Potent Pleasures by Eloisa James

  Back in the Chinese Salon, Charlotte sat bolt upright beside Alex.

  “Why don’t you want to marry me?” he asked, finally.

  Startled, she swung her head to look at him. He looked so handsome, and almost—could he be a little anxious? Charlotte’s resolution wavered again. But no. She marshaled her reasons: He really only wanted a nursemaid, and he had forgotten their encounter three years ago. Which meant that he would be out propositioning girls in gardens whenever she turned her back.

  “Mayn’t I simply refuse?”

  “No,” Alex said indomitably. “Not when you kiss me the way you do.”

  A faint blush crept up Charlotte’s cheeks. Oh, God, he did think she was a shameless wanton. If she mentioned what happened three years ago, he’d probably just walk out. Irrationally, she didn’t consider the difference between Alex walking out and her refusing his proposal.

  A little silence fell.

  “Let me guess,” Alex said in a somewhat softer voice. “You heard the rumors about my being incapable, and—”

  Charlotte shook her head frantically, eyes fixed on the couch cushion.

  “You didn’t hear the rumors, or that isn’t the problem?”

  “I didn’t … I mean, I did hear, my mother told me, but I knew….” She bit her lip. She felt as if she must be crimson by now.

  Alex gave a bark of laughter. “You knew,” he said. “You’re—remarkable, Charlotte.” He reached out a lazy finger and stroked her neck.

  “Don’t!”

  He withdrew his hand as if it had been burned. There was another silence. Then: “I’m waiting, Charlotte.” His tone was grim.

  Charlotte raised her eyes to his, pleading for understanding. “I know what ton marriages are like,” she said in a near whisper. “I don’t want one like that. I—” She broke off suddenly as a brisk knock heralded the entrance of a tea tray. Campion brought it himself, beaming avuncularly at the couple as he deftly set up a small table.

  “I have brought a small luncheon as well, Lady Charlotte. The duke and duchess asked me to give you their regrets, my lord, and tell you that they have an unavoidable appointment. However, they would very much like you to join them for dinner. If you need anything further, perhaps you might summon me with the bell cord, as we have had to place the footmen elsewhere.” Campion bowed his way out of the room.

  Very clever of the duke, Alex thought, instantly appreciating Marcel’s hand in all this unwarranted privacy that was being accorded to him and Charlotte.

  Charlotte busied herself with the tea tray and tried to think what it was she really wanted to say.

  “Do you love me?” she asked bluntly.

  “Love you?” Alex was completely startled. His first impulse was to say “Yes, of course,” and press a kiss on her lips. But he wanted this marriage to be different from his first, he reminded himself. To begin without lies.

  “No,” he finally said, deliberately. Charlotte’s body was rigid. “But, and this is a fair question, Charlotte—do you love me?”

  Charlotte opened her mouth but Alex kept talking. “You see, I don’t think that love is something that happens the way writers pretend. All those lines like ‘who ever loved, who loved not at first sight’ were made up by poets, not by real people. I thought I loved my first wife the minute I saw her,” he continued slowly. “She looked so much like a girl I met before, here in England. She looked innocent, chaste, and beautiful … like a girl who had been living in a convent. To my mind, she was untouched and untouchable.

  “So I told her I loved her, and she told me she loved me, and we married two weeks later to the great rejoicing of her family. But do you know why they rejoiced so much?”

  Charlotte shook her head.

  “Because no one else in Rome would have married her.” Charlotte just looked confused, so Alex smiled at her, a lopsided, self-condemning smile. “She had slept with a good many of the Roman gentlemen who danced at my wedding, you see.” Charlotte’s eyes widened. Alex shrugged. “More fool I.”

  “I’m sorry,” Charlotte said rather lamely.

  “I thought a good deal about love at first sight in the following year. Our life together was hell. She didn’t love me, and I found out within a week or so that I didn’t love her either. Love, I think, is something built on trust—and trust comes only with time. Do you see what I mean?”

  Charlotte nodded. She was having a hard time putting together Alex’s turbulent black eyes, talking about his wife’s infidelity, and the fixed idea she had that he himself would be unfaithful once they married.

