More Than Charming (8 page)

He let out a breath. “Take all the time you need. I want you to be as certain as I.”

As if to prove his point, he captured her lips once more. His kiss was tender, teasing, and she felt her knees go weak.

He pulled back and took a few steps away from her. “Why don’t you go back inside, Catherine? Surely you’ll be missed by the others.”

She nodded and brushed her hands over her gown. She walked over to the glass doors and stopped, turning back to him. “Aren’t you coming?”

James shook his head and adjusted his jacket in front of him. Maybe he was chilled? “I need a few moments to, um, collect my thoughts.”

She nodded once more and left him there. As she pulled the doors shut, she thought she heard him utter a prayer.

His body at last under control, James returned to the house. Would Catherine accept his proposal? Until the moment he’d asked her, he hadn’t realized how much he wanted to make her his wife. He joined the gentlemen in the library and settled himself in a large wing chair, avoiding Paul’s gaze.

He quickly saw that his friends hadn’t missed his arrival. Chester elbowed Paul to gain his attention. Paul turned from his conversation with Geoffrey and arched a brow in question.

“What is it, Chester?” James heard Paul ask.

“It seems Roberts has acquired your habit of brooding, Leed.” Chester laughed.

Paul glanced over at James and lost his smile, a dark scowl taking its place. James hid his reaction. If Paul knew what James and Catherine had been doing in the garden, he’d do more than scowl.

“My God, Leed,” Geoffrey said at last. “I daresay Roberts will never master it to your ability.”

Chester laughed again and loudly. James turned his head, not surprised to find himself the subject of close scrutiny from all three gentlemen.

Paul stalked over to where James sat and glared down at him. “I’m well aware of what you were about during dinner, Roberts.”

James came to his feet. “I can’t begin to guess your meaning.”

“Staring at Catherine. Sitting too close for my sanity. Pray tell me, what are your intentions?”

James bristled. “It’s out of my hands, Leed.”

“What the devil does that mean?”

James looked around the room for a moment. His other friends wore matching looks of interest on their faces. Thankfully, Catherine’s father apparently sensed nothing amiss. James stood and crossed the room to the bookshelves, waiting for Catherine’s brother to join him. Paul shot a glance at Chester and Geoffrey, who hid their grins and turned from them. He joined James, arching a brow in question.

“I asked Catherine to marry me,” James said in a low voice.

Paul began to smile.

“Don’t look so smug, Leed,” James said in irritation. “She has yet to give me her answer.”

“But how can she refuse you? You were in her room.”

James turned to leave. “I won’t discuss this with you.”

Paul caught him by the arm. “I’m sorry to force this on you, Roberts.”

James fixed his eyes on his friend. “I didn’t propose to her because of you. I asked Catherine to marry me because I wish it.”

Paul blinked. A wide smile spread across his face. “Then surely you must—”

“Never mind,” James cut in with a wave of his hand. “I want her for my wife, Leed. That’s all you need to know.”

Paul simply nodded and left James then. James returned to the wing chair and sat. He recalled the look in Catherine’s beautiful eyes when he’d asked her to marry him. Her fear had been palpable. It galled him to think that her experience with Waltham could ruin their chance at happiness.

His thoughts went to his conversation with her brother. Surely Paul was under the impression that James loved Catherine. He wouldn’t give thought to that prickly emotion. But what if Catherine’s thoughts were of her brother’s bent? He was startled out of his reverie to find Chester suddenly standing over him, a glass of brandy in his hand.

“Roberts,” Chester said, holding the glass out to James.

James thanked him and took the glass. He took a long swallow of the liquor. He closed his eyes and sighed, resting his head on the back of the chair.

“What the devil is ailing you, man?” Chester asked.

“Ah, Chester. It’s out of my hands.”

“What’s this? I never thought you’d give up so easily.”

James opened his eyes and looked up at him. “What are you saying?”

“I’ve seen that look before,” Chester said. “Only a woman can cause that kind of discomfort.”

James said nothing as he took another long swallow of brandy.

“And given Leed’s behavior,” Chester finished, “I can only assume that Catherine is the lady in question.”

James felt his lips curve in a smile.

