An Improper Situation (Sanborn-Malloy Historical Romance Series, Book One) (43 page)

He shrugged as if it were too awful to contemplate.

“Of course I love him,” she muttered resentfully. And she wanted to believe that Reed felt for her something akin to love, deep down, though perhaps he didn’t know it or recognize the feeling. Or perhaps he just couldn’t express what was in his heart. Or maybe Thaddeus was just plain wrong.

The lingering doubts weighed heavily on her mind. She sighed. At this point, she would settle for the sparks that used to fly, the way he used to reach for her at any given moment and then kiss her soundly. She had long given up watching for him at her balcony door.

Charlotte set down her glass, deciding her only option was to tease Reed into some sign of the passion that she hoped still simmered below his calm exterior.

“
What’s that gleam in your eye, sis?”

She only smiled.

*****

At every opportunity over the next week, she brushed up against Reed, sat close during their carriage rides, and did her best to be both charming and enticing. She thought she could see a reaction in him, in the way he looked at her, the way his pupils dilated when she leaned close, the way he sometimes stepped away from her as if scorched.

However, the very next time he entered Alicia’s house, he picked up Lily and checked on her bruised knee, admired Thomas’s big boy haircut, and even talked man-to-man with Thaddeus about boxing. But he did not sweep Charlotte off to his bed or come secretly to hers.

Charlotte thought she’d go out of her mind. It was worse than she feared. Not only did he not love her, but he didn’t seem to
want
her anymore, either.

All she’d done was cause her own level of frustration to peak until she thought she’d scream. And Teddy watched it all with a smug and knowing look of amusement. She wanted to wring his neck, not to mention Reed’s.

One afternoon, sitting in her aunt’s garden, Charlotte made every effort to read over her most recent article in the newspaper. It was giving her little joy. The words were all running together. She put the paper down beside her and closed her eyes.

Her mind was on Reed, on the first time they’d made love after Drake’s barn dance It had been magic, the way he’d touched her fevered skin, caressed her breasts, whispered her name—

“Charlotte.”

“
Mmm,” she responded, her eyes still closed. She could almost hear him.

She felt warm lips brush her own. Her lids flew open.

“Reed.” It was just the same as when she used to sit in her study, thinking of him, and he’d appear in the evenings. He sat down beside her.

“
You look so peaceful out here among the flowers, I hate to disturb you, but you also look ravishing.”

She breathed a sigh.

“I feel like being ravished,” she told him, not caring if he thought her shamelessly bold. He grinned the most sensual smile she’d ever seen, lowered his head and kissed her again, deeply, thoroughly, until her nipples had ripened to hard buds, her toes were curling, and all her parts in between were turning to liquid.

At last, he raised his head and groaned.
“That’s why I need to talk to you. If we don’t come to some understanding—”

“
Understanding?” she repeated, thinking of his prior understanding with Helen.

“
Arrangement, treaty, agreement—whatever you want to call it, Charlotte—then I’m going to have to break my promise.”

“
I don’t understand.” She tried to think clearly, but remembered no promise, unless . . . “You mean you won’t wait for me anymore?” She had not said yes soon enough to his proposal, and now what?
Was he kissing her goodbye?

“
I can’t wait,” Reed said, confirming her worst fear. He took her hand. “The vow I made that you’d be my fiancée before we made love again was sworn with the best of intentions, but it’s as if you’re asking a thirsty man to look at a glass of crystal clear water and not touch a drop to his lips. I need you, not only in my life, but in my bed.”

She was so relieved, she felt light-headed. It wasn’t that he couldn’t wait any longer for her response; it was that he couldn’t wait for her body.

“These past weeks, I have been trying to be the restrained and respectful suitor you deserve, but, damn it, Charlotte, I don’t want to be only a suitor. I want all the privileges and blessings that come with being your husband. I hold you in the highest esteem, but every time you’re near me, I want strip off every last article of your clothing, very quickly, and then proceed to make love to you.” 

She blushed profusely, unable to quell the image he’d conjured. 

Reed, however, looked grim. “I thought if I just waited—without Farnsworth muddying the waters and with your career flourishing—that you would finally agree to be my wife, but that hasn’t happened.”

“
No,” she shook her head miserably. And all her excuses for more time, for the chance to get her career under way were fast running out. He wanted to be her husband and he held her
in the highest esteem
. But she didn’t want simply his esteem, however high. She wanted his love. She wanted . . .

Charlotte looked at Reed’s somber face and knew that what she wanted most was to remove the shadow from his heart, whatever had caused it.

“Reed, tell me about long ago.”

“
What?”

“
After you rescued me from the warehouse, you spoke of conscience and holding yourself responsible. Please tell me what you meant. Is it to do with Celia?”

She watched his chest expand as he took a deep breath.

“I’ve never told anyone this,” he said, his voice sounding rough. “It’s not Celia exactly, but the baby she carried.”

“
The baby that she pretended was yours. Whose was it?”

“
I don’t know. I can only assume that she knew who the father was.” He stood up and walked a few steps from her. “If I had gone along with Celia’s plan,” he told her, his back still to her, “the child would be older than Lily.”

“
What happened to the baby?” Charlotte asked, but she didn’t think she wanted to hear the answer—or rather, she already knew.

At his feet was a small weed, sprouting alone in the midst of Alicia’s lush green grass; somehow, it had not yet been noticed by her aunt. Reed bent down and pulled it out with a quick twist of his fingers.

