The Best Man's Bridesmaid (4 page)

“One moment. There,” he said, as the wood swung aside. “Let me light the candles. Just follow me.”

Caroline was entranced. “A secret passage? Is your house so old that this was needed?”

“Only for assignations,” he said drily as he preceded her up the remarkably clean and airy stairs. “I believe this was built so the master of the house could slip in and out without his wife’s knowledge. Or perhaps I should say without her and the servants admitting knowledge.”

“Very clever,” Caroline acknowledged. “Do your servants know about it?”

“I would say they do. Servants seem to know everything. However, knowing and admitting to that knowledge are two very different things.” He escorted her through a door at the top of the stairs into, she realized, his bathing chamber. Without a blush and with considerable aplomb, she followed him around the large and imposing bath. She averted her eyes, even as her mind wondered about all the sort of activities that could perhaps happen within it.

He led the way into his sitting room. Once there, she let him usher her to sit on a large, comfortable chair. It was obvious it had been designed for two to sit very close together.

“And while we are on the subject of knowing and admitting to that knowledge, I think perhaps we have a few things to discuss.” He handed her a glass of champagne.

“To knowledge and the thirst for learning,” he said and toasted her.

“Mm.” She took a sip. “To understanding?”

“Truth?”

“Honesty.”

“To all of those. And to us.” He touched his glass to hers and sat next to her.
The chair was definitely made for two to sit very closely
. Charlie’s thigh rested next to hers. Perhaps too close, it felt as if he seared her skin. She wanted a clear head, not one befuddled with thoughts of his body.

Charlie took a sip of champagne. “So,” he said. “Would you like to start? Specifically with the meaning of your statement, ‘there has only been, and will only ever be, you for me, or in me’?”

Caroline twisted her glass between her fingers and ignored his request. So easy to think she knew what she wanted to do and say when she was alone in her bedchamber. Not so easy now she had to execute those thoughts.

“Why do you want to marry me, Charlie?” she asked and ignored his question and the shiver it sent to her most intimate parts. She looked him straight in the eye. “Why me specifically? Why not Eleanora Ammersley or Henrietta Delahay?” She named two renowned beauties. “And don’t say because our parents wish it. I’m asking you, not them. It can’t be because I can arouse you, because I never did before. It can’t be because you thought I’d make a good countess eventually, for you knew little of me. My looks? No, I had none, or none you noticed,” she continued in a dry tone. It was one she had perfected over the years. She decided to choose not to comment on his sheepish look. “My witty repartee and conversation? Not that either, you made sure you had no chance to experience those. So, my lord. I ask again. Why me?” She waited, curious as to hear his reasons.

“I, err,” Charlie stuttered. It was unusual for him, that he appeared lost for words. Truth be told, she suspected he had only agreed to marry her due to parental pressure, then once she accepted, had with unflattering promptness done his best to forget her existence. She sensed he had treated her period of mourning as a good omen, a reprieve. The fact of a fiancé, albeit an absent one, had kept matchmaking mamas away from him and must surely have stopped his parents from commenting negatively on his every move. Caroline assumed, from the little her parents had told her, both sets of parents were content to know he would settle down as soon as she was free to marry. No one but she knew how humiliated she could have allowed herself to feel, if she had not pulled herself together and made her own life.

“The truth, remember?” she prompted him.

He sighed. “Right-oh. The truth. Unpalatable as it is, and how shallow I sound. Originally, it was parental pressure, first and last. They disapproved of my friends, my hobbies, and every part of my lifestyle. First son and all that. The heir, with a more than generous allowance, which I frittered away at every conceivable opportunity. They did not wish to see my squander all of my inheritance. You, I was told, were suitable, willing, and er, able,” he said and hesitated, before continuing. “To my relief, you did not seem
unwilling
. Then no sooner were we betrothed than you went into mourning, and I, ah, was able to forget…” With a deprecating shrug, his voice trailed off. “Well, you did ask for the truth,” he pointed out. “But I am ashamed of how uncaring I have been.” His face colored, and he held out his hands in supplication.

“I did, didn’t I? Ask for the truth,” Caroline replied ruefully. “So it is as much my fault as yours. I also was told I was to accept your offer. You were eligible, very eligible, and it did not seem you would bother me too much, except for the matter of an heir. Or so I was given to believe. And then, probably leave me to my own devices. Not that my mama thought I’d have any devices, if you get my meaning. She told me that.”

“Oh! Not a very flattering picture, of me or our married life, was it?” Charlie protested. “And yet you still said yes.”

“I had no option,” she replied, tartness in her tone. “But now I do. So, Charlie, why do you want to marry me now? Because I do not know if
I
wish to marry you. I am independent, financially sound, and have my own home. I am happy with my life, and my own small part in society is more than enough. I have no need to marry.” She laughed at his pointed look toward her breasts and then his lower half. “Not, if my information is correct, even for that.”

“In some circumstances, I would say, with sincere apologies, that was true,” Charlie agreed. “But, Caroline, have you thought about this? The scandal if you now dismiss me. You will be refused entry to all things of the ton. Your parents—how would they cope?”

“That, my lord, right or not, is not my chief concern. Indeed the picture you paint almost encourages me not to agree to continue with this farce. For farce it is,” she said with force.

His mouth closed on what Caroline was sure was to be a protest at her words. “My chief concern, as should be yours, is us,” she continued. Her skin tingled at the idea he would not realize the importance of her words. “And our futures, whatever they may be. My happiness, indeed our happiness, is at stake. I need someone I can be equal to, to trust, honor, and have no need to obey, because we think alike. And frankly someone I can share my bed with and—” She stopped abruptly.

