Seducing Charlotte (3 page)

“Whoa, there.” She firmed her hold on the ribbons and patted Flame’s neck.

“It must be the poachers the groom warned of.” Tension fired through the muscles in his arms and legs as he scanned the wood line. “Let’s get you back.”

She nodded, still stroking the mare’s neck as they moved into a trot. After several minutes, when they had neared the manor, Cam peered over at Charlotte. “You neglected to answer my question. Did my apology insult you?”

“No.” She shook her head. “Of course not.”

“Then what was that look you gave me?”

“It is of no consequence.”

“Please do tell me.”

“I simply don’t understand men like you. You feel worse about a simple kiss that injures no one, than about putting so many people out of work.”

Her words were swallowed by an ominous cracking sound that echoed through the air. Another gunshot. This one so close Flame shied away, spooked. She reared, the abrupt movement taking Charlotte by surprise. She slid off backwards, the back of her head slamming the ground. Flame circled then broke off into a skittering run.

“Charlotte!” His heart pounding, he leapt from his horse and ran to her. She lay motionless with her eyes closed, her face pale and still. He bent over to cradle her upper body in his arms, alarm blasting through him.

“Miss Livingston. Charlotte, can you hear me? Are you all right?” Her translucent blue eyes blinked open, peering up at him with a blank look. “Charlotte, can you hear me? Charlotte?”

“You called me Charlotte. I have not given you leave to do that.”

He let out the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “Yes, I hope I did not offend. Do you think you can sit up?” He helped her into an upright position, his concern spiking when she seemed to waver.

“Easy now.” He put an arm around Charlotte to keep her steady and bent his knee, bracing it behind her for support. She leaned against his knee and dropped her head into her hands. Stroking her hair with his free hand, an unexpected tenderness welled up in Cam. “There now, just rest for a moment until you regain your bearings.”

She made a murmur of contentment as her entire body sank against his chest, all warmth and suppleness, her gentle scent embracing him. Cam tensed at the unexpectedly provocative feel of her. His prick perked up, too, stirring with interest. Cursing to himself, he shifted to lessen the physical contact between them.

Opening her eyes, she smiled weakly. “Don’t worry, I shan’t take advantage of you.”

Ah, but was she safe from him? He allowed his lips to brush the softness of her hair; its silken length smelled of lavender. He wondered how long it fell. Did it reach the small of her back? If he pulled it loose now, would its glistening strands brush over the gentle curve of her hip?

The sounds of shouting in the distance distracted him from such fanciful thoughts. A man on horseback charged their way, his mount’s beating hooves kicking up grass. As he neared, Cam recognized the groom from the stable riding Charlotte’s errant horse. Nearing them, the man leapt down before his animal had time to come to a complete stop.

“Char…Miss Livingston, are you hurt?” The urgent words throbbed with concern, his eyes wild with anxiety.

“Yes, yes, please don’t worry on my account.” She managed a smile, although it looked more like a grimace, and made an effort to pull away from Cam. “I took a spill.”

The groom ran his gaze over the length of her body. Cam wanted to slap him for his impudence. The stable boy seemed not to notice because his intense focus remained fastened on Charlotte.

“Are you certain no bones are broken?” The groom reached for Charlotte, but stopped himself before touching her. “When your mount came back to the stables without you, I feared the worst.”

“Oh, Nathan, I am sorry to have worried you.”

Oh, Nathan
? Cam examined the groom, taking in the tall, lanky form, brown hair, and quiet determined way he carried himself.

“Come now, let’s see if you can stand,” he said, feeling a need to take command of the situation. Holding on to Charlotte’s arm, he helped her up. Nathan shot to his feet and moved toward her.

Cam stopped him with a territorial gaze and a crisp, brusque tone. “That will be all, Nathan, is it?”

Nathan stepped back, bowing his head in acquiescence, but not before Cam saw anger flash in the man’s soft blue eyes.

Charlotte rose a little unsteadily. “I was knocked about a bit, but nothing seems to be broken.” She gave Nathan that grimacing smile again, one that was meant to be reassuring but instead had the opposite effect.

Cam frowned at her ginger movements. “I think perhaps you should ride back to the manor with me, on my steed.”

“My lord,” the groom interjected. “Miss Livingston can ride back on her mount. I will walk.”

“Miss Livingston is in no condition to ride alone. She is still quite unsteady. I will accompany her.” He guided Charlotte over to his horse. “You may go. Take her mount with you.”

Climbing into the saddle, Cam ignored the departing groom. Once seated, he took hold of Charlotte’s hand while she placed her foot on top of his boot so he could hoist her up. Settling Charlotte sideways in front of him, he wrapped his arms around her delicate waist to keep her steady and set the stallion in motion at a slow pace. He tried to maintain focus on the path ahead, and not the scented feminine softness pressing up against his chest and stomach. And other regions he had no business thinking about at the moment.

