Charlotte swallowed past the sob that threatened. When she would have closed her eyes, he caught her gaze and held it with his.
“I want nothing more than to marry you,” he said gravely, then paused and took weighted breath. “But you must know, my goal is happiness, not revenge.”
“Happiness,” she repeated in an awed tone. “It has been so long since I’d thought such a thing possible for me. But I was reminded tonight that it is what my mother would have wanted for me. She’d hate knowing how tightly I clung to my hatred.” Lifting her hands, she pressed them to his chest and made an honest vow. “I am finished with revenge. I don’t want to think about the Eastleighs ever again. They are part of a sad past and I’m ready to look to the future. With you,” she murmured beforeuncertainty rippled through her. “But are you sure? I don’t want you to regret this.”
With rough, resonating sound, he swept his arms around her and pulled her forcefully against him. His forehead pressed to hers as she slipped her arms around his neck.
“Impossible,” he murmured, his mouth hovering over hers. “And I promise, Iwillmake you happy and I won’t give up until you love me as I love you.”
Charlotte tensed and gave a harsh shake of her head. “No, my lord. You cannot make me love you. Because I already do. I love how noble and strong you are. And how dedicated you are to your family and how seriously you take your responsibilities. And I love how you make me feel when you look at me—confident and capable and adored.” Her lips curled into a temptress’s smile and she lowered her voice to a seductive murmur. “And I love how I make you feel whenIlook atyou. How you enjoy it when I make you…do other things.”
He growled and lifted her against him. “Will you marry me?” he asked, his lips against hers.
Fire sparked intensely inside her. “I will.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Though a smalland intimate affair, the marriage of the Marquess of Redington to Miss Charlotte Dickson was indisputably the most talked about wedding of the season.
A special license was obtained and the necessary arrangements were made in quick order allowing them to wed only two weeks later. The church service was short with a reception for family and close friends only at the Duke of Lindley’s mansion in Mayfair.
With the wedding planning occurring in such a whirlwind fashion, Ralston and Charlotte did not have any time to be alone together until their wedding night. Though Charlotte would have been quite happy to meet in some clandestine manner, Ralston insisted they wait, promising it would be worth it.
At least he’d agreed not to waste time by traveling to some secluded country estate for their first night as husband and wife. His personal residence was so much closer and perfectly private. Charlotte was relieved when she entered the elegant townhouse at her husband’s side and did not see an intimidating line of servants waiting to be introduced to the new marchioness.
Likely hearing her sigh, Ralston turned to her with an explanation. “I hope you don’t mind waiting until tomorrowto meet the staff.” The subtle twist to his lips was undeniably wicked. “I wanted you all to myself tonight.”
“I don’t mind at all.” She didn’t bother trying to hide the breathless anticipation in her voice.
His eyes darkened. “Would you like a tour of the house or—”
“Only if the tour takes us straight to our bedroom,” she interrupted.
His chuckle was deep and rich as he suddenly swept her up in his arms and started up the stairs in long, determined strides.
Charlotte’s body alighted with fiery sparks as her entire being tingled in anticipation of what was to come.
As he stalked along a lush upper-floor hallway, he passed by one door, giving a short nod as he muttered, “My bedroom” before continuing to the next door where he slowly set her to her feet, allowing them both to feel the delicious friction of her body sliding against his.
“This is your room.” His voice was gruff and weighted. “I’ll give you ten minutes before I come to you,” he warned. “Not a moment longer.”
Charlotte’s body flushed with heat and hunger. Though she wanted nothing more than to throw her arms around him and pull his mouth to hers, she stepped back instead. With a final look of longing and promise, she slipped into her bedroom.
She would become his tonight.
But he would belong to her first.
She barely acknowledged her surroundings as she shed her wedding gown and readied herself for her husband. All her thoughts and focus were on what was to come and she had everything set by the time she heard his short, purposeful knock at the door connecting their bedrooms.
“Enter,” she replied.
She’d briefly considered affecting the French accent, but decided against it. Just as she’d decided against adding a mask.Tonight was between them. Husband and wife. Ralston and Charlotte. No facades or disguises or societal roles. It was just the two of them. Stripped down. Naked. Honest.
He’d shed his fine dress clothes and wore only a pair of loose trousers and a satin robe held closed with a sash around his trim wait. He looked every inch the entitled lord. Refined. Powerful. Seductively confident.
For herself, Charlotte had chosen a simple yet elegant black silk French negligee that was cut low enough to reveal the shadow of her sternum and contained a slit that bared one leg nearly to her hip. And when he stepped through the door and saw her standing across the room, a glass of red wine in her hand, he came to a stuttering halt. His lips parted on a ragged breath before his gaze roamed hungrily over her body.
By the time his focus lifted back to meet hers, the room seemed to have warmed by several degrees. His stare was hot and penetrating. His body was taut with intention and desire.
