Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
BENNET HALL, SURREY - JULY 29, 1816
CHARLOTTE
No one, not one single person, had ever looked at me the way Lee was. A sliver of blue silver ringed his pupils. The lust was familiar, but the adoration—that was entirely Lee . His bitten lips were parted, allowing for panted breaths to drag into his heaving chest.
Every concern I’d had about him not wanting me, not finding me attractive, was well and truly shattered on the floor between us. His throat bobbed, his gaze flitting between mine and the rather vulgar view in front of him. I had the inane desire to bite that shifting knot.
And he asked me if I trusted him. With what, I had no idea. But for some ridiculous reason, I did. It would haunt me later—trusting a man always did—but I could deny him nothing. And I did not want to.
When he asked me to let him love me… How could I do anything else?
My nod was met with a groan that shook the walls. But he didn’t do any of the things I had come to expect. He didn’t rise and strip off his breeches. He didn’t fall atop me in a heavy heap. He didn’t order me to turn over.
Instead, he dropped an eager, open-mouthed kiss to my thigh laying across his shoulder. Then another on the opposite leg. It was a filthy, harsh action, his teeth grazing my flesh. And I loved it.
Unfamiliar sensations twisted deep in my center. They carried a vague resemblance to the heat I’d felt when Wesley made promises, when he spoke of how it would be between us. But the stirrings were amplified to such an extent as to be nearly unrecognizable.
My hand reached for his scarred shoulder, scrambling for purchase, to pull him up. His hand found mine, pulled it from his shoulder, and laced our fingers together as he placed another kiss, higher up my thigh. A foreign ache formed where we would join. A need.
“Lee,” escaped in a whine.
Why was he dragging this out?
He shushed me and my eyes rolled thoughtlessly. He chuckled and whispered, “I have you… You’re safe with me.” Then, without another word of warning, his mouth fell there .
My heart stopped. My stomach dropped. In the time it took to comprehend his actions, sensation had taken over. And oh .
This was… it was…
Magnificent .
For a moment, perhaps two, the sensation was awkward and strange. And then he did something with his tongue and I couldn’t breathe. The air left the room. I was lightheaded and swirly, and I never wanted him to stop.
Fortunately, he seemed to have no intention of ceasing. Once he started whatever he was doing with his tongue, he kept at it with the same single-minded determination with which he searched the skies every night.
And then Lee—wonderful, beautiful Lee—slipped a finger inside my channel, slow and tentative. When he met with no resistance, he started moving it in a rhythm that matched his tongue’s, working me over and higher.
At some point my hand had found his hair and I realized, dimly, that I was tugging rather hard and ought to stop. But my fingers wouldn’t obey my commands. Then he made a circling motion with his tongue as he curled his finger and hit something , and I no longer cared.
My desperate, whimpered pants echoed through the room, harmonizing so beautifully with his groans that to hush them would have been a travesty I could not abide.
He added a second finger and I realized his efforts were building to… something. Like one of his meteors, I found myself in his atmosphere and I was bursting into smoldering flames. We were on a collision course and the resultant explosion would shatter my world.
His tongue made another circuit before changing direction while he twisted his fingers and that was it—my vision went white and I ceased to exist.
When the world reformed, Lee was propped on his side trailing a finger around one of my breasts with fascination in his gaze.
He wore nothing but a well-deserved, smug expression and his breeches.
“Good morning,” he said with a teasing grin. I was forced to check the window to be sure he was teasing. It was still night.
I rolled my eyes.
His answer was a half snort. The laughter was entirely contagious, and my giggles joined his.
My head lolled to the side to face him. That he hadn’t put his shirt back on was a surprise. He had been so uneasy displaying his scars before.
I pressed a kiss to the worst of them, the one above his heart. With a groan, he rolled onto his back, and I followed, propping my chin on his unburned shoulder.
I trailed a hand along the seam where scar and unmarred flesh met. His hand caught mine, and for the briefest moment I thought I had misstepped. But he raised it to his lips for a kiss before setting it on his chest, pressing it there.
“Does it hurt?” I asked.
