Noble Destiny (14 page)

The cool softness of his hair brushed over her sensitive nipples as he traveled downward, his mouth hot on the underside of her breast, her mind fracturing even more when he took one breast in his hand while the other was laved in tightening circles of kisses, all while his fingers stroked a line up her thigh to the spot she ached for him to touch.

“Dare!” she groaned, her body moving of its own volition now. She felt as if she were floating in a sea of heat, flames licking at her, matched by the inferno he started so deep within her that her body wept tears of passion for him. “Please. Please.”

Dare hovered over her, his head dipping in the valley between her breasts. She clutched his shoulders, wanting him, needing him, desperate to feel his hard body pressing into hers.

“Please what, love? Tell me what you want. Tell me what you like.” His voice rasped along her heated flesh as his mouth closed over the hard, aching nipple at the same time his fingers found her sensitive folds. She heard his words, but they didn't make sense, nothing made sense, nothing but the feeling of his mouth and hands and the silky heat of his skin under her fingers. She arched beneath him, sobbing with desperation to feel him against her, but he slid down her body, pausing just long enough to suckle her other breast before kissing a hot, wet path down her belly.

“Dare! You can't stop! You can't leave me like this!”

His fingers stopped the delightful dance they were doing on her soft, sensitive parts, leaving her bereft, frustrated, wound so tight she was certain she would splinter into a thousand sharp pieces. “Dare!”

His hands were bold on her hips as he nipped her belly and looked up, grinning as he slid his hands down to part her legs wider. “Don't worry, love. I won't leave you. Not just yet.”

“But…but…” Her eyes rolled back in her head as his head dipped down to her belly, suckling a trail of heat that led straight to the focus of all her desire. “This has got to be sinful,” she whispered, clutching handfuls of the bed linens as his breath scorched the outer edges of the needful center of her being. “I'm going to go to hell for this, I just know it. But oh, Lord, I don't care! Don't stop, please don't stop!”

His hair was the smoothest silk against her skin as his mouth possessed her in a way she had never dreamed possible. He was fire, he was lightning, he was quicksilver inside her, and she was dying, but oh, what a sweet death. She was no longer in any doubt that his tongue was the very best part of him as it worked magic on her sensitive, swollen flesh, touching her, teasing her, suckling her until she thought she would burn up in a bonfire of sensation. She had no idea she could burn hotter, but the minute his finger slid deep into her heat she blazed in a flame that was surely going to incinerate them both. She heard a voice sobbing his name and knew it was her own, but could think of nothing but the bright, blinding moment of pure rapture as it exploded within her.

Dare heard his name ring loud in his ears as she tightened around his fingers, her body shaking with the power of her orgasm. He pressed his face into her belly as she trembled, the need to plunge into her so strong he was nearly weeping. He hung on to his resolution by the merest thread, his body shuddering as it warred with his mind, his flesh crying out for the fulfillment it so desperately needed. He hadn't intended on going so far, of giving her so much of himself, but he could not stop, not when she tasted so sweet. He lay there for long minutes, his breath ragged as tears seeped from eyes closed tight, damply spreading on Charlotte's belly, his fingers holding firmly to her hips.

He left her where she lay, sleeping, warm and soft, her flesh beckoning and calling to him with a glow that crept into his heart and soul. He covered her, standing for a long time next to the bed, admiring the picture she made in the golden candlelight with her lips swollen from his kisses, and tears of joy still staining her cheeks. The tears were salty on his tongue; her skin was pure and sweet and tasted of something that was wholly Charlotte.

He left her, walking stiffly through the connecting door to her bedchamber, looking with abhorrence at the dark, cold bed. His body was tight and hard and hurting with a pain he didn't know was possible without a physical wound.

“Hell,” he sighed, giving up the battle and climbing into the bed. He glared at his hand. It wasn't what his body clamored for and it wouldn't really satisfy him, but it might give him enough relief to allow him to sleep. He wrapped his long fingers around the aching length of his need, and prayed it wouldn't take Charlotte long to fall in love with him.

