Chapter Fifteen
Charlotte came down the stairs and smiled at the silence that greeted her. There were no bustling servants cleaning in the halls or rushing to offer her assistance. Boxing Day had come, and she was pleased Ewan honored the tradition of offering his household a day off en masse.
She entered the breakfast room and found a spread laid out on the sideboard. The presentation was not quite as lovely as it normally was and the selections were clearly left over from the previous day and night’s food. But her mouth still watered.
She greeted her mother and brother, who were already seated, their plates loaded with food.
“It was a lovely Christmas, wasn’t it?” Baldwin asked as he got to his feet and reached out a hand to Charlotte.
She squeezed it and patted her mother’s shoulder before moving to the sideboard. “It was, indeed. The vicar’s presentation was lovely and I do so appreciate my new slippers, Mama, and the journal, Baldwin.”
She began to load her plate but hadn’t gotten very far before Ewan entered the room, followed by Matthew and Aunt Mary.
“Good morning!” the duchess called out. “How did I do with the spread?”
“You did perfectly,” Charlotte said with a laugh. She did not mention that the coffee looked terribly tepid. She merely poured tea instead and then moved to the table. As she passed by Ewan, she said, “Good morning.”
His gaze rolled over her and her body reacted of its own accord. She had gone decades without his touch, but now two days was too much.
“Good morning,” he signed, and then turned away, leaving her to go to the table and situate herself next to her mother.
The others sat, as well, and for a little while they were a merry group, discussing music and books. Charlotte couldn’t help but think of how easy it all was. How easy it would be to live like this forever.
If only Ewan would allow it.
But at last their plates were empty and Aunt Mary leaned back in her seat with a happy sigh. “Your cook really is the very best, Ewan. Even her leftovers are divine.”
He nodded and his warm smile reflected how much he adored Mrs. Winkle and all his staff. “Did you already give them your gifts for Boxing Day?” Charlotte asked.
“Yes,” he signed. “The household staff was given their things early today so they could go be with their families.”
She translated to the others and his aunt smiled. “You are still planning to go out to the tenants just after breakfast, aren’t you?”
He nodded. Aunt Mary smiled at Charlotte. “I hear you have some things for the children.”
“I do,” she said. “A reward for their hard work and bravery during the flooding.”
“That’s lovely, Charlotte,” her mother said, reaching out to take her hand. “So you’ll go with Ewan, then?”
Charlotte shifted and glanced at him. His mouth was now tight, and tension all but coursed through him. “I’d like to,” she said softly.
“I think that’s a fine idea,” Matthew chimed in, and elbowed Baldwin. “Don’t you?”
Charlotte’s brother seemed the least keen on the idea. He looked not at her, but at Ewan. “If Ewan would like her company.”
“Of course he’d like her company,” Mary said with a laugh. “It’s settled then. You two go out and make your gifts and when you return I think a game of whist will be in order.”
Charlotte looked at Ewan. “May I come with you?” she signed. “Don’t say yes just because they’re pushing you to do so.”
He tilted his head and swiftly signed, “I want you to come. No one has pushed me to do anything.”
“How do you remember all the signs?” the Duchess of Sheffield laughed as she got up and began stacking the plates from breakfast.
“It’s easy. There are signs for each letter and also some shortcuts for words we often use.”
Her mother shook her head. “That must be nearly a hundred signs.”
Charlotte shrugged. “We recall thousands of words. What are a few little turns of the hand?” She glanced at Ewan. “I’ll fetch my wrap and we can go.”
He nodded and she slipped from the room, her heart throbbing. Once again they’d be alone. Once again, they would be tested. And once again, she felt the man she loved pulling away from her.
And this time, if he succeeded, she knew she’d have to let him go forever.
Ewan couldn’t keep his eyes off Charlotte. It was impossible not to stare at her when her face was lit with laughter and she was surrounded by sword- and dolly-wielding children.
“You’re too kind, Your Grace,” one of the ladies, Mrs. Nickel, said to him, and he shook his head and forced himself to focus. His tenants had finished collecting their Boxing Day gifts. Baskets of food, bolts of fabric, and bags filled with coins had been passed around to bright, happy faces.
