What Not to Bare: A Loveswept Historical Romance (24 page)

And what else could it be about?

“I have just shared the news of our betrothal.”

I’ve just shared the news of our betrothal
.

Why had he done it? What could possibly have made him do such a thing, a thing that would mean the end of his usefulness?

And how would he react when she arrived on his doorstep in the middle of the night?

Well, that question she knew the answer to, at least. And it would not be a pleasant answer. She tried not to think too hard about that as she told Sarah that no, she would not be undressing after the ball, but that they would be sneaking out of the house.

Her maid did not ask why; Charlotte’s face must have revealed some of her worry, her confusion, her anger at being manipulated. Hopefully her love did not show itself.

Sarah knew how to catch a hackney cab, another reason Charlotte wanted her company, in addition to the fact that while it was unsafe for two ladies to go out late at night, it was absolutely dangerous for one lady, especially one as sheltered as Charlotte normally was.

When he’d said it, one part of her had wanted to jump up and down in glee, at getting what she knew was her greatest wish: David, forever, and for always.

But she’d resolved not to settle, and she wouldn’t let the man she loved settle either. Not if it meant he’d lose everything he cared about, even if he did care somewhat for her.

“And when we get there, you let me knock first and explain things to Mr. Gotam.” Sarah sounded excited to be in on the adventure. Charlotte had done well in finding such a plucky lady’s maid. One who also seemed to like men with decidedly un-English headwear.

“I’ll wait in the cab?” Now that she was about to do this, she had a flutter in her stomach, as though many butterflies had taken up residence there.

“Don’t get skittish now,” Sarah said in a warning tone. “If whatever you have to
say to him was so important you had to leave the house in the middle of the night to do it, then it’s important.”

Charlotte nodded. “You are right.” Even though no matter what happened, one of them would be unhappy.

“That’s what I thought,” Sarah replied, patting Charlotte’s hand.

After only a few more minutes, they arrived at David’s house, and Sarah clambered quickly out of the carriage, spoke a few words to the driver, and trotted quickly up the steps. She knocked on the door, and it opened after only a few minutes, revealing Gotam.

Who looked completely taken aback to see Sarah. They spoke for a moment, Gotam making some very grand gestures, until finally Sarah turned and beckoned Charlotte out of the carriage. Sarah slipped inside the house. Upstairs, a slim glimmer of light showed where a door was just slightly ajar.

She was just finishing ascending the steps when the door swung open, and David clamped a hand on her arm, pulling her inside and against his chest. His naked chest.

Oh, that chest. Goodness.

“What in God’s name are you doing here? At this time of night? Do you wish there to be
more
gossip about you?”

She swatted his hand away from her arm and drew off her cloak. “You know why I’m here. You cannot be that obtuse. Are you going to let me in?”

He slid his hand through his hair and muttered something under her breath. “Of course, come in.” He sounded very grumpy; perhaps his flaw was that he did not like being startled out of sleep?

Of course, nobody liked that, so that was hardly a flaw. Merely a character trait.

She lost all thought of traits and habits and flaws when she realized he had on a black silk dressing gown under which it appeared he wore nothing. Oh.

Well. So now she had that information. One more item to tick off her list.

He shut the door behind them and leaned on it. “So what is it?”

She had to concentrate, not get distracted with thoughts of his chest, and his hands, and his mouth, and those eyes … Damn it, Charlotte. Focus!

Right. Why he’d done what he had.

And just like that, all her earlier frustration returned. Her questions, which he’d better have some answers for. She strode forward and stuck her index finger right in the middle of his chest. “Why? Why did you say what you did?”

He took hold of her finger and smiled. “Your index finger is very powerful. You should never play cards, you know that? Because every single one of your thoughts is written on your face.” He let go of her finger and rubbed his chest where she’d poked him. “And written on my chest.”

She felt herself scowl. He would not dodge the question by being clever. “You have not answered my question.” Her voice was low and almost shaking. “Why?”

