Page 58 of Pride & Petticoats

“Overwhelming, you say?” Freddie murmured.

Charlotte took a quick look at his face—his eyes were moss green and the lids were heavy—then prattled on with growing apprehension. “Y-yes, but honeysuckle is not always overwhelming. Sometimes it takes one quite by surprise. Often I’ll be walking along Broad Street and pass a tangle of honeysuckle, but I won’t smell it until I’ve taken three steps past, and then the aroma is so sweet and surprising that I have to turn around and go back to experience it again.”

“Yes, I quite understand the impulse.” Freddie chuckled. Charlotte paused and finally met his gaze. His fingers caressed her hand lightly, coming to rest on the sensitive skin of her inner wrist where her pulse was thumping wildly. “Although I don’t think anyone would ever walk by you without knowing it.”

“But I wasn’t talking about—” Charlotte protested.

“But I am,” Freddie said, rising to a sitting position with surprising agility considering his bruises and the amount of alcohol he’d obviously consumed.

“You should lie down,” Charlotte said, not really trying to convince him, her eyes instead drawn to the silk of her sheets as they slid down the bare skin of his chest. “You’re injured.”

“A flea bite,” Freddie murmured. He brought his free hand to her cheek and caressed it as he might a kitten. Charlotte felt the heat flow into her skin as he touched her. Then with an unsteady breath, his right hand tangled in her hair and he pulled her mouth a breath away from his. Charlotte didn’t resist, and his fingers cupped her neck possessively. He entwined his left hand with her fingers, pulling her knuckles to his bare chest, where she could feel his heart pounding as hard and fast as her own.

With the barest movement, he brought her mouth to his, nipping the corners of her lips playfully. His touch was light, the kisses whisper-soft, almost tickling her. Then he shifted the kiss to her lower lip and ran his tongue gently along the sensitive flesh there. Charlotte jumped from the flicker of heat that seared through her belly. His hand on the back of her neck stroked lazily, calming her nerves as his lips pressed harder against hers, then withdrew, only to claim her mouth again. He continued stoking the flames of her rising desire, and when Charlotte feared she could not take the waiting anymore, he parted her lips with maddening slowness and skill and twined his tongue with hers.

Charlotte was shocked at her body’s rapid-fire response to him. It was only a kiss but already she was squirming to get closer, her body aching, her nipples hard. And Freddie seemed practically unaffected. His control was fortified with steel, while his kisses challenged the limits of her desire. Slow, drugging kisses that pooled heat in her belly and spread it lazily through her limbs; deep, possessive kisses that made her feel weak; hard, insistent kisses that, to her horror, she reacted to by rubbing her aching body against him.

And still he remained maddeningly aloof, and she was desperate that he feel for her something of the desire she had for him.

Before she lost her nerve, she reached up and ran her free hand along the flank of his body— from the flat of his waist up the muscled rib cage, then skimming across his hard bare chest. His reserve held until she curled her fingers in the smattering of golden hair on his chest. She felt his skin tighten beneath her hand, and then his mouth slanted over hers hungrily.

For a moment she was lost in his need, her own just as great. Then she slid her fingers down his back, and, with a groan, he released the hand he clutched to his heart so that she might have more freedom to explore him. Charlotte eagerly complied, loving the feel of him under her fingertips, loving the way his muscles bunched and tensed as her fingers slowed or she lightened the pressure.

She had no idea she was torturing him, until he repeated her actions in kind. His hands slid under the transparent robe she wore and inched it off her shoulders. He traced the bare skin of her shoulders and arms, with such tantalizing slowness that Charlotte moaned and clutched him tightly. Her fingers dug tightly into his back, but he kept up his gentle assault, only changing his line of attack from his hands to his mouth. Breaking their kiss, he began nuzzling her neck. She arched for him, and he moved one hand to her lower back to angle her for better access.

Charlotte resisted for a heartbeat. She knew well enough what would come next. She tensed, and then surrendered, offering her unconditional capitulation.

