“Oh, yes. Oh please, Julian.”
She wrapped her legs around his waist and rose to meet him with every thrust, pleading with him, begging him, her sighs and moans driving him so mad with desire it took everything in him to hold on, to wait for her. “Come for me, sweetheart.”
At last she cried out and her body convulsed around him and ah, God, the sweetness of her, the beauty of her… He couldn’t get enough. His back arched and he buried his harsh groan in the soft skin of her neck as his pleasure took him.
They were both panting when he rolled to his side and gathered her into his arms. She moved to lay her head on his chest and he held her against him, both of them silent, because if they didn’t move or speak, tomorrow might not find them, and they could stay here forever, where there were no doubts and no unanswered questions.
He came awake a while later, his eyes opening to a dark, quiet room…somewhere. His chamber at Bellwood? No, that was a place of nightmares, and there were no nightmares here. Here was deep, even breathing, a hand on his stomach, and something soft and warm against his neck.
Charlotte.
She was asleep, her cheek pillowed on his chest. He tightened his arms around her and relaxed back against the bed. What had woken him?
A dream.
Not Colin this time. Not a nightmare, but something so sweet he stayed as still as he could to hold on to it, because in this dream he could touch one of the tiny glimmers of light pinned to the midnight blue sky. He could touch a star.
Charlotte.In the dream he traced her smile so the shape of it would be always on his fingertips—more than a memory. A part of his skin.
Julian. I knew you’d come.
Did you hope I would?
You know I did. You already know.
And he did know. He’s always known. He was born knowing.
The next time he woke there was the faintest trace of light in the eastern sky. He rose from the bed, tugged on his breeches, threw his shirt over his head and wandered over to look out the window.
Tomorrow had found them. His dream from the night before grew fainter with every finger of sun curling over the horizon, and in its place…questions.
Questions with no answers.
Jane. He was betrothed to her. He couldn’t change his mind now without loss of honor, and if he did, he’d lose something even more precious, too. His one chance to make amends to Colin. Jane would be left alone, with no protection—
“You’re dressed.”
Julian turned away from the window. Charlotte was propped against the pillows, her eyes sleepy, her dark curls spilling wildly over her bare shoulders.
If ever there was a moment he wanted to keep forever, this was it.
“Not really.” He crossed the room and sat down next to her on the bed. He would leave soon, before he couldn’t make himself leave at all, but not now. Not yet. “I can’t properly be said to be dressed in this shirt.” He stuck his fingers into the rip and wiggled them, hoping to amuse her, to see her smile.
She didn’t. Instead her face went alarmingly pale. “It could have been so much worse.”
“But it wasn’t.”
“If you’d fallen, I never would have forgiven myself.”
No.Not this. Not with him. “Don’t do this, Charlotte.”
“You could have broken your arm, or your leg. You could have broken your neck—”
“If I had, it would have been my own fault.” He took her chin in his hand, stunned at the fierce tenderness inside him. “I’m a grown man. I made the decision to come after you, to grab your reins.”
Her gaze darted away from his. “You came because you had to come. I was reckless and foolish. What else could you do but follow me? I gave you no choice.”
“No. Look at me.” He waited until her gaze met his. “I made my own choices, and so did Hadley.”