He reached forward and clasped her arms. The silk dressing gown gapped open, revealing more David. “I did it for you. I wanted to save your reputation.” He swallowed and looked over her head. The seconds pulsed between them until he met her gaze again. “I love you.”

He did not just say that. He did not. Did he?

Judging by his expression, he had.

She spoke without thinking. Did it matter that it was a response borne out of her own hurt at being so used in the situation? “You love me? Ha! You wanted to save my reputation, you said it yourself. Do not insult me by claiming love.”

Inside, she was trembling, exhilarated by the thought that it could possibly be true, that he did love her. Only … what then? He would stay here, and be with her, and she would be the thing to replace all of his hopes and dreams of being useful, of being more than a handsome face? That was not enough for him. For them.

Was she so selfish as to wish that for him? To take away the one thing that defined him, just for her, and what they’d shared over the past few weeks?

She wished she could be that selfish. Staring at him, her eyes drinking in every aspect of his features, knowing how his crooked, eye-crinkling smile came out just for her, she wished she could be like that. But he deserved better than that from her, especially since he was willing, apparently, to throw it all away because of her.

Was that another oxymoron? Her brain was too jumbled to even think about it.

But he still hadn’t spoken. He wasn’t looking at her anymore, either. He had one hand in his hair, pre-rake, and his mouth was drawn tight.

Not the face of a man in love, that was for certain. More like the face of a man who had seen his fate and was working on accepting it.

“Did it ever occur to you that I might not want my reputation saved?” She answered her own question, for once. “No, it didn’t. And why would you assume I would prefer to marry you, rather than have to face some scandal? Not that you’re not preferable to Mr. Goddard.”

“Thank you for that,” he replied dryly.

“But we had spoken about how important your work was, and how you didn’t wish to be seen as merely a beautiful face, and then you throw that all away just because a vindictive person spread rumors about me? Rumors that happen to be true?”

“About that,” David said, sitting down on the chair. “Why me? Why did you choose me, of all people, to use as a source of information for your column?”

She did not sit, mostly because she felt as though she couldn’t stop moving. She was too full of whatever emotions were roiling through her now to still her body. “Because you told me not to ask questions of anyone else!”

And, a traitorous voice reminded her, because she liked spending time with such a handsome man. And later, spending time with such a handsome, interesting man.

In that, she was no different from any of the other people who clustered about him. Like Lady Radnor, who would likely have gobbled up the chance to be married to him, without asking any questions.

She would not be that kind of person.

“And then, when I told you about your uncle, why didn’t you find it the right time to tell me about your own secret agenda? Didn’t you think—even for a moment—that you were using me and I should know what you were planning on doing with the information?”

Charlotte felt the hot sting of tears just under her eyelids. The look on his face showed he’d seen her regret, her guilt. It didn’t make her feel any better.

“It’s done,” he said in a weary tone. “I said it, we can’t take it back, and now we’ll be married.”

Did she hear anything beyond a quiet resignation in his voice? If only he’d sprung up and clasped her in his arms and told her he was delighted about the turn of events,
even though he was still upset with her for using him in that way.

But he didn’t. He just remained sitting in the chair, his hands loosely clasped in front him, his elbows on his knees as he continued looking at her.

Her throat felt thick. “You are right, you know. About my not telling you about the column. I should have. I wanted to. I just …” She knew the truth of it was about to emerge, and she hoped she could say it without sobbing. “I just didn’t want you to laugh at me,” she finished in a soft whisper.

At that, he did rise out of his chair, and on his face was an expression of … Was it pity? Dear lord, let it not be
entirely
pity. He picked her hand up and ran his fingers across the top of it, sending a prickly awareness up her spine.

“I would never laugh at you,” he said, lowering his mouth to kiss her hand. She ran her other hand through his hair. It felt like silk.

Looking up at him, at how his blue eyes had softened with kindness, how he was so tender and considerate of her … well. It made her decide a few things, some of which would be more pleasurable than the others.

