“Of course.” Julian hesitated, then found Cam’s eyes with his own. “Thank you, Cam.”
He was halfway up the stairs when Cam called up to him. “Jules?”
Julian looked over the railing at his cousin standing in the foyer below. “Yes?”
“Welcome home.” Cam didn’t wait for an answer, but turned and shuffled off in the direction of the library, the hem of his banyan flapping around his calves.
Julian’s smile faded as he neared Charlotte’s bedchamber. He didn’t want to frighten her by suddenly appearing in her dark room. Worse, what if she didn’t want him there? There were still so many unanswered questions between them.
But he wouldn’t think on that. He’d let himself into her room quietly, so as not to wake her, and he’d spend the night on the settee. He just wanted to see her, be in the same room with her and breathe the same air—for tonight that would be enough.
But Charlotte wasn’t asleep. She was at a window looking out at the last remaining stars still visible in the sky. His heart leapt at the sight of her standing there in her billowing white night rail. She looked like a star herself.
He closed the door with a quiet click. “Charlotte.”
She whirled around.
Julian leaned back against the door, suddenly uncertain. “Did you know I’d come?”
Her hand fluttered to her throat. “No.”
He took a step toward her. She was trembling. “Did you… Did you want me to? Do you want me here?”
“You know I do.” Her voice was choked. “You already know.”
He did know. With her, he’d always known. He took a deep breath. “I’ll never leave you again. I love you, Charlotte. I never stopped.”
She hid her face in her hands for a moment, and when she looked up, her cheeks were wet with tears. “I love you too, Julian. So much.”
He was across the room in three strides and then she was in his arms, her head against his chest, her shoulders shaking with sobs. He gathered her against him, carried her to the bed, and lay down next to her, and as he stroked her hair and murmured to her, he let his mind wander into a waking dream, one both bitter and sweet, a dream and a wish at once, for something he’d lost before he’d ever had it.
A child, a little girl, with long dark tresses and thickly-lashed dark eyes, an impish grin and a face—oh, a face so beautiful it could break a man’s heart.
Her mother’s face.
He gave his mind and heart up to the pain, such a world of pain for a child he’d never known, a little girl who’d never been his. He lay still for a long while, then eased Charlotte onto her back and slid down the bed so he could rest his cheek against her belly. He stayed there, tracing slow, gentle circles over her abdomen with his palm, and let the sorrow flow through him and dampen the soft skin under his cheek.
After a while a hand touched his head and tender fingers threaded through the locks of his hair. “Catherine Mary,” she whispered. “Or Mary Catherine. I hadn’t yet decided.”
Catherine—her mother’s name, and Mary…
He nodded against her, but he couldn’t speak.
Mary.
His mother’s name.
He turned his head and pressed a tender kiss against her belly. She drew in a deep, slow breath, let it out in a soft sigh, and tugged gently on his hair to draw him up to her, but without a word he crawled to the floor and fell to his knees before her.
He slid his hands up her calves and then higher, until his palms found the inside of her knees, her thighs, and—gentle—he nudged her legs open, not much, just enough for him to slip between and take her hips into his hands and move her down the bed, closer to him, closer to his mouth so he could open his lips over her belly—Skin like silk—then open her gently, taste her—at last—just the lightest touch with his tongue, gentle at first until she whimpered—hush love I’ll take care of you—then a little more, a little faster, his strokes firmer, over and over again where she needed him until she began to arch and twist—no let me, I want to do everything for you—and he held her against the bed, held her thighs open and loved her, loved her until her body went rigid and she broke apart for him with a cry—yes let your body know joy again—and she fell panting back against the bed. He crawled up next to her—just hold her—but she took him in her hand and he was so hard for her—want you so much—and she moved on top of him and then he was inside her, his hands gripping her waist, holding her hips to steady her for his thrusts—so good can’t stop—stroking into her again, again until she gave a low moan and collapsed on top of him, and he held her and shuddered his release into her.
He waited for their breathing to calm, then turned her gently onto her back and shifted on top of her so he could feel her warm, silky skin against every part of his body. He touched his forehead to hers. “Did you see the stars tonight?”
She took his face in her hands, stroked her thumbs softly over his cheeks, and looked into his eyes. “I see them now.”
Epilogue
Hadley House, December 1816
