Wed Him Before You Bed Him (16 page)

He certainly seemed impatient for her to be gone, given how he hurried her down the stairs. But when they reached the bottom of the staircase, she realized his impatience was
not for that. Before they could head for the entrance or attract the notice of his footmen at the far end of the passage, he pulled her into the nearby library. Then closing the door, he hauled her into his arms.

“David—”

“Not one word, Charlotte,” he murmured. “Not now. Just let me have this.”

Then he kissed her with such fierce intent that her toes curled in her slippers. Oh, heavens, what the man could do with his mouth. It was tender and bold all at once, and so needy it made her heart ache for him.

When at last he drew back, she dropped her reticule to grab his lapels and tug him down to her again, not ready to end their interlude.

That was all the encouragement he needed. With a guttural moan, he shoved her against the door, his mouth savaging hers, his tongue thrusting deep as his lean body slid against her in a motion that was unmistakably intimate. Already she felt the ridge of his flesh pressing insistently against her belly. His hands roamed up and down her sides, over her hips and up to her breasts.

But when he filled his hands with them, she pushed him back. “No,” she said softly. “Not here.”

A dark knowing flared in his face. Oh Lord, she'd as much as said that elsewhere would be fine.

But it was true. She wanted him. She had always wanted him. And would it be so very bad to have an affair? She was a grown woman; she could do as she pleased. And he was not married anymore.

He bent his head to her cheek, dragging his open mouth along her jaw to her ear. “Then where?” he murmured. “When?”

She could hardly think with him still cupping her breasts, thumbing her nipples through the fabric. “We ought to wait until you are done with mourning.”

“No, damn it.” He tongued her ear, nipping the lobe with his teeth. “I won't. And you don't want to either.”

A pox on him for being right. “Well…then…we must be discreet.”

“Discreet, yes,” he breathed in agreement against her ear, though he rocked into the cradle of her thighs, his erection arousing her, marking her as already destined for his bed.

Her mind was swimming, her body alive to the feel of him. “I just know it cannot be here.”

“Right.” Yet he reached for her leg and pulled it up, pushing into her, mimicking the act he wanted to perform. “Not here.”

She must be mad, both to be considering this, and to be letting him touch her now. They could be discovered at any moment. “We have to stop.”

“Yes.” Still, he tried to take her mouth again.

This time she shoved him hard enough to make him fall back. His gaze burned into her like a brand, sparking a fever in her chest.

“Not here,”
she said firmly. “Not tonight.” She had to escape him. To
think
about what she was doing, before she fell into something she regretted. “I have to go. We can talk about this later.”

“Tomorrow.” His eyes glittered in the firelight. “We'll discuss it tomorrow when I take you to see those properties.”

“Properties?” she said blankly.

“The ones for the new school building? Remember? So you don't have to deal with a racecourse next door?”

“Oh. Right.” She had completely forgotten about that. At the moment she could hardly think.

Still trying to catch her breath, she bent to retrieve her reticule, then remembered something else. “Didn't you tell Terence that you would give me a list of those properties tonight so I could look it over?”

“Of course.” Delving inside his coat pocket, he drew out a folded sheet of paper, but when she seized it, he grabbed her by the wrist. “You must promise you won't go tour them without me.”

“Why?”

“Because it's dangerous for a woman to do that sort of thing alone. Some sellers are unscrupulous, and some of the vacant properties could have vagrants—”

“I have Terence.”

With a scowl, he tightened his grip on her wrist. “I'm not giving you the list unless you promise.”

“Oh, very well. I promise.” As he released the list, she tucked it into her reticule and opened the door to peek out into the hall. Fortunately, David's footmen were involved in a heated discussion, leaving the two of them free to slip out and head for the entrance as if they'd just descended the stairs.

While waiting for her carriage to be brought, they said very little, but she was painfully aware of his body beside hers, of its heat and strength, which could be hers whenever she wanted. The knowledge was as exhilarating as it was terrifying. Merciful heavens, when had she turned into such a wanton?

Then she caught that same footman she'd noticed earlier staring at her, and the color rose in her cheeks. What
an impertinent servant he was. Why, the look he shot his master was positively malevolent.

David didn't seem to notice, for he led her out and down the steps when the carriage arrived, as if it were his right.

Perhaps it was. But only because he had made it so. “You never really answered my question this afternoon, you know,” she said as they approached her barouche.

