An Invitation to Sin (36 page)

“Don’t make this my fault,” he ground out.

“Everything was fine until you came here!”

“Was it?” he challenged her. “Was running away from me the right thing to do?”

“I didn’t run away from you.” Her voice was weak and her protest sounded feeble even to her own ears.

“Didn’t you?”

“I don’t even know who you are anymore!” she burst out. “Lord Langdon? Who is that? Who is this responsible person who attends Cambridge and does everything his father wishes? Were you simply lying to me the entire time?”

His jaw tightened. “Is that what you think? That I lied to you?”

She glared at him.

“Charlotte?”

“If you won’t leave my house, at least have the decency to leave my room.” Her hand trembled as she reached for the door.

“I will leave you then.” Gavin gave her a cold look before he walked from the room.

Chapter 12

The next afternoon Charlotte sat curled up on a divan in the sunroom, attempting to lose herself in
Wuthering Heights,
which, as one of her favorite novels, usually captured her attention. But she had read the same page at least twenty times and had not moved on. Her mind was a million miles away.

All she could think of was Gavin Ellsworth.

She had barely slept all night, tossing and turning. And crying. Gavin had kissed her and seemed quite sincere in his concern during her choking fit at the table. He had acted hurt that she had left him in Spain and genuinely wished to discuss what happened. Had he truly cared for her? Was he not the rogue she had thought he was? This thought tortured her. As a consequence of her fitful and anguished night, she had slept through breakfast and by the time she had dressed and ventured downstairs, she had learned that Gavin and Alec had already gone out for the day but would be returning for supper. So he had not left to go back to school yet. Relieved she did not have to face him for a while longer, she had hidden in the sunroom, but not before her mother had reminded her that they needed to have a little talk later. Charlotte closed her eyes tight at the prospect.

“There’s a package for you, Miss Charlotte,” Roberts, the butler, announced as he entered the sunroom. “It just arrived.”

“There is?” she said in surprise. “Where is it?”

“Your mother had it carried into the study. It’s a rather large box. She asks that you join her while one of the footmen opens it for you.”

A large box had arrived for her? How odd! “Thank you, Roberts.”

By the time she reached the study, Elizabeth had already instructed the young footman to pry the wooden planks of the crate apart. The inside of the box was packed with padding.

“My goodness, Charlotte!” her mother exclaimed. “Whoever would send you such a large package?”

“I have no idea,” Charlotte responded, equally intrigued.

“There was a letter with it addressed to you.” Her mother gave Charlotte an envelope addressed with an unfamiliar hand.

Curious, she broke the seal and removed the letter within. In an instant her heart began racing as she read the sprawling script with a mounting sense of dread. Charlotte now knew exactly what was in that large crate. And there was nothing she could do at this point to prevent her mother from seeing it.

“Mother … There’s something I need to explain to you,” she began hesitantly.

Elizabeth was already standing over the crate as the burly footman lifted the enormously framed portrait from within and placed it on the floor, propped against the wall near the mantel.

Elizabeth’s shocked gasp echoed Charlotte’s own.

Without needing to be told, the footman discreetly left the room, closing the door behind him.

“Good God in heaven …” her mother whispered, placing her hand over her heart.

Speechless, Charlotte stood in awe at the portrait that Doña Yvonne Bautista-Martín had painted of her while she was in Spain.

It was the most beautiful painting she had ever seen.

The pastel colors illuminating the dawn light bathed the scene in an ethereal glow, setting the figures of the goddess and god depicted within to be almost otherworldly in their perfection. Every detail was exquisite. The carefully draped silk seemed to flow like liquid silver over their almost naked bodies, clinging to every curve of their bare skin. Her blond hair glistened in golden waves around them. And the pose! The intimate positioning of their glorious bodies made it difficult to tell where the female form ended and the male began, so close were their arms and legs intertwined.