“Not so much any longer. But it’s not quite the same as the rest of me. Itches sometimes, and it can feel tight when I move certain ways.”
The discomfort hadn’t kept him from whatever labor was responsible for the firm, defined muscles underneath.
He pressed a kiss on top of my head and wrapped his arm tighter around me. “Can I ask a question?”
I hummed my agreement.
“Did that hurt?”
My head popped up with alarm. “No!”
“Good.” He lifted our joined hands from his chest and considered them with a thoughtful expression as his fingers traced mine.
“I-I didn’t know you could do… that,” I added.
His eyes crinkled with a smile that was grander than his quirked lips implied. “I’ve been wanting to do that for weeks.”
“Really?”
“Oh yes.” Something about the tone he used, low and sensual, had my center clenching on nothing. “Did you… Was it something you’d like to do again?”
He chuckled at my enthusiastic nod and set my hand back on his chest, then reached up to adjust the pillow behind him. The movement emphasized the taught muscles in his arm and chest in a way that had my cheeks heating.
I dragged a thumb along his chest. “Earlier, when you took off your shirt…”
“Yes?”
“You… went away for a moment.”
His throat bobbed. The only answer he was capable of giving.
“Is it just that you didn’t want me to see? Or was it something more?”
His entire chest rose and fell with his sigh, and me along with it. “Both. Mia died years ago. I tried to find… companionship once. It didn’t end well.”
I wasn’t entirely certain what that meant, but I had suspicions—none of them pleasant.
He continued, “And it was you. You’re… important to me. I want…” He was silent for a moment, and I understood what remained unsaid. I had wanted him to find me attractive, and he wanted the same.
“I know I explained what happened with Mia. But knowing and seeing the evidence of my failings with your own eyes are different.”
There it was again, “failings.” “You didn’t fail her, Lee.”
He said nothing but flopped his head back on the pillow to stare at the ceiling.
Entirely unconvinced.
It wasn’t the sort of belief I could undo in moments, and I was reluctant to shatter the soft contentment surrounding us like candlelight.
“You didn’t seem to mind me touching them.”
Stormy eyes found mine again. “No, I didn’t mind. It was—no one has ever—it felt… nice.”
“Perfectly polished mirror nice? Or found-a-new-planet nice?”
“Found-a-new-planet nice.” He grinned.
What a lovely feeling. My chest warmed with pride. I trailed fingers along the shelves of muscles lining his lower abdomen. They were stacked neatly atop each other with a trail of dark blond hair leading to an intriguing hardness under his breeches.
I’d never found a man’s… manhood of much interest. Until I was married in any event.
I knew it was there, a part of them the same way arms and legs were a part of them. And that was that. But then I wed Ralph. And a great deal of my life was consumed with whether or not his manhood was satisfied. That was an exhausting, thankless, onerous task. When he occasionally redistributed the job to a lady of easy virtue, I was grateful for the reprieve.
Wesley had boasted a great deal about his manhood. He said it was the largest and thickest of any gentleman in the ton and I would experience such ecstasy when I beheld it that I would weep when he buttoned his falls again.
My eyes rolled of their own volition at the thought. My husband chuckled.
I rather suspected Wesley was very, very wrong in his assessment. Because Lee was certainly more impressive, if the tenting beneath the buckskin was any indication. Although, to be quite honest, Ralph may have been more impressive. It had been difficult to see Wesley during our single tryst in a darkened corridor.
“What on earth are you thinking of?”
My gaze shot to Lee’s and my cheeks burned.
Bright laughter spilled into the room. “Oh, now I must know.”
I shook my head, burying it into his chest. A warm hand came up to cup the back of my head.
“Tell me.”
“I don’t think I will.” My prim reply was muffled into the coarse hair and silken planes of his chest.
“Fine, keep your secrets.” The hand on my head slid into my hair and threaded through it from root to end before beginning again.
The hardness in his breeches made its presence felt against my thigh when I shifted, breathing in his scent. The peppermint was still there, but something masculine was underneath it.
I was dawdling. I knew that. But Lee made no move to rush me. He didn’t take my hand and place it on his member, didn’t reach to unbutton his falls, made no snappish comments. And the horrid part of me was wondering… just how long would he allow me to feign ignorance of his situation?
