Seduced At Sunset (19 page)

Over the next three days, Charlotte and Drake spent every
waking moment together, except for the hours when he was invited to join her
brothers in some sort of manly activity that left the ladies behind. This
included fishing the day after the rainstorm—the ladies merely joined
them for lunch—and a game of billiards the following evening, which
lasted until midnight.

As for the hours between midnight and daybreak... they
belonged solely to Charlotte and Drake, and she surrendered herself completely,
without inhibition, to their passions.

When it came to lovemaking, he was a master of sensation.
Those brutal hands that could kill a man in a single blow were always gentle
and teasing, and he moved them over her with a grace that left her dizzy with
rapture.

They spent hours exploring each other’s bodies, feasting
on each sensation as if every moment were the last, which was not far from the
truth. But Charlotte did her best not to think of the time he would leave her.
Instead, she focused on physical sensation, the flavor of his skin when she
tasted him, the sound of his voice in her ear, and the glorious feel of his
rippling muscles beneath her fingertips.

At times they were exhilarated in bed, relentless in their
vigor. Other times, they lay exhausted on the rug before the fire, languorously
sated, too tired to even speak, until he touched her a certain way, or she
tasted him with her mouth. Then it would begin again—another round of sizzling
hot foreplay and wildly energetic intercourse.

Caught up in the magic of those private hours alone with
him, she felt as if time
could
stand still and she
could remain lost in this erotic dream forever. Nothing mattered but the
ecstasy of the moment... one after another to be savored. She refused to let
the future enter her thoughts, for she wanted to remember this enchantment,
perfect just as it was. Nothing would spoil it. No matter what occurred, she
would have these days to remember and cherish for the rest of her life.

Chapter Sixteen

Charlotte had learned early in life that all good things
must eventually come to an end. When the final hour came at dawn—when it
was time to leave Drake’s bed and say a public good-bye to him that morning
alongside her family—she gazed up at him as he lay upon her, looking into
her eyes.

“I don’t want you to go.” She rested her hand on his
cheek, rough with stubble beneath the soft flesh of her palm. “This week has
been so perfect.”

“Only because we didn’t get caught in bed together,” he
said. “If I stay another day, we will most certainly be pushing our luck.”

He kissed her tenderly on the mouth, and the lingering
fever from her climax coursed through her blood as he withdrew from her depths.

“You will come back to London though, won’t you?” he
asked, as she rolled to the side. “I am here for another fortnight. I want to
spend that time with you.”

“I want to spend it with you as well,” she replied, but
secretly wished he would ask for more. What about the future beyond those two
weeks? It was taking every ounce of will she possessed not to cling to him and
beg him not to leave, or to ask him to take her with him—but he had made
it clear from the beginning that this was a temporary affair. She did not wish
him to remember her as an emotional wreck, weeping and pleading at his feet.

Instead, she took his hand in hers, kissed his palm, and
pressed it to her heart. “Last night was perfect, but we both know it’s time
for me to return to my own rooms.”

“Before we are caught,” he said.

“Yes.” Her body trembled with regret as she slipped out of
the bed and pulled on her nightgown and robe.

“When will I see you again?” he asked.

A small part of her wanted to make him suffer, as she was
suffering. What if she said she’d changed her mind and did not want to return
to London after all? Would he simply say good-bye today and forget about her?
Or would he decide he could not live without her, and reconsider the
approaching end of this affair?

“I am not sure yet,” she replied. “It may not be for a few
days.”

“You’re killing me,” he said.

Good. Because this is killing me, too
.

She fastened the belt on her dressing gown and circled
around the bed. “I really must go now.” She was about to sweep the tapestry
aside and open the secret door, when Drake rose from the bed and clasped her by
the wrist.

“Wait.” He pulled her into his arms and held her tight,
then pressed his lips to hers.

She melted beneath the heat of the kiss. If it were not
yet dawn, she would have succumbed to another hour in bed with him, but his
train would be leaving in a few hours and the coachman would soon be waiting in
the courtyard to deliver him to the station.

Charlotte pressed her hands to Drake’s shoulders and
pushed him away. “I have to go,” she said, rather testily.

This time, he did not try to stop her.

It was not easy to say good-bye to Pembroke. As Drake
shook the duke’s hand and thanked him and the duchess for their hospitality
over the past few days, he understood why Charlotte had invited him here. She
had wanted to show him that life could hold certain pleasures in the company of
good people, and not all English aristocrats were shallow gossipmongers.

She was right. The Sinclairs were a decent bunch, fiercely
loyal to one another and easy to rub along with. No wonder she was so proud of
her family and happy to spend the rest of her days here. Though she had lost a
great deal in her life, she would always have this. Pembroke Palace. Her home.

