“I’m sorry,” he said, supporting his weight on his elbows and smoothing her hair back, so he could better see her face. “We can stay here as long as you need—”
She wrapped her arms around his head and kissed him, suddenly too nervous to tell him precisely what she wanted, but certain she wanted it. As their tongues danced, and she undulated under him, he understood her silent request and began to move once more.
In this, the moment of their joining, they were one. It was every perfect symbolism of love—for how could two who did not love experience this? Aaron was part of her, and she part of him, and for the first time in her life, she had been made complete. He held a part of her she hadn’t even known she was looking for. Life would be hollow without him, just as her body would feel once he left.
The tempo quickened as pleasure swept them in its overwhelming wave. They were together in this as they were in all things, but this time, Charlotte kept her eyes open. She wanted to see his face as he crested the wave. He, too, looked down at her with such softness that it almost broke her heart. Her Duke was soft. He was gentle. He was kind. He was hers.
“Aaron,” she said, savoring the word. “Aaron.”
“Lottie.” His breath came faster. “Lottie.” The sound of her name was enough to make her fracture, her soul soaring as pleasure rocked her body. Aaron joined her, slamming into her with a roar.
Soon, they would have to return to the ball, but she had no intention of leaving this moment. And, judging by the arms that tightened around her whenever she moved, neither did Aaron.
“I love you,” she murmured, trailing her fingers along the hair on his arms.
“I love you, too.” He pressed a kiss to the side of her head. Lying like this, his body wrapped around hers, it felt almost as though they had been designed for one another. “How do you feel? Are you all right?”
She giggled. “I’m quite well. You don’t have to fuss.”
“I’ve never…” he hesitated, “this particular experience is new to me, too.”
“I thought you had plenty of experience,” she teased.
“I did,” he said, rather uncharacteristic embarrassment lacing his voice, “but that experience is not quite… it’s not with ladies such as yourself.”
It took a moment for his words to sink in, and when they did, she looked at him with wide eyes. “You mean… all other ladies you’ve shared intimacy with have been… they’ve had… Heavens, I hardly know how to say it.”
“Most were previously married,” he said, running a finger over her bottom lip. “And be careful with the wordintimacy—I have never once considered proposing to a woman as I proposed to you tonight.”
“But you considered marriage,” she said wickedly. “Of course, I do not know with whom, but you cannot deny that.”
“I have no intention of denying anything.” He kissed her hair one last time. “I had contemplated marriage and with an entirely different lady for reasons I shall not go into now, but I thank the Lord that never came to pass.” He shuddered, and Charlotte laughed at the absurdity of it all. To think she should be lying here with a Duke, and the man she was shortly to marry—a man whom she could not have even considered marrying a mere month ago and who now held her fragile heart in his hands.
“As do I,” she said. “Just think—I might have been forced to marry Sebastian.”
“I would never have allowed that to come to pass.”
“You would not even have noticed the occasion.”
A rueful smile indicated he acknowledged the truth of her remark, but he merely said, “We should return to the ball before too many suspicions are launched in our direction.”
Charlotte sighed, but he was right, and now more than ever, when she was at such a crucial juncture of her life and when so much scandal had already come down on the Hexhams’ heads, she could not do anything more to risk her reputation.
“Let us go,” she said.
ChapterTwenty-One
The remainder of the evening passed in a blur for Aaron. He danced with Charlotte as much as could be considered proper and watched her dance with others for the rest. Once, he had not conceived how any man could fixate so utterly on a single woman when there were so many ladies around and available. But somehow in the course of just a few weeks Charlotte had done the unthinkable.
He chuckled to himself. He, Aaron Brighton, Duke of Hexham, was soon to be a married man and as chained to his wife as any a man could be. And for once, he didn’t mind the thought at all.
“You’re looking pleased, Aaron,” his aunt Octavia said, joining him where he leaned against the wall. “Is your betrothed bringing you unanticipated amounts of joy this evening?”
“She is a delight, is she not?”
“I would not argue differently, but you are looking at her differently today.”
“Perhaps I am finally appreciating my luck.”