“What question?”

“About why you decided to pursue Sarah's legacy to the school, even though you would have been perfectly within your rights not to. Thirty thousand pounds is a lot of money. No one would have been the wiser if you'd kept that piece of information to yourself. So why didn't you?”

He cast her a long, smoldering glance. “You already know the answer, sweeting.”

Her blood soared at the words, and she stumbled. He slung his arm about her waist to right her, then let it linger just long enough to make her breathless.

By the time they reached the carriage, she was tempted to invite him to go home with her and throw caution to the winds. But then she saw Terence's carefully impassive features when he lowered the step for her, and she thought better of it.

As Terence took his place at the back of the coach, David handed her in. “You never answered
my
question this afternoon either.”

“Which one?” she asked as she settled herself on the seat.

He leaned into the open door, his jaw taut. “Exactly how close a friend is Godwin to you?”

She laughed. It was too horrible of her, but it thrilled her to see David behaving like a jealous lover. Should she tell him the truth? Or torment him a little?

She opted for truth. “Let me put it this way—he has not been nearly as close a friend to me as you have already been.”

Some of the tension left his face. “Good.” His gaze drifted down her body in a heated glance that made her squirm. “Because I intend to be a great deal closer still.”

As unwise as it might be, she was glad of it. “Good night, David,” she said softly, secretly delighting in the look of frustrated hunger upon his face. It mirrored her own feelings.

“Until tomorrow, sweeting.” Then closing the door, he called up to her coachman. “Drive on!”

As the coach pulled away, neither Charlotte nor David noticed Richard Linley skulking in the shadows on the steps that led down to the basement. He was watching the entire scene.

And the only look on
his
face was rage.

D
avid spent the long cold night in dreams of Charlotte lying in his bed, all porcelain skin and wild blushes, while he and she did every wicked and lascivious thing he had ever imagined. He awakened hard and restless, his hand already doing what his body urged.

After he gained his release, he lay there staring at the ceiling, willing his heart to settle into normalcy.

What was wrong with him? Why was he back where he'd started eighteen years ago, as obsessed with Charlotte as ever?

He'd thought himself successful in putting her from his mind once he was married. Determined to make a clean start with Sarah, he had set aside the dream of him and Charlotte. And even after the hope of a decent marriage with Sarah had died, he'd managed to find his enjoyment in friends, in designing buildings, in investments.

He'd actually convinced himself that he'd conquered his mad passion for Charlotte, that writing to her as a perfectly disinterested friend had dulled the heat of youthful desire to the mere warmth of affection.

What a fool he was. His desire burned as fiercely as ever. And judging from what she'd done and said last night, it did for her as well. He'd given her plenty of chances to protest, and she'd spoken only of the logistics of it.

He swung his legs over the bed. As long as she was willing, he could bloody well handle the logistics.

To that end, he dressed and set off for the outskirts of London. He had a couple of stops to make before he reached Richmond to take Charlotte around to those properties. Fortunately, the sunny day meant he could drive his phaeton, and there'd be no room for anyone but him and her and his tiger. Her fighter footman would have to stay home; at last they would have a chance to be alone. Thank God.

He arrived at the school midmorning to find Terence racing out the door, with Charlotte speaking in a raised voice to someone inside.

“What's happened?” David asked as he met the footman halfway up the steps.

“Mrs. Harris accosted that Mr. Watson as he was walking the property next door, and he told her some dreadful thing about the sale. So now I'm off to the solicitor's office to see if her cousin has answered her letter yet.”

She'd talked to Pritchard's prospective buyer? Confound the woman to hell! The last thing David needed was her meddling in
that
situation. He wasn't sure what Watson might know of David's arrangement with Pritchard, or what the bloody fellow might have told her about it.

“She's in a fine temper, sir,” Terence went on. “This might not be the best time to visit.”

“I'll be sure to tread lightly.” At least until he could get her away and question her privately.

As he continued up the steps, he could hear her storming about in the foyer, complaining to the butler. “That little worm of a man ought to be shot! How dare he speak to me that way? He is as bad as Mr. Pritchard, I swear.”

David entered the school, but she was too angry to notice.

In high dudgeon, Charlotte was a rare sight indeed, with her curls shaking beneath her bonnet and her gloved hands flitting about. “And what did he mean by his hints about Cousin Michael?” she spat.

