Chapter Eleven
The sound of knuckles rapping on the wood of the door was like a gunshot, and Charlotte jumped at the sound. When she was alone with Ewan, even when the very worst exchange was happening between them, it was too easy to forget the world existed outside of the two of them.
At least it was for her. From Ewan’s painful words, it was obvious he was always fully aware of the world.
“Come in,” she called out as she stepped away from him. Away from his assertion that he would not have a child. It was still so very raw in her heart.
The door opened and Smith was revealed. He might have guessed what they’d been doing, despite the fact they were dressed again, for his cheeks were bright with color. He fiddled with his hands behind his back as he refused to look either of them in the eye.
“Your Grace, I’ve received word from the men down at the river.”
Ewan had still been watching Charlotte, but now he jerked his attention fully to his servant. He dug in his pocket and Charlotte sighed. “I can translate,” she offered. “Unless you feel it would be intruding on your business.”
Ewan shook his head and signed, “No, that would be helpful. Thank you.”
She forced a smile at Smith. “What is the message, Smith?”
The butler’s gaze held gentle on hers for a beat before he said, “The river has dropped significantly today. Enough that the men would like to know if they can remove the barrier.”
Ewan pondered it a moment and looked out the window. The sky was still gray, but it was a pale, impotent color. “Give it another day,” he signed, and she translated. “But tomorrow afternoon they may remove it as long as there is no rain.”
“Very good,” Smith said. “I’ll pass that along immediately. Additionally, they had some news regarding the bridge.”
Charlotte froze, staring at him. News about the bridge meant news about the families coming. About this private hideaway being turned back into a public place. About whatever was between her and Ewan ending because she knew he would never allow it to exist back in the normal world.
She felt Ewan’s hand on her arm, and she jerked her face to look at him. He was looking at her in question and he signed, “Did you catch that?”
She shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. What was it?”
Smith cleared his throat. “The men rode horses over it today. The water was never high enough to clear the passway and they feel it’s solid. Now that the river is down so far, there is no reason the rest couldn’t join your party.”
“When?” Charlotte whispered even as Ewan signed the same single word.
“This evening,” Smith said, almost apologetically. “If you’d like for them to send word and help the families move from the inn in Donburrow, they could be with you this evening.”
Charlotte turned to Ewan and found he was staring right back. She lifted her hands, signing, “Should I tell him to send for them?”
He was steady, not looking away, his dark eyes searching her face. Then he found the notebook in his pocket and wrote a brief note. He handed it over to Smith and the man glanced over it before he said, “Yes, sir. I’ll make the arrangements. Good afternoon.”
Charlotte stared in confusion as the butler bowed his exit and left them alone again. She swallowed hard. “What did you tell him?”
“To give it one more night,” he signed as he moved toward her. He touched her chin, tilting it up as he lowered his lips toward hers. He kissed her, gentle but filled with promise, then pulled away. “I need one more night.”
“So do I,” she said, her voice cracking as she reached for his hand. He allowed it, his fingers threading through hers, and he squeezed gently.
She didn’t say anything else, but just led him from the room. Led him down the halls, led him up the stairs and to his chamber.
She knew that this last night would change nothing that had passed between them. She knew that he was determined and stubborn in what he thought he could and could not do. But it didn’t matter. Tonight wasn’t about the future or the past. It was about the moment. And she wasn’t about to throw this moment away.
Not when it might be the last one he ever allowed.
The sun had set hours before and Ewan had thrown logs on the fire after the last time they’d made love. They’d eaten a cold supper in his chamber, Charlotte clad only in his shirt, he in his robe. Now they were back in his bed, her body half out of the covers as he traced a hand along her naked side.
Her eyes fluttered shut and she sighed in that ragged way that let him know he was touching her in a way that gave her pleasure. And how he loved to give her pleasure. Watching her face contort with it was better than any other thing in the world.
Causing her pain was worse. Today he’d done both. In rapid succession, actually. But she’d said nothing about his confession that he’d never have a child. In fact, she didn’t seem to want to discuss anything else on the subject. That fact relieved and grieved him in equal measure.
“What are you thinking about?” she whispered, her green eyes coming open and snaring his.
“How do you know I’m thinking?” he signed after he reluctantly lifted a hand from her skin.
She smiled. “Sometimes you think very loudly. I can almost hear it.”
He let out his breath. “Just that this is our last night,” he said.
Her smile fell. “I am trying not to think of that. But I suppose we must discuss it. In two days it will be Christmas and then only another week before we all return to London after the new year.”
He glanced away. He actually had not intended to return to London with the rest. He hated spending time there and avoided the city whenever possible.
“You must come,” Charlotte said, reading those thoughts that must have been very loud, indeed. “Emma is due to her have her baby soon, and Graham and Adelaide are marrying. You can’t miss those moments.”
He shifted. As always, it was his friends that kept him in the loop, drawing him in like he belonged in their circle. With them, with her, he always felt like he did. “Yes, you are right about that. But I’m not certain what we are discussing.”
“We’ll have another nine days,” she said. “Do you intend to just pretend this…thing between us never happened?”
“Should I tell everyone it did?” he signed, trying to lighten the mood with a smile. “I can imagine Baldwin and your mother would take the news of our affair very well.”
She didn’t laugh along with him, but reached up to trace his lips with her fingertips. “You know that’s not what I mean. You know I’m talking about between you and me. Will you avoid me? Will this truly be our last night together, not just our last night alone?”
He shut his eyes for a beat. Everything that was rational and fair in him told him to cut off this affair now. It was a reasonable stopping point with the families coming. When they went back to London, they certainly couldn’t continue. Charlotte had already said she would reenter Society. What good would it do to drag out the end that would only break every piece of his heart?
And yet with her lying beside him, his body touching hers, his hands memorizing the softness of her skin, the idea of just ending it didn’t feel…right.
He rolled to cover her, opening her legs with his hips. She settled back against the pillows and stared up into his eyes, never breaking their stare as he glided into her slick entrance in one long thrust. He filled her completely and leaned down to gently brush the side of his nose against hers. She lifted her lips, kissing him before he drew away and began to take her.
She didn’t look away as he circled his hips against her. She didn’t blink even as she lifted up into him, meeting his thrusts with welcoming ripples. She held his eyes steady even as her lips parted and she cried out his name when pleasure struck her and she came, milking him, daring him to claim her as she’d tried to force him to do earlier in the day.
It was tempting. But he withdrew when his balls tightened, and his seed burst free between them. He rested his forehead against hers, breath short.
“Is that my answer?” she whispered, her own voice trembling.
He nodded and signed, “We should end this. But if you’re near me, I may not be able to resist.”
She smiled and buried her head into the crook of his shoulder, pressing kisses to his neck and jawline. For his part, he just kept tracing the line of her body, writing the words “I love you, I love you, I love you,” into her skin.
And knowing he could never write or sign them to her in a way she would understand.