Seducing Charlotte (16 page)

Relief relaxed the baron’s features. “And there is, of course, the issue of pin money.”

The man might be a pest, but Cam appreciated his determination to ensure his sister’s future. “I will arrange for my solicitor to provide a personal annual allowance for Charlotte once she becomes my wife.” He couldn’t wait for that to happen. His mind wandered back to yesterday, when she’d demonstrated what an apt and enthusiastic lover she could be. Then there’d been revelation of Charlotte’s nude form at the pond, where they’d gone for a swim afterward. His mind feasted on the memory of her lean yet surprisingly supple body, smooth expanses of creamy skin punctuated by the soft curves of her hips and round perfection of her pert breasts. “I am sure you will find the allowance to be more than generous,” he heard himself saying.

“Yes, undoubtedly,” said Shellborne. There was an awkward pause. “Furthermore, in the event of your death—”

Cam wondered how soon he could get Charlotte alone again. His guess about her unbridled reaction to passion had been correct. He couldn’t wait to have her again, to hear that little, muffled scream she uttered when she reached her release.

He realized Shellborne was looking at him expectantly. “What? Oh, yes, of course Charlotte and any children we might have will be protected in the event of my death.” Perhaps he could steal into her chamber this evening. He frowned. Hopefully, her other brother didn’t make a habit of climbing into her room at night. Cam certainly didn’t want a repeat of their previous encounter. Last time nothing improper had happened. Tonight, Nathan would have excellent reason to kill him if he came upon them in Charlotte’s chamber.

The changing expressions on Cam’s face seemed to make Shellborne nervous. “She will, naturally, be entitled to the right of dower.”

Cam squinted at Shellborne, trying to focus on what the little, round man had just said. The scrutiny caused Charlotte’s brother to shift uncomfortably in his chair. Cam forced himself to process Shellborne’s words. “Yes, yes. My marchioness will be entitled to one-third of the income from Camryn Hall in the event of my death.” He pushed to his feet, stretching his cramped legs. “However, I will also set aside a generous jointure to assure Charlotte’s complete comfort and financial independence after I am gone. In addition, I will arrange a town home in Mayfair and a country estate for her in the event of my demise. Portions will also be set aside for the children.” He paused, trying to mask his impatience. “Anything else?”

Shellborne took a quick sip of his brandy, which had remained untouched until now. “No. I shall look forward to reviewing the contract once your solicitor draws it up.”

Cam poured himself another brandy. Turning, he held the decanter in Shellborne’s direction. The baron shook his head, declining the silent offer of a refill. “There is another related issue,” Cam said. “Perhaps now is an opportune time to discuss it.”

“What might that be?” Shellborne crossed his arms, before uncrossing them again.

Cam tossed back some brandy, enjoying the warm, smooth feel of the fiery liquid sliding down his throat. “It is in regards to Nathan Fuller.”

“Nathan Fuller?” His tone was as bland as the expression on his face. “The duke’s coachman?”

“And your brother.” Cam strode across the room, dropping into a chair opposite Shellborne. “Let us not waste time by dissembling. I am aware Fuller is your father’s by-blow.”

“I see.” Flushing, Shellborne scratched the thinning, random strands atop of his shiny pate. “I fail to see how that is relevant to anything.”

Cam leaned back, draping his arms over the back of his chair. “Fuller is dear to your sister. Consequently, he is of concern to me.”

“I see.”

“I was wondering, Shellborne, if you approve of Fuller’s political activities?”

“Political activities?” The baron’s eyes widened. “I beg your pardon?”

Cam wasn’t surprised the baron appeared unaware of his brother’s clandestine activities. “What do you know of your brother’s movements since leaving Shellborne Manor?”

Charlotte’s brother shrugged. “All I know is that Fuller worked at a mill in Leicestershire. But he ran into trouble there.” He released a long exhale. “Not that that was any surprise. He has never known his place.”

Cam bit back a retort. “In some families, the two of you would have been raised as the brothers you are.”

“My father, the late baron, did not acknowledge him,” Shellborne said, his voice chillier than Cam had ever heard it. “That was his choice.”

“Indeed it was.” Cam shifted back to his real focus. “What became of Fuller after he left Leicestershire?”