As a chill coursed down David's spine, the butler noticed him.

“Madam,” he said in a low voice.

She ignored him. “That wretch made it sound as if he actually expects to be doing business with my cousin in the future!”

“Madam, you have a visitor!” the butler interrupted.

That brought her up short. When she whirled to find David standing there, her mouth dropped open. “David!”

“Good morning, Charlotte,” he said warily. “Have I come at a bad time?”

“No…I…um…It's good to see you.”

Given how her expression softened, it didn't look as if she'd learned anything of the truth.

Thank God. Because just the sight of her in that red silk gown made his heart race. It had a line of little bows stretching from neckline to hem, and he found himself wondering if they actually untied and how long it would take him to manage that…with his teeth.

He
had
to stop thinking about getting her out of her clothes. Right now there were more important matters. “Ready to go look at those properties?”

She glanced nervously out the door to where his phaeton stood waiting. “Now?”

“We did agree to do it this morning, and it's a fine day. I thought we might as well take full advantage of it.” David thrust out his arm. “Shall we?”

“But I've barely had a chance to look over the list!”

“No excuses, Charlotte.” He lowered his voice. “Besides, it will give us the chance to finish our…discussion from last night in the library.”

She colored deeply. It made his blood run high. But just when he feared he'd said the one thing sure to make her balk, she steadied her shoulders. “Very well. Let me just go put one of the teachers in charge while I'm gone.”

“I can take care of that, madam, if you wish,” the butler put in with a gleam in his eye. At least David had one servant on his side.

“Oh,” she murmured. “Thank you.”

Moments later they were off. As David tooled his phaeton down the drive, he could tell she was still agitated. He waited until they were well on the road before broaching the subject. “So, I hear you had words with Watson.”

She muttered a distinctly unladylike oath under her breath.

He couldn't help but laugh. “Your vocabulary has changed substantially in the past few years.”

“That is not funny.”

“Personally, I find it quite amusing. One rarely gets the chance to hear such a prim and proper schoolmistress curse.”

“Then you should have been there when I spoke to Mr. Watson,” she said ruefully. “I am afraid I…lost my temper somewhat.”

“Somewhat?”

She thrust out her chin. “Very well. I admit to having raged at him. You cannot blame me; that man is the devil incarnate.”

“What did Watson say?” David held his breath, praying she would confide in him. Feeling her gaze on his face,
he willed himself to appear only mildly interested as he concentrated on guiding his matched pair along the rutted country road.

He knew when she'd decided to trust him by the way she leaned against his arm and let out a heartfelt sigh. “He confirmed what you said about the license. And when I…lost my temper, he hinted that Cousin Michael is playing me false.”

Fear churned in his belly like a poison. “In what way?”

“Mr. Watson seemed to think my property was also about to be sold.”

She must have misunderstood. That made no sense; Pritchard couldn't sell.

“Does he know your cousin?” David asked, wondering again how much Watson knew of his situation with Pritchard.

“I didn't dare ask, given the terms of my agreement with Cousin Michael. If it got back to him…”

“I know, you'd lose your low rents. So what exactly did Watson say?”

“He was very mysterious. Said that the owner of the school's property had a mind to do something profitable with it very soon, and that I had best be thinking about clearing out before I found myself on the street.”

Ah,
that
made more sense. And he ought to thank Watson for giving her such a warning. “The man has a point. One day your cousin is bound to tire of subsidizing you.”

“Even if he did, he would never put me on the street without giving me a chance to make other arrangements,” she said firmly. “Mr. Watson was making idle threats to run me off. He does not want to deal with having us next door, complaining about his racecourse.”

David gritted his teeth. “Are you sure that's all it is? Your cousin is still a stranger to you, as are his motives. You have no idea why he's giving you low rents.”

She grabbed at her bonnet as they hit a rut. “You do not know the man.”

“Neither do you.”

“I know his character.”

David muttered a curse under his breath. What she didn't know about “his character” could fill a wheelbarrow.

“You cannot possibly understand, David. When I began my school, I was barely twenty-two. Until then it had only been a dream, and I had assumed it would take years of working as a teacher before I could even consider applying to be a headmistress somewhere.”

A ragged breath escaped her. “Then I received his letter saying that he felt bad about Jimmy leaving me so destitute. That he felt honor-bound to make it right.” She stared out over the fields they drove past. “You know better than anyone how little I deserved such kind consideration.”

