Noble Destiny (21 page)

Life, Dare decided as his wife turned eyes wide with pain and disbelief upon him, could not get much worse if it tried.

Charlotte sat huddled in her bedchamber, staring with unseeing eyes at the fire burning in the grate.

She
wasn't a countess anymore.

The events of the day played through her head with the regularity of the clockwork bird she had been given for her seventh birthday. The beauty and joy of Patricia's wedding, the tedium and trial of the wedding breakfast, Matthew's arrival and subsequent pronouncement, the agonizing hour that followed, during which she had to stand before the knowing eyes of the
ton
, stripped of everything that mattered to her, the embarrassment and shame so great it was almost unbearable, and finally, the relief of seeing Patricia and her new husband off so she could return home and crumple up in despair.

She
wasn't a countess anymore.

The fire cracked and popped just as it always did, as if nothing significant had happened, and yet Charlotte felt as if the world had tipped upside down. It was as if life had suddenly become a series of disjointed events, related, but not connected with one another, familiar and yet strange. She was still Charlotte, but she was no longer who she thought she was. She was a wife, but in name only. She had been the daughter of an earl, the sister of an earl, the wife of an earl, but now her brother told her that she was simply Mrs. McGregor, an impoverished gentleman's spouse, and one she knew was not even particularly wanted or needed.

She
wasn't a countess anymore.

What was Dare going to do? What was
she
going to do? How was she to settle into her life now that everything she had wanted and needed and planned for had been stripped from her? First the security of wealth, then her position in Society, and lastly the prestige of Dare's title…all she had left was Dare himself. And although she knew he loved her, it was a grudging love, a love he felt much against his will. He hadn't wanted to marry her at all.

Suddenly it was all too much for her. “How am I supposed to face this?” she sobbed.

“At my side,” a warm voice answered her. Dare stood in the doorway to his room, his dressing gown tied loosely around his waist. “With that obstinate chin of yours held high and a smile on your luscious lips. Together we'll face the future, Charlotte. Together we can do anything.”

She shook her head, defeat battling with the hope his words stirred within her. “You're not an earl anymore. I'm not a countess.”

“No, but you're still my wife.” He came into the room and knelt at her feet, bending his head over her hands to press kisses along the back of them. The brush of his hair against her skin started a familiar fire deep within her. His eyes when he looked up at her seemed to burn with the same fire. “You still have me. I am the same person I was. I flatter myself to think that it was me you wanted, not an empty title. Am I wrong?”

Charlotte looked deep into eyes darkened to indigo, and thought about what he asked, really thought about it. Had she married him just for the title? There were other titled men she knew she could have cozened into marrying her, but none so handsome as Dare…but no, that was appearance, and she knew now what he had meant about looking beyond the surface. The truth was that there were no other men who made her feel as Dare did, none who interested and challenged her, none whose touch left her breathless and excited and wanting more. She pulled one of her hands from his and placed her palm against his cheek. Tiny golden whiskers tickled her fingers as she drew them along the line of his jaw. “No, I didn't marry you for the title. I wanted you.”

The muscles in his jaw flexed under her fingers as he turned his head slightly, just enough so her fingers grazed his lips. He opened his mouth slightly and swirled his tongue around the tip of the finger that sank inward. The touch of his mouth on her skin seemed to have the most amazing effect on her womanly parts—they suddenly clamored for attention as heat pooled low within her. She pulled her other hand free and slid her fingers through the silk of his hair, recognizing that something was building inside her, some awareness that was just out of sight, something momentous that began to blossom deep in her soul. She tipped her head down until her lips were almost touching his, until she could feel his breath upon her mouth. The pressure inside her built higher until, just as her lips brushed against his, the knowledge burst upon her like a glorious ray of sunlight in a black abyss.

She
loved
him.
She loved him with all her heart and soul, with every ounce of her being, with every breath drawn into her body, she loved him! Tears spilled down her cheeks as she smiled against his lips, wanting to shout her love for him from the highest mountaintop.