“Just a little bit farther, sweet,” he said. Although he couldn’t see her face, he felt it the moment Charlotte lost consciousness. Panic flashed through him when her body went limp and lifeless just as Fairview Manor came into view. Some of that tension released when he caught sight of Hartwell outside the stables with several guests, preparing to lead a riding party. “I need your assistance,” he called out.

The duke came forward, and alarm stamped his dark face once he took in Charlotte’s still figure. “What the devil?”

“She took a fall. Help me take her down. Slowly.” Cam eased off the horse with Charlotte still in his arms. Hartwell provided a stabilizing hand until Cam touched the ground. Cradling her long, slender form in his embrace, Cam’s strides ate up the ground as he closed the distance to the house. Every muscle in his body had gone taut and his heartbeat drummed in his ears. A murmur moved through the gathered guests who watched with open curiosity at the sight of Charlotte in the marquess’s arms.

Hartwell turned to the nearest groom. “Go to the village and summon the doctor.”

Reaching the manor, Cam glanced back in time to see Nathan mount almost before the command left Hartwell’s lips. Kicking up a cloud of dust, the groom spurred the mare onward, the thumping sounds of galloping hooves quickly fading into the distance.

Chapter Three

“You’ve suffered a brain commotion,” Doctor Guelph said to Charlotte. She lay in bed battling another wave of nausea, one arm draped over her eyes to block out the painful light.

“How serious is it?” asked her brother, Hugh.

“Miss Livingston will be right as rain provided she follows my orders.” The doctor turned back to Charlotte. “You must remain abed for a fortnight. Rest and sleep as much as possible to allow your brain to recover from the trauma it has suffered.”

“Two weeks?” she whispered, trying to still the clanging in her head. “That sounds interminable. And the house party ends well before that.”

“Nonsense,” she heard Willa say. “You’ll stay until Doctor Guelph says you are completely recovered. You cannot travel all the way back to Leicestershire in this condition. Besides, I shall delight in your company.”

“What is that racket?” Charlotte groaned. “Who is ringing that infernal bell?”

“The ringing in your ears is quite normal and will clear up with time,” Doctor Guelph assured her. After giving her maid a few more instructions in regards to her care, the doctor announced he’d return in a sennight to check on the patient. Willa and Hugh saw the doctor out, leaving Charlotte alone in the darkened room.

Her head drummed as though a hundred people rioted inside of it, but thoughts of Camryn helped distract her from the pain. Her belly twinged at the memory of those golden-green eyes crinkling with concern for her. Even the scent of him lingered in her senses, that purely masculine combination of musk, leather, and sweat. She’d felt the marquess’s heart clamoring beneath his chest when she’d laid her head against him. Despite her fog, she’d been aware of Camryn’s embrace and the feel of his taut body against hers.

She twisted in the bed trying to ease her discomfort. Her thoughts became a confusing jumble as the laudanum took effect. The medicine lulled her into a fitful sleep where impressions of Camryn floated among the edges of her consciousness until everything finally went black.

…

Anxious for word of Charlotte’s condition, Cam paced in one of public reception rooms. His brothers, Sebastian and Basil, looked up from their chess game.

“It’s hard to concentrate with you moving about like that,” complained Basil. “What’s got you looking like you’re ready to tap the claret?” At two-and-twenty, Cam’s youngest brother was a hellion who did well with the ladies. He had his older brother’s lean build and golden coloring, but Basil could easily be considered the most classically handsome of his brothers. Cam had often heard ladies ramble on about his brother’s large blue eyes, perfectly structured nose, and chiseled jawline.

“Miss Livingston has taken a fall from her mount,” Cam mumbled. “I’m awaiting word of her condition.”

“Miss Livingston?” One side of Basil’s mouth shot up in confusion. “Oh, Shellborne’s sister,” he said with obvious disinterest.

Sebastian moved his queen. “Check.”

“Bollocks!” Basil turned his attention back to the board looking for a way to save his king from his brother’s predatory advance.

“Was it a serious fall?” Sebastian asked.

“I cannot say. She hit her head while we were out riding this morning.”

“While you were out riding?” Sebastian steepled his fingers beneath his chin. His dusky good looks were a marked contrast to his sun-sprinkled brothers, his powerful build unlike their lean, lithe forms. “Alone.”

“Leave off,” Cam retorted sharply, reacting to the unspoken censure in his brother’s question. “We met quite by accident and proceeded to ride together.”

Basil tapped his knight as he studied the chessboard. “Besides, isn’t Miss Livingston as good as on the shelf?” he asked without looking up. “She’s a little long in the tooth to worry about such proprieties.”

