Page 128 of Every Rake Has A Silver Lining

She breathed a sigh of relief when John left, closing the door behind him.

“Now”—her husband pulled her into his arms again—“where were we?”

After a quick peck on his nose, she placed a hand on his chest and pushed. “None of that. Mother is coming over to review everything for tomorrow.”

He hitched a dark brow. “You’re calling her Mother?”

She blinked. Had she? The word had flowed effortlessly off her tongue. “She asked me to.” And frankly, Charlotte wanted to. Certainty settled deep within her that the Beckhams had burrowed their way past her defenses and taken root in her heart.

Little by little, they had won her over. Like Elizabeth Bennet when she first saw Pemberley, Charlotte had fallen in love with their home, but it was a superficial love based on appearance.

Yet, as she witnessed the kindness, the warmth, and the affection dwelling within the house, Charlotte had come to understand what made it a home. The gentle teasing, the hugs of comfort, words of encouragement and praise filled the space until it overflowed to all who inhabited it.

An aching tenderness bloomed in her chest, and she pressed a hand to her bosom at the unfamiliar sensation, accepting the reason with surprise. She loved the Beckhams, and as she gazedat her husband’s quizzical expression, she admitted she loved him, too. However, she refused to speak the words. Not when he had adamantly stated he didn’t want a woman to love him. After all, they had made a pact, and she would abide by his wish.

It certainly had nothing to do with protecting herself.

“Now go!” She gave him a little push toward the door. “You’ll be in the way.”

At the entrance, he peered over his shoulder and graced her with his ridiculous grin. “We’ll continue later.”

And as he exited the room whistling, she hoped to conclude her business with Judith quickly.

Because she could hardly wait forlater.

The next day,clouds gathered in the blue sky, fluffy and white like little puffs of cotton. Simon breathed a sigh as he looked out the window, relieved the view held no threat of storms.

He wanted the day to be perfect for Charlotte. She had worked so hard organizing the May Day celebration, he didn’t want anything to spoil it. And although stormy weather dampened anyone’s spirits, it paralyzed Charlotte.

“Are you going to stare out that window all morning, or are you going to finish dressing? The festivities begin in less than an hour,” his bossy and adorable wife called.

Simon allowed the curtain to fall back into place. He’d lain in bed too long that morning, boneless and completely relaxed from their long sessions of lovemaking.

Lovemaking. He chuckled to himself, remembering the conversation he’d had with Charlotte when he proposed their arrangement and she had taken offense at the word sex.

Because making love was exactly what it had become to him.Even in heated, frantic moments, he found it difficult to think of what they shared in the marriage bed as anything less.

He slipped his trousers on over his smalls and winked. “I was waiting in the event you wanted a repeat performance.”

Charlotte’s lips pressed together in a straight line, but the sparkle in her brown eyes gave her away. “You are...” She shook her head, then released the laugh she’d been withholding.

Yes, he wanted the day to be perfect for her. Not only because of her part in the town’s celebration, but he had decided to confess his feelings for her.

He didn’t expect her to reciprocate, but he wanted her to know she was loveable. That he loved her. Unconditionally.

Confident the perfect moment would reveal itself, Simon slipped the shirt over his head, then tucked it inside his trousers. “Promise me one thing.”

“What?” Charlotte asked as she checked her appearance in the looking glass, which, in his opinion, was perfect.

“That when you dance with me this evening, you won’t step on my feet.”

Although she faced away from him, her smile rang in her voice. “What would be the fun of that?” She rose and strode toward him. “Plus, it will bring back fond memories.”

“Fond for whom? Certainly not me. My toes hurt for days.” Still, he pulled her into his arms. “But if it pleases you, stamp away. It will give me an excuse to refuse all the other ladies vying for my attention.”

She slapped his chest. “You overestimate your charm, sir.”

He hitched a brow. “Do I?” he asked, lacing as much seduction in his words as he possibly could, then lowered his head and captured her lips in a searing kiss.

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