The Runaway Duchess (19 page)

“No,”
he said hoarsely. He wanted to say more. He wanted to tell her how beautiful
she was. He wanted to let her know how much he ached for her. How he had always
ached for her. But he couldn’t, because words were impossible. There was only
touch and taste and taking. Nothing more. Nothing less.

She
writhed against him as he suckled one breast, then the other. Her breaths came
in short little pants of delight that only served to heighten his desire. When
her fingers plucked inexpertly at the stays of his breeches he lifted his hips
off the lounge and helped her, taking secret pleasure when his cock sprang free
and her eyes widened.

“Oh,”
she said. “
Oh
.”

Gently
guiding her hand, he wrapped it around the hard, pulsing length of him and
closed her fingers. “Touch me.”

Her
eyebrows knitted together and she bit her bottom lip in concentration as she
allowed her fingers to wander across every inch of him, from the thick base to
the rounded tip already damp with his seed. He sucked in a breath when her
thumb circled the swollen head and her eyes flew to his. “Does it hurt?”

“It
feels like bloody heaven.”

“Will
it… Will it hurt me?” she asked hesitantly.

“It
will. At first, it will.” And there was nothing on earth he wouldn’t give up to
take that pain away.

She
nodded, just once. “Thank you.”

His
forehead creased. “For what?”

“Being
honest with me.”

Emotion
swept over Gavin like a wave and he stiffened, automatically tensing to fight
against something he did not understand. But Charlotte was there to soothe him,
and when she gave a teasing, testing rock of her body against his and he felt
the wetness of her entrance against his cock everything else was forgotten.

He
allowed her to establish the rhythm between them. She did so in degrees, her
fingers curling and tightening in his hair as she took him inside of her inch
by slippery inch.

Seeking
to distract her from the pain of her virginity he kissed her cheek, her jaw,
her ear, her lips. When her movements became more frantic he stroked his hand
down the sleek curve of her spine to calm her, but when she took his entire
length with one hard thrust of her hips he became just as frantic as she.

Together
they moved as one, their bodies sliding and merging, their breaths soft and
panting, their eyes glazed with lust and passion.

Instinctively
sensing when Charlotte was near her release Gavin guided her over the edge with
the aid of his fingers and she sobbed his name into his neck as he quickened
his thrusts and mindlessly spent his seed inside of her with a guttural shout
of his own.

She
collapsed on top of his chest and he held her against him, combing back her
hair as he felt her heartbeat slow and her breathing steady. For a long moment
they remained entangled in each other’s arms, absorbing what had just occurred
and reveling in the sweet aftermath. Of their own accord Gavin’s eyes slid
closed, only to open again when he felt Charlotte stir.

She
sat up on one elbow. Her cheeks were blooming with color. Her eyes sparkled.
She smiled at him and he could not help but smile in response, for she had
never looked so beautiful, nor quite so pleased with herself as she now. “Well,
she said, arching one brow, “that is certainly one way to start your morning.”

Gavin
could not agree more.  

CHAPTER NINETEEN

If
someone had dared to ask Charlotte where she imagined losing her virginity, she
would not have immediately answered with on top of a chaise lounge. However,
having done the deed (so to speak) on exactly that, she had no complaints.

If
her neck was a bit stiff and the area between her legs sore, well, it was a
small price to pay for the mind numbing pleasure she had received.

For
one long, luxurious moment she allowed herself to nestle in the nook provided
to her by Gavin’s chest and shoulder, inhaling his scent and listening to the
steady
thump thump thump
of his heart. His fingers combed through her
tangled curls and she wanted to stretch like a cat into his touch, complete
with a bit of purring.

Lifting
her chin, she smiled at him and reached out to absently trace the corner of his
jaw. He had grown more than few days’ worth of stubble since she saw him last,
but she found the dark scruff of beard becoming. “That was wonderful.”

He
stared at point on the wall several feet above her head. “Yes.”

“Yes?”
Her nose wrinkled. “Is that all you have to say?”

“If
you wanted sonnets sung and poetry recited you should have tupped a different
man,” he said crudely. “
Yes
is all you’ll get from the likes of me.”

“I
didn’t… I wasn’t… Oh!” She exclaimed in frustration. Sitting up, ignoring the
slight pings and pulls in her muscles, she fetched her nightgown from the
floor, slipped it on, and jumped to her feet.

Her
hair billowed out around her shoulders, a chaotic curly mess that would no
doubt take Tabitha hours to tame. Gavin remained stretched out on the lounge
with no care for his nudeness.

He
watched her silently, his gray eyes shuttered and unreadable, and she wanted to
scream. Instead she wound her arms tightly across her chest to hold in the
emotions that were threatening to boil over and said, “I guess this changes
nothing between us, then.”

“Should
it?” His face was as cold and hard as stone.

Where
was the man who had just held her so tenderly? The man who had coaxed such mind
numbing pleasure from her body? How could he be that man one moment, and this
one the next? She wanted to take him by the shoulders and shake some sense into
him, but that would most likely only serve to hurt her arms, block headed man
that he was. “I do not understand you. Why can you not let yourself be happy?”

