Page 86 of To Woo a Wicked Widow

“So he knew you were foxed and yet he continued?”

Charlotte nodded, then grabbed her handkerchief and scrubbed at the drops trickling down her face.

Nash shot up out of his seat, pacing the room with thudding footsteps, muttering under his breath as he rubbed the back of his neck. A few moments later, he seemed to settle, though he looked longingly at the decanter on the sideboard. Instead, he sat back down and took up her hands again. “I beg your pardon, my dear.” His mouth had firmed into a straight, disapproving line. “Please continue.”

“That’s about all I can say.” Charlotte bowed her head and shook it. “Except I don’t know if I am increasing or not.” What a wonder she could tell him all this. But then, Nash had become so comfortable to be around. Someone you wanted to have with you every day for the rest of your life.

He brushed his thumb across her knuckles, an intimate touch that sent a frisson of warmth up her arm. “You deserve love, Charlotte. You deserve passion. Let me take you into my bed and give you those things as I’ve longed to do these last months.” He lifted her hand and placed a slow, searing kiss on her palm. “And I promise, on my honor, I won’t ask you to marry me afterward.”

Her heart skipped a beat. The words she’d longed to hear since August, not as welcome as they once would have been. A marriage proposal now would be the sweetest words imaginable. Words of love and passion and commitment had become more appealing than freedom.

He awaited her answer, his thumb stroking over her knuckles.

There was only one she wanted to give. “Yes, Nash,” she said as she brought his mouth to hers and kissed him.

Chapter 30

Nash’s whole body blazed when she pressed her lips softly to his. His head buzzed like a hive. She was his at last, even if only for the afternoon. Well, if so, he’d damn well make the most of it.

He seized control of the kiss, deepening it, letting his tongue run wild inside her. She would have no doubt that he meant to keep his word, especially about the passion. Perhaps afterward she would desire more. And he would be oh so willing to give it.

Placing his hand on the small of her back, he swept her out of his office and toward the grand staircase. He resisted the urge to pick her up and run with her as he had that day in September, when they had driven each other mad with passion and denial. No such foolish notion stood between them today.

Once in his bedchamber, a fire crackling cozily in the grate, he pulled her to him and stared into her face. The flickering light revealed her beauty, bone-deep, and the emerald green of her eyes, a wonderful sign. Best of all, they shone with trust. His heart soared.

“I have waited so long for this, Charlotte.”

She ran her hand down his arm, leaving fire in her wake. “We did not even meet properly until August, Lord Wrotham. That is not so very long.”

“I have waited for this moment all my life.” He had. The perfect woman in his arms. Even before the title, he’d wanted one woman to cherish and care for and make happy for all his life. What his father and mother had had for too brief a time.

“I’m not worthy of that,” she whispered, tears starting from her eyes.

He grasped her chin and forced her to look at him. “You are more than worthy, my lady. You are my vision of happiness and I will not be gainsaid.” He seized her head, pressed her lips against his, tilting her face, melding them into one. Hunger erupted in his groin. Appeasement finally to hand, he broke the kiss and made short work of her gown and stays. Her wrap had been abandoned in the office, giving him one less layer to tear through.

At last she stood before him, like the birth of a new Venus. Her pale skin glowed in the firelight, a perfect splash of cream save for her rosy cheeks, the dusky pink of her nipples, and the dark chestnut of the curls above her thighs.

Sight of her created havoc in his breeches.

She glanced down at him and laughed softly. “We must hurry a bit, don’t you think? We wouldn’t want you to suffer any more than necessary.” She drew two pins from her head and the mass of her rich, dark hair cascaded around her shoulders, over her breasts, to curl at her waist.

“No, he has suffered enough at your hands, my lady.” Nash tore off his cravat, then began to tug at the buttons of his shirt. Too many of the damned things, to be sure. He glanced down. Damn, his boots were still on. He plucked them off and dragged his shirt over his head. He dropped his hand to work on his fall.

“Well, let him be soothed by me, then,” she said, slipping her hand inside his waistband.

Her long, soft fingers wrapped around his cock.

Dear God. Nash groaned, caught between the ecstasy of her touch and the torture of his need. He wanted to go slow, to pleasure her again and again before taking his ease. That plan would have to be abandoned. They’d be lucky to make it to the bed at this rate.

“Charlotte.” He pried her fingers from around him. “Let me see to you first. I want to give you the pleasure you deserve. But if you continue this way, we may end up too fast and frantic.”

“Oh.” Her face lost some of its joy. “I wanted to—”

“And you will.” He bent to nuzzle her neck. “I will beg you to pleasure me.” Finally, the blasted breeches and drawers were kicked away. It took all his self-control not to heft her up and impale her immediately on his rock-hard shaft.

Instead, he gathered her to him, pressing his hard heat against her smooth belly. Her gasp turned into a moan that inflamed him that much more. Christ, he would have to hurry. Perhaps their second time could be leisurely.

He raked the covers back, then picked her up and lay her on crisp sheets in the middle of the huge oak bed. Her hair fanned out across the pillows, a dark swath against the stark white. Dear Lord, he hoped she was ready for him.