Chapter Fourteen
“What a splendid evening, don’t you think, Charlotte?” exclaimed Mama as they rattled their way home in the hired carriage. “The Culverdales have performed a major coup. From now on, they can do no wrong in this neighborhood, mark my words.”
“I felt sorry for Dorothea Daniell,” said Aunt Flora. “She’s such a delightful young lady, yet she had barely a name on her card.”
“Ah, but how full was dear Charlotte’s!” her mother said. “You must be exhausted, child, and your slippers worn to threads.”
Charlotte didn’t give a fig about her slippers. She rubbed at the side of her face where her now discarded mask had chafed, her mind in a whirl. Her heart was clattering like a bird-scarer, and no thought, breath, or movement, could calm it down. Far from relaxing into exhausted sleep, she knew she’d toss fitfully about, wrestling the urge to peep out the window to see if Rafe was waiting below.
Or worse, climbing up the trellis.
She would have to go down to the garden as soon as the rest of the house was abed and tell him to go away directly and not annoy her again.
Having made this resolution, her heart gradually reverted to its usual rhythm, and, once they arrived home, she was able to say her good nights with such composure, no one could have guessed she had an assignation planned.
No, not an assignation. Just a brief meeting to set things straight.
The clock had struck three before the household was quiet enough for her to go downstairs. She changed into an old gown and wrapped a voluminous shawl about her shoulders, to make it quite clear she had no interest in stoking Rafe’s desire, and took from her dressing table the small bottle she’d hidden behind the mirror.
She softly unbolted and opened the kitchen door, sending some animal scurrying away amongst the lettuces. The bright moon edged the laurel leaves with silver as she crept around the side of the house to the shrubbery below her bedroom window.
Though she thought her movements completely silent, a shadow immediately detached itself from a dark patch of foliage and strode toward her. She halted and raised her head, ready to tell Rafe in her most quelling tone that he must leave at once.
But she’d barely opened her mouth when he pressed his lips ardently to hers.
Her struggle against him was short-lived…and would have been pointless in any case. The man gave no quarter. She surrendered to his kiss until she felt she was drowning, until all willpower had left her, and he was the only certain thing in the world holding her up. He pulled her close against his body, until she felt her very soul had melted and joined with his.
“I must insist—” she attempted when he lifted for a breath.
“Hmm?” His mouth was on hers again, moist and hot, and his hands grasped her shoulders, holding her in place.
She brought both hands up to his chest and pushed, eager to say her piece, but her treacherous lips clung to his, refusing to be torn away from the exquisite sensations he evoked.
With another great summoning of effort, she forced a gap between their bodies and gazed up at him, her fingers lodged in his lapels.
As she tried to marshal her thoughts into the rejection she meant to administer, she saw he was no longer in his Grecian costume. When had he found the opportunity to change?
“My lord,” she managed at last. “I insist you leave at once. I came only to tell you that, and bid you good night.”
“I’m not going anywhere. I’ve waited this last hour for you, and I want to ensure my time wasn’t wasted.”
“And what, exactly, do you mean by that?” she asked, and immediately wished she hadn’t.
“Let me demonstrate.” He pulled her against him again. This time he didn’t seek her lips, but instead found the lobe of her ear. As he suckled and tugged at it, his fingers began to lightly stroke her neck, sending ripples of sensation across her skin.
She was pressed against the whole hard length of him, feeling his every movement reverberate through her, awakening an avalanche of feelings and making her pulse race.
As his fingers and lips lulled her into a sensuous daze, her hands stole up his body of their own volition, under his jacket, grazing his muscled rib cage beneath the thin linen of his shirt. The shirt was loose—he must have changed in a hurry.
Dare she caress the flesh beneath? What response would it provoke?
She soon found out.
“Little witch!” he exclaimed, releasing her earlobe, only to plunder the exposed skin below her throat.
Her head went back as she arched her neck, reveling in the soft brush of his mouth across her skin. Her breasts pushed shamelessly against his chest.
As he kissed his way up her throat and nipped at her lower lip, his hand slid her shawl down, then hooked itself in the shoulder of her gown.
Too beguiled by the teasing movements of his lips over hers, it was a moment before she realized he’d skillfully freed one breast and cupped it in the warmth of his palm.
Her heart flew to her throat, and stopped. Her whole body stilled, all her attention centered on his hand.
She should pull away, slap him, scream for help! His mouth had left hers, so she was free to call out, and she was free to move away, but her traitorous fingers dug into the expanse of his back and refused to let go.
