Seducing Charlotte (6 page)

Her recall of their terrace kiss brought back the memory of the sensuous sweetness of her startled lips. “Oh, he is not gentleman. The very idea that you would dally with a groom in the stable —”

“Dally with the groom?” she sputtered. “Are you referring to Nathan?”

“Yes.”

“Lord Camryn—” She drew herself up. “While it is none of your affair, I must tell you that you are gravely mistaken about Mister Fuller. He and I are longtime acquaintances and nothing more.”

Mister Fuller. It almost sounded respectable. “Mister Fuller is the stable boy known as Nathan, I presume?”

“One and the same. And I assure you that he is a longtime family friend and nothing more.”

“I see.”

“Although, I must say, I find your code of conduct to be most fascinating,” she said in a tart tone. “It is not my perceived dalliance with a gentleman that offends you, but rather the fact that I would allow a man who is socially beneath me to take certain liberties, is that it?”

A pang of jealousy quickened in Cam at the memory of Charlotte in Nathan’s embrace. “You play a dangerous game, Miss Livingston. You risk shredding your reputation by having a blatant dalliance with a groom.”

Her eyes flashed. She tugged the neckline of her dress upward, the movement drawing Cam’s attention to her décolletage, which heaved with delightful indignation. He pictured those enticing white orbs bouncing out of her gown so he could cup each soft, warm handful.

“Hardly a stable boy. Nathan is a grown man who also happens to be Hartwell’s coachman. He is coachman to a duke
and is entrusted with many responsibilities, including the oversight of all of the other grooms and stable boys.”

Cam’s thoughts left her bosom.
“
How enlightening. I am quite aware of the duties of a coachman. After all, I do employ one myself.” His mouth twisted. “Hartwell’s esteemed coachman clearly has a fondness for you. Perhaps you’ve given him cause to hope a baron’s daughter would welcome the advances of a coachman.”

“So it is Nathan’s low birth which offends your gentlemanly sensibilities.” Ice formed over Charlotte’s vibrant eyes. “Perhaps you would find it more acceptable for me to dally with, say, a marquess?”

He stiffened at the implication. Looking into her endless eyes, he realized Charlotte Livingston had the amazing capacity to both annoy and arouse him at the same time. “There is no need for vulgarity, Miss Livingston.”

“I see. Nathan’s fondness for me is vulgar, while your propensity toward garden activities with married ladies is what, exactly?”

“There you are, Lord Camryn.” A honeyed voice interrupted. Cam suppressed a groan as Maria Fitzharding swept towards them, pausing to give Charlotte a quick, dismissive glance before focusing her full attention on him. “My lord, I understand Lord Fulsome-Thrusby’s portrait gallery is simply not to be missed.”

Charlotte stiffened. Her cool gaze rolled over Maria’s full curves and overly generous breasts, which lurched in his direction. Her perusal swept upwards to Maria’s full mouth before she flushed and diverted her eyes.

Maria fluttered her dark lashes. “Perhaps you would care to escort me. I understand a stroll through Fulsome-Thrusby’s gallery can be most stimulating.” The obvious implication of her invitation hung in the air.

Cam sketched a bow. “Of course, my dear. I would be delighted.” He turned to Charlotte. “Perhaps Miss Livingston would care to join us?”

Maria, who seemed to have forgotten Charlotte’s presence, glanced over at her. “Oh, yes, yes of course,” she said with an obvious lack of enthusiasm. “Do join us Miss Livingston.”

To his satisfaction, something akin to jealously flared in Charlotte’s eyes. “I’ve seen quite enough…of the gallery. But by all means, please do go and enjoy yourselves.”

Chapter Six

It finally felt like summer in London. The days grew warm and sunny, and were sometimes punctuated by light rain showers. With the season all but ended, the most prominent families had already made the annual exodus to the country.

Charlotte had decided to accept Willa’s invitation to spend the remainder of the summer at Fairview Manor. The duke and duchess had already removed to the country, having left the city early to accommodate Willa’s fast-approaching period of confinement. Hugh planned to escort Charlotte to Fairview in a few days’ time.

