The Best Man's Bridesmaid Read online

  For heaven’s sake, she has minutes still before she is tardy. Control your enthusiasm.

  A tapping on the French window made him jump. He turned on his heel and strode briskly to it, to draw back the curtain. A figure in a black cloak, the hood drawn well over the face, stood there. Caroline? He hoped so.

  In the back of his mind was a vague memory of another lady, dressed in a similar fashion. It teased at his memory as he unlatched the window and opened it wide to let her enter. As she removed the cloak, any thoughts he had been harboring immediately left him. All he could do was gape at the vision in front of him.

  “Maybe you should,” she remarked as she gestured to the open window. He hurried to close it and the heavy drapes before he turned to rest his hands on her shoulders and take her cloak from her. And once more stared!

  ***

  Caroline was well satisfied with his reaction. She had put considerable thought into what to wear, and it seemed her considerations had paid off. Her dress, simple in its design was of the palest pink, drawing out the russet highlights of her hair. That shone and shimmered in the firelight and as was her usual preference, lay loose and waving to her waist. The front was covered in a fine, skin-colored net, cleverly designed so that at first glance it was difficult to ascertain which was dress and which was skin. Her sole item of jewelry was a long strand of pearls, which reached past her waist and rested at the top of her legs, drawing his eyes downward. As she moved, the cut and color of her gown made it seem she was hardly dressed at all, although on a second look, her attire was decorous in the extreme.

  “Clever,” Charlie admired. “You hint, you tease, you entice in that garment. You make me itch to see what is under it.”

  “That, my lord, is its intention.” she said with a sang-froid she hoped he admired. “Whether your itch will be scratched remains to be seen.”

  “Oh, it will very definitely be scratched,” he replied assuredly. “The single fact to be determined is when and where. But it will be satisfied. And by you.” He took her hand. “I think in the circumstances, we will remove to my private sitting room. Aunt Sophia is still out, and although it is normal for her to retire the moment she returns home, we will take no chances. Her sitting room and bedroom are in no way near mine. Come.” He led her not to the door, but to the paneling alongside the fireplace. As he bent a little to touch a rosette carved in the wood, the firelight glinted on his blond hair. He really is handsome. Caroline admired the way his buttocks fit in his pantaloons and the outline of his torso outlined under the fine lawn of his shirt. Not to mention the way his thighs moved as he walked. The words taught and tight entered her mind and stayed firmly put.

  “One moment. There,” he said, as the wood swung aside. “Let me light the candles. Just follow me.”

  Caroline was entranced. “A secret passage? Is your house so old that this was needed?”

  “Only for assignations,” he said drily as he preceded her up the remarkably clean and airy stairs. “I believe this was built so the master of the house could slip in and out without his wife’s knowledge. Or perhaps I should say without her and the servants admitting knowledge.”

  “Very clever,” Caroline acknowledged. “Do your servants know about it?”

  “I would say they do. Servants seem to know everything. However, knowing and admitting to that knowledge are two very different things.” He escorted her through a door at the top of the stairs into, she realized, his bathing chamber. Without a blush and with considerable aplomb, she followed him around the large and imposing bath. She averted her eyes, even as her mind wondered about all the sort of activities that could perhaps happen within it.

  He led the way into his sitting room. Once there, she let him usher her to sit on a large, comfortable chair. It was obvious it had been designed for two to sit very close together.

  “And while we are on the subject of knowing and admitting to that knowledge, I think perhaps we have a few things to discuss.” He handed her a glass of champagne.

  “To knowledge and the thirst for learning,” he said and toasted her.

  “Mm.” She took a sip. “To understanding?”

  “Truth?”

  “Honesty.”

  “To all of those. And to us.” He touched his glass to hers and sat next to her. The chair was definitely made for two to sit very closely. Charlie’s thigh rested next to hers. Perhaps too close, it felt as if he seared her skin. She wanted a clear head, not one befuddled with thoughts of his body.

