Chapter Twenty-One

Finlay was drowning.

Yet, instead of feeling panicked, he felt euphoric. Weightless. Completely swamped with sensations. The silky feel of Charlotte’s skin under his hands was sublime. The taste of her essence dancing across his tongue made his eyes roll back into his head. The scent of her: sun-ripened apples, woman, and arousal all coalesced until he felt drugged.

The soft mewling sounds she emitted at intervals timed with the flicks of his tongue were making it hard for him to hold on to the reins of his self-control. But after a year of heated memories, he was determined to provide Charlotte with as much gratification as possible. He found he experienced more pleasure giving her pleasure than he did by simply focusing on himself.

“Faith,” she cried suddenly, her nails scouring his scalp and bringing a smile to his lips. “Please don’t stop! I’m so close.”

And he knew she was. Even foxed, Finlay had been able to interpret Charlotte’s passionate responses as if they were written across her skin in a language only he could read.

As she squirmed under his hands, he tightened his grip on her hips, pressing his arms down on her thighs as he held his tongue exactly where she needed it. Her soft keen and subsequent shivers heralded a potent rush of victory. Without hesitation, he climbed up her sated and prone body, trailing kisses from her jaw to her temple. “May I?”

Her blue eyes snapped open. “Lud, yes.”

Charlotte wrapped her legs around his thighs as he guided himself into her welcoming core. She arched into his thrusts, her arms twined around his neck, bringing their bodies flush together. Finlay groaned at the sweet friction it created.

This. This was what he had craved. What he had missed in the year since they had been apart. Sex wasn’t just sex with Charlotte. It was deeper. It was more. Every sensation, every touch, every kiss, every thrust was infinitely more. He ground his teeth and buried his face in her hair as he continued to sink into her tight warmth, unwilling to consider why he craved her so.

“Harder,” she murmured, her nails sinking into his back as she turned her face into the crook of his neck.

Finlay groaned as he complied, sweat beginning to bead on his brow. Their flesh slapped against each other, the sound accompanied by their soft moans and fevered kisses. He heaved an inner sigh of relief when he felt her quiver around him, bowing her back and emitting a silent scream. At that moment, he pulled out and spilled on her belly before collapsing next to her, depleted.

They were quiet for several moments, the only sound their labored breathing.

She finally turned to him and smiled, and Finlay experienced a pinch in his chest. “Well, it’s a relief, at least, to know I remembered our night together accurately.”

A chuckle bubbled in his throat. “Did you doubt yourself?”

She looked down at her finger, which swirled in the bedclothes, a rosy flush stealing over her cheeks. “Cor, I doubted you.”

“Ah, well, then I’m thrilled to have disabused you of your doubt,” he said, grabbing her hand and kissing her palm.

“What makes you think I don’t still have doubts?” She rose, disappearing behind a small screen in the corner. When she appeared again, she said, “I’m still gathering evidence.”

And like that, the flame of desire that had so recently burned low roared back to life. Finlay jumped up, coming behind her and pressing kisses down her neck and across her bare shoulder. “I do so like a challenge,” he whispered.

His hands covered her breasts, his fingers worrying the sensitive nipples as Charlotte arched into him, her arms coming up to encircle his neck. Trailing a hand down her smooth belly to the juncture between her legs, he growled when he found her wet. Again. He stroked her with light touches, grinning into her hair at her whimpers of frustration and her attempts to grind into his hand.

“What do you need, Char?” He took her earlobe in his mouth and nibbled it. He felt wicked delight when she shuddered. “Tell me what you need.”

“Fin,” she moaned, and the sound of his name on her lips as she chased her release was alcohol on the fire of his arousal.

He pulled her toward the bed, desperate to lay her down, spread her legs, and take her. “Tell me, Char. Tell me.”

When the backs of his knees hit the bed, she spun in his arms, her stunning eyes bright and her cheeks flushed pink. Placing her palms on his chest, she quirked her mouth. “This.”

She pushed, and he fell on to the bed with a dull thump. Propping himself up on his elbows, he gazed at her curiously, desire pumping through his blood. Charlotte looked down at him, her hungry gaze raking his body. Her eyes trailed first up and then down, halting on his cock, which stretched long and hard against his abdomen. She met his gaze, a small smile curving her full lips. He suddenly knew her intent, moaning softly in the back of his throat. Sweeping her dark curls over her shoulder, she prowled up his body, stopping when she reached his waist. Grasping his cock in a firm grip, she pumped him, once, twice, before sliding her tongue over the tip.

Lud, and the sensation of her scorching tongue on his most sensitive flesh made it impossible for him to hold his head aloft, pleasure weakening his limbs, and he gripped the bedclothes in his fists. She laved him with firm strokes, finally taking the thick head into her mouth and sucking it deep.

