Page 22 of A Lady’s Dangerous Secret (Scandalous Secrets #1)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

J ames peered into the alleyway behind Lady Hardwicke’s town house. He arrived early to ensure all was safe. Even so, he questioned his sanity. He was asking for another catastrophe to happen, but James could not help it.

He had to see Charlotte.

When Lady Bridget mentioned at the breakfast table that Lady Charlotte was ill, he knew why.

He prayed she was hiding away to give the wound time to heal; however, he worried she had developed an infection.

He needed to know she was well, so he encouraged Lady Bridget to visit her, his letter in tow.

He was relieved to learn Charlotte was on the mend.

James had never felt such strong emotions before, and it was entirely unsettling.

He fretted constantly about Charlotte’s safety and wished he could be with her always for protection.

It was not just for her safekeeping though.

He wanted to see those cornflower-blue eyes alighting with happiness or her freckled lips smiling in response to something he said.

God, he had even thought he loved her.

What a ridiculous notion.

It was a moment of weakness when he was scared she was gravely injured.

For a reason Charlotte would not reveal, she had to marry the Duke of Westcliffe to save herself. James’s fists curled. If only she would trust him, he could find a way to assuage the mysterious burden she carried and prevent a forced marriage to the Duke.

Then she could marry me.

He chided his traitorous mind. Even if she was freed of her commitment to the Duke, he would never be good enough for her.

The creaking of the iron gate that led out of Lady Hardwicke’s garden broke James’s ruminations.

He had been so lost in his thoughts of Charlotte he did not even hear her approach him.

He had never been this careless in his life.

A slip of a woman was making him lose the instincts he had honed from years at sea.

A cloaked figure emerged from the gate, shadows hiding any features.

“Charlotte?” The figure quickly looked from side to side, and then the hood fell back, revealing chestnut hair loosely arranged in a chignon.

“James!” Charlotte walked toward him and threw her arms around his neck.

She buried her head in his chest. He was taken aback, but in a pleasant way.

He was convinced that she would never want to lay eyes on him again.

But here she was, in his arms, and he did not want to let her go.

He murmured sweet nothings and rubbed her back tenderly.

She lifted her head to look at him. “I missed you.”

He removed his hands from her back and traced her cheekbones. “I’ve only thought about you. How do you fare?”

“Like I’ve been locked in my room for four days.”

James chuckled. “Your neck is healing?”

“Quite well. Bailey made her mother’s poultice, and it has worked wonderfully.”

“I’m glad.”

“Thank you.” She smiled, and he felt for a moment as if he was the luckiest man in the world, until reality reared its ugly head.

“I should have better protected you.” His voice came out gruffly while he tried to hide the emotions swelling inside him.

Charlotte’s chin lifted in a defiant manner he recognized too well. “Don’t blame yourself. I’m not yours to defend.”

“But what if I want you to be?”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible.” A forlorn look crossed her face.

James’s gut clenched. He could never compete against a duke, even if he knew a way to get Charlotte out of her bind.

If there was no chance of a future between them, he just wanted one night.

One night where they did not have to think about Society marriages or criminals or what could never be.

One night where they could acknowledge the irresistible pull between them.

One night where it was just her and him.

He rubbed her back again. “I know. I just want one night.”

Charlotte’s eyelids lowered and fluttered. She softly said, “Me, too.”

He clasped her hand. “Come with me.”

“Oh! Now?” She pulled her hand back and looked up at him.

The side of his mouth quirked up. “It’s now or never, Lottie.”

“I choose now,” she said without a moment’s hesitation.

He grabbed her hand and led her through the backstreets to an awaiting hackney. Her hand fit perfectly into his own, just like they were meant to be together.

But they were not.

It was just one night.

Once the driver deposited them near Gabe’s home, he led a hooded Charlotte down a few streets until they reached the back of the house. Soon, they were standing before Dawson, who was awaiting their arrival.

“Captain.” He bowed his head as if it were entirely normal for him to appear in the town house of Gabe’s mistress with an unescorted and unwed lady yet again.