Charlotte barely recognized herself as the woman in the painting, so lovely was the rendering. How blissful and radiant the expression on her face! Had she truly looked that euphoric? And Gavin! How had Doña Yvonne managed to capture the absolute essence of his masculine features, his perfect aquiline nose and strong chin? His tawny blond hair glowed on his head. There was an amorous gleam in his hazel eyes and a hint of his devilish dimple at the corner of his sensuous mouth, which was pressed seductively against her alabaster cheek. The taut, sculpted muscles in his upper arms held her with such assured possession and his hand gently cupped the underside of her breast. The very strength and handsomeness of him came alive and leapt from the canvas.

But it was the two of them together … This was a man and woman passionately in love with each other portrayed with elegance, grace, and mystic splendor.

For days Charlotte had posed for that painting but never had she seen what she and Gavin looked like together from this point of view. Had it been so obvious to everyone else? Never had she suspected …

The effect was astonishing. She remained motionless and speechless before the painting. The portrait so as- tounded her that she forgot to feel embarrassed by the romantic nature of it. Charlotte was the woman in the painting and Doña Yvonne had managed to capture her true essence. When Charlotte had been that woman, it was the happiest she had ever been. It suddenly dawned on her that the woman in the painting was the real Charlotte.

“Good God in heaven, Charlotte!” her mother echoed once again. “What on earth did you do in Spain?”

“I posed for a painting …” she offered weakly.

“Yes, I see that! But this?” Elizabeth cried, scandalized. She gestured angrily to the painting. “This is indecent, Charlotte!”

Charlotte turned to face her mother. “You are only saying that because I am in the painting.”

The painting was beautiful. That point could not be disputed. It was a true work of art. Anyone with eyes would have to agree.

“Yes! My daughter is undressed with an equally unclothed man!” Elizabeth looked distraught enough to faint. “And that young man is now a guest in my house! Lord Langdon! What is the meaning of this? What if your brothers see this?”

The thought of Adam, Addison, Allen, or Andrew seeing this painting made her very uneasy. She wasn’t comfortable having her mother see it right now, let alone her stepfather or Alec. But it was simply because it was
her
. Her emotions and her body were on display for all to observe, yet the portrait was not in bad taste or offensive in any way. If it had been a pair of strangers in the scene instead of her and Gavin, she would still find it artistically appealing. Elizabeth would most likely hang it in the gallery. Or in the main parlor. But it was probably not the best time to bring up that point to her mother right now.

“What possessed you to do such a thing, Charlotte? And where was Louisa while this scandalous picture was painted? How could she have allowed something like this to happen?”

“Aunt Louisa did not know that Doña Yvonne was painting us in that way, so please do not blame her.” Charlotte defended her aunt instinctively.

“It was her responsibility to know about it! You were under her care!” Elizabeth exclaimed, righteous anger shaking her voice. “I knew we never should have let you go with her!”

“
Let
me go?” Charlotte burst out. “You sent me away!”

Her mother came up short and looked at her oddly. “Is that what you think, Charlotte?” Her face softened, as well as her tone. “That I sent you away?”

“Yes.” She blinked back the tears that suddenly threatened.

“I thought that you wished to go,” Elizabeth said in confusion. “That you were tired of another unsuccessful Season and wanted a change of scenery, a bit of a break from the business of finding a husband.”

“I did … I just thought … you were weary of me and too busy with the boys …” Charlotte’s voice trailed off.

Her mother put her arms around Charlotte’s shoulders. Together they sat on the leather sofa. “Oh, Charlotte. I
am
very busy with the boys and I am
quite
weary with your stubbornness at not choosing a husband from an array of suitable gentlemen, but I would never send you away from home because of that. I am sorry if I ever made you feel that you were not wanted. I love you, darling.”

“I love you, too, Mother.”

Elizabeth glanced at the painting. “But what are we going to do about that?” She shook her head. “Alexander is going to be fit to be tied when he sees it. I don’t know what he will do to Lord Langdon.”

Charlotte cringed. She had not considered that prospect.

Her mother gave her hand a squeeze. “Did you really pose for this? She didn’t simply paint your face on someone else’s body?”

“No, it’s all me,” she admitted. “I posed every day for over two weeks.” And they were the happiest two weeks of her life.

“With Lord Langdon as well?”

“Yes.”