“Ch-Char,” he groaned, her name a benediction. He wrapped his hand in her hair, helping her set a pace that had him lifting his hips off the bed. His orgasm built and built, almost to the point of delicious pain, when she suddenly drew back. He cursed, opening his eyes to look at her.

With her mahogany locks in disarray around her cheeks, her lips a sinful red, she was the embodiment of a seductress. She raised a dark brow. “Don’t worry. I’m not quite done with you.”

With those words she straddled him, grasping his cock and guiding it into her wet core. Finlay shuddered at the exquisite sensation, once again closing his eyes as wave after wave of pleasure washed over him.

But she didn’t allow him a moment of brevity. Placing her hands on his chest, her fingernails sinking in for purchase, she moved in strong, sure strokes. Her hips undulated to a beat that matched the rapid pace of his heart. He opened his eyes to see her arching her back, her curls brushing against his thighs and her breasts showcased for his admiration. The sight of her thus, seeking her pleasure, overwhelmed him.

“That’s it, Charlotte. Take it. I want to make you feel good,” he bit out between moans.

She leaned forward, until her breasts brushed against his chest and her lips were a scant breath from his. Her gaze pierced him with its intensity. “You make me feel beautiful.”

“You are beautiful.” Finlay grabbed her hips, grinding himself up into her movements. “Christ, I could watch you use me all day.”

Satisfaction snaked down his spine when she groaned at his words. She dropped her head onto his shoulder and kissed his neck. His hands slid down to her bottom, and when her rhythm started to falter, her core fluttering as she neared the crest, he helped her keep the pace that aided her ascent. A scant second later, they were thrown into the heavens together, Charlotte milking him until his breath stuttered in his lungs and he smothered her name with her lips.

…

She was completely boneless.

Charlotte also felt safe. Cherished. Dare she say it, if only to herself? She felt loved.

Perhaps she was projecting, she realized when a dash of reality made itself known in the guise of a grumbling, empty stomach. She rolled off him, coming to rest at his side. Immediately Finlay wrapped an arm about her shoulders and hauled her close, her head coming to rest on his chest. He stroked the hair from her face as his breath drifted across her cheek.

She loved him. Really, how could she not? He was a man who was impossible not to fall in love with. He was charming. Witty. Humorous. Honorable to a fault. So handsome he made her head swim when she looked at him.

He was also not for her.

Charlotte knew this. Had known it since she first met him in that darkened garden at the ill-fated Belling house party. Yet, never had that knowledge been so painful.

That pain coalesced now into a ball of molten fire in her throat. As his skillful fingers drifted across her shoulders and down her naked back, she fought back tears, for no matter how much her heart wished to keep him, to lavish him with love, to express all the ways she admired and respected him, he was not, and never could be, hers.

“What are you thinking?”

Charlotte clenched her eyes shut, willing away the few leaked tears she’d been unable to hold in. She cleared her throat. “I’m getting my bearings.”

“I told you I’d erase your doubt.”

She laughed despite herself. “I did all the work, though.”

“Is it work when it’s that enjoyable?” He pulled back until he could meet her gaze, his wicked lips curved into a teasing smirk.

“I’m not sure,” she hedged, stroking her chin in consideration. “But I’m willing to let you test the theory.”

Finlay shifted until they lay face to face, his hand clutched possessively on her hip. The pulsing heat from it spread through her whole body, bringing an ache to her core. “I’m willing to test it for as long as it takes,” he said, his mouth landing on hers in a blistering kiss.

Sometime later, Charlotte found herself dangling off the bed, the sheets knotted about her legs. Finlay’s arm lay across her lower back, anchoring her and keeping her from falling on her face.

Still she didn’t move. With all the blood pooling in her head, she experienced a rare moment of clarity. She had quickly learned rational thoughts were impossible around him.

This would be their last time together.

She swallowed down a knot of sadness at the realization there would be no more flirtatious banter. No more stolen glances both of them tried to hide. No more secret smiles and no more commiserating words. He would be no more to her…forever.

She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from crying.

And oh, how she would dread the day she’d unfold the morning paper to read of his engagement. Of his marriage to the perfect lady, whose wealth, connections, impeccable breeding, and lovely face would complement and aid his ambitions. For Charlotte knew she could never be those things for him, no matter how much she wished otherwise.

She’d loved two men in her life, and society had deemed her unfit for either of them.

“Why were you happy with your husband?”

She jerked her head up. “What?”

“Why do you think your marriage was a happy one?”

“I suppose”—she instinctively twitched her ring finger—“we shared a mutual respect for each other. And because we respected each other, we were honest with each other, even when the truth was painful or inconvenient.” A ghost of a smile tugged her lips. “And we laughed together. I’ve learned never to underestimate the power of a well-timed laugh.”