  Charlie took a sip of champagne. “So,” he said. “Would you like to start? Specifically with the meaning of your statement, ‘there has only been, and will only ever be, you for me, or in me’?”

  Caroline twisted her glass between her fingers and ignored his request. So easy to think she knew what she wanted to do and say when she was alone in her bedchamber. Not so easy now she had to execute those thoughts.

  “Why do you want to marry me, Charlie?” she asked and ignored his question and the shiver it sent to her most intimate parts. She looked him straight in the eye. “Why me specifically? Why not Eleanora Ammersley or Henrietta Delahay?” She named two renowned beauties. “And don’t say because our parents wish it. I’m asking you, not them. It can’t be because I can arouse you, because I never did before. It can’t be because you thought I’d make a good countess eventually, for you knew little of me. My looks? No, I had none, or none you noticed,” she continued in a dry tone. It was one she had perfected over the years. She decided to choose not to comment on his sheepish look. “My witty repartee and conversation? Not that either, you made sure you had no chance to experience those. So, my lord. I ask again. Why me?” She waited, curious as to hear his reasons.

  “I, err,” Charlie stuttered. It was unusual for him, that he appeared lost for words. Truth be told, she suspected he had only agreed to marry her due to parental pressure, then once she accepted, had with unflattering promptness done his best to forget her existence. She sensed he had treated her period of mourning as a good omen, a reprieve. The fact of a fiancé, albeit an absent one, had kept matchmaking mamas away from him and must surely have stopped his parents from commenting negatively on his every move. Caroline assumed, from the little her parents had told her, both sets of parents were content to know he would settle down as soon as she was free to marry. No one but she knew how humiliated she could have allowed herself to feel, if she had not pulled herself together and made her own life.

  “The truth, remember?” she prompted him.

  He sighed. “Right-oh. The truth. Unpalatable as it is, and how shallow I sound. Originally, it was parental pressure, first and last. They disapproved of my friends, my hobbies, and every part of my lifestyle. First son and all that. The heir, with a more than generous allowance, which I frittered away at every conceivable opportunity. They did not wish to see my squander all of my inheritance. You, I was told, were suitable, willing, and er, able,” he said and hesitated, before continuing. “To my relief, you did not seem unwilling. Then no sooner were we betrothed than you went into mourning, and I, ah, was able to forget…” With a deprecating shrug, his voice trailed off. “Well, you did ask for the truth,” he pointed out. “But I am ashamed of how uncaring I have been.” His face colored, and he held out his hands in supplication.

  “I did, didn’t I? Ask for the truth,” Caroline replied ruefully. “So it is as much my fault as yours. I also was told I was to accept your offer. You were eligible, very eligible, and it did not seem you would bother me too much, except for the matter of an heir. Or so I was given to believe. And then, probably leave me to my own devices. Not that my mama thought I’d have any devices, if you get my meaning. She told me that.”

  “Oh! Not a very flattering picture, of me or our married life, was it?” Charlie protested. “And yet you still said yes.”

  “I had no option,” she replied, tartness in her tone. “But now I do. So, Charlie, why do you want to marry me now? Because I do not know if I wish to
marry you. I am independent, financially sound, and have my own home. I am happy with my life, and my own small part in society is more than enough. I have no need to marry.” She laughed at his pointed look toward her breasts and then his lower half. “Not, if my information is correct, even for that.”

  “In some circumstances, I would say, with sincere apologies, that was true,” Charlie agreed. “But, Caroline, have you thought about this? The scandal if you now dismiss me. You will be refused entry to all things of the ton. Your parents—how would they cope?”

  “That, my lord, right or not, is not my chief concern. Indeed the picture you paint almost encourages me not to agree to continue with this farce. For farce it is,” she said with force.

