A Passionate Endeavor (25 page)

She must venture to play the part of
Elizabeth Bennett tonight in the bedchamber, as there was no one
else she could so desire to emulate. Eliza would not be in fear.
Charlotte rather thought the character would lead the way even if
she had no idea what to expect.

Now she was becoming ridiculous, Charlotte
thought as she listened to all the toasts made to their health and
happiness and too many other topics. The champagne had gone to her
head. Watching Nicholas’s handsome form, just a footstep or two
away from her, all thoughts of novels and heroines fled.

He moved with such controlled grace, without
a single wasted motion. A bottle-green coat emphasized his immense
shoulders and strong waist. She looked down the buff-colored
breeches molded to the defined muscles of his legs. Charlotte’s
heart beat faster in her breast as she remembered what lay beneath
all those elegant clothes. She had seen almost every inch of him
when he was feverish so many weeks ago. And now, soon, very soon,
he would know every inch of her. She felt as nervous as a cat
caught under the bedcovers.

Nicholas closed the small gap between them
and linked arms with her. It all felt so natural and right when she
glanced down and noticed the gleam of burnished gold residing on
his long tapered finger.

He was her husband
. His gentle touch
reassured her. Perhaps, just perhaps, everything would work out.
She would try very hard to be the perfect wife. Then, with time, he
might come to love her, to match the passion she felt at his touch
and at his glance. As if he read her mind, he met her gaze and
smiled.

Toasts were made to the dukedom, the brave
heroes who fought under Wellington, the talented chef of the inn,
the proprietors, and by the time a toast had been made to the
vicar, Nicholas could see Charley getting wobbly in the legs.

Nicholas broke up the celebration before
anyone became maudlin or singing broke out. As it was, Charley
serenaded the foursome while they walked back to the abbey. The
music brought back a familiar wave of battlefield emotions to
Nicholas. He was surprised to feel somewhat nauseated by the
chirping sounds. He said nothing to stop Charley because he did not
want to hurt his young batman’s feelings.

Nicholas was living too soft a life here. It
was time to return to his old ways with the small addition of his
wife. He looked down at Charlotte, who had to take two strides for
every long one of his, and prayed that this evening’s consummation
would be completed without much suffering on her part.

The idea of breaching her maidenhead was
daunting at best. Since Charlotte had been raised in a household of
males, he wondered if anyone had ever discussed what was to be
expected in performing her duty. One glance toward her brother’s
innocent expression made him doubt it.

And he would have to broach the delicate
topic of avoiding the conception of a child. All of these worries
meant very little to him, if he were to admit the truth. These
thoughts were hardpressed to overcome the great desire he felt
looking into her clear gray eyes and at the gentle swell of her
breast.

“
Poor fellow
!
He is quite
distracted by jealousy, which I am not very sorry for as I know no
better support for love
.”

—Lady Susan

SHE felt as good as naked standing in the
transparent nightgown, a gift from her irrepressible French cousin.
With a sly wink, he had insisted that it was just what was called
for on her wedding night. She felt herself blush anew as she
recalled all the wicked things he had suggested she do to entice
her husband. Charlotte had covered her ears in shame and ordered
Alexandre from the cottage under his protestation.

“But Charlotte,
ma cherie
, do not let
your French blood be smothered by the frigid repression that seems
to fill the veins of most of these silly Englishwomen,” he had
called out as a parting remark.

And so she had changed from her white cotton
gown that buttoned to the top of her throat into the revealing
nightclothes made of silk and lace at least three times in the last
half hour. Nicholas had left her at the cottage after the
uproarious breakfast, promising to return by sundown.

At the last moment, she lost her nerve again.
As the silk floated in a pool around her ankles, a soft knock
sounded at her small bedchamber in the cottage.

“Just a moment,
please
,” she called
out in a high-pitched squeak.

The door opened at the precise moment when
she was tugging her old gown over her head. It billowed around her
on its descent. Had he seen her naked form? She was paralyzed with
embarrassment. She quickly did up the front buttons. “I am sorry,
shall I give you a few more minutes, Charlotte?” She pushed back
her rumpled hair and tugged at her nightgown one last time. “No,
no. I am ready.”

Nicholas had changed from the sophisticated
dress of this morning to dark evening clothes. He appeared as
beautiful as a man could possibly be, all dark, mysterious
elegance.

He came across the small chamber in three
broad strides, picking up the discarded silk nightgown as he set
the candlestick he had brought with him on her nightstand. “What is
this?”

How mortifying. “Oh, it is nothing. Just a
small gift my cousin delivered to me this afternoon.”

“A nightgown?” he asked, standing a few
inches from her.

“Yes.”

He took one step closer to her. “I’m not sure
I care for the idea of your former betrothed giving you such a…
personal article, Charlotte.” He paused and arched one eyebrow.
“And yet you are not wearing it.”

“Uh no, I did not feel like myself in it, my
lord,” she said, looking at her toes peeking out of the bottom of
her plain nightgown.

“My lord?”