“I'm so sorry, so very sorry about this, Charlotte,” he said softly, brushing the tears from her face, pain flickering across his handsome face.

“I know you are,” she whispered, sliding off the chair into his arms, her smile growing at the look of surprise in his eyes. “I love you, Dare. Isn't it amazing? I didn't think it would work so quickly, but it did, because I knew just a moment ago that I love you. I really love you. Don't you find it wondrous and astonishing that I feel this way? I do. I find it completely bemusing, but do you know, just now I realized that I loved you, even though that horrible man says you're not an earl anymore, not that I believe him—he's obviously a pretender to your title, a rogue and a scoundrel, because if anyone was meant to be an earl, you were—but still, that I could love you even
thinking
you might possibly not be an earl is so amazing, I am speechless, completely and utterly speechless.”

Dare stared at her for a moment, then threw back his head and laughed, tipping over backwards until he was lying on his back before the fire, Charlotte draped over his chest, smiling down into his handsome face.

“You never fail me, wife. Just when I think at last I know what to expect from you, you succeed in pulling the rug out from beneath me.”

“Don't be silly.” Charlotte smiled, then kissed his chin, her heart joyous and happy at the sight of her husband laughing, warm with the knowledge that the love potion worked. She was in love! “I quite like this rug. I would never abuse it in such a fashion.”

“Do you mean it?” Dare asked the moment his lips released hers.

“Yes,” she breathed, her eyes lit with passion and love. She traced a finger down the opening of his dressing gown, exposing the length of his chest, reveling in the feeling of his warm flesh beneath her fingers, breathing deeply to fill her lungs with his wonderful scent. With an impatient noise, she pushed the dressing gown off his shoulders, then bent her head so she could press kisses along his collarbone. “Yes, I do mean it. It's my very favorite rug.”

Dare chuckled as he pulled her close to his chest, then rolled over until she was pinned beneath him. “That's not what I meant, wife, and you know it.”

She allowed her dimples to peek out at him. “Oh, you meant that other thing? The bit about my being in love with you? Yes, I meant that as well. Truly, it is a miracle, though.”

His head dipped to taste that very sensitive spot behind her ear. Pleasure rippled through her at the touch of his lips.

“It is a miracle because I failed to give you what you wanted from me?”

“No.” She tugged on his hair until he looked up. “You gave me what I wanted—a handsome husband, a return to the
ton
, consequence and position. It's not your fault that evil man devised a plan to try to take it all away from us. The miracle I refer to has to do with the fact that I was beginning to think my mind was slightly defective, and that I was unable to love, but I know now that such thoughts are sheer foolishness. My mind is just as strong now as it has ever been, which is a great relief to me, as I was unclear how I was to correct the defect and make it more to your liking.”

Dare smiled down at her, one hand brushing a strand of hair back from her forehead. “Your mind is utterly unique, Charlotte, and I wouldn't want it to change one iota.”

She stared up at him, silent, watching him as he watched her, extremely aware of the fact that his bare upper body was pressed against her upper body, his arms braced along either side of her head, his mouth, that wonderful mouth, only a few inches from hers. His head dropped slightly until his lips were brushing against hers.

“Wife, I think we would be more comfortable if we were to continue this in your bed.”

“Oh?” Hope, desire, love, passion—the emotions surging to life in her were too numerous to be separated and named. “You are tired? You wish to sleep?”

His lips were sweet as honey upon hers. “No, I'm not tired, and I do not wish to sleep. I wish to make love to my wife.”

Charlotte blew out a little breath of anticipation. “Are you sure? You were most adamant the other day—”

“I'm sure,” he said, his voice husky with desire. “But what of you? Do you still want me? Can you want a husband who has failed so dismally to provide for you?”

