Midnight Temptations With a Forbidden Lord (22 page)

“You’re a fool to believe that, to have so much faith in him merely because he is your father. He cannot protect you. He will have to choose between his political career and his daughter. Which choice do you think will win?”

She glanced away from him and pinched her lips. She hadn’t thought of that. When she looked at him again, there was a resolve in her dark blue eyes that tolerated no refusal.

“Why are you stopping me now? You’ve known all along what I have to do to secure the future I want.”

“Court me in public and gain yourself a reputation as a girl with no morals? Sleep with me and not worry about ever having to marry a man you despise?”

She opened her mouth to argue. He was right; she’d never truly thought this out.

She stood and faced him. Her chest puffed out like an angry, ruffled bird. “I admit it, I didn’t have a solid plan in place and I was going to rely upon you to help me out of my predicament.”

“What happens, Charlotte, if I bed you? Do you waltz out of my house come morning for all to see? Do we go about Town together in my carriage to start speculation that you have become my mistress? What exactly do you think happens to a woman who has fallen from the good graces of society?”

He wasn’t sure why he was growing angry. Maybe because she preferred social ruin over marriage to him. Because, really, what society woman in her right mind would choose to marry him? He mentally scoffed at that.

She covered her face with her hands, then rubbed her eyes. He was being too hard on her. But she needed to understand how dire the consequences would be if she stayed the night.

“I can’t go home, Tristan. Please, if you won’t let me stay the night, help me in another way. I have enough pin money to see me to the Continent where no one will find me. I’ll rent a room in Paris.”

Tristan shook his head and took her chin in his hand. “You’re a foolish, foolish girl.”

She pulled away from him and walked over to the banked fire, keeping her back to him and her arms crossed in front of her defensively.

“Do you have another suggestion?” she asked quietly. There was defeat in her voice, something he’d never heard from her before.

“I’ve offered once before, and I’ll offer it again: you could marry me.” She could choose to accept that fate or go home to her father and her fiancé, because he would not allow her to leave London alone.

She turned, her eyes focused on him. “You can’t be serious. My wish was to not marry at all.”

“Am I so terrible an alternative? While you and Mr. Warren have your differences, we have grown to be allies. We think a great deal alike, Charlotte.”

“You’re asking too much in this instance. What about—”

“My children? My sister? They make the idea so repugnant to you?”

“No, I didn’t mean that.”

“I think you do.” And that shouldn’t disappoint him, but the truth was, it did.

“Don’t put words in my mouth; don’t tell me how I feel.” She came toward him, a determined fire blazing in her eyes.

“I will not help you find your way to Paris. You’ll flounder on your own.”

Her nostrils flared and her jaw tightened. She had to know he was right. She wouldn’t make it a day trying to navigate in society there. Their pace was faster, their gossips more vindictive and cruel. She couldn’t possibly understand if she’d never been there before.

Her face fell as she realized the seriousness of the situation she’d put herself in. “It was not supposed to happen this way. I was to be given a year to plan an escape.”

He pulled her into his arms, needing to comfort her. “Running away will only have your father chasing you across the Continent.”

With a defeated sigh, she pressed her cheek against his chest and relaxed in his arms. One of his hands caressed her back, the other cupped the back of her head, his fingers tangled so deep in the tresses of her hair, he could feel the pins that held the arrangement in place.

She had one arm wrapped around him, her other hand resting flat over his chest, under her cheek.

“Help me find a way,” she all but begged.

“I no more want you to marry that scoundrel than you do.”

“For my sake, or do you have a personal vendetta against him?”

“He’s not a man deserving of you. He is known for leaving bastards in his wake.”

She raised her head and looked up at him. “The information men are privy to.”

“We know more than we let on.”

Her lips glistened; she’d obviously just licked them.

“I don’t want to go home. Can I stay the night with you?”

“And have you thought about what that might mean for tomorrow?”

She nodded, even though she couldn’t truly understand what she was asking. Staying the night meant he’d have to marry her come morning. Whether she agreed to that right now or not.

Despite wanting to thwart Warren at every opportunity, there was something the man had that Tristan coveted, and she was currently in his arms. Tristan wanted Charlotte for his own, and though she did not feel the same now that he’d given her friendship, and she’d accepted that all too eagerly, he still wanted to win over her affections.

“For tonight, the only thing I care about is us. Not my father or my imminent marriage if I were to go back home,” she said.

That cemented his decision. Tristan allowed his desire to rule him from there on out. He scooped her up in his arms and hastily carried her up to his private chambers. It was late enough that his children were abed, and his sister would be tucked away in her own room sound asleep.

Charlotte was all his, at least for tonight. He wasn’t sure what to make of his desire to keep her to himself, but he would analyze it tomorrow when he obtained a special license for marriage.

He pushed his chamber door closed with his shoulder and leaned there for a moment. Charlotte’s feet slid down to the floor and he helped to steady her. She looked around his room, which wasn’t overly large, but comfortable. The bed was a dark cherrywood, and the walls were papered in a moss-green diagonal pattern. There was an ivory-striped damask bench at the end of the bed, and a chaise longue under the window.

Charlotte took it all in, fingering the tassels on the bolster pillow in the corner of the bench. She didn’t face him. Was she unwilling to look him in the eye because she did not know the rules in the bedroom? He vowed he would teach her every one of them.

After clicking the lock over, he walked slowly toward the first woman to ever see the inside of his bedchamber. Though she would have no way of knowing it, Charlotte was the first woman to be invited into his private sanctuary. No woman had ever set foot in his house, and certainly not in his private rooms. This was his home, where his family lived, not a place for idle amusements.