“I had no idea where he was until I discovered him here, in service to His Grace.” Shellborne stood, bringing the discussion to a close. “As you’ve no doubt surmised, we are not close.”

After Shellborne excused himself, Cam closed his eyes and ran the baron’s words over again in his mind. Something about the exchange unsettled him, as though he was missing the key piece to a puzzle. But he couldn’t, for the life of him, put his finger on precisely what it was.

…

This time, when Cam came to Charlotte’s chamber in the middle of the night, she expected him. He let himself in as if it were already his right, disrobing in quick, efficient movements. She watched with hot curiosity, her body craving him now that she fully comprehended what she’d missed all of these barren years. He pulled his white linen shirt over his head, the movement causing the muscled contours of his chest and stomach to stretch and ripple.

When he bent to shed his breeches, the fires light glowed over the sleek lines of his narrow waist and across the indentations at his hips. Naked, he turned toward her and the impossible fullness of his engorged flesh sprang proudly from a nest of tawny curls. He eased his weight onto the bed next to her and even the mattress seemed to groan with admiration.

Pulling her into his arms, he kissed her soundly. His tongue moved into her mouth, branding her with every stroke. He stopped and pulled back, his amber eyes shining in the firelight. “Will you take off your sleeping gown?”

Heat suffused her, but she was eager for him. Sitting up in the bed, she pulled off the thin white gown. Propped up on his elbow, he watched with obvious appreciation. It still surprised her that Cam wanted her above all others. That he, who could have any woman, had chosen her.

He ran a warm hand over her bare back, leaving tingling sensations in his wake. Sitting up, he moved behind her, pulling Charlotte’s sitting body back up against his. His hands stole over her breasts from behind, coaxing them into fine points as he kissed and nipped her neck. “I trust Fuller does not make a habit of sneaking into your chamber at night.”

With a contented sigh, she leaned back into the smooth hard warmth of his body. A throbbing sensation began to build. “If he does, I’ll be terribly compromised.”

“It’s fortunate we’ve already decided upon marriage,” Cam said raggedly, his breathing becoming shallower.

Marriage
. Guilt niggled in her chest. Had she been right not to tell him the entire truth? She hadn’t revealed everything, convincing herself she protected both Cam and Nathan by not doing so. Perhaps now was the time to tell him. But then he lifted her, sheathing himself inside of her from behind in one smooth, quick stroke, and all rational thought tumbled out of her mind.

“Oh,” she said responding to the combination of surprise and sensation. There were no words to express how wonderful it felt. “I did not know it could be done like this.”

Cam gave a rough laugh as she began to move experimentally atop him. “Yes, just like that,” he ground out. “There is so much we have yet to explore together, my love.” He scraped his teeth lightly along her back in a sensual movement that made her tingle and shiver. Cam helped her move, thrusting upward into her, hard and fast.

A conflagration of fire and passion flooded through her. She began to move faster, the tension inside her growing. Cam moved with her, helping her keep the rhythm of her quickening movements. He ran his hands over her back and shoulders, around to cup her breasts, and then to the place between her legs, rubbing and coaxing. When she cried out, Cam came with her, both hurtling over a precipice that rendered all thought impossible.

Later, they made love again, enjoying the newness of each other’s touch, the preciousness of what they’d found together, their bodies and limbs still intertwined when they finally dozed off. It seemed as if they’d barely closed their eyes when Charlotte awakened to the flickering, reddish haze of a new day.

She stretched with a satisfied sigh before rolling over to Cam. “Wake up,” she crooned, running her hand over the curly amber hairs on his chest. “I shall be utterly and completely compromised if Molly finds you here.”

Cam stirred, groaning as he pulled Charlotte closer. “It cannot possibly be morning yet.” He ran his hand over Charlotte’s belly. “And I am not done ruining you.” His voice went deep with intent as his hand crept lower.

Her skin jumped with excitement at his touch, but she forced herself to grab his hand, impeding its progress. “Look, the day is upon us.” She gestured toward the window. “You cannot be found here. Poor Hugh will have an apoplexy for certain this time.”

Cam uttered a grumpy sound and reluctantly swung his legs over the side of the bed. Sitting up, he glanced out over the red dawn visible through the window. “Morning came entirely too quickly. I’m as tired as the devil.” He twisted around to grab Charlotte, pulling her across to sit on his lap. “I suspect my weariness is entirely your fault, my future marchioness.”