She was sitting in the upstairs family room at Shellborne House on one of those last lazy days in London when a footman knocked to inform her that Hugh requested her presence in the drawing room. Making her way there, she wondered why she’d been summoned.

Her brother’s florid, beaming face greeted her when she entered the chamber. “Ah, here she is now,” he said to a figure seated by the window.

Camryn stood, his gleaming presence dominating the room. “Miss Livingston,” he said. “I hope you don’t mind that I have taken the liberty of calling upon you and Shellborne.”

He was dressed for riding in a close-fitting, black, cropped riding coat. His athletic thighs were snugly encased in tan leather riding breeches that buttoned and tied at the sides of his knees. His brown riding boots had a slightly worn look to them, but his linen shirt, waistcoat, and cravat were all a crisp white. As usual, his tawny hair was in a state of controlled disarray.

She hadn’t seen the marquess since the Fulsome-Thrusby ball almost a fortnight ago. Angry jealousy flared in her chest at the memory of him slipping off with the very eager Mrs. Fitzharding. What a strumpet. Not to mention Camryn, whose behavior had been no better. She didn’t have to imagine what they’d done after she left them. The vivid images of their previous encounter at Fairview were still emblazoned in her mind.

With Willa gone and the season’s grand routs at an end, she hadn’t expected to see the marquess again so soon. But here he was, calling on her and despite all reason, her heart glowed with happiness. “Lord Camryn.”

“Camryn has requested permission to call upon you,” Hugh said with barely contained excitement.

Charlotte’s surprised gaze flew to Cam. Her mouth went dry. The marquess had just formally declared his intention to court her. She forced herself to remember the man stood for things she despised. It didn’t help. She still felt positively giddy.

“I was hoping perhaps you would favor me with a ride along the Row,” he said. “I seem to recall you favor a vigorous ride.”

“That sounds agreeable.” She struggled to sound calm. “With your leave, I will go and change.”

He favored her with a devastating pearly smile that made her toes curl in her slippers.

“Of course.”

“Do enjoy yourselves,” said Hugh. “Charlotte, do not forget to take your maid.”

About an hour later, they were riding along Rotten Row. It was not a fashionable time of day to be seen there. Except for the occasional rider, the trail appeared deserted since almost everyone of consequence had left town. It gave them a chance to gallop freely, which they both preferred.

Charlotte laughed as she finally pulled her horse to a stop. “What an excellent time to ride,” she said, her cheeks warm from their exertions. “It is my first time back in the saddle since my fall.”

His golden-green eyes crinkled. “I am grateful there are no high jumps to tempt you into losing your seat again.”

“You are a cad to mention that.” She tossed her head. “As you will recall, I did not take a fall from the rigors of the jumps. My horse was startled, and since I was distracted by you, one could argue the fault lays with you.”

He threw his head back and laughed, the sun skimming the admirable cut of his profile, a sculpted masculine nose and firm chin. His laugh was so like him, full and unbridled, rumbling deep in his chest. “Well then, allow me to apologize by treating you to a picnic,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “My cook has prepared a veritable feast for us.”

Glancing at the satchel attached to his saddle, she said, “You were confident I would accompany you?”

He slid effortlessly off his horse and came over to help her down. “I know the powerful hold the promise of a rigorous ride has on you, Miss Livingston. I was just clever enough to insert myself into that appealing picture.”

His large, warm hands wrapped around her waist, helping her dismount, unsettling her insides. She glanced down the path from where they had just come. She could not see Violet.

“I seem to have lost my abigail,” she said once her feet touched the ground.

He gazed down the path. “Your maid will catch up with us in good time.” He moved to spread a blanket for their picnic. “We aren’t far off the path. She cannot miss us.”

She decided he had the right of it. They were close enough to the row to be noticed, so Violet would likely see them. He’d selected a scenic spot near the Serpentine. She walked over to stand by the water’s edge, pulling off her bonnet and snug red riding jacket. Underneath her jacket, Charlotte’s white blouse tucked into a brown riding skirt held up by suspenders.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

“That it is presumptuous of you to call upon me after our last encounter.”