“Charlotte?” And there it was. At least he would ask rather than telling, or worse, just shoving me into whatever position he desired.
“Hmm?”
“I do not wish to return to my own bed. Would you mind terribly if I stayed here again tonight?”
Lee
My heart clenched pitifully on the silence that followed my question. It was too much, too far, too fast. Allowing me to be with her had required a great deal of trust. And I could not content myself with that. I was greedy, asking for more than she was willing to offer.
Her “Stay” breathed against my skin was nearly inaudible. Relief flooded my chest in a great rush of blood and air. My arm tightened around her bare form involuntarily.
Permission granted, I ought to move, to draw back the covers and settle her beneath them. Surely she was cold. And a chill would be bad for both her and the baby. But a languid warmth had settled into my bones and my limbs weren’t obeying commands. At least none of the commands that involved relinquishing my hold on Charlotte.
Charlotte, who hadn’t relaxed back into my arms after my question. She hadn’t moved, not really, but she held herself stiff and uneasy. Perhaps her back again?
Disentangling my fingers from her curls was a disappointment and a challenge. I’d made quite the mess. Once freed from the tousled, silken chaos, I dragged my hand down to her lower back—the place that had ached the previous night—and rubbed gently there.
Her hand resumed its distracting pattern along my chest, weaving in and out of the scarred areas at random. She didn’t shy away. Not that she ever had. But my chest was the absolute worst of it and she endured the sight with grace.
My cock was steadfastly refusing to forget that I had my beautiful, naked wife in my arms, and was making his presence far too known. Fortunately, Charlotte seemed content in her aimless tracing for the moment.
The angle was wrong, but I pressed a thumb into the line of her spine, swirling it in the space between vertebrae. She relaxed the littlest bit with each circle.
Suddenly, she tensed again.
“What’s wr—” My question broke off in a pathetic, hysterical choke.
Without warning, the hand that had been chiefly occupied tracing my chest dipped its way down my abdomen and slipped into my breeches to wrap around my shaft.
My wife’s hand moved in a practiced rhythm, one designed for efficiency. It was incredible. Warm, soft hands twisted with the intention to bring about a swift climax—of course it was wonderful. And that was not even considering that I hadn’t felt a touch other than my own in years.
But… it was exactly that. Practiced, requisite, perfunctory. Instinctively, I caught her wrist in my hand, biting back the groan when I pulled her hand away, and cursing every instinct that told me this wasn’t desire but duty.
“Lee?”
I pressed a kiss to the hand I’d captured. “That is not what this was about.”
“But… you’re…”
“I do not know if you’ve noticed, but you’re naked, darling. It’s just… how my body reacts when my beautiful wife lies naked in my arms. What we did, it wasn’t so you would reciprocate. I just wanted to make you feel pleasure. I thought that might be a good way to go about it, minimal penetration, limited opportunities for pain.”
“And you do not want…”
“I do—I do not wish for you to think otherwise or to retake the silly notion that I do not desire you. But I only want it when you desire it too. Because you wish to, not because you feel that you are supposed to. Not because you believe you owe me, but because you want nothing more.”
She hesitated, considering her next sentence in starts and stops. When it finally escaped her, I understood. “What if I never wish to?”
I sighed, swallowing the strange combination of longing and pride. That question—it would not have been easy for my Charlotte to ask. That she felt comfortable—safe enough—to ask it… An odd sort of warmth filled my chest at the evidence of her bravery. It was enough to overwhelm any other emotion.
“Then you never want to. I never expected you to let me touch you, let alone the reverse. I’m far from disappointed.”
Finally, her head propped up on my chest once again, her lip caught between her teeth. “Thank you.” So much sentiment was wrapped in those two words. I never could have named her feelings.
“Do not thank me, not for that. Now, I need you to move over just a bit so I can wrap us in the coverings before you freeze to death.”
“I am hardly going to freeze to death.”
“Well, your feet tell a different story.” I squeezed her frosty toes between my stockinged calves.
Her eye roll was all the sweeter when I earned it.