  “Do you believe,” she half whispered, “that trust is a matter of … of not being with other people after marriage?”

  Alex nearly smiled. So Charlotte was thinking of adultery when she talked of a ton marriage! Perhaps her father had a wandering eye.

  “I think that fidelity between a man and woman is the only basis for marriage,” he said firmly. He took her hand and started a slow seductive massage of her palm. “I would never betray you with anyone.” He pulled her palm against his lips. “As a matter of fact, I don’t think I would have energy left for anyone else.” Alex leaned closer, his breath warm on her cheek.

  Charlotte pulled back again. “You told me that you were looking for a nursemaid,” she said weakly. Why did all her reasons seem so nonsensical now? She felt like an idiot.

  Alex simply pulled her against his body, a strong hand pushing up her chin. “Do you think I want to do this with a nursemaid?”

  His voice was oddly hoarse, Charlotte thought. She gulped and shook her head like a mesmerized rabbit.

  “Or this?” He bent his head and brushed his lips across hers. His lips caressed hers, slowly, enticingly, asking for something…. Charlotte began to tremble.

  “Was there anything else you wanted to say, Charlotte?” Alex asked, a little unsteadily. “Because I don’t mean to silence you.”

  His breath is sweet, Charlotte thought. “Are you sure you don’t remember meeting me before?” she gasped, before the last rational thought fled from her mind.

  Alex withdrew slightly and looked down at her. “Sweetheart, I didn’t ever meet you.” His mouth swooped down on hers again. “How could I forget this loveable forehead? Or your eyebrows?” He punctuated each phrase with a kiss. “Or”—his voice was deepening into velvet—”your eyelashes? They lie so inky-black against your cheek. Or your stubborn little nose?”

  Desperately, Charlotte pulled back. “Are you absolutely sure?”

  Alex finally realized that the question was truly important to her. His eyes searched hers. “I am quite certain,” he confirmed. “I could never have forgotten you. As soon as I saw you at the ball, I knew—” He broke off.

  But Charlotte guessed. He knew he wanted her. He just didn’t remember that he’d already had her. A single tear trailed down her cheek.

  Alex brushed it away tenderly. “Does it matter, Charlotte? Really? Isn’t the first time we met just part and parcel of the myth of falling in love at first sight? Why not pretend that you never met me before the ball, and to hell with the past?”

  Oh, God, Charlotte thought despairingly. Another tear followed the first.

  Alex’s eyebrows clamped together. What was going on here? Why did it matter when he met her? He searched his memory again … but he knew it wasn’t any good. Before coming back from Italy he’d probably been to only seven or eight ton parties in his life. And Charlotte didn’t even come out until the year he left for Italy. He stared down at her, his body painfully aroused just by the sight of her, even when she was crying.

  Charlotte made an effort to get hold of herself. Think rationally, she told herself. Don’t be a widgeon! So he doesn’t remember you. He probably forgot all about making love at the masquerade ball because he thought the girl was a trollop, and that’s not the same thing as sleeping with a lady. But now he’s saying that he won’t run around seducing women in gardens. He’s promising. And adultery is what you were afraid of
.

  She gave a broken, tiny smile that lit Alex’s heart. “I’m sorry to be such a wet goose,” she said. “I never cry!”

  “Aha!” Alex said. “You see, I am making the right decision. You will be a lovely mother for Pippa, because that’s the only thing she knows how to do well.”

  Charlotte smiled.

  “But Charlotte,” Alex said seriously. “We need to sort this out. The fact is, darling, that you undoubtedly met my brother Patrick. We look like a matched set of pistols, my father always said.” And, in response to her questioning look, “all black with silver trim.” Her smile peeked out again. That’s twice, Alex thought. “Our own nurse couldn’t tell us apart…. She used to complain dreadfully when we would play tricks on her, which we did up to a few years ago. If Patrick were here, in England, he would clear up the whole mess. But since he’s not, we simply have to forget it.”