A deep sigh escaped her as his lips touched her breast and roved over the skin. Oh, what delicious wickedness! Her other breast felt the touch of the cool night air, too, and she marveled at his skill, at the way he had, in a few brief moments, dared more with her than Justin ever had.
His fingers gently pinched one nipple, his teeth the erect bud of the other. Pleasure surged through her, like a huge wave crashing on the strand. Her knees buckled, and she flung her hands behind his neck to stop herself from crumpling to the ground.
After teasing and suckling her into a frenzy of expectation, his lips met hers again. She kissed him back ravenously until her tongue was saturated with the taste of him. Her body felt as if it were no longer her own. He was now its master, and like a child’s stringed puppet, she responded to every skillful touch, every movement of his practiced fingers.
Just when she felt her surrender was complete, he abruptly drew away and pinched the bridge of his nose. It looked like self-rebuke.
Clearly, he regretted what had just happened.
“Sir, you make a mockery of me,” she said, her heart squeezing as she wrestled her gown back over her shoulders.
“No, I assure you,” he said. “I was obliged to hire a horse tonight, so it’s not one I’ve had time to get used to. Just a moment’s unpleasantness. It will soon pass.”
Which reminded her. “Rafe,” she said, reaching into her pocket and withdrawing the small bottle, “I brought this for you.”
He twirled it between his fingers. “What is it? I can’t read the label in the dark.”
“It’s the visiting doctor’s remedy against summer rheum. I thought it might work against a sensitivity to horses, too.”
He chuckled softly. “Thank you. I’ll try anything that stops me sneezing at an inopportune moment. Trust me, I’ve no wish to rouse the entire Allston household while I’m seducing you.”
Her eyes widened. “Is that what you’re doing? Seducing me? Then it’s true, you are a rake.”
He tucked the nostrum away and took her by the shoulders, his face so close she could see the moon reflected in his eyes. “No longer,” he said. “If I were, I’d have already found my way into your bed and made you mine. Believe me when I say I simply meant to talk with you, but having you so close drove out all rational thought.”
“Such arrogance, to assume I’d have let you! You quite clearly are still a rake.”
To her irritation, he chuckled softly. “So you would deny me? When a minute ago you were swooning in my arms? You felt it just as I did—the irresistible attraction between us that’s been there from the first. Don’t try to refute it.”
She straightened indignantly. “I was perfectly in control of myself. I was just…experimenting.” Her hand itched to slap him, but that would be too much like the reaction of an outraged young miss, not the considered response of a grown woman.
And she very much wished to appear to him as a woman, not a girl; though, she couldn’t have explained why it mattered so much.
He smiled and caught her gently beneath the chin. “If you were truly in control just now, then you’d make any man a splendid mistress. Keep your pride, Charlotte—I would never wish to hurt it. Forgive me if you can—I couldn’t help myself. It’s been an absolute pleasure meeting you, and I regret more than words can say that this will probably be the last time. I’ll make one last attempt to secure my present quarry, then, alas, I’ll be reassigned.”
Her head reeled. No. This was all wrong. She was meant to be bidding him good-bye, not the other way round.
She blurted out, “Will you not just return to your estates and take up your old life again?”
“Not until this wretched war is over, and who can say when that will be? For now, I am not my own man and must follow orders. But before I go, let me tell you, that callow youth you wanted to run away with wasn’t worthy of you. You need an experienced hand to hold your ribbons, not that of a novice. Good night, my sweet.”
With a brief brush of her lips, he slipped away from her into the night, leaving her gaping after him.
She leaned back against the solid wall of the house and gazed up at the moon, sucking in breath after breath of cool air. Her body still thrummed like someone striking a chord on the pianoforte, while someone else’s fingers played pizzicato with her nerves. It took a while before she could trust her legs again.
Eventually she heaved away from the wall, let herself back into the house, and resisted the urge to run straight into the kitchen and break things.
Confound the man! He’d played her like a master, taking just what he wanted. He’d made her look a fool for responding to him so ardently, then said his farewell with an infuriating calm and strode off.
“God be damned to all men,” she muttered as she slipped back upstairs. Rafe, like Justin, had turned her world upside down. But unlike Justin, he’d left her of his own free will.
Which made the hurt all the greater.
Surely, it was the cruelest thing of all, to ignite a woman’s passion and then just say good-bye? Only a hard-hearted rake would do such a thing. Assuming Rafe had any heart, at all.
It was just as well they weren’t to meet again, as she couldn’t be responsible for her actions if they did.