When he stood directly behind her, he slid one hand over her abdomen and pulled her back a step so she was flush against the front of his body.

“I can still arrange to have you delivered safely home,” he whispered in her ear. “It’s not too late yet.”

She shook her head. He still wasn’t sure she understood what it meant for her to be here so he slid his hand higher, cupping her breast softly through her dress and corset. Her breath hitched, but she did not step away.

“I like you, Charlotte. I have since the first time we danced. You’re bold. Daring. A troublemaker to be sure. All admirable traits.”

Her head turned to the side, her temple brushing against his chin. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t count you among my friends.”

His hand traveled still farther up, holding her neck, keeping her head turned to the side as he kissed her cheek. She thought them merely friends … He’d show her the meaning of friendship and more.

“You understand the consequences of what we are about to do?”

“I do.”

She didn’t. She couldn’t possibly understand. He would marry her on the morrow because she was that important to him. He would have his revenge on Warren and Charlotte’s name would be protected. It was the best he could offer. And while she had refused him earlier, he would convince her otherwise over time.

His free hand released the buttons down the back of her bodice. When the last button fell loose and the bodice dropped forward on her slender frame, Charlotte pulled it from her arms and tossed it on the bench, and he worked methodically to remove her overskirt, releasing the ties individually. Charlotte’s breath hitched at each slight jerk back. With all the ties now loosened the material slid from her waist to pool on the floor at her feet. He made quick work of his vest, tossing it to the floor, and went about removing his cuff strings.

Needing to see her face and expression, he turned her around. Her gaze met his boldly. There wasn’t an ounce of trepidation or fear. She didn’t smile, nor did she frown. She just looked at him with a measure of trust that awed him. Had anyone ever given him such a look? He couldn’t recall a single person outside of his family that trusted him as thoroughly as Lady Charlotte did in this moment. He would not disappoint her; and he certainly wouldn’t give her a reason to not always look at him that way.

She held herself still for his perusal, standing proud with her chin up, unafraid of revealing herself to a man for the first time.

“It’s not too late.”

“Yes it is. I’m not going anywhere, Tristan.”

Her hands went around her hips and untied the underskirt. It dropped in increments as she released each tie in slow succession. They continued to gaze at each other as she let the soft linen swoosh to the floor to join her outer skirts.

Unabashed, she stood before him. Her corset was cinched tight, the flare of her hips and the curve of her breasts making her shape a perfect hourglass. The strings on her corset wrapped around her waist and tied at the front. He reached for them, pulling one of the tied hoops until it unraveled from its knot. She didn’t flinch or try to hold the corset from opening ever so slightly.

“Turn around,” he said.

She did so without hesitation. Because he wanted to enjoy undressing her to the fullest, he slowly threaded his finger around the middle strings and pulled. The corset loosened enough at the back so that he could squeeze the two ends of the busk together to remove the waist-cinching contraption. It was on the floor with the rest of her clothes in the next moment. Nothing but a chemise, pantalettes, and stockings stood between him and her naked skin. His mouth watered to taste her bare flesh.

As she turned, his hands slid from their hold about her hips, went around her back and stomach and then to her hips once more.

“You can still save your reputation and let me take you home. No one will ever know you were here. Only Dixon knows you arrived through the kitchen, everyone else is abed.” He needed her to be one hundred percent sure that this was what she wanted. Because come morning, she would become the lady of Castleigh. There was no way around that ending.

Shaking her head, she said huskily, “What comes next?”

He pulled his shirt from his trousers and lifted it over his head so he could toss that on the floor, too. “Whatever you like,” he responded.

She sucked in her bottom lip, and her gaze dropped to his naked chest.

Taking one of her hands, he pressed her flattened palm over his chest. “Touch me if you like,” he offered.

She looked into his eyes once again. “Will you do the same?”

“Yes.”

Her breath hitched as he cupped her breast through the cambric. Her nipple was distended, and her pulse raced so that he could feel the strong beat of her heart where his thumb rested on her chest.

Her eyes closed as he brought her nearer with his free hand at the base of her spine. “I want you naked, your heated skin pressed against me.”

Her mouth parted, her palm slid higher until it reached his bare neck. “Then strip us bare,” she said just as her mouth met his.

She kissed him slowly, her lips pulling gently at his as their breaths mingled and their bodies came together chest to chest.

The soft give of her breasts against him had him fully hardened in but a second. He needed to have her so badly, yet he also wanted to spend the whole night learning every inch of her body.

Grabbing her buttocks in each of his hands, he tilted her enough that her core rubbed against the steel-hard length of his erection as he thrust his tongue inside her mouth. He almost wished he were already inside her, making her delirious with pleasure. But this would be her first time, and he didn’t intend it to end too soon.

She caressed the length of his back, stopping just at the edge of his trousers. He swooped her up into his arms again and strode purposefully toward his bed. He pulled away from their kiss long enough to sit her on the edge of his bed and rid her of her pantalettes and stockings. Her chemise he left on, wanting to watch her take it off as she’d watched him remove his shirt. He released the buttons on his trousers and loosened them from his hips, but stopped from removing them altogether. He never wore underclothes, and he wasn’t sure what Charlotte would make of his jutting erection.

He dropped his hands to his sides, and in a rusty voice thick with ardor said, “Take your chemise off.”

*   *   *

Charlotte had never wanted anything as badly as she wanted to please the marquess. When she’d asked to stay the night, she’d known it would be her ruin. She’d known that she would never be able to go home and be the innocent daughter again. She should care more about her reputation. A woman’s status in society was based on her actions. But when she looked at the marquess, his eyes blazing with desire for her, she could only think about the here and now.