  Charlotte nodded silently. Of course, he was absolutely wrong. She could never, never have mistaken Alex’s endearing dimple for anyone else’s, or the bullish set of his shoulders, or the arrogant way his eyebrows flew up. Those weren’t even characteristics that were attached to one’s face. She had a painter’s eye, and she looked past faces, at mannerisms, all the time. Maybe after they were married for some time she would feel more comfortable about mentioning something so intimate. And then she could tell him and perhaps he would even laugh.

  Alex sensed it as her body relaxed. He pulled her back into his arms, his hands ruffling her soft curls.

  “So, will you marry me?” he whispered against her neck. “Because I think I could easily love you … and perhaps you will love me … and I can watch you paint, and we can even have another baby like Pippa, but with your lovely mouth.”

  Charlotte nodded shakily against his shoulder.

  Alex pushed her back, his eyes laughing down at her. “Did you say something?”

  “Yes,” she said. “Yes, yes, I will marry you.”

  “Ahhhh,” Alex said, seizing her again. “Now you are my betrothed. Do you know what that means?”

  Charlotte shivered. Was he thinking of doing something here? Here, in her mother’s Chinese Salon? His lips were tracing a pattern down her neck that made her feel short of breath. Meanwhile his hands slid from her neck down her back, making her body instinctively bend toward his. Their knees knocked together awkwardly and Charlotte giggled.

  Alex gave her a mock glare. “I’ll tell you right now that a good wife never laughs at her husband!” he growled.

  Charlotte felt light, giddy with happiness, emboldened by his dancing eyes. She put her slender hands against his cheeks and slowly drew them down, over the strong brown column of his neck, down his hard chest, just as she had during the fireworks.

  “I like everything you’ve taught me so far,” she said wickedly.

  “Oh yes, my lady?” Alex whispered back. His eyes shone with mischief. “And how low will you go?”

  Charlotte snatched her hands away, giggling furiously.

  “My turn!” Alex announced. He put his large brown hands on her cheeks. His palms almost covered her whole face, they were so large. And they felt intriguingly hard. Charlotte turned her head slightly and kissed the edge of his hand.

  “No fair distracting me,” said her betrothed sternly. His fingers ran delicately over her face, pausing at her mouth. One rough finger traced the outline of her generous lower lip. Charlotte suddenly opened her mouth and small teeth bit down on his finger. Alex grinned. He stopped grinning when a warm tongue touched the tip.

  “You taste like honey,” said Charlotte, staring at him, her eyes bemused.

  Alex smiled and pulled his finger from her mouth, quickly bending his head down and replacing his finger with his tongue. Charlotte gasped. Two tongues met, at first discreetly questioning, but then Alex’s kiss changed. His mouth settled over hers with intent, demanding, forcing her mouth wider open. His tongue took on a wicked rhythm, coercing, mastering her. Charlotte found herself clinging helplessly to his shirt front, her head thrown back, completely vulnerable to Alex’s onslaught. Her heart was beating like a wild bird’s and she had instinctively closed her eyes … until his mouth withdrew. Then her eyes flew open. He was grinning at her.

  “Now, where was I?” Alex murmured. He put his hands back on her face and drew them past her determined chin and languorously down her neck. Charlotte felt as if her lower belly were on fire. Even her fingers were trembling, she thought dazedly. She watched his black eyes as if they were the only objects in the world. Alex’s fingers trailed over her collarbone and down the smooth, smooth skin of her chest. He reached the small ruffle that adorned the bodice of her morning gown. His fingers slid inside. Charlotte didn’t know what to think. More than anything she wanted him to cup her breast, but his fingers slipped sideways, along the ruffle. They reached her armpits and Charlotte tensed. She was frightfully ticklish, but somehow, his caress didn’t seem to make her ticklish…. The pressure in her lower stomach increased.

  Alex’s hands lingered on her slim sides, inside her dress, for an instant, and then suddenly his right thumb ran over the light cotton of her bodice and touched her nipple. Charlotte jumped. His left thumb did the same. Charlotte gasped and nervously licked her lips.

  At this Alex almost groaned. He didn’t know how long he could prolong this particular game. Flames were licking at his groin; the only thought in his mind was to push Charlotte back against the arm of the couch and … and what?