God, how could he bear to listen to this? “Charlotte—”

“No, let me finish.” Her fingers twisted her reticule strap. “I know now that he is probably not my husband's cousin. Perhaps he is one of my husband's compatriots who came into some money or a rich man whose child I taught.”

She steadied her shoulders. “I do not care who he is. He helped me turn the shambles I had made of my life into something wonderful. He saw the value of what I was then; he believed in me as no one ever had. Without him, I could never have realized my dream at so young an age.”

Her
dream
? Good God. What if Charlotte couldn't be
persuaded to close the school, even after marrying him? What if it were more than just a source of income to her?

He hadn't even considered that.

But she wasn't fool enough to think she could be wife to a viscount and also run a girl's school. She would have responsibilities, social and otherwise. Charlotte would recognize that. Surely she would.

“So you see,” she said softly, “I will not tolerate anyone saying anything ill of my cousin. I owe that man everything. Whoever he is.”

He squirmed to hear the adoration in her voice. He couldn't believe it—he was jealous of himself! And what made it worse was knowing that the fellow he was jealous of did not deserve her thanks. Had never deserved it.

Perhaps I should tell her.

Yes, and then she would hate both him
and
Michael. She would wash her hands of him forever. There would be no going back from that revelation.

He had to stay the course. It was the only way.

“So,” she said lightly, clearly done with the topic of her cousin, “where are we going?”

“To a property in Hampstead Heath. And then to a couple in Acton that are right up the road from each other.”

“Why, those are good areas.”

“Don't sound so surprised.”

“I just assumed, given the small amount I can afford…”

“Believe me, none of them are in peak condition. The advantage is, they have buildings already. That way you have a choice—if you decide to build, you can raze them to the ground and start over. If you can save money by renovating, you can do that, too.”

“Does Sarah's will allow for that?” she asked.

“Sarah's will allows for whatever the executor says.” Literally. “As long as whatever building you end up with is named after her, you'll have followed the letter of the law.” He flicked the reins. “I haven't seen the first two yet myself. The buildings may not be in any condition to renovate, or they may not be large enough to suit your needs. But after today, I should have a better sense of what your needs actually are.”

They were approaching Kew Bridge over the Thames. Suddenly he felt her stiffen beside him. That's when he remembered her aversion to water.

“Are you all right?” he asked as he slowed the horses.

“Yes.” She flashed him a game smile. “I cannot believe you remembered my silly…peculiarity.”

“It isn't silly. And I generally remember whenever a woman goes to pieces in my arms. I don't relish having it happen again. Not out of fear, anyway,” he teased.

She smiled gamely. “It is not a problem. I cross this bridge every time I go in to town. I am quite accustomed to it.”

Noting her pallor, he cast her a skeptical glance. “You don't look accustomed.”

“I will be fine, I promise. Just get it over with.”

“All right.” Taking her hand, he tucked it in the crook of his elbow and then urged the horses to a quicker speed. “I won't let anything harm you, you know.”

“I know.”

But she gripped his arm so tightly as they drove over the Thames, that he wondered if she'd leave bruises.

As soon as they were across, she relaxed, though she kept her hand on his arm. “Have I thanked you yet for taking me to see these properties?”

He snorted. “Until now, you've acted as if I'm mounting an attack on your life.”

A laugh escaped her. “Can I help it if I hate the idea of uprooting the entire school?” She squeezed his arm. “But I believe in keeping an open mind. And I am glad you are the one carrying me around. You see? I
can
be reasonable.”

“Right.”
Reasonable
would be her letting him handle this from now on. Which would only happen if he could convince her to marry him.

One thing at a time. Bed her first. Then marriage will naturally follow.

And once they were married, surely the problems with the school wouldn't matter.

He hoped not, anyway. Because after they reached the first property and the land agent brought them around, David realized that convincing her to move the school might prove difficult. After years in a beautiful old Elizabethan manor, she had unrealistically high expectations.

Before they could even make it inside, Charlotte objected to the small size of the lot, to the poor condition of the drive, to the lack of adequate trees.

“You can plant trees,” he pointed out.

“Yes, but it would be years before we could have trees the size of those on our present property.”

She'd be out on her ear long before then. “How about if I trim those hedges over there to
look
like trees?” he snapped.