Elizabeth shook her head. “I never would have expected behavior like this from you. You’ve always been so steady and responsible and this painting is so out of character for you. Wasn’t posing like that”—her mother actually blushed—“rather … awkward?”

“That was the most remarkable part,” Charlotte explained as she recalled those early morning sessions in the studio, being held securely in Gavin’s arms. “It was not the least bit awkward posing with Gavin.”

“Is that when you fell in love with each other?”

Charlotte remained quiet.

“It was obvious to everyone at the table last night that something happened between the two of you,” Elizabeth said gently. “You’re in love with him.”

“I don’t think I admitted it to myself at the time, because I was too afraid, but yes, I fell in love with him.”

“I never suspected something like this happened to you in Spain,” Elizabeth said in disbelief. “You never said a word about it. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You never asked me what I did in Spain, Mother,” Charlotte stated quietly, “or anywhere else I went this summer.”

Elizabeth looked crestfallen. “Didn’t I?”

“Not once.” Charlotte shook her head.

“Oh, Charlotte, I am sorry. I just don’t know what to say. The boys occupy so much of my day, but that is no excuse for ignoring my daughter.” Elizabeth looked contrite. “Can you ever forgive my thoughtlessness?”

“Yes.” Charlotte squeezed her mother’s hand.

They sat in silence, staring at the portrait together.

“What shall I do?” Charlotte finally murmured. “I didn’t think I would ever see him again and then he happens to befriend Alec, of all the people in the world! And here he is at our home.”

“Have you spoken to him about any of this?”

“I’ve only asked him to leave.”

“Do you want him to leave?”

“No.” The truth was she wanted to be with him always.

“You tend to push people away, Charlotte, if you haven’t noticed. You had better think long and hard about what you want. I like this young man and have an idea you will be very happy with him, if that portrait is any indication of your feelings for each other.” She looked toward the painting again and shook her head in wonder. “It’s amazing. I’ve never seen you look so full of joy, Charlotte.”

“I was.” At the time she had attributed her happiness to the seductive atmosphere of Don Francisco’s villa and the carefree environment of Doña Yvonne’s art studio, but now she realized it was simply being with Gavin that had made her feel so alive and joyful. She recalled what her Aunt Louisa had said to her in Spain about not wasting opportunities for happiness. She did not wish to follow in her aunt’s footsteps.

Elizabeth continued, “If you love him, I suggest that you let him know it. Men have their pride, after all. You have already left him once and he has another woman willing to marry him. He won’t wait for you forever.” Her mother gave her a hug of reassurance. “Perhaps you should talk to him about the—”

“I believe the ledger we need is in this desk.”

Elizabeth was interrupted by the arrival of Alec Forsythe and Gavin Ellsworth. Both young men entered the study clearly under the impression the room was unoccupied. They both stopped abruptly when they saw Elizabeth and Charlotte on the sofa.

“Oh, excuse us—”Alec saw the painting first and his mouth dropped open.

Charlotte kept her eyes on Gavin, her pulse quickening at the sight of him. He truly was too handsome for words.

“What in blazes is
that?
” Alec cried.

Gavin was as riveted by the painting as she had been. A look of wonder lit his face. He glanced at Charlotte with appreciation, and without words they both understood that the painting was incredibly special. She gave him a tentative smile.

“In the picture … It is Gavin and … good God!”—Alec turned with eyes bulging toward his sister—“Charlotte?”

Elizabeth rose from the sofa and went to Alec. “Yes. It was painted while they were both in Spain this summer. Isn’t that remarkable?” She took his arm and led him toward the door. “Come with me, dear. We’re going to give these two a bit of privacy.” Elizabeth gave a quick smile of encouragement to her daughter before exiting.

Now that she was alone with Gavin, Charlotte’s mouth went dry at what she was about to do.

Chapter 13

As the door to the study closed, Gavin remained still. Judging from the hasty retreat of Charlotte’s mother and in light of the arrival of the painting, he surmised that their ruse of not knowing each other had come to an end. The stunning portrait that leaned against the wall quite clearly indicated in no uncertain terms that he and Charlotte knew each other on an intimate level.

