Page 50 of Always the Chaperone
Rising from the sofa and jumping over it, he pulled her into his arms and a deep kiss.
When they finally broke apart, neither had much breath, but William managed to say, “Yes.”
He was hers, and she was very soon to be his. It was easy to lose yourself in those blue eyes, and she did not want to break the silence.
But something hot and fiery was stirring inside her, and she could not delay.
Taking him by the hand, she moved toward the door and opened it quietly, looking into the corridor to find no one. Matthews must be giving the servants their orders for tomorrow.
Something was making a rhythmic sound, and it took a moment to realize it was the sound of her own heart thumping in her ears. It was difficult to believe this was real. She had a gentleman at home, and she had invited him to her bedchamber—and what was more, he had accepted. She was about to do what the most scandalous ladies in society did.
Pulling him quietly through the doorway, it did not take more than a minute to creep up the staircase and into her bedroom. She pulled him through the door and shut it quietly behind her.
William stood in the center of the room, and Charlotte swallowed. She had never been more vulnerable, more alone. No man had ever been in her bedchamber. Her childhood paintings were on the walls, and some rather racy novels by Mrs. Radcliffe were by the side of the bed. Several pairs of stockings, all in need of mending, were scattered around. Charlotte colored.
But William was not looking around at her room. He was staring at her with hungry eyes.
So, this how it felt before you were bedded for the first time. She had not expected so much fear and anticipation, but the memory of pleasure was still recent, and she shivered at the thought of it.
She moved soundlessly to the bed and placed the preservative on her bedside table. Without looking, she whispered, “You have…have done this before.”
“Sneaked into your bedroom? No.”
She turned around with a fierce look, and William’s grin softened. He walked toward her, kissed her lightly on the lips, and hesitated.
“Yes,” he said finally. “After a battle, you do anything, anything you can to feel alive.”
She nodded. In this moment, she did not care. He was here with her now. That was what mattered. “I have not felt alive in years.”
With shaking fingers but absolute determination, she allowed her dressing gown to fall to the floor. Before she could absorb the look of astonishment on William’s face, her fingers found the ribbon fastenings of her nightgown and allowed that to fall, too.
For a shimmering instant, she stood there, completely naked, her eyes fixed on William. The temptation to cover herself with her hands came and went. She wanted him to see all of her. All she could hope was that he liked what he saw.
William growled and closed the distance between them, pulling her into his arms and kissing her wildly. Charlotte clung to him, clung to him as though he was the only real thing in the world—and in that instant, he was.
“I promised you pleasure,” William panted, breaking apart with great effort, “and I meant that.”
Charlotte’s arms were around him, and she frowned to have them pulled away. He pulled at his shirt, unbuttoning it quickly and dropping it to the floor. His boots were next, then breeches, and then he was standing before her just as naked as she was.
She gasped. He was even more masculine than she could have imagined, all chiseled peaks and curling hair.
“Do not be afraid,” he said softly.
“I am not.”
“Call me, Will.”
“Yes.”
“Is this a good time to ask you to marry me?”
Before she could reply, he picked her up and threw her on the bed. She fell back into the softness and did not have time to think or say anything before he had joined her, covering her body with his own.
Charlotte gasped. This was unfathomable, the sensation of his skin on hers, the closeness, the way her fingers could explore—nervously at first, then with greater certainty.
“You should be careful,” she breathed, “or I may actually take you up on that offer.”
Her heart was racing, but she knew this was all a part of the experience, the words of love, the proposal of marriage. He was here to woo her, and she wanted that, but he could not, surely, be serious about his offer.