“I just hope I don't grow hair on my palms. I'd have a hell of a time explaining
that
.”

***

“Alasdair, you're being unreasonable.”

“I'm not being unreasonable, I'm being practical, and my name is Dare. I know you can say it; you did last night.”

Charlotte opened her eyes very wide and sent him a scathing look. “That was a special circumstance.” The thought of just how special the circumstance was had her heart quickening and various parts of her body quivering in remembrance. She couldn't believe how the mere touch of his hands and mouth had transported her, but transport her they did, to some place she had never visited but was determined to visit again. Frequently. That very night. She eyed Dare speculatively. Afternoon was a good time, too.

“Be that as it may, I would like to point out that I've spoken to you several times now regarding the necessity of economizing, and regretfully, purchasing a new wardrobe does not fall under that heading.”

“Dare, if you were to give Charlotte my dowry, she could buy—” Patricia started to say, but stopped when her brother glared across the sunny breakfast table at her. She busied herself with buttering a muffin.

Charlotte sent an appreciative smile to her sister-in-law, then turned the smile to a frown for her husband as she reached for the pot of chocolate. “Yes, you have mentioned that bit of ridiculousness frequently. You may rest assured you have made your point.”

“Good,” Dare said, turning his attention back to his plate of ham.

“Therefore, you may now give me what I want secure in the knowledge that you have done your part in protesting that you have no money with which to clothe my back, and authorize a visit to Mme. Terwilliger's. She is the latest crack in modistes,” Charlotte told Patricia in a confidential tone.

Dare dropped his fork and stared openmouthed at his wife. “Charlotte, I am not playing a game with you.”

“Well, no, of course you're not. It's not quite a game, it's more…” Charlotte waved a buttery knife. “…more a role. You protest you have no money, I pretend to believe you, then you give me what I want and everyone is happy.”

Dare was shaking his head even before she finished her sentence. “Charlotte, I am not playing a role. I am not lying to you. I am not misrepresenting the truth. I am being honest, completely and utterly honest when I say that I do not have the money to pay for a new gown, let alone a whole wardrobe. I'm sorry to be blunt, but it's imperative you understand me once and for all. I…have…no…fortune.”

Charlotte looked from her husband's tense jaw and glinting sapphire eyes to her sister-in-law. Patricia was nodding, her face twisted in sympathy. Charlotte felt a cold, clammy feeling in her midsection, as if someone had dropped a bowl of blancmange on her.

They couldn't be serious, could they? No money? Dare had no money? But that was ridiculous. He was an earl, and everyone knew earls inherited fortunes with their titles.

“No fortune?”

He shook his head.

“Nothing?”

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Nothing.”

She looked down at her plate of ham and potatoes, then back up to her husband, her mind too benumbed to take it all in. Nothing? “How can that be? How can you inherit a title but not a fortune? I don't understand! You're not just pinch-paring?”

Sadness, regret, and guilt flickered across Dare's handsome face. Ire that had built up under his outrageous claims thinned when she saw the last. Perhaps he had been telling her the truth when he said he hadn't wanted to marry her because he couldn't support her. Perhaps he truly hadn't wanted to marry her. She quickly pushed away that horrible thought. Even if it was true, they were wed, and he would soon learn that she was an excellent wife, ideally suited to him, just as he was to her.

“I wish it were that simple, Charlotte. I inherited the title, true, but I also inherited my uncle's debts, a great many debts, which I am honor bound to cover. Our only hope of financial security lies in my success with the steam engine.”

“That's where David comes in,” Patricia added. “If Dare can sell his engine to David's uncle Edward, Dare will be able to pay off the debts.”

Dare nodded. “With enough left over to begin recovering the estates. It will take time, but I'm confident that with hard work on all our parts, we'll see it through without too much damage.”

“I don't wish to work hard and be damaged,” Charlotte cried. “I wish to have a new gown for Patricia's wedding!”

Dare pushed his plate away and rubbed at his forehead. “Can't you wear the gown you wore for our wedding?”