“I am sorry, I mean Nicholas, of course.” Oh,
worse and worse. This was not going at all as Alexandre suggested.
She was supposed to entrance him. Instead, she was awkward and
gauche
. It was just that it was so hard to focus on words
when he was standing so close to her, looking at her through
heavy-lidded mysterious eyes. A mere wisp of fabric separated her
from his hands. Charlotte found it difficult to breathe normally as
she watched him untie his neck cloth and drape it over her bed.

Nicholas indicated with his hand the small
stool in front of her simple dressing table. “Perhaps I could brush
the tangles from your hair,” he said.

She was sure he could tell her nervousness
bordered on panic. Charlotte moved to the stool and dropped down
onto it, grateful for the moment to collect herself.

He stroked her hair with the horsehair brush,
from the crown of her head to the base of her back. Her scalp
tingled from the pleasure of an action heretofore unknown to her.
She could not remember anyone ever brushing her hair.

He dropped the brush on the stand after
several long wordless minutes. She watched his large bronzed hands
grasp her arms in the mirror.

“You are trembling. I hope you are not too
afraid, are you?” His voice was steady and low. “I will be very
gentle, but I daresay you already know there will be some pain
involved.”

“Yes,” she whispered, unable to feign any of
the nuances Alexandre had suggested. “Charlotte, this is important.
When were your last courses?” If it was possible to be more
embarrassed, she felt it at this moment. “A week ago,” she
whispered.

“You are certain?”

“Yes. Why do you ask?”

“I would not get you with child on our single
encounter
.”

She had to harness every last drop of her
reserves of dignity to not burst into tears. She would not let him
see her sadness. So it was to be as he had proposed. One night—one
night only to do the proper. She was as unattractive in his eyes as
she had been the day he had first met her. He did not want children
by her.

“Shall we proceed then, with the consummation
of our vows?” she asked without a trace of emotion.

Nicholas looked beyond her shoulder into the
mirror’s image. Charlotte was very pale. He cupped her elbows and
helped her to her feet, wrapping his arms around the front of her
and burying his face in her flowing locks. She was like the same
block of ice he had held in the graveyard this morning. He felt
very unsure. He had never made love to an innocent, and hated the
idea of hurting her.

He stroked her arms for a few moments, then
turned her into his full embrace. He would bring her pleasure,
slowly and lovingly. He wanted desperately to give her a small
measure of happiness after her recent sadness. After everything she
had done for him, he would give her passion. Tonight was all for
her. He would loose his desire and hers as well, if it could be
done.

He kissed the top of her head then pushed
aside the thick curtain of hair to feather kisses on the soft,
downy curls at the base of her neck. Nicholas felt her shiver. She
weighed but a feather as he turned her and gathered her up in his
arms to carry her to the bed.

“You are much more enchanting in this cotton
gown than any amount of silk and lace. Your cousin has something to
learn when it comes to the art of seduction, it seems.” He felt her
relax a bit in his arms.

“Thank you,” she whispered, hiding her head
in the crook of his arm.

With a quick movement, he thrust aside the
bedcovers and placed her in the middle of the bed. Enormous gray
eyes surveyed him as he went about the methodical task of removing
his boots, coat and every article of clothing save his linen shirt.
He was glad for her sake that his long shirt provided adequate
cover for his obvious masculinity.

He joined her on the bed and pressed his lips
onto her forehead, the tip of her nose, her cheeks, and finally
settled on her gorgeous mouth. He kissed her for long minutes,
patiently arousing her, enticing her body to respond to his
experienced touch.

It took a long time.

Finally, she curled her tongue against his
and moaned softly. Only then did he begin to undo the small buttons
on the front of her gown.

“Should we not blow out the candle?” she
asked.

He looked at her rosy complexion, bathed in
the golden candlelight. “You would deny me the pretty vision I hold
before me?”

“You do not need to say falsehoods to please
me,” she whispered.

“At some point in your life you made a very
incorrect assumption about your appearance. I hope to persuade you
to think otherwise. In fact, I shall put you on a strict regimen of
no less than three compliments a day.”

That brought a small smile to the corners of
her lips. “Ah, the dimples make an appearance. Just in time, I
might add,” he said with a chuckle.

An immense, deep desire dwelled in him. He
reached beneath her neckline and felt her sharp intake of breath.
His groin constricted when he touched the tip of her lovely breast
and it hardened. Her skin was so soft, her breasts perfectly
proportioned and firm. He looked at her face to see a fan of dark
lashes splayed across her flushed cheeks. He wanted her to
experience it all despite her shy nature.

As he lowered his head to taste the rosy pink
confection of her breast, he massaged the other to tightened
perfection. He laved and nipped the tender aureole, giving equal
time to both breasts until she arched her back, involuntarily
signaling her pleasure.

With deliberate movements, Nicholas slid his
fingers up the side of her body, bringing the fabric of her
nightclothes up along with his hands. Her eyes flew open but he was
grateful that she resisted the urge to cover herself.

Dear God, she was perfectly formed.