And yet with her lying beside him, his body touching hers, his hands memorizing the softness of her skin, the idea of just ending it didn’t feel…right.
He rolled to cover her, opening her legs with his hips. She settled back against the pillows and stared up into his eyes, never breaking their stare as he glided into her slick entrance in one long thrust. He filled her completely and leaned down to gently brush the side of his nose against hers. She lifted her lips, kissing him before he drew away and began to take her.
She didn’t look away as he circled his hips against her. She didn’t blink even as she lifted up into him, meeting his thrusts with welcoming ripples. She held his eyes steady even as her lips parted and she cried out his name when pleasure struck her and she came, milking him, daring him to claim her as she’d tried to force him to do earlier in the day.
It was tempting. But he withdrew when his balls tightened, and his seed burst free between them. He rested his forehead against hers, breath short.
“Is that my answer?” she whispered, her own voice trembling.
He nodded and signed, “We should end this. But if you’re near me, I may not be able to resist.”
She smiled and buried her head into the crook of his shoulder, pressing kisses to his neck and jawline. For his part, he just kept tracing the line of her body, writing the words “I love you, I love you, I love you,” into her skin.
And knowing he could never write or sign them to her in a way she would understand.
Chapter Twelve
Charlotte came down the stairs into the foyer that next morning, feeling like everyone would see that she’d only had a scant few hours of sleep the night before. And those hours had been split up by lovemaking with the very handsome duke who now stood waiting for her.
Unlike her, he looked entirely put together. His beard was neatly trimmed, his hair pulled away from his face, his cravat was perfectly tied and his waistcoat was flawless. When he saw her, his face lit up and her entire world stopped spinning.
“Good morning,” he signed, and then gave her a wink. “Again.”
She couldn’t help but laugh at his cheeky welcome. After all, she’d only just left his bed a little more than an hour before. Her first good morning had been begun much more sensually.
“Good morning, Your Grace,” she said with an equally playful curtsey that made his smile widen. It was these moments more than any other that made her long for the future he insisted couldn’t be. The moments when the connection between them was easy.
He offered her an elbow and they opened the door and stepped onto the front landing together. It was a chilly morning, but there was no rain to mar their view of the road. And on that road came two carriages, thundering up the lane, moments from their final arrival.
Charlotte’s heart sank, though she would be very happy to see her mother and brother after more than a month away from London.
Still, she knew she had to say one thing to Ewan before propriety meant they had to be careful. Prudent. She faced him slightly and whispered, “I’m not sorry.”
He jerked his face toward her, and as the carriages stopped, he signed, “Neither am I.”
She allowed herself one last sad smile at him and then turned her attention to the carriages. The footmen hurried to open the door of the front of first and Charlotte released Ewan’s arm with a little cry before she raced down toward her mother. The Duchess of Sheffield stepped onto the drive with her arms already open and Charlotte flew into them.
“My love, my love, how wonderful to see you!” the duchess cooed as she pressed a kiss to each of Charlotte’s cheeks. “My, I’d forgotten how beautiful you are in color, my dear. You positively glow.”
Charlotte detangled herself from her mother’s arms and turned toward her brother. Baldwin was often seen as stern, very proper, which stood out in his group of rowdy, popular and sometimes wild friends. But Charlotte knew him. She knew his warmth and kindness, and she felt all of that directed to her as he embraced her.
“Mother is right, you glow,” he whispered against her hair. “Happy Christmas, Charlotte.”
She pulled away and caught a glimpse of trouble on Baldwin’s face, but he turned aside before she could comment on it, and their family group moved toward Ewan’s. Charlotte smiled, and how could she not with the happy scene before her? Ewan’s aunt, the Duchess of Tyndale, had Ewan’s cheeks in her gloved hands and was saying, “Great Lord, but you should shave, my love.”
Ewan shook his head with an amused smile and slung his arm around his cousin Matthew. Charlotte let out a happy sigh. It was always good to see him with his friends, but none more than Matthew. Tyndale and Donburrow were like brothers, though Tyndale was half a head shorter and dark where Ewan was fair.
“Charlotte,” Matthew said, shrugging off Ewan’s arm and coming toward her. He caught her hands and lifted one to his lips for a gentlemanly greeting. “Poor girl, stuck alone with this one for three days.”
She laughed at his teasing, though she couldn’t help but see the flicker of pain in his gaze. The one that had been there for years. The one caused by loss that she could not fathom. “We survived.”
The Duchess of Tyndale, who everyone in their group had called Aunt Mary for as long as she could recall, stepped up and kissed her cheek. “You do look lovely, my dear. Oh, we are so pleased to be here at last!” She lifted a hand as Ewan grabbed for his notebook. “The inn was fine, Ewan, you do not have to write me apologies for the accommodation. We all simply wanted to be here. And here we are now.”
Smith was standing in the foyer as the group piled in and said his welcomes as he took all the coats and gloves and fantastic hats of the duchesses. Their group was all talking at once, but Smith seemed undisturbed, nodding and replying when it was warranted.
“Does anyone want tea?” Charlotte said above the cacophony at last. Ewan sent her a grateful look that she had taken over as hostess, though everyone knew it was likely his aunt’s place more than hers. Aunt Mary didn’t seem to mind, though, for she sent Charlotte a friendly look. “I realize it is early, but a warm drink could cut the chill.”
“I would very much like some tea,” Charlotte’s mother said as she linked arms with Baldwin.