“It was a pleasure to have you visit us, Mr. Torrington,”
the duchess said. “I hope you will come again one day soon.”

He said good-bye to the other siblings—Vincent and
Blake, and their lovely wives—then he turned to Charlotte who stood
waiting at the open door of the coach.

She looked staggeringly beautiful in the early morning
sunshine. A light breeze was blowing at her skirts. The pink hue of her gown
matched the color of her lips. And those eyes... they never failed to affect
him.

He kissed her hand. “Thank you again, Lady Charlotte.”

“No, thank
you
, Mr. Torrington,”
she replied, “for the heroic rescue of my reticule.”

It was all she could say, for the others were watching and
listening.

Something savage in him wanted to grab her by the hand,
drag her into the coach, and steal her away, but he maintained a civilized composure
and simply bowed to her before stepping into the coach.

As the door was pulled shut and the vehicle began to drive
away, he forced himself not to look back, for he felt agitated by the rolling
of the coach wheels that took him away from her. Two weeks. That was all they
had left.

Unless...

He allowed himself to consider the possibility of
something more.

Charlotte spent that day in the nursery playing with her
nieces and nephews. She arranged a painting exercise with the older children
that helped keep her mind occupied. Deep down, however, when she looked at the
watercolor pictures, she saw Mr. Torrington’s face in all of them, and was
consumed by an emptiness and heavy sense of loss.

How perfect the past few days had been, talking with him
and laughing, spending the nights tangled in his bed sheets, wrapped up in his
strong arms while he pleasured her to the ends of the earth.

When it came time to dress for dinner that night, it all
seemed like a fantasy she had concocted in vivid detail—just like in one
of her novels. She knew it was real, however, for she was overcome with
longing.

All the while, that old familiar misery hovered just over
the horizon. She knew it all too well, and Lord knows she feared it, but she
would not let it conquer her this time, as she had all those years ago. Mr.
Torrington would be gone in two weeks. That was a fact. She would simply have
to let go of her love and move on with her life.

If that’s what it was.
Love
. She
wasn’t entirely sure. Perhaps it was just a very intense sexual infatuation,
and when he left and the memory of it faded, so too would this feeling of loss,
which at this point, too closely resembled grief.

When she entered the drawing room, her family was already
gathered for drinks before dinner. Adelaide sat in a chair gazing at the floor,
hardly paying attention to the conversations around her.

Charlotte approached her. Adelaide’s eyes lifted and
warmed instantly.

“No doubt you were sorry to see Mr. Torrington leave this
morning,” she said. “He is such a pleasant gentleman. We all liked him very
much.”

“I am pleased to hear that,” Charlotte replied. “And yes,
I am disappointed, but I mustn’t feel sorry for myself. He is gone. That is all
there is to it. In two weeks, he will be steaming his way back to America, so I
had best get used to this and not set myself up to wallow in any foolish
romantic imaginings.”

Adelaide stared at her for a long moment. She took hold of
her hand. “My darling. You know how proud I am of you for all that you have
accomplished. You are one of the strongest women I know, but sometimes I worry
that you are
too
formidable. You have yet to allow
yourself the smallest vulnerability.”

“Why should I?” Charlotte asked, surprised by her mother’s
sudden leap into a very intimate conversation. “I am happy with my life the way
it is. I have never felt lonely or deprived.”

She glanced around at the others—who thankfully
weren’t listening—and lowered her voice. “I don’t think now is the time
to be entertaining hopes for a man who has made it very clear that he is not
seeking a wife. A man who intends to leave the country before the end of the
month.”

“But is there any chance that he might decide to stay?”
Adelaide asked. “He has family here. He is an Englishman at heart.”

“Yes, but he has known hard times here.”

“So have you. At the same time, Charlotte... you are free
to leave if you wish.”

Charlotte felt her eyebrows pull together in disbelief.
“What are you up to, Mother? Are you playing matchmaker? Are you suggesting
that I should pack up and steam off to America to be with him?”

“Not at all,” she replied with her most charming smile. “A
fresh start can be found anywhere.”

Charlotte inclined her head suspiciously. “You think he
should stay here?”

Adelaide shrugged, as if she did not know, either way.

Charlotte couldn’t help but marvel at how things had
turned out. A few short weeks ago, she had resolved to bring her parents
together, as she believed they were meant to be, yet here she sat, the object
of her mother’s similar aspirations.

“We are too much alike, you and I,” Charlotte said.

“How so?”

Charlotte gave her a look. “Don’t pretend you weren’t
aware that I dragged you off to London to try and match you up with William.
All I wanted was for you to be happy.”