She looked back to see crinkles marring his forehead. Pulling herself up, she settled at the foot of the bed, tucking her knees into her chest and resting her chin on them. “Why do you ask?”

He was quiet for a long minute, and while she was tempted to prompt him, she sensed he was waging some sort of internal debate.

His eyes were faraway when he said, “My parents’ marriage was heralded as a great match, and yet they did not enjoy a happy union. I’ve often wondered why they could not find contentment together. I suspected my mother’s sullen disposition was part of the reason, but I now know that to be false.”

“How so?”

“Alethea found the countess’s diary. She’d written in it since she was a girl. It was shocking to read her words and trace her metamorphosis from a cheerful young lady to a bitter, angry woman.”

“Why did she change, Fin?” Her pulse roared in her ears as she waited for his answer.

Finlay’s gaze gripped her own. “She learned that my father, her husband and the man she loved, had carried on an affair with her sister.”

He said the words like he was announcing it was time for supper. As if they were inconsequential and not packing the weight of a racing mail coach.

Surely, she’d swallowed shards of glass. “How did she find out?”

Finlay chuckled, but it was hollow sounding. “She only discovered the truth when the pair confessed to her they were expecting a child.”

…

Finlay experienced a grotesque sort of satisfaction in watching the color seep from Charlotte’s face. It was validation, in a way, that the truth of his father’s actions was as heinous as he believed.

“B-but where is this child? Were you able to find him? Or her?” she asked around the fingers covering her mouth.

He hesitated. The rational part of his brain knew he was about to take a great risk. Only a very small group of people knew the secret of his birth, but for some perverse reason he needed her to know. Needed her to know that while she worried about the scandal she could bring down upon him, he was born into a scandal so great it would shock even jaded Londoners.

“You’re looking at one half of the pair she birthed.”

“Oh, Fin.” Her eyes widened before she clenched them shut. “I’m so sorry.”

“Yes, well.” He cleared his throat. “It’s no real mystery now why she was unhappy.”

“Her husband and sister betrayed her in the most excruciating way.”

He swallowed.

Her whisper seemed to echo. “What happened to her? Your real mother?”

“She died in childbirth.”

“Oh.” He heard the sound of hair rustling and knew she was fidgeting with her curls. “And the countess just accepted you and your sister as her own? Lud, I can’t imagine how painful that was.”

“Despite her sins, the countess loved her sister. And she sadly could not have children of her own.” He massaged his temple. “When my father pressed us on her, I think she felt helpless to say no.” He remained quiet until she looked at him. “Would you have said no?”

Her blue eyes were sad. “I do not know.”

Finlay leaned back on the pillows, a lump in his throat. Whenever he thought of his mother—the countess—and tried to decipher her actions and motivations, he came to naught. “If she had refused to accept us, if she had turned us away, my life would be very different than it is now.”

Charlotte considered him, a haunting emotion shining in her eyes. “It was incredibly selfless of her.” She bit her lip. “Why did you tell me this?”

He adjusted the sheets. Studied his hands. Anything to not look at her. “You’ve been honest with me about your past. I wanted you to know that I trust you enough to share mine with you.”

He darted her a glance in time to see a peculiar look contorted her expression. It was quickly gone.

A change of subject seemed in order.

“If you were, heaven forfend, to be attacked again, would you know how to protect yourself?”

…

Charlotte blinked. “Uh, I believe so.”

Finlay cocked a brow.

She released a breath. “I hope so.”

“Show me,” he commanded, pushing himself off the mattress, landing on the balls of his feet.

Collapsing back onto the bed, her gaze fixed unblinking at the ceiling. He’d just shared a most devastating secret and now wanted to discuss her safety? She grappled for a response.

“If you’d rather nap…or conduct another test of your theory, I’m amenable.”

“I think we could both benefit from a rest.” Charlotte threw him an exasperated smile. It seemed he was done discussing his ruinous past, and she would not force him to answer any more uncomfortable questions. “I’m sure even you, oh God of Fornication, need a break every so often.”

“Not with you I don’t,” he returned, his tone low and gravelly.

Flames of arousal singed the surface of her skin, and Charlotte battled the urge to simply return to bed and to the circle of his arms. But no, she thought with a sharp mental shake, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. He’d expressed concern for her safety, and she’d show him he would not have to worry about her when they parted ways. She’d seen the worry that lurked in his eyes before he blinked it hastily away.

After grabbing her chemise from the floor, she slipped it on and came to a stop in front of him. He had not bothered with clothes, a fact she considered quite annoying. And distracting. She gritted her teeth as she forced herself not to look at any point south of his chin.

She failed almost immediately.

“Char, darling, we’ll never get started if you continue to look at me like that.”

She snapped her gaze to his, and a hot flush stole over her cheeks at his chastising look. When his lips quickly curled into a wicked grin, she took a step back.