  He was the one who wanted a virginal bride. He looked at Charlotte. She was lying back against the couch, her head thrown back, moist lips apart as his thumbs rhythmically stroked her small, straining nipples. She was his; he knew that as clearly as he had ever known anything. But he didn’t want to take her now, in her parents’ house. He wanted to say vows that meant something, and then make love for the first time in the shadow of those vows.

  “No,” he whispered. And then he leaned forward anyway. “No,” he said again, his breath warm against her skin as he pushed down the white chambray and took her rosy nipple into his mouth.

  Charlotte instinctively arched her back and moaned. Alex’s left hand rubbed her other breast, roughly now, and his teeth feathered over her nipple, nipping and sucking. Charlotte felt boneless, limp. The fire in her lower belly had been replaced by a feeling of wetness and aching, open longing.

  “Alex,” she gasped, her voice breaking.

  But Alex had momentarily lost control. Charlotte’s breast was so sweet, so perfect: surprisingly heavy for such a slender body, and yet not too large, just right for his hand. He had her whole bodice pulled below her breasts now, the little cap sleeves slipping almost down to her elbows. Her breasts were silky white, with just a delicate pink circle around her nipples … and her nipples! They were a deep crimson, swollen, begging. Alex took a deep breath. He felt intoxicated. He had never been so wildly aroused. My God, he was close to taking his own future bride on a damned uncomfortable Chinese couch full of knobs.

  “No,” he said hoarsely. He took his mouth off Charlotte’s breast but his hands couldn’t seem to stop caressing her. She opened her eyes and looked at him, a look drugged with desire. Alex looked back in wonder. She was everything he wanted: sweet, intelligent, chaste, and wanton. She seemed to be so wholesome and yet she was wild … even as he looked, Charlotte reached out and pulled him forward.

  His lips met hers softly but then, as if she just remembered how to kiss, her mouth opened, moistly welcoming. And Alex couldn’t resist; his tongue drove savagely into her, an erotic assault that vanquished an already subdued victim. Charlotte moaned and arched forward, pressing her breasts against his hard body. Alex pulled her around and onto his chest. His mind had gone blind again; his mouth savaged hers and his hand slid seductively up her stocking, pushing her dress aside as if it didn’t exist. He was raw, hungry with the need to touch her. Charlotte half sobbed with excitement. The place between her legs was heavy, throbbing, scalding with liquid warmth.


  “Alex,” Charlotte whispered, shuddering. “I don’t know….”

  “It’s all right, darling.” Alex’s voice was raw, strained. He slid his fingers into the place between her legs and Charlotte almost jumped out of her skin. Her hand involuntarily gripped his arm like a vise.

  “No!” she said fiercely. But his fingers moved languorously into her hot, wet warmth. Stabbing shocks of desire traveled all over Charlotte’s body, especially her legs and stomach.

  “No …” she said again, her tone wavering a bit.

  Alex leaned forward and silenced her with his mouth. His fingers suddenly moved from being gentle and soothing to being hard and sure. Charlotte couldn’t help it. Her hand fell from his arm; she tore her mouth from his and moaned out loud. Alex’s heart was racing and he had an erection that would take a week to subside, but he felt ecstatic. Not only had he talked sweet, sweet Charlotte into being his wife, but she had a natural passion to match his. The tales he had heard so often from men in the ton, about wives who lay like unhappy sticks, the unpleasant matings endured on both sides only in order to have children, flashed through his mind. Charlotte’s mouth was open, her lips crimson and swollen from his kisses. She was breathing in small, fast pants. He moved a finger into her tight, wet canal and she shook visibly, moaning again, her head moving restlessly from side to side.

  Alex leaned over her, his left hand caressing her breast, his mouth taking hers again, stifling her imploring moans as she strained forward against his finger. It was all Alex could do not to jerk down his breeches and drive into her. The only thing stopping him … well, the only thing stopping him, he thought, was himself. Charlotte was completely lost, her breath coming in catches and starts, sensation racing through her body.