“Yes,” she said, unable to deny the need in his eyes, not that she had ever wanted to. “I have wanted you for the longest time, Dare. There are many connubial calisthenics that I would very much enjoy trying with you, especially the Montezuma's Pyramid, although I must say, the Hanging Gardens of Babylonia has much appeal to it, despite the fact that it looks quite involved what with the silken ropes and all, and I don't quite understand how the feathers come into play, nor the grapes for that matter, but I am convinced that we would find the exercise amusing—”

Dare laughed as he got to his feet, scooping her into his arms and carrying her to the bed. “I believe we'll leave Montezuma and Babylonia for another day. Right now I have in mind the desire to pay homage to my sweet wife in the best way I know how, without silken ropes or grapes or intricate positions.”

“It Italy, it is said the most amazing things can be done with goat's cheese—”

The words stopped with a gasp as Dare ripped her night rail from her body. She stood beside the bed, naked, exposed, all her flesh there for him to see, gilded by the firelight…and suddenly, it didn't seem like such a shocking thing. She had never really thought much about her body: it was always there, it made her clothing hang well, and other than Crouch's slur against her backside getting broad, she had not paid it much attention. Now, however, her body seemed a wondrous thing, at least it was with her husband standing next to her, his eyes almost bulging out of his head as he looked at her. Her breasts were heavy and aching, her womanly parts were flushed, her skin, wherever Dare's gaze flitted, was sensitive and craved his touch. She leaned into him, almost purring as she rubbed her body against his, thrilled by the heat flaring in his eyes.

Suddenly, she wanted to see the rest of him, the parts that were covered by the lower half of his dressing gown.
The
interesting
parts.

“I think the polite thing would be for you to return the favor,” she suggested, her hands on the tie of his dressing gown.

“
Gark
,” he said, his gaze still caressing her flesh. He looked rather stunned and made no move to remove his own clothes, so she pulled the tie free and with a rustle of silk against manly flesh, the garment fell to his feet.

“Oh, yes,
gark
indeed!” she breathed, suddenly understanding why her body had held him so mesmerized. He was so beautiful, the sight of his golden skin brought tears to her eyes. He was all hard lines, sculpted muscles, and great sweeps of taut flesh that called to her, begged her to touch him, pleaded with her to stroke her hands along every bulge and valley and long line of muscle. “You are so handsome, Dare, so very—oh, my, will you just look at that, surely it must be painful to be in that sort of a state—and then there's your chest! And your stomach! I have to say, husband, your stomach is a thing of beauty. You're just like one of those broken statues Lord Elgin brought from Greece, only you are much, much nicer to look at. Is your backside as nice as I remember—oh, it is! It's perfectly lovely, too! Might I touch it? Might I—hoo! How do you do that? What amazing muscle control you have. What do you think would happen were I to touch you right here—”

Charlotte, who had been happily frolicking in a land made up solely of a naked Dare, suddenly found herself on her back, sinking into the cool bed linens as her husband covered her front.

“Char,” he growled, his mouth hovering over hers. She arched her back so that her nipples rubbed against the soft hair of his chest. “Are you planning on narrating the events of this entire evening?”

“Vyvyan La Blue says that communication during connubial calisthenics can enhance the experience for both husband and wife, and as I wish to please you in all ways, not just with my body, but with my mind, as well, because, you know, my cousin Gillian says her husband—Lord Weston, you do remember him, you tried to kill him once or twice—Gillian says that Noble enjoys her mind almost as much as more earthly pleasures, although she didn't really specify just what earthly pleasures she meant, but I assume she meant those of a calisthenic nature, so yes, the answer to your question is that for your pleasure I am planning on narra—oh dear God in heaven!”

Dare effectively stopped his wife's babble with the simple act of taking her nipple in his mouth. She was silken fire, she was satin heat, she had the softest skin that burned like a fire in his blood. He was harder than he thought humanly possible. He wanted her so much he could almost cry with joy over knowing she was his, and she was here, and she loved him. His body shook with the need to bury himself deep into her heat, but he was a gentleman, and she was his wife, his beloved, the woman who would share his life. He owed it to her delicate sensibilities to gently prepare her for the intrusion of his body into hers; he must make sure she was well pleasured and physically aroused before she could receive him. He had to bring her gradually to the point of ecstasy so that she, too, would experience the greatest act man and woman could perform together.