Doña Yvonne had outdone herself. That creative, vivacious woman possessed an amazing talent. The painting was beautiful. There was an incandescent quality to the colors giving their human forms a touch of the divine. Charlotte was mesmerizing in her beauty, and even he had to admit that he looked more handsome than he imagined himself to be. It was quite flattering. But it was the deep emotions portrayed within that astounded him. These two people were undeniably in love with each other.

“It just arrived today.”

Charlotte’s soft voice broke his concentration on the portrait. She had risen from the sofa to stand beside him.

“Was your mother horrified by it?” he questioned.

“Yes, at first she was terribly upset to see me posed in such a way. But I think now she sees that it is simply an incredible work of art.”

Gavin nodded in agreement. “I had no idea it would turn out so fine.”

“Neither did I.”

“Honestly, I never thought I would ever see it.” He tore his gaze from the framed portrait once again and focused on Charlotte. His heart skipped a beat. Her natural beauty was more than any artist could capture. “I am happy she sent it to you.”

“The letter she sent said she hated to part with it, but she thought I should have the portrait. She also said she hoped that you found me.” She paused a moment and there was a catch in her voice when she asked, “Were you looking for me?”

“Yes,” he admitted. “When you left me that day in Spain, I realized I did not know how to reach you. I asked Doña Yvonne if she knew where your home in England was, but she only knew where your aunt lived. I wrote to your aunt, requesting your address, but I never heard from her.”

“You wrote to Aunt Louisa about me?”

“Yes, a few times.”

“Aunt Louisa has been away. She married while we were in Italy and has been traveling with her husband—”

“She married?” he echoed in amazement.

“Oh, yes, it was quite romantic.” Charlotte’s blue eyes sparkled. “She married the man she was in love with her entire life. But she has not been home in London at all. She more than likely has not received your letters.”

“Well, that explains not getting an answer from her,” he said ruefully. A thought perplexed him. “But then how did Doña Yvonne know where to send the painting to you?”

Her elegant brows drew together. “Perhaps Aunt Louisa gave Doña Yvonne my address when she visited Spain on her way to Egypt with Carlos.”

After a thoughtful moment, she asked, “Why were you trying to find me?”

“Do you really have to ask why? I should be asking you why. Why you left without saying good-bye, Charlotte. Without even a word to me. After that night we—” He broke off, unable to speak.

She whispered hurriedly in explanation, “I didn’t think that you would care if I left, that it would—”

“What?!” he boomed. The girl was batty. “Why would you think I wouldn’t care that you left?”

Her chin went up. “I know how you are. You’ve done
that
with other women and I thought it would be best if I just went on my way—”

“For your information, I have never done
that
with a woman like you before, and I wanted to marry you,” he ground out between clenched teeth.

The color drained from Charlotte’s face and she stumbled back to the sofa, sank into the cushions as if her legs would no longer support her. “I had no idea.”

He moved to sit beside her. He took her warm hand in his as she spoke.

“When I woke up the next morning I was afraid. I couldn’t face you after … after what we did that night and I didn’t know how to tell you that my aunt and I were leaving. I didn’t want you to feel bound to me or obligated to marry. I just had to get away …” Her voice faded.

“What had I done to make you flee from me?”

“I thought … I thought you were a rogue.”

“I was.” He flashed her a grin.

“I felt that I was merely a summer diversion for you.”

He took in the meaning of her words. He asked softly, “And what was I to you then, Charlotte?”

There was some hesitation before she responded. “I think what I feared most of all were my feelings for you.”

“Why?” He waited for her to continue, holding his breath.

“I had never done any of the things I ’d done with you in Spain before. Posing for the painting, kissing you, being with you …” Soft color suffused her cheeks now. “I’d never felt that way about anyone before, the way I felt about you.”

“And how did you feel?”

“Happier than I ’d ever been in my life.”

He grinned. “That’s how I felt being with you.”

Her blue eyes clouded with doubt. “But, Gavin, I didn’t think you truly cared. You are not serious about anything and I—”

“I was serious about you.” Gavin squeezed her hand.