“Go on?” he prompted. “And?”

“And someone who wants me, only me, in his arms.” She finished in a hurry. “Someone who wants to fill me,
only
me, time after time, heirs and spares be damned. Are you that person?”

“Shall we find out?” He took the scarce touched glass of champagne from her hand and put it on a side table. Knelt in front of her and moved his hands to the cleverly fashioned fastenings of her bodice.

Well, she had asked for it. Caroline could hardly breathe. She knew, deep in her heart, that she craved Charlie. She desired him more than just a bedmate or lover. She was greedy; she wanted it all. But Charlie had to hunger for that as well, otherwise she would back out of the proposed marriage, retire to Chattels, away from the remonstrations of her family and his, and the scandalous looks and remarks of the ton. Henceforth to live alone, as happy as she could possibly be without him. Caroline knew she would lock her feelings away, secure in the knowledge he would never realize how she had adored him from afar all those years ago. In those days, a smile in her direction would make her almost swoon with delight. Even the most casual of words seemed like he was noticing her, singling her out for his much envied attention. When he asked for her hand, it seemed like all her dreams had come true. Until she heard her parents and his discussing what the proposal meant and how little interest he had toward her. His actions in leaving her alone straight after the proposal confirmed his disinterest, and she was distraught. Even at that young age, Caroline had long since promised herself that she would rather live alone and be considered an old maid, than endure a loveless marriage, such as her parents and most of their peers had. Being told by her mother that she had a great fondness for her husband was not enough for Caroline; she coveted more. She was certain she needed her husband to yearn for, and be satisfied by, her and not need to go elsewhere.

Her great-aunt’s demise and her will had been a blessing in disguise. As had Amanda and her activities. Little did Charlie know just how well she knew him now.

C
HAPTER
F
OUR

“Mm. How nice.” Charlie opened the front of her dress and took her breasts in his hands; his nimble fingers caressed and fondled each in turn. “So luscious, so soft, but when I do this”—he suckled each nipple in turn and reveled in their immediate response to his touch—”how excited they become. How excited I become.” He glanced at her. No sign of outrage, just a soft, dreamy look on her face, her eyes half-closed, her breath fast and shallow. “You like this.” It was not a question.

She chose to interpret it as one. “I do?”

“Well, your breasts and nipples do,” he said in a frank manner. “They are begging for more. Are you wet for me? Want me to touch you elsewhere? To kiss you elsewhere?” How outrageous could he be, he wondered, before she slapped his face? Or agreed?

She did neither.

“Well, my lord, questions, questions. Will I grant you an answer? Time will tell. Meanwhile, how do you feel?” She didn’t move to touch his rapidly hardening penis or open his shirt and run her clever fingers around his nipples as he expected. She just looked at his face and smiled.

The smile jogged his memory. Where
had
he seen such a smile before?

“Shall we retire to the next room?” He indicated his bedchamber.

“Shall we?” she asked as she returned his question. “Do you ask me as a fiancé, a harlot, or a sensuous woman?”

“All of them,” he replied and smiled. “That is what a man wants in his woman.”

“Well then.” She held out her hand. Charlie took it in his and pulled her to her feet. He tugged her close to him until they almost touched and allowed himself the excitement of anticipation. He wondered if she felt that same electricity pulsing through her as he did. His skin tingled with it.

“And if we retire and I choose to go no further?” she asked as she looked up at him from under long lashes. A sweet, arousing smile played around her lips and showed in her eyes.

“I’ll explode,” he retorted. “But I will respect your wishes, however hard it seems. If you choose not to stop, I will respect you no less than I do now. As a courageous, strong, sensuous, woman.”

She stopped. “Ah.” She paused, as if lost for words, before she continued. “And I, whether we choose to stop or go on, will respect you as a courageous, strong, sensuous, arousing man!” Charlie noticed her deliberate choice of the word “we.”

He kissed her with a gentle passion on her lips and slipped his tongue inside to play games with her mouth. Caroline moaned in encouragement and entwined her tongue with his, sucking and pulling, as she mimicked the actions his fingers had taken earlier. Charlie felt his arousal try to rise above his waistline.

Bloody uncomfortable
. He moved to release himself, then stopped with an abruptness that startled himself. It was all well and good sparring words with Caroline, touching and being touched. But nothing had been quite so blatant. But then—”There has only been, and will only ever be, you for me, or in me”? How much “for” and how much “in” was she talking about? He had no option other than to get to the bottom of that statement sometime. He almost sniggered to himself, that wasn’t the sole bottom he was interested in.

Charlie moved and caught her unawares. His cock pressed hard against her. She gasped. With pleasure or horror? He hoped the first, had a sneaking suspicion by the way she eyed the edge of his shirt where it barely covered the top of his pantaloons, it may be the second. He didn’t allow either of them time to find out, as he swiftly lifted her into his arms and blatantly rested her against his erection—in for a penny, as they said—and moved with a rapid stride into his bedchamber.

“Not the bed,” she said as she whorled her tongue around in his ear. “The chaise or the chair. Not the bed. Not yet.”

“Why not?” he asked in surprise as he nevertheless obliged her and sat on the chaise with her snug on his lap.

“Because I will
not
go to bed with you until…” She paused.

“Until?”

Caroline sighed. “Until I know it is forever.”

He looked at her in his arms. Her bodice was open and her beautiful breasts on display for him. He felt something new stir inside.

“How will you know?” he asked, curious as to her reasons. “I keep my word, Caroline. I will be yours and only yours, on your say so. But the choice
is
yours. Not mine. And”—he paused as he struggled with himself—”I want to be selfless and say until you agree to marry me, I will not touch you. But I do not have that strength of will.”