She stared at him in horror. “And have people see me in the same gown twice in one week? I think not!”

“It's a lovely gown, Charlotte,” Patricia said quickly. “I'm sure no one would think any less of you for wearing it at my wedding as well. I think it's rather romantic, actually.”

Charlotte glared at her, but transferred her glare to her husband when he added, “I doubt if anyone from our wedding will be in attendance at Patricia's, unless she's added Messrs. Rosencrantz and Windlestop's circus to the invitation list.”

“No, indeed, I haven't. So you see, Charlotte, you will have nothing to worry about. You may wear your lovely gown and no one will know.”

“I will know,” Charlotte muttered to her breakfast. She looked up in time to see the pain in Dare's eyes before he threw down his cloth and pushed back from the table, making his excuses as he strode out of the room. Charlotte half rose in her chair, prepared to apologize for her comment, ashamed that he should see her acting like a petulant child, but he escaped before she could say anything. She sat back down, frowning. It wasn't fair. It just was not fair. How was she to know Dare hadn't any money? He looked just like every other rake in the
ton
, well-dressed but careless with his clothes, an air of noble negligence clinging to him just as it clung to every other family of blue blood. It was only the upstarts, the new money, the mushrooms who flaunted their wealth. How was she to know Dare really was on his uppers?

“If I'd have known that from the beginning…” she threatened, then stopped.

“If you'd have known what?” Patricia asked.

“Nothing.” Charlotte sighed, unable to lie to herself. She had always wanted Dare, wanted him before she was married to Antonio, and wanted him a hundred times more after she returned to England. For a moment the visions of lavish balls and a dazzling wardrobe shone brightly in her mind. Then the warm, intimate memory of the evening past returned. Clothes and balls were, she thought with some surprise, only
things
. There was joy to be had in them, true, but the taste of bliss she had found with Dare filled her with a strange yearning for something more, something that went beyond the pleasure a pretty gown provided. Regretfully, she tucked away her dreams and braced herself to face reality. Lowering her expectations would not be easy, but she was never one to shy away from a challenge.

Righteousness and determination flared within her. “Your brother told me several years ago that I was nothing so much as a very pretty spoiled child. Well, he will not find me so now. If there is one thing I've learned over the past few years, it is that wanting something seldom makes it so. We will simply have to economize,” she said firmly, tapping her knife on a peach. “I'm not quite sure how one goes about economizing a household, but I'm sure I can do it. It can't be that difficult. And besides, the servants are economizing already, so that will be of some help.”

“Oh, yes, we've economized for the last three years.” Patricia smiled. “We're all quite used to it, I can assure you.”

“Excellent,” Charlotte responded, her mind busy with ideas and newfound resolutions. In the midst of plans for cutting back on meals and canceling her order for several new bonnets, a bright, shining image came to her mind. She studied it for a moment, pronounced it good, and smiled at her sister-in-law. “I shall start my economies by making a supreme sacrifice. I will inform Batsfoam he is to unhire the maid he hired for me.”

Patricia blinked in surprise. “But you must have a maid! Who will help you dress? Who will do your hair? Who will mend your clothes and take care of them and see that they're washed and such?”

The image grew brighter in Charlotte's mind. “I shall take care of my own clothing. Don't look so shocked, Patricia, I am quite well known for my embroidery, how much different can mending a few tears be than embroidering? Besides, there can't be much to it. Francesca, my maid in Italy, was always finding time to go out and meet her lover. I imagine a few minutes each morning and night and I shall be perfectly suited.”

“Perhaps so, but what about assistance dressing? You cannot do up all the tapes and buttons yourself.”

Charlotte's smile deepened until her dimples danced. “My husband shall help me dress and undress. He, after all, is the one who insists on everyone economizing, it's only right he should do his part by attending to me himself. As for my hair, I shall adopt simpler styles as my cousin Gillian wears. Her husband always seems to approve of her hair despite its unfashionable color. Thus mine should be a great success. Now, tell me, when is Mrs. Whitney due to return from Bath?”