“I
am happy,” he countered, but Charlotte only shook her head.

“No
you’re not. Happiness is the one thing that cannot be bought and measured. You
cannot purchase it as you would a carriage or a house. It must from within,
from your heart and your soul.”

Gavin’s
jaw clenched. “Are you happy?”

“I
could be,” she said after she took a moment to ponder the question. “Yes,” she
decided with a firm nod, “I very well could be. But not like this. I feel like
a bit of rope being tugged back and forth and I fear I am beginning to fray at
the ends.”

“Do
not be ridiculous,” he scoffed. “You’re not a piece of rope. You’re a woman.”

“Precisely.
A woman with hopes and dreams. A woman with
feelings
.” She bit her lip. “Don’t
you feel things, Gavin? Joy, sadness, lov-lust.” She always said ‘love’, but
swallowed back the word at the last possible second.

Gavin
sat up and yanked on his breeches. “This is why I did not want this to happen,”
he muttered, gesturing vaguely towards the lounge before resting his elbows on
his knees and directing his gaze to the floorboards. “It complicates things
that have no business being complicated.”

“A
marriage is
supposed
to be complicated!” Charlotte cried.

“No,”
he said stubbornly, “it is not.”

“Then
what is it supposed to be if not complicated and messy and wonderful?” She
crouched down in front of him and rested her hands on his knees, squeezing fast
until he lifted his head and looked at her. “You have worked hard all of your
life and look at what you have now. Imagine if you put even half of that effort
into a marriage. Into
our
marriage. We could be wonderful together,
Gavin. I know it.”
Please
, she thought desperately,
please let him
see
.

For
a moment, she thought he did. For a moment, something in his eyes shifted and
lightened. For a moment, he looked at her with affection. For a moment, she
felt loved. Then the moment was gone and he was staring past her as if she did
not exist at all.

“If
you would excuse me, I have to get dressed. I have meetings to attend.” He
stood up, brushing her aside as though she were nothing more than a bothersome
gnat.

“Gavin,
wait.” She clung to his arm, forcing him to drag her with him as he moved about
the study to collect his things. “If you would simply listen to me—”

He
stopped so abruptly she stumbled. Closing his hands around her waist he lifted
her off the ground as if she weighed no more than a bag of feather down and set
her firmly to the side. “You are asking for something I cannot give you. That I
do not physically have inside of me to give you.” He hissed out a breath and
swept a hand through his hair. “I know what you want. I know what you are
asking. Despite my lack of education, I am not a stupid man, Charlotte.”

Her
eyes widened. “I never said—”

“I
have meetings. I will see you later this evening.”

Stunned
into speechlessness, she watched him leave the study.

He
did not look back.

A
few hours later, bathed and dressed in a violet muslin frock with her hair
properly arranged in a tight coiffure, Charlotte prepared to call on Dianna.
She had been unusually quiet since her encounter (a good a word to use as any)
with Gavin, and not even Tabitha’s sunny chatter could bring her up from the
deep melancholy she had sunken into.

She
had all but pleaded with Gavin on her knees. It was humiliating.

I
am not a stupid man, Charlotte.

She
certainly begged to differ.

Gavin
may have been a genius when it came to making money, but he was a fool when it
came to women. A great brainless boar of a fool and she was done with him
completely. Except she wasn’t. How could she be? Even now, when she had every
right to hate him, she could barely summon up a trace of annoyance. It was
herself
she was angry with. She knew it would take time to bring Gavin around and
make him realize he needed her every bit as much as she needed him. Yet what
did she do? All but pounce on the poor man her first morning back. Pounce on
him and then want a declaration of his undying love.

Perhaps
she
was the stupid one.

The
ride to Dianna’s townhouse was mercifully short, giving Charlotte little time
to dwell on Gavin. Telling the driver to come around again in an hour, she
walked briskly up the stone pathway to the Foxcroft’s front door, but before
she could so much as raise her hand to knock the door swung open and Dianna
darted out, already wearing a white shawl and matching bonnet that covered her
curls and tipped low over her brow.

“Hurry,”
she hissed, taking Charlotte’s arm and dragging her back down the steps. “We
have to go before Mother sees it is you.”

“What
do you mean, she sees it is me? Who else would it be?”

“Dianna,
is that you, dear?” Lady Foxcroft’s high pitched voice carried easily out the
door and Dianna visibly winced.

“Yes
Mother! Miss Felicia is here. We were just heading out.”

“Is
her maid with her? You know you need a chaperone.”

Dianna
glanced at Charlotte and raised one inquiring brow. Charlotte shrugged and shook
her head.

Tabitha
had remained at Shire House to begin unpacking the trunks. Now that Charlotte
was married
she
was an acceptable chaperone, something Dianna could have
told her mother
if
she was telling Lady Foxcroft the truth, which it
seemed she was not.