“But, Miss Livingston,” he said, “as I recall, I issued an apology at our last meeting.”

“It was what occurred after the apology.” She faced him. “Do you truly wish to court me?”

“Indeed, Miss Livingston, I do. Since you appreciate honesty and directness, I felt this was the clearest way to demonstrate my intentions.”

She flushed with pleasure.
He meant to court her.
“It is insulting that you presume to court me after that crude scene with Mrs. Fitzharding.”

His golden eyes darkened. “I have already apologized that you had to witness that unfortunate encounter.”

“No, not at Fairview. I am referring to the rout at the Fulsome-Thrusby’s when you stole away with that woman.” Her insides burning, she walked back to their picnic area and threw her riding jacket and bonnet onto the blanket. “When you knew I was completely aware of what was to follow once I left you.”

His eyes twinkled as he strode over to her. Overwhelmed by his closeness, she backed up against the tree. He placed his hands on either side of her head, his palms flat against the thick trunk, effectively boxing her in. “Is this jealousy I detect?”

“Hardly.” The beat of her heart accelerated. “It is difficult to put aside your blatant insult.”

He leaned a little closer, his musky scent surrounding her. “Would it comfort you to know that nothing happened beyond a companionable stroll through the portrait gallery?”

She swallowed. “I find that difficult to believe.”

He leaned in just a little more. His gaze raked over her face, seeming to take in each curve and every line. “I have enjoyed a, shall we say, friendship with Mrs. Fitzharding.” His provocative voice caressed her. “It would be rude and hurtful of me to cut her off completely simply because I no longer desire a physical relationship with her.”

“Is that so?” The bottom of her womb pulsed as he ran his intent gaze down the length of her body. He reached out to lift a suspender strap away from her body, his long, tapered fingers stroking it inches from where it had just rested over her breast. Her body tingled all the way down to her toes. To her mortification, her breasts awakened fully, their crests straining against her white shirt.

The darkening of Cam’s eyes suggested he noticed. His breathing changed, becoming shallow in a way that spurred her blood. He leaned toward her, placing warm lips on the pulse point at the side of her neck. “Yes,” he murmured against her sensitive skin, “that is so.”

She trembled at the featherlight flirtation of his mouth at her throat. “How gallant of you,” she said, breathless. “And do you take liberties with me now because you assume a lady who dallies with a stable boy would surely grant favors to all others who ask?”

He chuckled against her neck, the puff of warm breath tickling her skin. “No,” he said, straightening up to replace her suspender strap over her breast. “I no longer believe that to be the case.”

“And why is that?”

He watched his fingers brush over her hardened nipple, moving with a slow deliberateness that provoked soft waves of painful pleasure within her. Shocked and aroused, she looked up into his heated eyes.

“You have described yourself as a woman who never lies, and I believe you. I have your word that nothing untoward has occurred between you and the stable boy.” He moved his lips back to her neck.

“Coachman,” she said with a sigh closing her eyes, lifting her chin to receive the delicious kisses he peppered along the side of her neck.

“My apologies,” he murmured, undeterred from his task. “
Coachman
. Unforgiveable of me to forget.”

“Why, then, did you give me the cut direct at Willa’s party?”

“Because I didn’t care for the thought of any other man touching you.” His lips moved languidly up her neck and over to her mouth in one fluid movement and took hers with a soft insistence, nipping and tasting in a teasing way that left her senseless with need. “Do say you’ll forgive me.”

When his tongue flicked against the seam of her mouth, she couldn’t remember what there was to forgive him for. She parted her lips, eager to taste him. He swept in at once, exploring the slickness he found there with deep, soulful strokes. She kissed him back, sliding her tongue against his. Forgetting all propriety, she embraced him, letting her hands run over the extraordinary blend of smooth muscle and bone in his back. He felt solid and pliant, and she wanted more. So much more.