He shrugged and patted her arm as a response, hoping it would turn her away. He was uncomfortable with the praise. Of course, Mrs. Nickel was not deterred.
“It is such a blessing that you brought Lady Portsmith to us,” she continued. “Everyone just loves her. She is the kindest lady I have ever met.”
Ewan swallowed and let his gaze slide to Charlotte once more. She was talking to Mrs. Boyd now, totally engaged with the other woman, her face expressive and open and yes, so very kind. He nodded slowly in answer to his tenant’s comment.
“My husband looks to be motioning for me now,” she said. “Excuse me.”
Ewan shook off his distraction and nodded again, forcing himself to smile at her as she left him alone. His attentions turned once more to Charlotte. She had crouched down and was adjusting the dress on one of the little girls’ dolls. The child stared at her like she was a princess or a goddess.
Of course, Charlotte was both, and as he watched her with the little girl, his heart hurt. A good hurt and a bad hurt mixed together, expanding his chest. He heard his father’s voice echoing in his mind, saying all the worst things he’d ever said. Idiot. Worthless. Should have never been born. Good for nothing and no one.
But he also heard his aunt’s words. His uncle’s. His cousin’s. His friends’. And hers. Always hers. Charlotte telling him she loved him. Charlotte in all her tiny kindnesses and smiles and laughter over the years, showing him the same. He wanted the future she represented, with all his heart. He wanted it and now, staring at her as she ruffled the little girl’s hair, he leaned forward, almost as if he could take it.
She straightened up and glanced his way. Their eyes met and after a beat her lips parted. She looked confused, like she could read his expression and wasn’t certain of it.
Of course, she probably could. Who knew him better, after all, than the woman who had all but forcibly wound her way into his life? His barriers meant nothing to her, like she had been born to knock them down. When he pushed her away, she came back, stronger and more determined than ever.
How could he not love her for that independence and stubbornness? For that kindness and calm faith? For the fact that she loved him, all of him, no matter what?
She moved toward him, like an angel gliding from heaven, and into his space. With a smile, she took his hand. Her fingers wound through his and she looked up at him.
“Are you well?” she whispered. “You have a strange look on your face.”
He nodded slowly. Oh yes, he was well. He had never been so well in his entire life. Because he knew exactly what he was going to do. Not in this moment, with people who were practically strangers looking on. Not even the moment he got home and they were surrounded by family and friends.
But later, tonight, he was going to come to this woman, this remarkable woman, and surrender all he was and all he had to her. He was going to ask her to marry him, and he already knew what her answer was.
He was going to take that magnificent leap of faith that the future, no matter how cloudy and uncertain, would be right if it was one he shared with her.
He knew all of that in that moment, and his smile widened because she knew none of it.
“You look happy and I like it,” she whispered, squeezing his fingers. “But should we go back? I’m sure your people would like to return to their family celebrations and we have one of our own to attend to.”
“We do,” he signed. “We have a great deal waiting for us at home.”
Her brow wrinkled, but she smiled at him. “Good. Then let’s tell them, shall we?”
He didn’t release her hand, but guided her forward and signed, “Will you translate?”
She nodded. “Of course.”
He hesitated a moment. She would do this for the rest of her life. Be his lips, his tongue, as well as his heart. These people who already adored her, would see them as a single unit.
It was a stunning realization, and it took a moment for him to gather himself enough to sign, “This has been another very special year here on the estate, and I have each and every one of you to thank for that. Please enjoy your day and each other, and know that if you have troubles, I am very open to hearing them and trying to make it right.”
The tenants each approached, shaking his hand and murmuring their thanks. As they began to make their way to their houses, he maneuvered Charlotte toward his carriage. He helped her up, reveling in the feel of her body as she leaned into him, the smell of her skin as she passed into the vehicle. Then he joined her, placing himself across from her and drinking in the look of her in the dim light of the carriage as his driver closed the door and they began to move.
“What has come over you?” she asked with a shake of her head. “You are different somehow.”
He nodded. “I am,” he signed. “I’ll explain to you how later. But for now I only want to do this.”