“She never had it. She made sure I knew that, too,” he said, as he stood up, his thoughts far away, “If I’d known her intentions, I think I would have married her for the child’s sake.” He let the weed drop from his hand.

Charlotte stood up and closed the space between them in seconds. From behind, she put her slender arms around him and pressed her cheek to his back. She was stunned by the sheer cruelty of the woman Reed had once thought he loved.

There had been no need for Celia to tell him she’d ended her pregnancy, except to make him suffer for having ruined her selfish plans. And Reed, with his love of children, blamed himself for all these years.

“
This has nothing to do with us, Charlotte,” he said, clasping her arms under his strong hands. Then he turned in her embrace and faced her.

Nothing to do with us
. That’s what he’d said before when he’d first told her about Celia. Now, she knew differently. His guilt over the unborn child and over the possible consequences of loving someone, especially the wrong person, created the fear she had detected.

It was so clear to her now why it had been important to Reed that she love Lily and Thomas. And then a thought struck her.

“Reed, why didn’t you use any contraception the last time we . . . ?” she trailed off.

He rested his chin against the top of her head so she couldn’t see him.
“I knew it would be all right, either way. I intend to keep you in my life, whatever happens.”

Charlotte sighed. It was a good sign—Reed knew if she became pregnant, she would cherish the baby with all her heart. Obviously, he trusted her.

Her expression was wistful, as she thought of all the Celias and Helens in the world who might have won his heart. They had only to look past the powerful lawyer and see him for the warm, caring man he was.

Yet, she refused to believe any woman, no matter how cruel, had ruined him altogether for love, or that he could close off his heart more securely than she had done. She, who had been ready to live alone for the rest of her life rather than risk losing anyone else. And life had turned out to be wonderful since she opened her heart to loving the children and him.
Could Reed Malloy be as afraid as she had been?

He lifted his head and looked down at her. To her astonishment, his handsome face split open in a broad smile.

“You look like Thomas when he has his eyes on the sweet shop.”

Oh, yes, dear Reed, my eyes are on the sweets.
She pulled his head down and kissed him.

*****

Reed stood by the picture window in his parlor and looked out to sea. It was nearly the end of summer, the end of another difficult trial, the end of a long day, and very nearly the end of his patience.
What was wrong with the woman, anyway?
It had been so much simpler when he’d been with Helen. And so much lonelier.

He shuddered to think of their years of endless social gatherings, polished smiles, and loveless sexual encounters. Yes, it was sometimes extremely difficult with Charlotte, but he wouldn’t trade what they had, tenuous as it seemed at the moment, for anything or anyone.

He ran his hand through his hair, feeling as if it was all he could do not to pull it out.

True to his word, despite what he’d said to her the day before, he was determined not to bed Charlotte again until she was his fiancée, until he could rightfully make her his own. Yet he was beginning to despair of ever figuring out what she was waiting for. And waiting was definitely what she was doing, looking at him with longing in those emerald eyes each time they were together.

It was all he could do not to haul her down the aisle of the church for her own good.

Rain was falling like sharp needles. With a heavy wind blowing, the sea was pounding relentlessly at the shore, making the pilings underneath India Wharf groan with the strain.

It didn’t worry him, these pilings had stood for a century and would continue to do so for many years to come—seemingly invincible and as unchangeable as he had felt himself to be for so long. Until Charlotte.

He couldn’t put his finger on just what had changed, but something seemed to have opened in him, a weight had been lifted, and he felt eager to start a new life with her, if only she’d give in and let him.

“Monsieur Malloy.” Reed jumped at the sound of Pierre’s voice. His cook had managed to enter the room without him hearing.

“
My apology,” Pierre said, holding out his employer’s warmed brandy glass. “You were drifting, as you have been doing much lately.”

Reed smiled crookedly.
“I have, haven’t I?” He walked forward and took the drink from Pierre and sat down on the sofa.

He was looking forward to a good chat with the witty Frenchman, who often bested him in a game of chess or surprised him with his insights into the American political scene. But his hopes for some stimulating conversation were dashed when he noticed that Pierre didn’t hold a snifter of his own.

“I hope you don’t mind if I retire early tonight, Monsieur Malloy.”

“
Not at all,” Reed lied, hating to spend another evening with only his own brooding thoughts for company. “Is something wrong?”

“
It is Jeanine. These storms frighten her so much. And though I tell her we are safe . . .,” he paused and rolled his eyes. “Women, eh? But love makes a man a slave, and luckily, it makes women overlook our faults. Mademoiselle Sanborn has made a slave of you, yes?” He laughed good-naturedly. “Goodnight, Monsieur.”

“
Goodnight, Pierre,” Reed responded, but he didn’t notice the man leave. He was thinking of Charlotte, of being a slave to her. A memory of Celia returned unbidden, from the last time he’d seen her, the day before she had sailed away.

“
I nearly made you my slave, Reed,” she’d said, unbowed by her humiliation, unashamed of her own duplicity.

“
You nearly did,” he had agreed bitterly and with a silent vow that it would never happen again. No, never again, he’d sworn to himself, would he let his heart be a slave to a woman.

Could the answer be as simple as that?
It was long ago, but for a moment, it seemed as if it was yesterday—and the feelings were nearly as raw. He had told Charlotte that Celia had nothing to do with them, but perhaps he was wrong.

Had he been holding Charlotte accountable for another woman’s sins? Impossible! He loved Charlotte!
Loved her with all his heart.
He jumped off the sofa. Good Lord, he’d been a fool, then and now. An absolute dunce! And he couldn’t wait another moment to tell her.