And she’d better hope she made the right decision, since she was going to have to live with it for the rest of her life.

“I want … I want us to do everything we were on our way to the other day. I want to, you know …” Her words trailed off, and he found himself wishing, for once, that she would speak more.

“What do you want to do?”

“I want you to make love to me.”

His whole body tightened. “Make love?” he echoed.

“Yes. Make love. I wish to do that now, please.” She rolled her eyes and uttered a soft chuckle. “Oh, for goodness’ sake, I sound as though I am ordering an ice.
‘One David in a dish, please, with a spoon.’
” She stepped to him and placed her palms flat on his chest. “Please, David, I want … no, I
need
you to be inside me.”

“We cannot wait until after the wedding?” He heard his voice, rough and ragged, and knew he had to try to resist her. Although he knew very well that resisting Charlotte was something he was entirely bad at.

Her sly smile showed she knew how bad he was at it, too. “No. I am too impatient, and I have too many questions to wait. I need to know what it is like, what it is all like, right now.”

“Of course you do,” he replied with a rueful smile. “And if I send you on your way?”

Even though he knew he wouldn’t. He laughed at her change of expression and put his hands on her arms and drew her close into him. “I wouldn’t do that. I can’t. It would take a stronger man than I to resist Lady Charlotte with all her questions.”

“So you’ll do it?”

His voice held a tone of urgency. “
We’ll
do it. Yes, my impatient one, we will make love.”

“Unbutton me.” She turned around and presented her back to him.

His fingers trembled as they undid each button. Instead of pulling the gown off her shoulders when he’d finished, he slid his palm over her hip and directly on top of her
there, pulling her into his body with his other arm.

***

His penis was already erect, and she felt it against her backside.

But she forgot to think about anything when his hand began to move on her, his palm rubbing slow and hard against that place that ached.

She moaned and lowered her head. He kissed the back of her neck with light, feathery kisses as his hand continued to move.

She thrust her own arms behind her, desperate to touch a part of his body. She had to settle for his legs, and she wrapped her hands around them, reveling in the hard, long strength of them. His length was pressed against her, but there was no space between their bodies for her to take him in her hand.

“What are other words for it?” she managed to gasp out as his hand continued that delicious rhythm.

“Other words for … oh,” he said, laughing against her skin. “That.”

He stood straight again, putting both hands on her shoulders and pushing her gown down so she was effectively pinned by her sleeves. And then he slipped his fingers down her chest to touch her breast, just grazing her nipple, which welcomed the touch.

His other hand wrapped around her waist, gripping it with an undeniably urgent tension. “Do you like how it feels when I touch you, Charlotte?” he whispered against her skin. “When I’ve got your luscious breast in my hand, or in my mouth? I am dying to taste you again,” he added, his tone low and full of promise.

She shuddered at his words and felt herself writhe against him. It felt as though she was burning from the inside out, and she needed to do something to assuage the ache.

She twisted in his arms to face him, and put her hands to the edges of his dressing gown. She yanked it down with one swift motion, and it slid off his arms and onto the floor, leaving him entirely naked.

As she wanted him.

Then she took him in her hand and felt a knowing smile curl on her mouth at his reaction. “You have not answered my question, David. What else is this called?” She
squeezed, gently, and he gasped and closed his eyes.

He didn’t speak for a moment as she just held him, feeling his hard, pulsing length in her palm. Then he opened his eyes and what she saw in them made a delicious thrill of anticipation course through her.

“First let us even things. Take your gown off,” he demanded.

She raised one eyebrow as though to challenge him, then shrugged and bent over to grab the hem of her gown. Her face came remarkably close to him just there, and she breathed in his warm, musky scent.

What would it be like to …? Well. She would have to try that later. She straightened, holding her gown and easing it up over her legs, and on up until it was all frothed together near her midsection. David was watching and laughed when she paused.

“Do you need some assistance?”