“Dianna,
what in the world—”

“Hush!”
Motioning for Charlotte to stay put, Dianna rushed back up the steps and
reappeared a few moments later, looking quite flush in the cheeks. “Come along,
before she sees you are not Felicia.”

Charlotte
allowed Dianna to pull her across the street and into Hyde Park. They turned
onto a secluded walking path lined with trees, one they had used many times
before when they wanted to speak in utmost secrecy, and the moment they were
out of sight of the long row of townhomes Charlotte dug in her heels and
refused to take another step.

“Tell
me what all of that was about. Now,” she demanded when Dianna hesitated.

Her
blue eyes luminous and filled with worry beneath the curved brim of her bonnet,
Dianna twisted her hands together and cried, “Where have you
been
? I’ve
been worried sick that something awful happened to you. I thought you were
going to marry Mr. Graystone and come right back to London! Oh, you did marry
him, didn’t you? Please tell me you did.”

Yanking
off the glove on her left hand, Charlotte waved her fingers in the air,
catching the dappled sunlight off her plain gold wedding band. “Yes, Gavin and
I are married. We wed at Gretna Green, just as I told you we would. What is all
this about? I am sorry I was not back earlier, but there was a carriage
accident and then the road was closed and
would you please stop pacing
?
You are making me dizzy.”

Dianna
stopped walking, but she could not keep her hands still. They fluttered in the
air as she spoke, punctuating each word with little flickers of movement that
betrayed how upset she truly was. “It is an all the penny papers. Miss Tinshaw
has been writing about it almost exclusively. She’s calling you… Oh, it’s
awful! I can’t say it.” She shook her head so vehemently a curl sprang loose.
“I simply can’t.”

Miss
Tinshaw was the anonymous author behind a gossip column that ran daily in
London’s largest newspaper. Charlotte had never paid the column much mind, but
she knew for most ladies (and some gentleman) of the
ton
it was more
important to them than the news. Real names were never used, but they were
always insinuated and half the fun was in guessing whom all the chatter was
about.

She
assumed when her marriage to Gavin became public knowledge it might garner a
small paragraph in the notorious column; she never imagined it would gain
enough attention to earn her own pseudonym. Knowing Miss Tinshaw could be quite
cruel when she wanted to be, she inwardly braced herself and said, “Tell me.” 

Dianna
drew a deep, trembling breath. “She is calling you… ‘The Runaway Duchess’.”

“I
quite like the sound of that,” Charlotte decided after she took a moment to
think it over. She slipped her glove back on and scratched the tip of her nose.
“It makes it all seem so exciting.”

“Exciting?”
Dianna said incredulously. “
Exciting
?! Charlotte, you are in danger of
becoming a social pariah! Half of London believes you have run off with a
stable hand and the other half fear you are dead! The duke has put out a reward
for anyone who has knowledge of your whereabouts and your mother has already
come to call on me a dozen times. A dozen times!”

“I
am so sorry. I never meant to drag you into the middle of it all. Did you tell
her anything?”

“Of
course not.” Dianna looked offended that Charlotte would even ask. “I simply
kept repeating what we agreed upon before you left: that you spent the night
with me, but you left first thing in the morning and I have not heard from you
since. Which is true, you know.” Her eyes narrowed. “A letter would have been
nice.”

“I
sent one, but the post is not the most reliable in Scotland. Or the roads, for
that matter,” she mumbled. “If it makes you feel any better, you are the first
person I have called upon since my return.”

Dianna
lifted her nose in the air. “I had better be.”

They
began walking again, arm in arm this time. Birds fluttered overhead, hopping
from branch to branch and filling the air with their chirping symphony. From
somewhere in the distance came the echo of hoof beats and a muffled shout of
laughter; no doubt some young rapscallion racing too fast down the lane.

After
spending so much time in Scotland, Charlotte found the city crowded and
overwhelming in comparison. Everything seemed louder and faster. The
temperature was hotter, the soot filled air more difficult to breath. One day
in here and she was already yearning fro the clear blue skies of the country.
Part of her wished she and Gavin could have stayed in Scotland forever, where
their problems did not seem like real problems and they could forget the rest
of the world existed.

Now
they were further apart than they’d ever been, she still had to summon the
courage to tell her mother she was married, and apparently she also had to
invent some wild tale to satisfy the curiosity of the
ton
in order to
prevent herself from being shunned by high society. She sighed. Could nothing
in her life ever be simple?

As
if Dianna could read her thoughts – which Charlotte often thought she could –
the blond tilted her head to the side and asked, “What are you going to tell
your mother?”

“The
truth, I suppose.”

“And
the duke?”

Charlotte’s
shoulders stiffened. “I do not owe him one word of explanation.”

“No,”
Dianna allowed, “you do not. But what you owe him and what he wants are two
entirely different things. He has been like a mad man these past two weeks.
Attending nearly every ball in hopes of seeing you, questioning everyone in
sight, and putting out one outrageous award after another.”