Page 48 of Charming Sir Charles
He paused to admire the sight of her lean, graceful form in the scandalously low-cut dress. The vivid color made her skin look like new cream. It had been difficult enough keeping his hands off her before. Now she stood before him dressed for seduction, it was nigh impossible.
He swallowed and strove to keep his tone light, when all he wanted was to sweep her into his arms and kiss all the nonsense out of her. “It’s certainly scarlet.”
“I…I didn’t want you mistaking my motives,” she muttered, a delightful blush staining her slanted cheekbones.
Shock slammed into him, along with a huge wave of desire. And a renewed surge of hope.
But he’d learned the hard way that they needed to establish some rules before he rushed her into bed. They wanted each other, but passion wasn’t their problem, trust was.
He drew himself up to his full height and fought to steady his voice. “Just what are your motives, Sally? A quick tupping, then goodbye, and me off for Italy in the morning? Or something…else?”
“Is something else still an option?” Her expression was searching, and she bit her lip. “Or has my behavior proven that you’re better off making for the hills and never seeing me again?”
He inhaled to feed his aching lungs. The damnable thing was he kept forgetting to breathe. “I told you – there’s no blame.”
“There should be.” She went back to twisting her hands together. “I hurt you.”
What was the point of lying? Without looking, he dropped her pelisse over a chair. “Yes.”
With a remorseful gesture, she spread her hands. “I can’t bear that.”
He frowned. “So you’re here as a way of apologizing?”
“Yes. No.” She sucked in an audible breath. “Oh, Charles, will you really make me say it?”
“It depends what you have to say, doesn’t it?” He folded his arms and regarded her with unwavering attention. “We’ve had too many misunderstandings already. It’s time to be frank. What do you want from me, Sally?”
Her shuddering breath threatened to send her bosom overflowing from that daring dress. Then she stiffened her spine, and the nervously twisting hands dropped to her sides.
“You. I want you.”
Another jolt of desire. The words sizzled through him like flame. But he remained chary about seeing only what he wanted to see. He’d done that atSans Souciand paid an agonizing price.
“Tonight? Or forever?”
She licked her lips, and he fought the urge to grab her and kiss her and have her, whatever her intentions in coming to him tonight. The quiet house around them did nothing to shore up gentlemanly impulses.
“Tonight.” She paused as devastation made his heart slam to a stop. Then she went on in a faint voice. “And forever. If you’ll have me.”
It took him a moment to realize what she’d said. He’d braced for an answer that dashed his dreams all over again.
Still, he didn’t move, although the need to touch her was a fever in his blood. “You’d better mean that, Sally. I’m not going through this again.”
To his surprise, amusement lit her green eyes. “Good God, Charles, this is like negotiating a legal contract.”
He smiled back as certainty, solid as a mountain, settled deep and eternal inside him. “You are, my love. The sort of contract that lasts till death do us part.”
She frowned faintly. “So you still mean marriage?”
“I do,” he said, echoing the vows he soon hoped to speak in front of a vicar. “Do you?”
She raised her chin and regarded him directly. “I do.” Her slender throat worked as she swallowed again. “Now, for pity’s sake, Charles, kiss me.”
A bolt of happiness struck him, made his head reel. “My darling,” he whispered reverently. “You make me the happiest man in England.”
With unsteady hands, he caught her by the waist and dragged her up for a hungry kiss. She sighed in satisfaction and wrapped her arms around him with unconcealed possessiveness.
It felt like an eon since he’d touched her. The heat flaring between them was even more incandescent than he remembered. And in seven sleepless nights, by God, he’d done a lot of remembering.