“I wish I had known that,” she murmured.

“You never gave me a chance to tell you that, did you?”

“I suppose not.”

“Meeting you changed everything for me, Charlotte. Losing you just about destroyed me. Do you have any idea how thrilled I was to find you here? I had no idea that Alec was your stepbrother when he and I became friends. I did not know your stepfamily’s name was Forsythe. What are the chances of me discovering you this way?”

“It is remarkable.”

“It is more than that, Charlotte. It’s fate.”

She raised her eyebrows.

He pressed on. “And the painting of us arriving while I was here? More fate.”

“What does it mean?” she ventured.

He leaned in close to her, his lips brushing the silky softness of her cheek. The scent of lily of the valley wafted over him. “It means that you cannot run away from me this time, because we were meant to be together.”

She pulled back, her eyes searching his. “I wish I hadn’t run from you, Gavin. I regretted leaving you the moment I was on that ship bound for Italy. I was such a fool. It was too late then and I didn’t know how to get back to you. I tried to forget you. I really tried. I thought that if I didn’t speak of you to anyone or tell anyone what happened you would cease to exist. All I succeeded in doing was making myself more miserable each day with longing for you, because I thought of nothing but you all these months. I missed you more than you can imagine.” She finally paused for a breath before she confessed, “Gavin, I won’t run away from you this time.”

As he lost himself in the blue depths of her eyes, his heart turned over in his chest. Unable to resist any longer, he lowered his head to hers and kissed her sweet lips. She responded with undisguised ardor. It was heaven to feel her this way again. Their arms found their way around each other and he held her tight.

He had finally found Charlotte and he was never going to let her go.

“You couldn’t run away now, even if you wanted to,” he whispered in her ear.

“Why is that?”

“Because I am not going to let you. In light of our little scene at the table last night, your stepfather and I had a bit of a chat this afternoon. I asked his permission to marry you.”

She blinked at him. “You did?”

“Yes.” He kissed her again. He would never tire of kissing her. “Yes, and it’s a good thing I did it before he sees that painting.” He imagined Alexander Forsythe being none too pleased over Gavin’s intimate relationship with Charlotte. It was bad enough to have her parents suspect the worst. It was something else to have blatant proof of how far their love affair had progressed.

“What did he say?”

“He consented to the match as long as it is your desire to marry me. Then he wished me luck, informing me that you had turned down numerous offers of marriage in the past.”

Charlotte laughed ruefully. “My reputation precedes me.”

“It’s no laughing matter. You may have refused the others, but not me. I’m not going to lose you again, Charlotte, in spite of your trying to get rid of me.”

“But you are already engaged to the woman your father approves of.”

Enjoying the touch of jealousy he detected in her words, he shook his head in reassurance. “That was never official. In truth, I did not wish to marry her. I was merely at a loss to find you and thought I would please my father. I haven’t even seen the woman since we were young children.”

“Oh,” she breathed, and he noted the relief in her expression as she grinned. “So, are you going to ask me?”

Thrilled, he moved to the floor and knelt on one knee, taking her warm hand in his.

“Gavin!” A smile of delight lit her beautiful features.

His heart thudded loudly, but he had never been more sure of something he wanted before in his life. And he wanted this beautiful woman with him. Forever. “Charlotte Wilton, will you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?”

“Yes, I will marry you,” she whispered, squeezing his hand, “because I love you.”

Gavin moved back to sit beside her and drew her into his embrace. “I love you, Charlotte.” He held her close to his heart for some minutes. He could not believe his good fortune at finding her again.

“Let’s hang the painting in our bedroom,” she murmured.

He laughed low in his throat. Most women would immediately be thinking of wedding plans, but Charlotte was decorating their bedroom.
Their bedroom.
His heart began to pound again. “Yes, that is exactly where that portrait belongs and that is exactly where we shall hang it. After we return from our honeymoon trip.”

“Our honeymoon …” she said in a soft whisper. “Spain?”

“Where else would we go?”

Charlotte gave him a seductive little smile. “Maybe Doña Yvonne could do another portrait of us?”

“What a brilliant idea….” Gavin kissed her.