Cam quashed an immediate urge to defend Charlotte’s feminine appeal. “Any discussion of Miss Livingston’s age is highly inappropriate.”

“Highly inappropriate,” echoed Sebastian, “as is riding without a groom.”

Basil chuckled and moved his knight. “There, I’ve stopped you.” He twisted around in his seat to look at Cam. “You rode alone with a lady. Of course, Saint Sebastian does not approve. He can do no wrong.”

Sebastian’s hooded gaze moved back to the chessboard, a victor’s smile curving his lip. “Certainly not today. Check and mate,” he said moving his queen in for the kill.

“Damnation, there is no beating you,” Basil said good-naturedly.

Willa appeared on the threshold. “Charlotte has suffered a commotion of the brain,” she announced. “The doctor says she is to remain abed for a fortnight.”

Relief loosened Cam’s muscles. “Will she be all right then?”

“Yes, provided she rests and sleeps.” Willa went toward him. “She’ll remain here under Hartwell’s protection until she is recovered.”

“I suppose I cannot see her.”

“Why would you want to?” asked Basil.

Ignoring Basil, Willa gave Cam a reproving tap on the arm. “Charlotte is confined to the sickroom. She can hardly accept gentleman callers.”

“I am hardly a gentleman caller.”

“What were the two of you doing out riding together?” she asked.

“I found Miss Livingston having a mount readied for her. Since there are poachers afoot, I offered to accompany her. There was nothing inappropriate or untoward about it.”

“Nor did I say there was, cousin,” she said, examining his face. “I was simply curious.”

“My brother seems to have forgotten to take a groom with them.” Sebastian reached for the newspaper on a nearby side table. “Whether you intended it or not, you have helped make Miss Livingston the subject of unsavory gossip.”

Willa regarded her dark cousin with fondness. “Oh, Sebastian, I fear none of your brothers can live up to your impeccable standards.”

Cam snorted. “Yes, thank goodness we have the moral compass that is Sebastian Stanhope to make certain we are not led astray.”

“It is only when compared to my wayward brothers that I appear virtuous. I assure you, I am but an ordinary gentleman.” Sebastian regarded his brother with cool green eyes. “One, for example, who would never forget Miss Livingston is a lady who should be treated in a most honorable way.”

“I went riding with the lady.” Cam scowled at his brother. “I didn’t ravish her.”

Chuckling, Basil bottomed out his glass. “Besides, if Cam was of the mind to ravish someone, I doubt it would be Miss Livingston, of all people.”

“I’m of the mind to thrash you.” Grinding his teeth, Cam resisted the urge to pummel his youngest brother. “We are speaking of a lady. I’ll remind you to keep a civil tongue.”

Sebastian’s mouth quirked. “
Now
you worry about protecting Miss Livingston’s reputation?”

“What do you know about anything? I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you so much as look at a lady.”

Even though Sebastian’s inscrutable expression didn’t alter, Cam regretted the words as soon as he uttered them. Everyone present knew precisely why his brother showed no overt interest in females.

“That is outside of enough.” Willa tilted a stern look at him. “What in the world is wrong with you?”

Basil nodded. “You are behaving most unusually.”

“Perhaps my brother’s intentions toward Miss Livingston are not as honorable as they should be,” Sebastian said, with only his dark curls visible from behind the newspaper.

Blatant disbelief stamped Basil’s face. “Surely not.”

“I don’t think Cam has any intentions, honorable or otherwise, towards her,” Willa said. “He seems to find Charlotte rather uninteresting.”

“To the contrary.” Sebastian’s dark-lashed gaze peered at her from above the top of the newspaper. “His actions suggest my brother finds Miss Livingston far more intriguing than he cares to admit.”

An odd emotion tugged at Cam’s gut. “Leave off,” he growled, his face burning as he stormed from the room.

…

The remaining days of the house party passed in a sleepy haze for Charlotte, who spent most of that time resting and occasionally dreaming of a certain amber-haired gentleman in snug breeches. Gradually, her confusion cleared and the only ringing she heard came from church bells in the nearby village.

On the final night of the house party, the Duke and Duchess of Hartwell hosted a farewell dinner and dance for their guests. Still confined to the sickroom, Charlotte didn’t attend even though her headaches had receded and she grew more restless with each passing day. Thinking of the lively activities from which she was excluded highlighted her boredom.

Music drifting from below stairs, she plopped down into a chair with a book, but it was hopeless because she couldn’t concentrate. Thoughts of Camryn intruded.

Her mind kept returning to the memory of that kiss, to the potent press of his lips against hers. Even now, just replaying it in her mind sent bright sparks of pleasure raining down her spine.