She didn’t, she was perfectly able to remove the gown on her own, but who was she to rebuff his offer? When such a stunning, and naked, man offered to help with anything, the answer was always to say, “Yes, please.” She did.

Instead of taking the gown from her, however, he rested his hands on her hips, slid them back to cup her behind, and pulled her into him.

Before she could point out that he was definitely not helping with the removal of her gown, he lowered his head to her mouth in an intoxicating kiss.

His tongue slid inside her mouth, and it felt as though he was claiming her, marking her, branding her.

He withdrew his tongue, then plunged it back in again, all moist and sensual and warm, a mind-clearing activity that set off those fires again all over her body. Particularly
that
part, which she’d not really thought much about before meeting him.

Now it felt as though that part was doing all of the thinking for her, since she realized that she had released her gown and was wrapping her arms around his neck to hold him close. Instead of falling down again, however, her gown stayed bunched around her middle, pressed between them, since they were so close.

Sarah would have a fit when she saw how wrinkled the gown had gotten.

His hands were still behind her, kneading her soft curves in a firm caress that felt incredible. Who knew she was sensitive there? She’d only ever used that part of her for
sitting, and she certainly did not feel this way when on a chair.

She slid her fingers along his neck and up to his jaw. His face felt rough with stubble, and she placed her palm on his cheek, loving how different he felt.

They kissed for a long while, playing with each other, nipping and licking and sucking until Charlotte felt that this was all she had ever done, or wanted to do.

At last he broke the kiss and stared at her, his eyes heavy lidded and filled with desire. “You undo me, Charlotte,” he said in a low voice. She felt a tremble run through her at the words.

“You do not undo me, David,” she replied, gesturing to her gown. “Undo me, please.”

He chuckled and drew the gown up over her head and tossed it to the floor.

Sarah would definitely be displeased.

His gaze felt hot on her skin as his eyes seemed to see right through her shift to her naked body. Only perhaps he didn’t see. “You need to remove that as well,” he said, again in that commanding tone that felt thrilling, even though Charlotte did not normally take well to being ordered around.

She reached around and undid her stays, picked up the shift, and pulled it off, tossing it in the same general direction as her gown. “And now what?” she asked. She still wore her stockings and shoes, but other than that, was entirely nude.

He looked from her face, down her neck, to her breasts, to her belly, on down lower, and it was as though he were tracing his gaze with his fingers; she felt as though he were touching her, caressing her, even though he was only looking.

Goodness, what would it feel like when he did actually touch her?

“Now I want you to go sit.”

Sitting was not what she’d expected.

“Over there,” he added, pointing to the chair she’d sat in before. She went and sat down, feeling awkward for being naked and sitting in a chair as though she were about to have tea or something.

He, of course, looked entirely natural when he was naked. Not to mention stunning. “You really are Mr. Gorgeous,” she said as he advanced toward her.

He didn’t reply, he just smiled in this knowing way that made her suddenly a lot
more interested in this whole sitting thing.

“Spread your legs.” Now he stood in front of her, his erect penis just at eye level. She wanted to lean forward and lick him there, just to see what he would do.

Instead, she did as he’d ordered and moved her legs so that her outer thighs rested against the sides of the chair. Opening her to his gaze.

He put his hands on the arms of the chair and knelt in front of her. Now she really was open to his gaze, since her … that part was just a few inches from his mouth.

She remembered what had happened last time, and she felt her bones weaken. And he hadn’t even touched her there yet.

“You are certain?” he asked, his words coming out in a ragged whisper.

It touched her that he would make sure she was all right with this now, even though she was the one who’d initiated it, had urged him on.

“Yes, I am.”
I want to know what it is like to be with you just once. And then … and then you can return to being useful, and remember the plainspoken woman you’d once touched. And answered questions for. And made love to
.

He smiled, and licked his mouth as he slid his hands onto her thighs. Holding her open for him. For his mouth.

