Page 60 of The Virgin Duchess

But tonight, he would be with her for however long and in whatever way he could.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Frederick led Charlotte to the fountain, and though the air was slightly chilly, heat bloomed so heartily from within her that a fine sheen of sweat touched her forehead. She’d been thinking about this moment all day, having planned the entire event. Now that they were finally here, she was both desperate for him and terrified.

At the back of the house where they were little light spilled onto the ground from the massive windows, though there was some. Lilies and morning glories in red and blue surrounded the base of the fountain, and the central structure was that of a swan, the water pouring from its mouth. It rippled steadily, the lily pads floating on the surface slowly shifting.

When Charlotte walked up to it, touching the cool water to take in the thrill of its cool temperature, her reflection eyed her from the dark liquid.

As Frederick had said, there was a bench nearby. It sat beneath a tree at the very back of the garden. They walked over, hand in hand, and took a seat on the finely carved dark wood. Tall trees stretched up on either side of the bench and behind it, creating a private alcove.

“I do love it out here,” Frederick whispered. “Though, I’ll admit that enjoying the gardens is something I’m more inclined to do since your arrival.”

“Oh, really?” Charlotte smiled. “I have been a good influence then.”

He reached up to her cheek, resting his palm against her skin. “You most certainly have, sweet Charlotte.”

After a moment, Frederick’s fingers went to the buttons on the front of his jacket, freeing it from himself and lying it across the back of the bench. His waistcoat was quick to follow, and Charlotte’s breath caught in her chest as he sat near her, wearing only his thin shirt.

“It is a warm evening,” he mused. “We are lucky.”

Charlotte just nodded, but after a moment, she reached up to the ties of her shawl, unlacing it and removing it from her shoulders. The dress she wore didn’t cover them much, and while the air was cool, it was still.

Frederick’s hand found hers again before working its way up her arm. His skin was warm, and she imagined wading into a hot bath, slick and steaming and enveloping. He inched closer to her on the bench, closing the few inches between them, and Charlotte’s heartbeat ticked up faster and faster.

In the quiet, Frederick’s thumb tucked under Charlotte’s chin and forced her to meet his deep gray eyes. “There is something so special about you, Charlotte. I cannot wrap my mind around it.”

Her breath caught in her chest as she trembled slightly beneath his touch.

“Though, I fully intend on figuring it out.” Frederick smiled—a fresh version of the expression that was equal parts arousal and joy. “This…God, Charlotte, I feel as though I might perish should I keep myself from you a moment longer.”

Charlotte’s lips parted with a little gasp, and her brows shot to her hairline. Frederick’s consistent way with words had struck her again, and she was so very ready to, at last, take everything Frederick could give her.

Frederick’s features softened ever so slightly, and Charlotte watched hungrily as his eyes flicked down toward her mouth. Flames rushed through her cheeks and stretched all the way through her body, landing in her toes. Regardless of the apprehension that she still felt, Charlotte could not take it anymore. She needed to fully feel the power of Frederick’s claim.

“Charlotte, I?—”

But Frederick’s words stopped, and he simply pressed his lips to hers. The moment was profound as if her entire body had been struck by lightning. Desire coursed through her veins, a tingling burn that overwhelmed and excited her. His lips against hers were so soft, and within seconds, she lost herself to the feeling of Frederick’s skin on hers, pulling him closer and threading her fingers through his locks.

How am I still this…intoxicated by just kissing him?

But it was undeniable. Frederick’s lips felt as good as they always had, and her core clenched beneath the layers of her skirt. Unable to stop it, a delicate moan slipped free of her, and when Frederick slid his tongue across the seam of her lips. Charlotte quickly let him in, and he explored her mouth with expert precision, taking the back of her neck as he pressed her against his chest.

Reaching up, Charlotte squeezed the fabric of Frederick’s shirt, requiring some sort of anchor against the madding arousal. He nibbled playfully on her bottom lip, and a little whine echoed out of her into the night air.

“Frederick…”

He dipped his tongue inside once again before pulling back slightly. Charlotte felt his stare on her flesh as he admired the flush that filled her cheeks, swiping his thumb across her sensitive lips.

“Ugh, dearest.” Frederick dragged that thumb across her skin, this possessive demand in his touch. “You taste divine.”

Charlotte smiled bashfully, and at once, Frederick dove back into the kiss, now moving to lean her down to the bench. She followed at once, stretching out across the smooth wooden planks as he towered over her. The hunger in her blood was consuming, and Charlotte wrapped her arms around his neck.

The air here smelled so fresh, the spring blooms and trees fragrant, the tumbling water adding to the picturesque atmosphere. She would never have pictured the first time they did this to be out in the estate’s garden, but Charlotte wouldn’t change a thing about it.

Another low moan bloomed from Charlotte as Frederick lowered his caresses down her neck toward her chest, dragging his tongue up the side of her throat to nibble gently before crawling them downward once again. She arched into him, the curves of her breasts pressing against his chest.

“Yes, darling,” Frederick whispered into her ear. “Let me feel how fervently your desire burns.”

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