“I am practicing at being a competent wife.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “I do like to excel in all things.”

“I’m a most fortunate man.” Their mouths met. They took it slow, sliding their tongues against each other in deep, leisurely movements, drawing out their pleasure in each other.

She finally pulled away and stood up to draw on her dressing gown. She reached for Cam’s clothes. “Come now,” she said pulling at his hand.

He rose and began to dress. As he fastened his breeches, something about the flickering, orange hue of the new day distracted him. His eyes widened in realization.

“By God, that is not the sun.” Pulling on his shirt, he raced toward the door. “Those are flames. The stables are on fire!” Before Charlotte could react, Cam flew out into the hall and barreled down the stairs yelling, “Fire, fire!”

Someone else had apparently seen it, too. A bell began to peal and urgent shouts erupted beneath Charlotte’s window.

Fear blasted through her. “Nathan,” she whispered struggling to pull on the gown she’d worn just a few hours ago. She prayed he’d escaped his sleeping quarters above the stables. Finally dressed, Charlotte burst into the hallway, rushing down the stairs and out the door. Sprinting toward the blazing structure, she was swept up in the stream of servants running in the same direction as shouts and curses filled the air.

A massive ball of flames engulfed the north side of the stable. The shooting blaze roiled into the sky. Billowing smoke formed an ominous halo around the vicious orange, yellow, and white flames. Coughing grooms led the horses to safety. Their faces were covered with soot and the whites of their eyes floated in the amber-tinged darkness.

Terror seized Charlotte, paralyzing her lungs. She looked around wildly almost sobbing her brother’s name. She grabbed at one of the groom’s arms. “My bro…Nathan Fuller, the coachman. Have you seen him?”

“No, ma’am,” he said before turning his attention back to the two horses he rushed to safety.

She became aware of Hartwell calling out orders. She had never seen the duke looking less than flawless in his appearance. But this evening, his long, dark hair, usually pulled back in a queue, hung loose, somehow softening his sharp features. His white shirt was over his breeches. Something about seeing the usually immaculate duke in a state of dishabille, silhouetted against the surreal, reddish haze of the mammoth flames, heightened Charlotte’s mounting distress.

The acrid air snaked into her lungs making it hard to breath. Intense heat slapped across her skin, moistening it with sweat and fear.

She saw Cam then, his height allowing him to stand out above the people around him, his wild leonine mane tousled and free. He commanded the staff to form water lines and they were soon passing buckets to help douse the fire.

Cam joined one of lines, helping pass the buckets. His fine white lawn shirt bared some of his chest, which, like the smooth planes of his face, glistened in the scorching heat.

Charlotte ran to him. “I cannot find Nathan.”

Cam shouted some commands down the water line and then turned his attention back to her as he passed the buckets onward. “He’s a strong and able man, Charlotte. Surely, he managed to escape.” He shouted to be heard above the roaring flames. More urgent calls came from down the water line and he sprinted in that direction to see what was amiss. Calling back over his shoulder, he called, “Wait here. I’ll find him, Charlotte. You have my word.”

More people continued to arrive. Word of the crisis must have reached the tenants. Someone grabbed her arm. She turned to see Hugh.

“Have you seen him, Charlotte?” Hugh cried out, his voice thick with emotion.

“No!” Charlotte’s lungs burned. “Have you?”

Hugh’s eyes were rounded with fear. The orange light of the flames cast a sickly hue over his face. He shook his head slowly, sadly.

Charlotte couldn’t breathe. Her stomach twisted into painful knots. She choked back a sob and looked toward the fire. Where could Nathan be? No one who remained inside the stable could survive the inferno devouring it.

“Miss Livingston?” She turned to see Digby, the butler. “Is it Mister Fuller, the coachman, that you seek?”

She nodded, coughing from the smoke burning into her lungs. “Have you seen him, Digby?”

If it perplexed the butler to find Charlotte overwrought over the well-being of a servant, he showed no sign of it. “Yes, Miss Livingston. I am certain I saw Fuller running toward the manor just a few minutes ago.” A grateful sob escaped her throat. He was safe.