When he did finally kiss her there, she gasped and arched in the chair, her legs instinctively clamping around his head. She heard—and felt—a soft chuckle, and then he removed one of his hands from her leg and put it out of her sight, and she knew he was touching himself, touching himself on his penis, on his …

He hadn’t answered yet, had he?

But she couldn’t think now of any of that, not when he was sliding his tongue on her, licking with unerring accuracy in the places that made her feel the most delicious.

Because he was tasting her, as he’d promised. And with each drag of his tongue she felt as though she were coming closer to that explosion she’d had before, with him, and she wanted it so desperately, and was begging—

“Soon, Charlotte,” he murmured.

She must have been begging aloud.

When she didn’t think she could stand it any longer—or sit for it any longer, if she was being entirely accurate—he rose and held his hand out to her, his movements
almost frantic.

“I need to feel you around me,” he said, pulling her to her feet.

He shoved the chair so it toppled over, creating more space on the carpet, what she was coming to think of as their carpet. Even though it belonged to his brother.

“Lie down,” he said, and even though his voice was rough, it sounded rough in a terribly exciting way.

She did, and he immediately joined her, stretching out next to her and pushing her hair away from her face. “Oh, Charlotte,” he said, and his voice was so tender it nearly made her cry. If she weren’t close to shaking from sexual need, that is.

“Now, David.” Her tone was as commanding as his had been, and he offered her that sly smile in return.

He propped himself up on his elbows and raised his body up over hers, his penis a hard reminder of what was about to happen.

“What is it called?” she asked, reaching between their bodies to clasp him in her hand.

He shook his head as she began to stroke it up and down, as she’d discovered he enjoyed. He bent his head and nipped at her neck. “A prick,” he said in a whisper. “Shaft, phallus, tool, yard, pivot.” He paused and kissed her through a gasp as she gripped him harder. “A sugar stick.”

She paused at that. “A sugar stick? Seriously?”

He pushed his … his sugar stick farther into her hand and nodded. “Not that I have ever called it that.”

“What do you call it?” she asked, starting up the stroking rhythm again.

“My cock.”

“Cock,” she repeated, and he shuddered. So she tried the word again. “Your cock,” she said, popping the
k
sound.

“Which I would very much like to put inside you, Charlotte,” he muttered. His whole body was tense, his muscles flexing and rolling before her eyes.

It looked tremendous, but it could not be comfortable, not with his cock so hard and so ready for something.

“Please put your cock inside my … my what? What should I call it?”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, we’ll go over that later. Do you want this now?”

“Yes. Now, please.” She felt the tip of him at her entrance. It felt entirely right, even though she knew it would likely hurt. She’d heard as much, but at this point she knew the pain of not having him inside her would be worse than whatever pain she would experience at their joining.

He exhaled, and squeezed his eyes shut. He looked as though he was in pain, and she wondered if his penis, his cock, being so hard caused him discomfort.

But she forgot all of that when he pushed in, his hard length feeling as though it were splitting her, but in an oddly pleasant way.

Pleasant was entirely the wrong word, but her mind was too engaged in what was happening to parse out the correct description.

And then he began to move, and it became too much to expect to have cogent thought in addition to everything that was happening right now. On their carpet.

“Am I hurting you?”

Judging by the pained look on his face, she wondered if she should be asking the same thing. “No.”

He kept his movements slight, she could tell, not slamming into her all the way, no doubt to allow her to become adjusted to the feeling. But after a while, it wasn’t enough for her, and she knew it couldn’t be enough for him.

“Harder.”

“What?”

“I want you to make love to me harder. I want—oh, something, that thing that happened before.” She definitely did not know what to call that; she couldn’t even guess at what it was. Just that she wanted it again.

He moved more firmly inside her, withdrawing almost all the way, then pushed forward again. Her whole body was keenly aware of each of his movements, of how his expression strained with the effort, and how his body—that utterly masculine body—was poised above her, the possibility of his strength unleashing itself on her a tantalizing thought.