FREDDIE FELT HER RELINQUISH control and savored the sweet pleasure of her surrender. Already she’d climbed on top of him and was instinctively rocking. Through the flimsy fabric of the nightgown, he could see her hard jutting nipples and forced himself not to run his hand along the pebbled flesh too soon. Instead he laved her neck and made a wet trail to her collarbone, over the ribbons that served as straps for her gown, to the soft skin of her shoulders. His free hand stripped the robe from her body, and he tossed the scrap of silk onto the floor.

Retracing his path, he returned to the top of her gown and the first pink bow of her chemise. One hand still arching her back, he pulled the ribbon loose. It bared the tiniest inch of her creamy skin.

His tongue skimmed over that skin, and he felt her shiver. When his mouth reached the next bow, he pulled that one free with his teeth. Another tiny inch of skin was revealed. Freddie took a deep breath.

Whoever had designed this nightgown had obviously intended to drive husbands and lovers insane. His fingers moved down, and he flicked the next bow. This time as the material parted he was rewarded with a vision of the peaks of her ripe breasts. His fingers caressed the mounds lightly, and Charlotte inhaled sharply.

His gaze flicked to her face, and he saw that she was watching him, her eyes dark and hazy as dusk in London. Locking eyes with her, he untied another bow and then another. His hand skimmed inside the chemise’s whispery material, across the curve of one breast, then grazed her swollen nipple. She gasped, biting the sound off as she sank small teeth into her lower lip. But she couldn’t stifle the moan that escaped when he rubbed his palm over her hard nub. She drew in breath and held it when he took the engorged nipple between two fingers.

Her breathing became more rapid, more labored, and her breasts rose and fell with her rising passion. Finally, Freddie could resist no longer. He leaned forward and took the rosy nipple into his mouth. Her skin was satiny soft, and she smelled of the honeysuckle he’d brought for her. He brushed his tongue over her, rubbing until she was writhing above him. He could feel her heat searing him through the thin sheet and chemise between them. She was on fire, and he wanted to make her burn even hotter.

And then his calculated seduction went all wrong. She shifted slightly, and then he felt her hands moving on him—down his back, over his hips, and across his thighs. His entire body went rigid when her hands skimmed his upper thighs, and he feared he would explode.

“Charlotte.” He grasped her hands, stilling the torment temporarily. “Do you know what you’re doing to me?”

Her light fingers had touched him with a tentativeness he was unused to, and that innocent exploration aroused him more than the caresses of the most skilled courtesan. She was looking down at him, her eyes clouded with confusion. But she was still so beautiful that when he looked at her all thought, all semblance of restraint abandoned him. He pulled her to him, cupping the back of her head with his hand and clenching his jaw at the feel of her breasts pressed against his chest.

“Don’t you like it?” she whispered. He heard the uncertainty in her voice and knew that if he truly wanted to stop this, now was his chance. One wrong word here, and she would escape him.

He couldn’t do it. With a muttered curse, he admitted, “God, yes, I like what you’re doing. I like it too much. Slow down or I won’t be able to do this properly. I already want you too much.”

He felt the jolt of shock race through her, and she drew back to see his face. But Freddie wasn’t about to allow those sherry eyes and that sensuous mouth to distract him from his seduction again, and before she could get her bearings he pulled her down beside him, his fingers unlacing the next set of bows and opening her gown to her belly.

For a moment he was riveted in place at the sight of her creamy nakedness in the flickering candlelight. Then he reached down, and although his impulse was to rip the material, he decided against it—he wanted her in this nightgown again—and quickly undid the rest of the bows. He took a deep breath at the sight of her full body bared before him.

His perusal was thorough. He intended to learn every inch of her. Know every one of her hills and valleys, to memorize her planes and curves. After the space of ten heartbeats, Charlotte raised her arms to cover herself, but Freddie caught her wrists and kissed the palms of her hands.

“Shouldn’t we blow out the candles?” she said.

Freddie smiled a wolfish grin. “But then I wouldn’t be able to see you.”

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