The movement seemed to embolden Cam. He pushed up against her, his unrelenting body flat against hers, kissing her more deeply. She moaned at the feel of his aroused male flesh pressing against her belly. Her mind remembered the sight of it unleashed, large and proud. Cam moved his warm hands down the sides of her body to cup her bottom, pulling her tight against his hips.

She rubbed her body against the hot, hard length of his, trying to ease a hunger growing inside of her, vaguely wondering how she could be so intoxicated by a man whose goals in life were so contrary to hers.

Breaking the kiss, Cam rested his forehead against hers. “Charlotte, love,” he rasped. “Tell me to stop.”

Exhilaration surged through her to think she could drive this magnificent creature to the edge of his control. “Don’t you dare stop,” she panted. Putting her hand behind his head, she pulled his mouth back to hers. Her tongue reached out to taste his again, sucking lightly, wanting this feeling to never end.

An elemental sound came from somewhere deep in Cam’s chest. Giving up all pretense of restraint, he ravished her mouth, grinding his manhood into her. Charlotte gasped at the wondrous feel of him. Pushed up against the rough bark of the tree, she opened her eyes to see Cam fully, eager to take in every nuance.

Instead, her heart dropped. Violet’s horse appeared in the distance coming along the path. She pushed Cam away in something of a panic. Dropping down on the blanket in one swift movement, she busied herself with unpacking their picnic.

“We have been caught up to, just as you surmised,” she said, making a show of setting the food out. Cam pivoted, striding over to the water’s edge, keeping his back to both Charlotte and the path. Violet approached, bobbing haphazardly on her mount, out of breath, and flushed.

Charlotte greeted her maidservant as if nothing was amiss, grateful her abigail couldn’t detect the way her body still pulsated from Cam’s caresses. Calling out to the marquess, she pulled out the roast chicken and they all began to eat.

…

Cam called upon Charlotte again the next day and the one after that. The more he saw of her, the more he wanted to see her. Both times they went for a ride, always with Violet in tow. To Cam’s frustration, they had not managed to lose the abigail again. After her initial lapse, Charlotte’s faithful maid seemed determined in her duty to safeguard her mistress’s virtue.

They weren’t able to steal time alone together again until the following week, when Cam escorted Charlotte to the Ellerbee’s picnic luncheon held at their estate just outside of London. The elegant outdoor affair featured an elaborate feast laid out in the back lawn where manicured gardens eventually gave way to untamed grass and wooded areas. The gathering was not overly large since most of the Ton had already retired to the country for the summer.

Cam watched Charlotte mingle among some of the season’s most desirable young maidens, most of whom wore elaborate day gowns that somehow seemed too fussy. The gauzy fabric of Charlotte’s simple peach gown had the perfect light touch for a summer’s day. Her maid had put her brown hair up, with ringlets cascading down, highlighting her long, pale neck, and the soft swell of her round breasts. Desire swirled in his gut. What a handsome woman.
Handsome
? It startled him to realize just how attractive she’d become to him.

After filling their plates, he escorted Charlotte to a shaded area a bit removed from the other picnickers, happy to have her to himself again.

She looked around, sipping her lemonade. “This is a secluded spot.”

He took her food from her and placed it on the ground. “Yes, I selected it quite on purpose.” He took the glass from her as well, carefully placing it on a level spot so it wouldn’t topple.

“And why is that?”

He marveled at the way the sun illuminated the clear blue in her eyes. “I won’t bother to dissemble, Miss Livingston.” Taking hold of her hand, he pulled Charlotte around the massive tree trunk, out of the sight of the rest of the guests.

“I hope to steal another kiss. Actually, I have thought of little else since our last one. Will you allow it?”

She flushed, her gaze floating beyond him. “Really, Camryn, if you ask for permission, it hardly qualifies as
stealing
a kiss.”

Blood raced to his vitals when it registered she’d just told him to take what he wanted. Shaking his head, he wondered what is was about this woman that made him desperate to touch her again. It had been an agonizing week since he’d last felt her lips beneath his. Now, finally offered the opportunity, he greedily grasped it.