Lady of Sin (17 page)

For an instant only bliss existed, pouring through her in a beautiful shock. Then awareness returned, still trembling and vague. Lips brushed her cheek and he moved back into her arms, his body pressed against hers. Her climax had not eliminated the need. Again she shifted, to bring his hardness closer. This time he entered, filling her, giving the final completion that she wanted.

She kissed him hard. His own kiss spoke of much more to come. He withdrew and reentered. The intimacy moved her so deeply, she could barely contain it.

They joined slowly, savoring the sensation, gazes locked in acknowledgment of the power. She could have stayed like that forever, holding him, feeling him in her while she drifted in sated, stunned emotions. He could not. She knew he was going where she had just been from the light in his eyes and the severity of his face. She did not mind at all when the thrusts came harder and faster.

A new trembling woke where they joined, surprising her. He fanned the fire until she was burning again. It was different this time, and focused on him and that fullness. A wildness broke in her, more primitive than her last quest for completion. She wanted him more, harder,
there.
She abandoned all sense and shame, crying, pleading, urging him.

The end was violent, a ravishing that she welcomed. In the midst of it a glorious tremor began where they were joined. Like a plucked harp string, it centered in that flesh, but its vibrations throbbed through her entire being in an amazing release that joined the masculine tremor she held in her arms.

Jesus
.

His heart slowed to something like normal. His head cleared of the cloud that had followed the lightning. Sanity returned. So did awareness that he was a dead weight atop Charlotte, and probably smothering her.

He braced up on his forearms and looked down through strands of damp hair. Her eyes were closed but a gentle smile softened her lips. She appeared contented enough. And very young with that dreamy expression. He trusted that meant that somewhere in the turbulent chaos at the end, she had found fulfillment.

He rolled off her, away from the light so he could see her in its faint glow. His movement made her stir. She dragged up the sheet to cover their nakedness. They lay side by side, looking at the ceiling, their breathing still deep.

“You near killed me, Lady M. I may sleep for two days.”

“And I may not walk for a week, Mr. Knightridge.”

He looked over at her. “Did I hurt you?”

“Let us just say that I am aware you visited a long time.” She smiled impishly, and he was reassured.

“The hospitality was so inviting and enthusiastic that I completely forgot my manners. Are apologies in order?”
Enthusiastic
was an understatement. He had not been urged on like that since he rowed against Cambridge at university.

She giggled. “An apology is not necessary.”

He took her hand and raised it to his lips. “An expression of gratitude is, however.” He arranged pillows to his satisfaction and pulled up the coverlet. “I believe that we may have finally achieved a right understanding on something.”

“Once more without words.”

Yes, once more. He’d had to know, and now he did. He just did not know what to do about it.

It appeared she did not either. She tucked the covers about her more neatly. She kept sneaking glances at him.

“Are you embarrassed, Charlotte?”

“No, not at all. Well, I could be if I thought much about . . . but, no. Why do you ask?”

“You appear unsettled.”

“I am just wondering . . .” Her voice drifted off as she glanced at him, the door, the lamp, the bed.

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No . . . that is . . . were you thinking to . . .” Blushing, she groped along incoherently.

Charlotte Mardenford was at a loss for words. He never thought he would see it. He could not resist the impulse to let her flounder through a few more broken phrases.

“You have never actually slept in a bed with a man before, have you?” He knew many women hadn’t. Their husbands visited, poured seed in the vessel, and left.

Her weak smile said he was right. It was one more thing he had learned tonight about her marriage. If not for the insights it gave him on her, it would in sum be more than he wanted to know.

“I am thinking I will stay awhile.” He did not wait for her permission, but made himself comfortable and drew her into his arms.

She tried to act sophisticated, but he suspected this was the most astonishing thing he had done all night. He reached over and gutted the lamp. The silence and dark quickly had him drifting into languid repose.

“What if you are found here?”

“The door is locked, and I will leave at dawn anyway.”

She snuggled in. Her head fit perfectly on his shoulder.

“It was very nice,” she said quietly. “I am glad I was not a coward.”

He pressed his lips to her crown. It had been nice. Amazing, actually. There had been no doubt that they were in that intensity together, but her words touched him. She intended her admission to explain that her misgivings had been unfounded. She wanted to reassure him. There was no winning or losing tonight, in this bed.

One chamber of his mind jumped to the days ahead. There might be winning and losing then.

He shut the door on that room. He would not examine its furnishings too closely right now, with his sated body hovering on the edges of sleep—

“Do you snore, Nathaniel?”

“I would not know. Wake me if I do.”

Holding her body created a peaceful intimacy. The night had left him very contented and he began to drift—

“Do you really plan to sleep for two days?”

“More likely two hours. Then I will wake and ravish you again.”

“Oh.”