  His mouth closed on what Caroline was sure was to be a protest at her words. “My chief concern, as should be yours, is us,” she continued. Her skin tingled at the idea he would not realize the importance of her words. “And our futures, whatever they may be. My happiness, indeed our happiness, is at stake. I need someone I can be equal to, to trust, honor, and have no need to obey, because we think alike. And frankly someone I can share my bed with and—” She stopped abruptly.

  “Go on?” he prompted. “And?”

  “And someone who wants me, only me, in his arms.” She finished in a hurry. “Someone who wants to fill me, only me, time after time, heirs and spares be damned. Are you that person?”

  “Shall we find out?” He took the scarce touched glass of champagne from her hand and put it on a side table. Knelt in front of her and moved his hands to the cleverly fashioned fastenings of her bodice.

  Well, she had asked for it. Caroline could hardly breathe. She knew, deep in her heart, that she craved Charlie. She desired him more than just a bedmate or lover. She was greedy; she wanted it all. But Charlie had to hunger for that as well, otherwise she would back out of the proposed marriage, retire to Chattels, away from the remonstrations of her family and his, and the scandalous looks and remarks of the ton. Henceforth to live alone, as happy as she could possibly be without him. Caroline knew she would lock her feelings away, secure in the knowledge he would never realize how she had adored him from afar all those years ago. In those days, a smile in her direction would make her almost swoon with delight. Even the most casual of words seemed like he was noticing her, singling her out for his much envied attention. When he asked for her hand, it seemed like all her dreams had come true. Until she heard her parents and his discussing what the proposal meant and how little interest he had toward her. His actions in leaving her alone straight after the proposal confirmed his disinterest, and she was distraught. Even at that young age, Caroline had long since promised herself that she would rather live alone and be considered an old maid, than endure a loveless marriage, such as her parents and most of their peers had. Being told by her mother that she had a great fondness for her husband was not enough for Caroline; she coveted more. She was certain she needed her husband to yearn for, and be satisfied by, her and not need to go elsewhere.

  Her great-aunt’s demise and her will had been a blessing in disguise. As had Amanda and her activities. Little did Charlie know just how well she knew him now.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “Mm. How nice.” Charlie opened the front of her dress and took her breasts in his hands; his nimble fingers caressed and fondled each in turn. “So luscious, so soft, but when I do this”—he suckled each nipple in turn and reveled in their immediate response to his touch—”how excited they become. How excited I become.” He glanced at her. No sign of outrage, just a soft, dreamy look on her face, her eyes half-closed, her breath fast and shallow. “You like this.” It was not a question.

  She chose to interpret it as one. “I do?”

  “Well, your breasts and nipples do,” he said in a frank manner. “They are begging for more. Are you wet for me? Want me to touch you elsewhere? To kiss you elsewhere?” How outrageous could he be, he wondered, before she slapped his face? Or agreed?

  She did neither.

  “Well, my lord, questions, questions. Will I grant you an answer? Time will tell. Meanwhile, how do you feel?” She didn’t move to touch his rapidly hardening penis or open his shirt and run her clever fingers around his nipples as he expected. She just looked at his face and smiled.

  The smile jogged his memory. Where had he seen such a smile before?

  “Shall we retire to the next room?” He indicated his bedchamber.

  “Shall we?” she asked as she returned his question. “Do you ask me as a fiancé, a harlot, or a sensuous woman?”

  “All of them,” he replied and smiled. “That is what a man wants in his woman.”

  “Well then.” She held out her hand. Charlie took it in his and pulled her to her feet. He tugged her close to him until they almost touched and allowed himself the excitement of anticipation. He wondered if she felt that same electricity pulsing through her as he did. His skin tingled with it.

  “And if we retire and I choose to go no further?” she asked as she looked up at him from under long lashes. A sweet, arousing smile played around her lips and showed in her eyes.

  “I’ll explode,” he retorted. “But I will respect your wishes, however hard it seems. If you choose not to stop, I will respect you no less than I do now. As a courageous, strong, sensuous, woman.”