Chester chuckled. “You’re in a bad way, friend.”

“What?” James asked. “Oh, no. I’m fond of Catherine, but . . .”

Chester shook his head and grinned. James opened his mouth to respond as Paul announced that it was time to rejoin the ladies in the parlor. James followed the gentlemen into the great hall.

*     *     *

Catherine froze when James walked into the room. His eyes, steady in their gaze, met hers. She couldn’t face the questions she saw there. Not yet. She had no notion of what her answer would be and, despite his assurance that she may take as long as she liked to give him an answer, she had the distinct impression he wouldn’t be put off for long.

She murmured an excuse to Michelle and arose from her seat. As she hurried toward the doorway, James stepped into her path, but she skirted around him with her eyes downcast. She was such a coward. Where was the girl who bravely went to his townhouse alone one night?

In the quiet of her guest chamber much later that night, Catherine stared once more at the ceiling. What was she going to tell James? Should she marry him? She’d always thought him handsome and charming, even when she was but a girl. And now, whenever he looked at her, her pulse raced. His kisses set her on fire. His caresses made her feel wanted. But did she love him? And what of his feelings? With a sob of frustration, she closed her eyes and tried to will herself to sleep.

A few minutes later, Catherine sensed rather than heard him enter her room. She opened her eyes and stared up into his beautiful gray ones. “James,” she whispered.

James smiled down at her, his eyes glittering. She ran her eyes over him. He wore only breeches topped by his fine white shirt, open at the neck to reveal dark hairs. “Hello, love.”

Catherine smiled at the sweetly-spoken endearment. Her eyes widened as she realized their position. Not only was she alone with a man in her room—again!—but that man was leaning over her in bed.

“James, you shouldn’t be here.”

He placed a hand on either side of her head on the pillow and leaned closer. “I need an answer, Catherine.”

She gave a frantic shake of her head. “But you assured me that I could take as much time as I needed.”

James struck a thoughtful pose, then gave a small shrug. “I lied.”

He kissed her tenderly, letting his tongue slowly caress her lips. Catherine instinctively opened her mouth, welcoming him. The kiss deepened, their tongues touching.

He finally pulled back and sat beside her on the bed. He reached out to stroke her cheek. “Marry me, Catherine.”

“James, I don’t know if we suit each other.”

He arched a brow at that. He looked down at her, at the sheet down around her waist. Her nightgown of thin lawn must hide virtually nothing from him. She could feel his gaze as if it touched her skin and her nipples tightened.

“You suit me,” he said, his voice husky. He brought his eyes back up to her face. His gaze was tender, compelling. “I’ll be a good husband, Catherine. I’ll never hurt you.”

She blinked up at him, her mind muddled from his closeness, his sweet words. “James, I don’t know.”

“Do you care for me?”

“Yes,” she said without hesitation. “Very much.”

He kissed her again, slowly pushing the sheets aside. He ran his hands over her, brushing his palm over her breast. She gasped at the thrill that bit of contact gave her. His mouth left hers to nuzzle the soft skin on her neck.

“Marry me, Catherine,” he whispered raggedly against her ear. “Please say you’ll be mine.”

She heard it in his voice, the emotion she so wished to believe he felt for her. She couldn’t find it in her heart to refuse him. “Yes.” She breathed.

He lifted his head, hope clear on his face. “What did you say?”

She brought her hand to his cheek. “Yes. I’ll marry you.”

He grinned at her. He kissed her once more, slowly easing her nightgown off her shoulders. He trailed kisses over her throat, her breasts. He stared down at her. “God, you’re beautiful,” he rasped.

James bent his head and placed a tender kiss on her nipple. Catherine arched in response and he closed his mouth over the sensitive bud. She moaned softly as he caressed her other breast. His hand stole under her nightgown, over her leg, her thigh, finally seeking the curls that shielded her womanhood. He stroked her gently, urging her legs apart.

“Oh, my goodness!” She gasped as his fingers delved inside her.

Catherine moaned as his mouth laved one nipple, then the other. His fingers stroked her delicate folds—gently at first and then with more pressure. She reached up and held him tightly to her, her legs moving restlessly on the bed. She lifted her pelvis toward him, riding his fingers with her moist heat.