“You act like I’m going to maul you,” he grumbled, arching a brow.

“Aren’t you?”

His hearty laugh bounced off the walls. “If I did, I could hardly be held to blame. You’re delectable.”

Charlotte opened her mouth to toss back a saucy reply but thought better of it. They’d never get started if they continued down this path, for it led straight back to bed.

“So stop trying to distract me, Fin.” She held his stare.

“Seeing as how you’re a walking, talking distraction, it seemed a fair turn.” He rolled his eyes when she merely stared at him. “Very well. You say you’re capable of protecting yourself should you be attacked again, but I want to be certain of it. I’m going to come at you, and I want you to ward me off. Are you ready?”

Swallowing, Charlotte squared her shoulders. “Yes.”

Even knowing what Finlay intended, she was still taken aback by how quickly he moved. He had her arms pinned by her sides, his incredibly strong frame holding her close. Despite his gentleness, she still felt panic streak like ice through her blood.

Clenching her eyes shut, she willed herself to remain calm and still. She needed to feign acquiescence. With a Herculean effort, she relaxed her limbs until Finlay was almost holding her up. When he leaned back to look at her, she slammed her foot down on his instep and simulated bashing his head with her own.

“Woah,” he groaned, jumping back and hopping on one foot, grasping the other behind him.

“I tried to hold back.” Charlotte bit her lip.

“That was holding back?”

She huffed. “I didn’t actually hit your head, did I?”

“If you had, I’d probably be a bloody mess on the floor right now.” Finlay plopped onto the edge of the bed, rubbing his foot. He stared at her for a long, tense moment and then his lips cracked into a broad grin. “That was brilliant. If a bastard is stupid enough to attack you, I want you to make him bleed.”

She nodded, pleased by his praise.

“Is that what you did when you were attacked?” he asked, rising to grasp her by the shoulders.

“No.” Just recalling that encounter made the hairs on her arms rise. “He attacked me from behind, and I stepped on his foot, and when he let me go, I ran.”

Sensing her unease, Finlay pulled her into his arms. “Sometimes your best course of action is to run.”

“I fear I run too much,” she whispered, exhaling in relief when it was obvious he hadn’t heard her.

He stroked a hand over her head, brushing through her hair with his fingers. “Do you truly not know who tried to take you?”

Charlotte stiffened instinctually and cursed her body’s response. With a force of will, she kept herself from burying her face in his chest as she contemplated what to tell him. She wanted to confess everything—her former in-laws’ accusation and her increasing desperation to be free of them. She sucked in a breath through her mouth, his taste hitting her tongue. She couldn’t do it. If she told him everything, he would insist on helping her, and she couldn’t risk being more involved with him than she already was. She might love him, but she had to walk away, and Charlotte doubted she was strong enough to turn her back on his offer of help.

Biting back the truth, she shook her head. “I don’t know who he was.”

Finlay held her stare, doubt and suspicion swirling in his green depths. Even while she crumbled inside, Charlotte forced herself not to flinch under his inspection. Their time together was limited, and she didn’t want to spoil his good opinion in their remaining moments.

A smile suddenly softened his face, and he ran his knuckles over her cheek. “I just want to help if I can.”

“I know,” she whispered. That was the crux.

He showed her several other techniques she could use to defend herself, and as she practiced each move, she reveled in being close to him. He seemed to enjoy her company, too, because his touches were caresses, his instructions whispered in her ear with husky words. And their conversation was spoken in laughter. At various intervals, Charlotte stopped to just gaze at him, imprinting the memory of his teasing grin on her mind and heart.

Sometime later, he surprised her when he grasped her hand and squeezed it. “Will you play for me again?”

She blinked from her revelry. “You want me to play the kinnor?”

He nodded, falling back on the bed and propping himself up on pillows. “If you don’t mind. I find watching you play quite relaxing.”

“Oh,” she mumbled, pushing hair back from her brow. She felt as if she were underwater. He knew just how to leave her flummoxed with his thoughtful words and gestures.

Charlotte ran her palm over the kinnor strings. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she cradled it in her lap. “Do you want to hear something lively or something…not?”

He pressed his lips together, his forehead crinkling. “I want you to play whatever you’d like.”

“Very well.” She strummed a few strings as she contemplated which song to play. Suddenly she knew. “The Mountains High” seemed an appropriate choice considering how Finlay had absconded with her heart.

The last note echoed through the room, and Charlotte made a show of returning her kinnor to its trunk to hide the tears which, once again, ran down her cheeks. Standing slowly, she looked at Finlay over her shoulder. He met her gaze, a half smile lighting his face. “Come to bed,” he said, extending an arm to her.

She nodded, knowing it would be the last time he ever said such words to her.