  She stopped. “Ah.” She paused, as if lost for words, before she continued. “And I, whether we choose to stop or go on, will respect you as a courageous, strong, sensuous, arousing man!” Charlie noticed her deliberate choice of the word “we.”

  He kissed her with a gentle passion on her lips and slipped his tongue inside to play games with her mouth. Caroline moaned in encouragement and entwined her tongue with his, sucking and pulling, as she mimicked the actions his fingers had taken earlier. Charlie felt his arousal try to rise above his waistline.

  Bloody uncomfortable. He moved to release himself, then stopped with an abruptness that startled himself. It was all well and good sparring words with Caroline, touching and being touched. But nothing had been quite so blatant. But then—”There has only been, and will only ever be, you for me, or in me”? How much “for” and how much “in” was she talking about? He had no option other than to get to the bottom of that statement sometime. He almost sniggered to himself, that wasn’t the sole bottom he was interested in.

  Charlie moved and caught her unawares. His cock pressed hard against her. She gasped. With pleasure or horror? He hoped the first, had a sneaking suspicion by the way she eyed the edge of his shirt where it barely covered the top of his pantaloons, it may be the second. He didn’t allow either of them time to find out, as he swiftly lifted her into his arms and blatantly rested her against his erection—in for a penny, as they said—and moved with a rapid stride into his bedchamber.

  “Not the bed,” she said as she whorled her tongue around in his ear. “The chaise or the chair. Not the bed. Not yet.”

  “Why not?” he asked in surprise as he nevertheless obliged her and sat on the chaise with her snug on his lap.

  “Because I will not go to bed with you until…” She paused.

  “Until?”

  Caroline sighed. “Until I know it is forever.”

  He looked at her in his arms. Her bodice was open and her beautiful breasts on display for him. He felt something new stir inside.

  “How will you know?” he asked, curious as to her reasons. “I keep my word, Caroline. I will be yours and only yours, on your say so. But the choice is yours. Not mine. And”—he paused as he struggled with himself—”I want to be selfless and say until you agree to marry me, I will not touch you. But I do not have that strength of will.”

  Her mood changed. “Oh, sir, I am so glad,” she murmured and did her little wriggle in his lap. “For this is so enjoyable, don’t you think?” she said, her tone low and to him, full of promise. “I can feel you growing ever harder beneath me.”

  “Look and see,” he invited and began to move her from his l
ap.

  She shook her head. “Oh no, too soon. What if I am disappointed? ‘Tis much better to imagine how you look, how hard but silky soft you are. That I have felt and will feel again, perhaps at some point.”

  He didn’t understand her. He could almost think she was inexperienced, a novice in the art of coquetry, almost shy. But surely not? Not when she had been so bold earlier.

  “Caroline. No more games,” he warned. “Well, verbal games. You can tease and entice all you like. I must know. Are you experienced in any of the art of arousal, of lovemaking? I do not wish to shock you or hurt you, but sooner rather than later, we will sate ourselves in each other. It must be wanted by both of us and be a joyous experience. To reach true ecstasy together is a rare thing. But if we choose to, we will achieve it. So?” He stared at her, his expression serious and intense. She flushed and wriggled. “Caroline. Your experience? Please?”

  “All learned from you, Charlie. All from you. Whether you realize it or not. You have been my mentor, my tutor.” She was silent for a moment. “Do you trust me, Charlie? Will you give me a little time before I tell you all? For in all honesty it is not all mine to tell.”

  “How much time?” He waited and watched a myriad of emotions expressed on her face. He could but hope he saw truth and longing there. He dare not hope for more.

  “I would like to say I don’t know. But judging by the way you feel,” she said and moved against him, “I could not be that cruel.”

  He was sure that wriggle was to make him aware of her awareness of his penis, hard and tight as it nestled against her bottom. He hoped its strength and heat permeated through her skirt to her skin.