“God, I want to give you more,” he said. “So much more . . .”

She was close to . . . something. Her wetness drenched his fingers now and her breath came in quick gasps as she trembled beneath his expert attention. James brought his mouth to hers, catching her cries as she suddenly climaxed.

He placed little kisses on her face. “My God, Catherine.”

Her eyes fluttered open. “Wh-what just happened?”

He smiled down at her. “That was proof you’re as passionate as I, love. Tell me now we don’t suit.”

She blushed and threw her arms around him. “You do suit me, James.”

James breathed in sharply, then quickly pulled away. “I’d best return to my chamber, bride,” he said hoarsely. “If I stay, I’ll have to take you.”

Her brow furrowed. “But didn’t you just do that?”

He shook his head, a wicked smile on his face. “That was merely a glimpse of what we’ll share, Catherine.” He kissed her quickly and stood beside the bed. “Good night, love.”

“Good night,” she answered with a small smile.

James left her then, first making certain that no one was about to spy his sneaking out of her room. He paused in the doorway and turned to her, a tender look in his eyes. “Until the morrow,” he whispered.

She nodded and snuggled into her pillow, a sigh escaping her lips. Her body still tingled where he’d touched her. What he’d done to her! She felt right about accepting his proposal. In the back of her mind, however, she couldn’t help but think that he’d never said he loved her.

She refused to let one little word, or the absence of it, detract from the wonderful feelings he evoked in her. She fell into an easy sleep.

*     *     *

James tossed and turned in the bed in his guestroom. Just the thought of Catherine and the way she’d responded to him had his cock hard and throbbing. Her flesh against his fingers . . . She was so hot, so tight. Lord, but he wanted to make her his! He took a deep shuddering breath and tried to cool his blood. After her climax, he’d been nearly mad with desire to be inside her. Her nightgown gathered around her waist, her lovely legs open on the bed. Her silky curls had been sweetly damp from his attentions. If he’d unbuttoned his breeches and driven into her, taken her maidenhead and stroked deep inside her . . .

He’d speak to Catherine’s father tomorrow. As soon as he rose. Certainly, the Earl of Talbot would have no objections to their union. Her brother would certainly be pleased.

Catherine cared for him. She told him so and she was an open, honest girl. He’d made no declaration of love, and felt guilty about that, but he wouldn’t say those words to her unless he was certain. And he wasn’t.

He closed his eyes and once more pictured her as he’d left her, all soft and welcoming. He breathed out another ragged sigh and prayed for sleep to take him.

The next morning James awoke early and with determination. He must approach the Earl of Talbot directly, as the gentlemen were planning to hunt quite early this morning. He rushed through his morning toilette and dressed with care. Black boots, buff-colored breeches, stark white shirt and cravat, green waistcoat. At last he donned his brown hunting jacket and went downstairs to the breakfast room.

James entered the breakfast room, pleased to find it nearly empty. Chester and Geoffrey were the only others present. His mind fully occupied on his coming conversation with Catherine’s father, he served himself a small portion of eggs and ham from the sideboard.

“Good morning, Roberts,” Chester said.

“Good morning,” James returned absently.

Chester sipped his tea, a thoughtful look on his face. “How does this morning find you?”

James looked up and read the concern on Chester’s face. He gave a short laugh. “A far sight better than last evening, I assure you.”

“All is settled, then?”

He shook his head. “Not quite yet.”

“What’s this?” Geoffrey cut in. “This has something to do with all the brooding going on last evening, I would imagine.”

James shot him a look of mild irritation at which Geoffrey laughed.

“I daresay the atmosphere was positively Gothic,” Chester added.

Just then, Paul and his father joined them. Paul looked closely at James. “Roberts.”

James nodded, watching as Paul served himself. When the earl stood alone at the sideboard, James rose to his feet. He crossed to Lord Talbot, ignoring the speculative glances he received from his friends. “If I may have a word with you, sir. It’s of the utmost importance.”

Talbot smiled. “Certainly, my boy. What is this regarding?”

James threw a glance at the table. He turned back to the older gentleman. “If you would, sir, I’d prefer to speak with you in private.”