“We’re in a much better state than the last time we were here.” James attempted levity, which was not a common occurrence for him. Yet, having Charlotte with him made the dismal world suddenly seem brighter. The butler’s face remained placid. No, there was a slight twitch at the corner of his lips.

“Your chamber has been prepared.”

“Thank you, Dawson.”

James led her upstairs to a guest room at a sedate pace, trying not to drag her up the stairs or throw her over his shoulder as he wished to do. They entered and he unclasped her hand. He felt a chill in his core at the sudden loss of contact.

“Does this suit you? I thought we should be in a different bedroom.” He looked sheepishly at her, realizing even being in Gabe’s town house may be traumatizing. He was sure he would muck something up again. Her eyes swept across the room several times as if to reassure herself. He held his breath.

“It’s perfect. I barely remember the house, I was in such a state.”

He let out a sigh and took a step closer to her. He did not want to miss a moment. Desire burned in her eyes, much like what he felt. Her tongue ran across her delectable bottom lip nervously. He let out a groan as his cock twitched to life.

“What?” Charlotte asked, suddenly tentative.

“Lottie, you don’t understand what you do to me.

I want all of you.” He took another step closer, so that her cloak brushed up against his trousers.

He did not know himself anymore. In the past, his honor would have forbidden him from ever suggesting such a tryst yet again, but she had broken through all his restraint.

She gave a hesitant smile. “We must not waste any time then.” He unbuttoned her cloak and helped her out of it. The heavy fabric dropped to the ground with a thud.

“I need to see more of you,” he said.

He hastily pulled the bodice down her shoulders.

He was so focused on getting her naked that he barely saw her mouth drop open.

He spun her around and feverishly undid the ties at the back of her dress.

He cursed his hands, which were typically agile, because they felt like blocks while he fumbled with the laces.

After what felt like forever, he pivoted her around and took a step back to admire his handiwork.

She stood in her short stays and chemise.

Not enough.

He needed to see more.

His patience for another set of laces had entirely dissolved, and he was about to rip open her stays. Before he could pounce, she took a step forward, grabbed his forearms, and gave him a good shake.

“James!”

Suddenly, her face came into focus. Her brow was crinkled, and she looked at him worriedly, the bandage tied around her neck. The bloody wound that was all his fault.

“Are you well?”

“Perfectly well.” He ran his hand through his hair.

James had never believed in witches, but he wondered if they did exist. He had felt possessed when he frantically disrobed her, unable to control his urges.

He never lost control. It was as if she had cast a spell on him. His honor had flown out the window.

“I thought…” Charlotte worried her bottom lip.

“What did you think?”

“That I could see some of you first? Before all this is gone?” She waved her hand at her remaining clothes.

She was an innocent whom he had harmed, and all he wanted to do was ravish her. He knew he was destined for hell—his uncle had reminded him often enough—but even this was low for hm.

“The least I can do is give you what you want.” He shrugged off his jacket and dropped it on the floor. Charlotte’s eyes followed each of his movements, then focused on his neck. He lifted his hand, trying to understand what drew her attention.

Ah.

“Do you want help?” she asked.

He nodded in response. A grin spread across her face, and she stepped toward him. Charlotte swiftly undid his cravat and threw it to the floor more forcefully than necessary.

“I’ve been dreaming of unraveling you.”

James let out a hearty laugh he did not even recognize. “Is that all you’ve been dreaming about? Unraveling me by taking off my cravat?”

“You’re so stuffy all the time!” She paused and tilted her head. “Are you mocking me?”

“I would never. Your innocence is endearing.”

A determined look crossed her face. “I’m not as sheltered as you think. Take off your shirt and breeches, so I can look at your cock.”

James raised his eyebrows.

“Now,” she demanded imperiously.

“Yes, my lady .” He lifted off his shirt and stopped before removing his bottoms. This was the Charlotte he knew.

She was bold and commanding. An empress presiding over her domain.

James wanted little to do with the ruling class, but Charlotte was an exception.

An exception that aroused him when she used her haughtiest voice.

An exception to whom he would submit any day.

James was glorious.