He moved over to her side of the carriage and cupped her cheek. He leaned in, feeling her warm breath stir his lips. He shuddered in reaction and then claimed her mouth. She lifted into him, her arms winding around his neck, her body molding to his like it had been made to do so. In that moment he could almost believe that it had. That she was a gift for him, he for her. Fated to be, no matter how he denied it.
Now he wouldn’t deny it anymore.
“I’ve missed this so much,” she whispered as he moved his lips to her throat. “It feels like an eternity.”
He didn’t answer, but trailed his lips lower, unbuttoning her coat as he did so and opening it so he could taste the soft skin just above her gown’s neckline. She arched a little beneath him, her fingers coming up into his hair as she made a soft sound of pleasure.
He wanted her so very much, enough that his cock ached beneath his trousers. But he wanted more than just release. He wanted to give her pleasure. To show her, even before he told her, that he would love and protect her and make her happy for the rest of her life.
He looked up, meeting those green eyes, which were now dilated with desire.
“What are you doing?” she whispered, her voice shaking in the most erotic way. Like she was on the edge of control. He was going to push her over.
He didn’t answer, just arched a brow and began to push her skirts up. Her gown was heavy, meant to keep her warm, and it seemed like he kept finding layers of fabric to the point that he shot her a look.
She laughed, and the sound was like music. “It isn’t my fault. I wasn’t prepared to be seduced in a carriage. Had you given me advance notice, I would have worn something different.”
He grinned as he finally got the skirts up over her thighs and found the silky drawers she wore beneath. He parted them, opening the slit there as wide as it would go as he dropped down to his knees and pushed her legs apart.
“Ewan,” she gasped as he dragged a finger up her inner thigh, then parted her outer lips gently. Her sex glistened, already wet, already ready for him.
He grunted a sound of desire and then bent his head and swiped his tongue across her.
She writhed immediately and his name burst from her lips once more. “Ewan!” This time with urgency, with desire, with passion.
He stroked over her a second time, a third, increasing the pressure of his tongue each time, dancing it over her clitoris to tease her.
She dug her hands into the leather carriage seat, her head lolling back. “Please,” she breathed.
He didn’t have to be asked twice. And though he wanted to savor this, spend hours doing it until she was weak and spent beneath his mouth, he knew they had very little time before they’d be back at the estate. So he had to focus and he had to make this perfect.
He stroked firmly, over and over, the same rhythm with each lick. She lifted into him, grinding against him as her breath went short and her arms and legs began to shake. He sucked her clitoris, flicking it with his tongue as she moaned and lurched beneath him. She was almost there, so close.
He lifted his gaze as he continued to ravage her with his mouth and his tongue. She was staring at him, eyes wide, lips parted, beauty personified, desire in the flesh.
He glided a finger into her sheath, then two, and she jolted, covering her keening cry of release with the back of her hand as he licked her through the crisis, pumping his fingers in and out of her as she bore down on him with every ripple of her sex.
When her tremors had finally subsided, he gently slid her drawers back into place. He did the same with her skirt and helped her sit up properly on the carriage seat. She tucked herself against his chest with a shuddering sigh and he wrapped his arms around her, smoothing her hair as they drove the last mile up the long drive.
“If that is my Boxing Day gift,” she murmured as she leaned up to press a kiss along his jawline, “I approve.”
He turned his mouth toward hers and she lifted into him, her tongue tangling with his. He knew she could taste the sweet flavor of her release and she sighed as she took it. The carriage came to a stop far too soon, and he moved to the other side of the vehicle as the servants rushed to open doors and help them down.
For the first time in a long time, he felt perfectly right, perfectly free. For the first time in forever, he was ready to face his future.
She stepped out of the carriage first and he followed. As he did so, he found her looking past their carriage, further up the circular drive. “Were you expecting visitors?” she asked.
He followed her gaze and his heart all but stopped. There, parked on the drive ahead of his rig, was a carriage. It had a crest on the door, one he knew far too well. And in that moment his good humor faded, his hopes for the future forgotten as a wave of pain from the past washed over him.
That was his mother’s carriage. Which meant his family was here.