The silence pulsed, then flowed. Dreams beckoned—

“Nathaniel, if you snore, one of your other lovers would have told you by now. If it is customary for a man to sleep in his lover’s bed all night, you would indeed know if you snore.”

“You will have to ask your brothers if it is customary. It is not customary for me, so I would not know if I snore.”

“It isn’t? Why not? This is very pleasant.”

That he had decided to stay tonight, without even realizing it was unusual, begged for some reflection. He was too drowsy to engage in mental inquiry now, especially since he suspected the conclusions would further complicate consideration on what to do about all this.

“I have not made it customary because there are rumors regarding what happens if a man remains after the passion is over.”

“Rumors? What sort of rumors?”

“You will find them astounding. It is said by men who know, that after sexual relations women want to talk all night. It is said that a man who stays will get no sleep at all. Can you believe it?”

Silence hung for a five count. Then her little fist gave his ribs a little punch.

He laughed to himself and held her closer. At least it hadn’t been a parasol.

He did not snore. Nor did he wake in two hours and ravish her again. She knew, because she did not sleep for a long time. She lay in his embrace trying to herd scattered thoughts and reactions into order.

It was impossible to do. The intimacy dulled her mind. Comfort soothed the nibbling concerns. She knew only that her emotions had not been an illusion, and she had not built a fantasy on that first night. The sensations and bond had been repeated now. They were real.

She wondered if that reality existed only in silence, though, and in passion. They could not spend their lives alone in bed. A world waited outside these walls. Soon they would walk forth and enter it again, and their paths might once more leave them facing each other across a chasm.

The rhythms of Nathaniel’s breaths in her ear finally lulled her toward sleep. As she sank away, a waking dream came to her, of little Ambrose laughing as he rolled a ball toward her. She would not be there for his visit again tomorrow. They had been parted a long time.

She rolled the ball back. Ambrose held out his arms for it. Before it arrived, however, a man’s hand reached down and took it. Puzzled, Ambrose came to her embrace and snuggled close. Together they watched that hand carry the ball out the door.

She woke at first light. The faintest silver glow etched the outlines of the furnishings in the chamber.

She had moved in her sleep, and Nathaniel had with her. She lay on her side with his body close behind and his arm around her waist.

She looked down at the hand lying on her stomach. There had been a dream last night . . . not a frightening one, but it had disturbed her. She could not remember it now, but . . .

His hand flexed and he held her more firmly. His breaths no longer marked out time. He was awake.

She felt him rise slightly behind her. His chest pressed her back and his lips kissed her cheek.

“Dawn comes,” he said.

“You must go.” The idea saddened her. She feared an end might come if he left. She could have lived forever on the memory of one scandalous night, but she knew the memories of two nights might bring pain. “I wish you did not have to.”

He kissed her shoulder. His hand moved in a firm caress over her hip. Excitement glistened through her, making her wish he had not slept so soundly.

“The house is still quiet. I can delay a short while.” He gently palmed her nipples. They hardened at once.

There was no ravishing this time, but instead a slow, luscious blossoming of pleasure. She noticed every nuance of the sensations, every inch of every caress. With him behind her she could not even kiss him in turn. She could only accept the pleasure he gave.

She felt his erection pressing between her thighs, and realized what he was going to do. He felt very deep after he entered her. Very tight. She did not become crazed this time. Even her climax was lazy and quiet, breaking as softly as the dawn itself, sparkling through her with a lovely, sweet tremor. The closeness of their sleeping embraces deepened the pleasure. The approaching return to their normal lives added poignancy.

She did not watch him dress afterward. She kept her gaze on his face, so the movements were a blur.

His parting kiss was sweet. His last look was warm. After he slipped out the door, she was left with her thoughts, wondering if dreams could ever outlast the night.

CHAPTER
THIRTEEN

C
harlotte came down from her chamber late. She entered the morning room just before noon. Nathaniel looked up from the letter he was scribbling to see she wore a carriage ensemble and carried a parasol.

The scent of lavender entered with her. He guessed she had called for another bath. He pictured her in it, hair bound up and skin slick and rosy. He wished he had been there.

“I apologize for the delay.” She propped the parasol on a chair. “It is only noon, however. We should still have time for one of the villages today.”

The mood of the morning’s passion had not left him yet. He drew her to him and kissed her. Sounds outside the chamber forced him to release her quickly.

“It looks to rain. I think we will put off visits to villages today, Charlotte.”

“Can we do them all tomorrow? I should return to London soon.”

As should he. There were affairs waiting attention that could not be ignored forever. Right now he wished they could be.

The door opened a crack, then closed.

“We are delaying some servant’s duties in this chamber,” he said. “Take a turn outside with me.”

They strolled through the garden and beyond to the field. The day was warm but the air carried a heavy damp. No clouds showed in the soft, gray, hazy sky.

