tradition—a private stroll, just the two
of them, through the cold, damp, dark, and allegedly haunted palace catacombs.

“The key should be right here,” she said, crouching down
in the chapel to remove the loose stone in the floor in front of the choir
stall. “The door to the tunnels is behind the pulpit, beyond which there is a
steep set of stairs leading straight down into the very bowels of the earth.
Are you up to it?”

Drake, who was holding the lantern, offered a hand to help
her rise. “It sounds very romantic, Charlotte. Of course I am up to it.”

She grinned at him. “Then follow me.” She led him to the
secret door and unlocked it with the key. He held the lamp aloft, but it lit
only the first few steps. Beyond that, it was as dark as midnight at the bottom
and smelled damp and musty.

“Are you mad?” he asked. “I can almost hear the rats
screeching for us to come and join them.”

“It’s not the rats you should worry about,” she said.
“It’s the spiders. My brothers used to torture me with them when we were
children. I’ve had more than a few webs stuck in my hair over the years.”

“Delightful,” he said. “And what about the Pembroke Palace
curse you mentioned when you convinced me to come here. Should I be worried?”

“Not at all. That curse was thwarted years ago.” She
smiled and reached for his hand. “But I did promise to tell you about it,
didn’t I?”

He followed her down the steep stone staircase. “You said
your brothers were forced to take wives to protect their inheritances. Does
that mean none of them married for love? It seems difficult to believe. They
all appear to be devoted husbands today.”

“They most certainly are, which is why I believe the curse
was actually a blessing. Though none of us ever truly believed in that crazy
old curse. We
did
, however, believe in the power of
the law.”

“How was that a part of it?”

They reached the bottom of the steps and began moving down
the first corridor. “It’s a long story,” Charlotte said, “but my father...
the duke
,” she clarified, “went mad in his old age. He
believed a flood was coming and that it would destroy the palace. The only way
to stop it was for all of his sons to take wives before Christmas of that year.
Little did we know he had changed his will to force them into it. The will was
deemed valid because he was not considered mad when it was drawn up. We hired
solicitors to fight it, of course, but my brothers felt it best not to risk
losing that battle, so they went on a highly controlled wife hunt. I happen to
believe that fate stepped in and presented the right women at exactly the right
time.”

“You believe in fate, then?” Drake asked.

“Yes.” She believed in it absolutely. “But poor father...
he dug up the beautiful palace gardens to move his beloved roses to higher
ground, and he believed the ghosts of the dead monks were haunting him at
night. That was a difficult year. Once my brothers were happily married, it
seemed to calm him.”

Charlotte and Drake came to the end of the corridor, with
branches off to either side. “This is the best way to go,” she said, indicating
that they should turn right. “The other way is a shorter distance, but we’d
have to pass through a narrow section, and that is where I always heard the
ghosts.”

“I thought you said it was all just legend.”

“One can never be sure,” she said with a teasing smile.

They walked on. “What if the lamp goes out?” Drake said.
“How will we find our way back?”

“I have matches in my pocket” she replied. “I learned a
long time ago not to venture down here unprepared. In the worst case, we could
escape out the other end and walk back through the rain.”

And so they pressed on, holding hands, saying very little
to each other after that. It was a silence that felt full and communicative,
however, every so often Mr. Torrington would look at her with those arresting
gray eyes and hold her in his gaze for long moments. And the occasional squeeze
of her hand was a great comfort. She felt alive and euphoric, which made no
sense at all, for she knew their time together was limited. Eventually she
would be forced to live without him. She
should
be
living in a constant state of dread.

She was no stranger to loss, however, which was perhaps
why she accepted the situation. She had entered into this with a guarded heart,
and come hell or high water, she would see it through with her armor
intact—for what was the alternative? To put a stop to it now, just to
avoid pain later on?

No, that would not do. This was far too pleasurable. She
would be brave and soldier on and have wonderful memories to cling to when
Drake left for America. She would treasure every precious moment of this
incredible summer.

“The exit door is not far,” she told him as they rounded a
curve in the corridor. “There it is.”

Up ahead, a small set of wooden steps led up to a heavy
oaken door that was barred shut.

Drake handed the lantern to Charlotte, climbed the steps,
and raised the bar. He had to shove up against it with his shoulder to push it
open, for the grass had grown tall on the other side and the entrance had been
cloaked in ivy for over a century.

When he pushed it open, the sun was setting and the pink
light that poured in was almost blinding. He peered out, then turned around to
offer his hand. Charlotte took it, climbed the steps, and bent to keep from
hitting her head on the low beam over the door. Together they pushed their way
through the vines and emerged into the sunset.

The forest was quiet. The rain had turned to a soft mist,
and a hole in the clouds allowed glorious rays of light into the clearing. The
grass and foliage sparkled with wetness. Water dripped from the trees in heavy,
fat drops that beat a tattoo all around them.

Mr. Torrington closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. “I can
smell the earth. How exquisite. England has its own unique fragrance, you know.
Until arriving home, I didn’t realize how much I missed it.” His eyes searched
her face.

She laid a hand on his shoulder. “Then you must enjoy it
to the fullest while you are here.”

Those seductive eyes were silvery blue in the mist, and
she felt a stirring of arousal, for deep in her body, she sensed the heat of
his desire. It was a constant between them, ever present, and she had no notion
to resist it.

“How private is this place?” he asked, his voice husky and
suggestive.

“Very private,” she replied. “Even more so if we go that
way.” She pointed to a thick grove of junipers on the far side of the clearing.

He took the lantern from her, set it down by the door,
then clasped her hand to lead her there.

The hem of her skirts soaked up the water as she stepped
over the tangled grass, and she wondered what he had in mind, for it was too
wet to lie down. When they reached a safe distance, out of sight of the ancient
door, he took her into his arms and held her close until at last, his lips
touched hers. It was a magical kiss that seemed to melt away the rest of the world,
leaving just the two of them in this lush green garden of temptation.

He took her face in his hands, then let them roam over her
body while she clutched at his broad shoulders and threw her head back in
ecstasy. He kissed her throat then found her mouth again, devouring her like a
starving man.

Suddenly there was a flash of light. Seconds later, a
tremendous crack of thunder exploded in the heavens.

Charlotte jumped and Drake looked up at the sky as a heavy
downpour began. “It’s a sun shower!” she said.

“We shouldn’t be out here.” He grabbed her by the hand,
and they laughed as they ran across the clearing. They were nearly to the door
when Charlotte let go of Drake’s hand and stopped.

Water dripped from his hair as he whirled around. “What
are you doing?”

She was quickly becoming drenched, and her hair was
falling forward into her eyes, but she had never felt such joy. She laughed
again and spread her arms wide, turned in a full circle, and closed her eyes.
Tipping her head back, she relished the sensation of the cool rain hitting her
face.

“It’s so beautiful,” she said.

When she opened her eyes, he was there before her in the
misty twilight. His hand settled on the curve of her hips. “We’re going to get
struck by lightning.”

“I don’t care.”

Then his lips found hers again while the rain soaked
through their clothing and drenched their bodies. In the end, nothing else
mattered but the bliss of the moment when he backed her up against a tree,
raised her skirts, efficiently worked the fastenings of his trousers, and
entered her in an exhilarating rush of erotic splendor.