Although she’d always held herself aloof, Charlotte had felt a powerful attraction to the marquess from the moment she’d first set eyes on him months ago in town. But she hadn’t expected to take pleasure in Camryn’s company, which she had, even when they were sparring. And he’d shown such tenderness after she’d been thrown from her mount. She’d felt safe in his arms and in his fierce concern for her.

The very idea that she could actually be drawn to the entire man, and not just to his obvious physical attributes, unnerved her. The Marquess of Camryn was a rakehell and an industrialist. He exploited people. Camryn stood for everything she disdained in a man.

Sighing, she pushed to her feet and walked over to crack the door open. Leaning her forehead against the cool wood, she listened to the strains of music and chatter emanating from the farewell dance. On the morrow, he would be gone and in all likelihood, it would be months before they crossed paths again. Which was just as well, she tried to tell herself, because Camryn clearly saw the world through different eyes.

What was he doing at this precise moment? Perhaps he stood in the garden receiving a special farewell from Mr. Fitzharding’s lady wife. She flushed at the memory. She’d been returning from a walk with Nathan when the strange murmurs and muted groans drew her attention. The carnal nature of what she’d chanced upon still shocked her, even now. It wasn’t as if she was completely ignorant of the intimacies between a man and a woman, but seeing Mrs. Fitzharding perform such an unthinkable act on Camryn stunned her.

It had also done strange things to her body. At first, the mechanics of it held her spellbound. The moonlight had cast a glow on the lady’s back-and-forth movements, highlighting the startlingly expert actions of her mouth and tongue, as well as the knowing, satisfied expression on her face when the marquess undulated against her.

Then there was the kingly way Camryn had stood against the tree, the noble majesty with which he accepted the pleasure she offered, as though it was his right. He’d looked arrogant and graceful even then, his imperious hand resting atop the head of the woman who pleasured him, his green eyes reflecting the moonlight, infusing them with an otherworldly glow.

She’d never seen a grown man’s private bits before. Camryn had been clothed but his breeches were open, allowing his prodigious male appendage to jut out from a thicket of tawny curls. Illuminated by the moonlight, it had been proud and hard, thick and long, much more substantial than she would ever have imagined could fit in a man’s snug breeches. Or in any feminine orifice.

When Camryn had closed his eyes and shuddered, her own heart had convulsed, the heat in her body surging. Afterward, she’d been startled to witness his bored satisfaction and bland politeness. The lack of intimacy between two people who’d just engaged in a deeply sensual act had baffled her. It still did.

She’d been undeniably mesmerized once his lover left him, unable to tear her eyes away as the sublime creature tidied himself, deftly recreating the illusion of gentlemanly civility he usually showed the world. It did no good where she was concerned. The image of Camryn preening lazily up against the tree flaunting his virility with a careless confidence, branded itself upon her mind.

The memory had a hot impact on her as she leaned up against the open door and listened to the strains of music. Her cheeks warmed and the lowest part of her belly twitched with anticipation. She groaned. How in the world could she react to Camryn in this way? Smart, sensible Charlotte Livingston mooning over a man who appeared to have little respect for females and even less for the common man. She forced a deep breath and shook out her shoulders, determined to put him out of her mind.

“Miss Livingston?”

Startled, Charlotte peered around the open door to find the flesh-and-blood object of her musings standing outside her bedchamber. “Oh, Lord Camryn!” she said, the heat rising in her cheeks again.

“I’m sorry to intrude.” He was dressed in dinner attire, his deep blue, superfine tailcoat, and underlying dark paisley waistcoat, hugged the clean, taut lines of his body. Pale grey breeches clung to the defined curves of his strong thighs like a besotted lover. The clothing’s formal, restrictive elegance somehow enhanced the untamed, earthy quality that radiated from the marquess.

Tugging at his snowy cravat, he said, “I, well, ah, take my leave tomorrow and wished to ascertain for myself that you are recovering.”

“I am quite well, thank you.” She tried to ignore the thrill that shivered through her. “Except for the interminable boredom that comes with being in the sickroom, but there it is.”

Camryn grinned in a radiant, full-toothed way which made her heart stumble. “I am so relieved to hear it.” He fell silent and she couldn’t think of a thing to say. All she knew was that she didn’t want him to leave. He turned to go. “Very well then.”

“I could use a walk in the garden.” The words tumbled out in the rush to stay his departure. “If you would be kind enough to escort me.”

“Of course.” His face brightened. “It would be my pleasure. I shall await you at the end of the corridor.”

Spinning around, Charlotte grabbed her shawl and dashed over to check her reflection in the mirror. She pinched her cheeks before grabbing a bonnet and rushing to the door. Halting, she forced herself to step out of her chamber in a graceful manner, attempting a ladylike glide toward Camryn, instead of galloping down the corridor like a thoroughbred at Newmarket. Reaching the marquess, she took the arm he extended. “Thank you for taking pity on an invalid.”