“I have decided that it is not worth the effort to visit those last villages,” he said. “This has been a fool’s errand on my part, and there is no reason to prolong it.”

She trod on in silence. At the base of the next hill, she stopped and faced him.

“Nathaniel, it would be a sad thing if last night started our lying to each other. You do not really believe this has been a fool’s errand because, while there is much that you are, a fool you are not.”

Nor was she, unfortunately. An arrow of the old exasperation poked at him. If he was willing to retreat, she might allow him to do so gracefully.

“We have visited ten villages to no avail. If we visit three more we will only further waste our time.”

“I will not consider it a waste of time. Oh, I do not believe you will find Harry’s family in one of them, or even information on where that family can be found. But that is not why you seek out that old woman. Not really. Therefore, I believe that you should look for her still, and hear what she has to say, and whether it supports your suspicion that Harry has Mardenford blood.”

“What does it matter, Charlotte? If Harry is an illegitimate son of any man in that family, finding the truth will not make a difference.”

She looked him in the eyes so directly it was disconcerting. The cool, even light allowed his tiny reflections to show in each dark pool of her irises.

“Is this the gesture of gratitude you referred to last night?” she asked.

Hell, he didn’t know. He just wanted to put all of this away and stay in this house with her for a few days.

Her expression softened to the warmest, gentlest countenance she had ever shown him. “Nathaniel, I am without defenses today. I am incapable of dissembling, and you are doing a poor job of it as well. If an illegitimate son is abandoned, it is the way of the world. As you once said, it is a moral injustice but there is no legal claim.”

“Exactly. Which is why there is no real purpose to vis—”

“That is why I know that if you pursued this, it was because you feared Harry is more than a lost bastard.”

Damn.
Now
she decided to baldly state it. Now, when he had just spent hours convincing himself to walk away.

Her brow puckered over earnest, concerned eyes. “You think Harry may be a son of a secret marriage. You think he may be my brother-in-law’s legal, firstborn child. There is no other explanation for your interest. There never was.”

He crossed his arms and gazed up the hill. A full-bellied mare walked along its crest.

“Has anyone ever told you that sometimes you are too clever by half, Lady M.?”

She laid her hand on his arm. “Do not be angry with me. I want badly to grab this offer that you make. It would be easy to accept, because I know you are wrong. However, if you do not complete what you started, you will never know the truth as surely as I do. You will always think you did not do your best for that boy who is alone and lost. Questions will always be there.”

There, between us.
She did not say it, but it was in her tone and eyes.

“And if I am right, Charlotte? If the truth is the worst that I first suspected?”

He wanted her to say it would not matter. He wanted to hear that this passion could not be destroyed by truth. In the pause that followed, however, he knew that she was picturing the devastation to Mardenford and the child she loved so deeply. Nathaniel Knightridge was no more than a shadow on that vision.

“If you ask that question, Nathaniel, it proves you are not convinced that I have nothing to fear. Let us do what we can to prove your worst suspicion is wrong. Otherwise it will not die. Not my fear, and not your questions.”

They made the short journey to the village as if the quest did not matter. However, Charlotte could tell that Nathaniel was not pleased. Beneath their banter she heard the echoes of old arguments. In his eyes she saw lights of concern.

When they arrived at the coast, he wore a stern expression as he entered the village tavern to seek information. He resented that she had forced the inquiry on him.

The difference when he emerged was indescribable. His mood had visibly lightened. The day remained overcast, but not his countenance. He approached the carriage with a spry step.

“No Jenny here,” he announced with satisfaction. He immediately climbed back in.

Charlotte did not share his glee. She wanted the woman found. That he did not only emphasized that he still thought Jenny would tell a story that would support his worst suspicions.

She was flattered that he wanted to protect her now. She was not pleased that he thought he owed her lies. Worse, whatever truce he made with his conscience would not last. If he suspected Harry was legitimate, this man could no more ignore the injustice than he could agree to become a bishop.

If they would just find the old woman, all this would end. Jenny would show Finley’s blackmail for what it was—a bold deception built on air.

As soon as the carriage left the village, Nathaniel pulled her onto his lap. “Duty finished. Now we can play.”

His kiss let her know what game he intended.

She stopped thinking about Jenny.

Amidst kisses and smiles, he had her dress unfastened and stays loose in moments. Cool air fluttered over her naked skin, tantalizing her, hinting at the human caresses that would follow.

He rearranged her so she straddled his legs. Billows of skirt and petticoats mounded between them, up to his nose. They laughed while he fought them into submission. She circled his neck with an embrace and hung on him as the carriage rocked them down the road.

His kisses lured, claimed, scorched. His fingertips whisked both her nipples like an erotic breeze. Both his hands were free, and they did wicked things to her, increasing her sensitivity until a very impatient hunger cracked her control.

Feeling very bold, she reached down between them and closed her hand on his erection. She enjoyed seeing what that did to him, how his jaw tensed and the sensations so obviously consumed his attention. She slid her fingertips up the hard length, and found the tip through his garments. She rubbed playfully, then more deliberately as she saw her effect. It became a challenge, to see if she could madden him as much as he did her.

She released her other hand’s hold on his shoulder so she could loosen his trousers. He did not help, but only steadied her body while the swaying carriage jostled them and she fumbled with the garments. She freed his phallus and circled her palm around its hardness. Looking down, she caressed and fingered the sensitive end.

He let her, accepting as she had done, permitting this brief command.
Just like that, right there, it feels very good.
He did not say it, but in a hundred ways he really did. A heady thrill slid through her again and again, descending until her vulva pulsed a hollow ache. Creating this desire aroused her as well as him.

Suddenly his hands burrowed under her petticoats and grasped her bottom. His eyes opened to reveal ferocious lights. He lifted her and shifted forward and brought her down firmly so that they were joined.

She was the one who had to move, but his grasp on her hips guided her. What had started playfully ended hard. With consuming kisses and powerful thrusts, their frenzy filled the carriage.

“Who was she?”

Charlotte asked the question that night as their hot bodies cooled in the aftermath of another astonishing passion.

It took Nathaniel a moment to comprehend the question. His mind was preoccupied with calculating how this affair could continue once they returned to London.

He set those thoughts aside. Charlotte could startle him at the least expected moments.

“She?”

“The woman you loved long ago.” She turned in his arms and looked down at him. “The first night here, when you were cajoling me to this affair, you said we had both loved long ago.”

“How indiscreet of me.”

He pretended the conversation was completed, but knew she would not accept that. She waited.

“I was very young and in love the way very young men can be,” he said. “I believed my affections were returned. They were not, as I learned. It is a common story.”

“Not so common. Nor would its predictability ease the pain.”

She appeared concerned. That touched him. She was not asking out of idle curiosity. She was not building a jealousy on the past either.

“How did you learn she did not return the affection? I cannot believe a girl would not fall in love with you. You look like the hero in a book or painting, and did even when you were younger. We all thought so.”

“If you thought so, why did you avoid dancing with me at the balls during your season? As I remember it, I had one turn. Not even a waltz.”

Her lids lowered. “I was spoken for, from the first. Everyone knew that.” She looked at him again. “So, how did you learn the truth?”

She was not to be distracted. Of course not.

“My father arranged that she should visit us. Here at Elmcrest.”

“Ah. He is ruthless, isn’t he?”

“He was more aware of the things that move a woman’s heart than I was at that age.”

“So she saw all this, and learned of the
and more,
and did not understand, I assume.”

“I was hard-pressed to explain it in ways she would comprehend. She only saw that with one word I could offer her fashionable wealth and not merely fashionable comfort. She thought that if I loved her, I would compromise. I thought that if she loved me, she would not ask it.” He shrugged. “Such are the simple ways youth sees the world.”

She drew a little pattern on his chest with her fingertip, reminding him how her hands had inflamed him today. This night’s passion had been different from last’s. The eroticism had contained a mutual aggression that hinted at bold developments to come.

“You said marriage would demand consideration of compromise,” she reminded him.

“I am no longer so young, and the world is no longer so simple to me.”

He realized as soon as he said it that he was not speaking the entire truth. Not only experience would make him consider it. The different woman involved would too. Charlotte would never have asked it of him so that she could buy more gowns or someday be a bishop’s wife. Even if she had been poor, she would not have done that for those reasons.

He knew that as surely as he knew anything. He had never in his life been as sure he knew the character of a woman as he did this one’s.

“I assume she married someone else.”

“Eventually. We had been discreet, so our alliance did not affect her. Still, having almost had the son of a peer, she could not settle for less. She waited until she found another one who suited her better.” He tapped her nose. “As I said, it was long ago, and it was not a love like you had. I have no memories and no regrets.”

Her expression softened and turned private, as if his words had called forth those memories. He began cursing himself for a lack of tact.

“I suppose one cannot have one without the other, memories and regrets, that is,” she said, coming out of the distraction as quickly as she had entered it. “The trick, I am concluding, is to respect both, but to let neither own you.”

She kissed him in a way that suggested she was proving neither owned her now. The declaration was unnecessary. It was not the past that might fracture this fragile contentment they had found in each other, but the future.

Charlotte waited in the carriage, as she always did in the villages. Nathaniel strode into the second tavern located in this one, his blond hair ducking below the low header of the ancient doorway.

They had already been to another village, with no Jenny found. They would visit one more before they were done. Tomorrow they would begin the journey back to London.