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“It no longer hurts,” she whispered, facing him. “Like you, I was also fifteen years of age when I lost them. I miss them fiercely, Ethan. Every day. I love them still, and most wonderful of all, they live in my dreams.”
Curious fascination moved through him. “Your dreams?”
She swiped a bit of the rain away from her cheeks. He did not want her to catch a fever from being outside, but he understood the call of the storm, the beauty found in the thunder and the rains. It was one of the reasons he preferred the countryside to town.
“I dream all the time of mama, just as she was the last time I saw her. We chat all the time in my dreams, and she listens and gives me advice. Even my father visits me sometimes. I have no logical explanation why I dream of my parents so often; however, I always awaken feeling happy and at peace.”
Charity was such a complex creature. For Ethan, death was an inevitable process of living, and it was simply an end. He grieved and then closed that chapter, for it was not practical to dwell within its pages. Yet she dreamed and kept the memories of those she loved alive, even creating new memories in a space that belonged to her…to them. It felt whimsical and illogical but also wonderful and precious. He glanced around the open vastness of the land before tilting his head to the sky. “And whenever there is a storm, you venture outside?”
“Not always,” she said softly, clutching the edges of her gown. “Only when I feel afraid.”
In a flash of clarity, he understood that the woman before him found it intolerable to be afraid. So she took the thing she feared and found the beauty inside of it so as not to be scared anymore. By God, she was incredible. As he stood staring at her, he wondered if he had not broken into the viscount’s home. What if he had not encountered her and hid with her in that closet. What if he had not bantered and started to admire her wit and her outrageousness.
Hang what if, he thought darkly. She is here, right in front of me. Looking like a drowned cat, for neither had moved out of the downpour.
* * *
The desirewhich lay naked in Ethan’s gaze sent a shiver of awareness through Charity. “Perhaps we should get out of the rain,” she whispered, shivering slightly, affected by the uncomfortable dampness of her clothes.
Yet, she was not cold. Only heat seemed to pass through her veins at the look in the earl’s eyes. He held out his hand to her, and she took it, allowing him to tug her under a large willow tree. It was not the perfect shelter, but it hid them from the worst of the rain.
“You are cold,” he said, pulling her into the curve of his arms. “We should return inside before you catch your death from the rain.”
She did not move for a long while, savoring the touch of his big palm moving soothingly up and down her spine. It felt as if they faced each other simultaneously, and she knew they were about to kiss. With a sigh of want, she lifted her face to his descending head. Charity shivered when his lips brushed across hers in a quick, hot slide.
The branches swayed above them, raindrops spattering against them. She felt the taste of him and also of the rain. “Ethan,” she softly gasped against his mouth.
He framed her face with his large hands, canted her head at an angle that allowed him to deepen the kiss. Charity moaned, gripping his shoulders as the warmth spread throughout her entire body. He rained hot, urgent kisses along her cheeks and down her throat.
“God, I want you,” he muttered raggedly. “I have never wanted another the way I do you. It is driving me mindless.”
She felt adrift in the carnality of his kisses and the soft yet purposeful caresses of his hands as they glided over her body. A brush against her breast had her crying out, then a tender touch to her hips spiked fire within her. Ethan walked her back toward the tree to press her against the trunk, then slipped his legs between hers, splaying her legs wide. She gasped into his ravishing kiss at the lascivious position. It didn’t feel at all proper. Excitement burned in her veins when he cupped her buttocks and hauled her up against him so that she rode his thigh.
Shock and arousal had her clinging to him, feeling breathless with want. He dragged her hard along his thigh, so they fitted at their intimate valleys. Charity almost fainted at the feel of a rather prominent hardness against her womanly sex.
“Ethan?” she murmured restlessly, not understanding the coil of need tightening low in her belly and throbbing in her secret place.
He muttered soothing nonsense against her mouth as he reached between them and brushed the back of his knuckles against the softness of her inner thing. Everywhere his fingers touched burned with evocative heat.
There was a rumble of thunder and a bright flash of light that almost blinded her. Ethan jerked, and then to Charity’s alarm, he crumbled to the ground with a thud.
“Ethan?” she cried, stooping down. She shook his shoulders, and he still did not move. Fright surged through her, trembling her fingers. Standing up, she raced across the lawns to the main house for help.
* * *
Ethan slowly came awake,distantly noting that he was dried and comfortable and that he rested in his bed. He recalled the hot urgency that had coiled inside of him, and he had been about to take Lady Charity outside in the rain. Bloody hell. He slowly opened his eyes, noting that it was dark, and the fire blazed low in the hearth. It took him a few moments to realize that the lady dominating his thoughts sat on his bed with her chin rested on her knees, her eyes closed, her sleep fitful. Concern curled through him when he noted there were dried tear tracks on her cheeks.
Ethan shifted with a groan, and her eyes flew open. God, they were heartbrokenly beautiful and scared.
“You are awake,” she gasped.
“You are in my bed.”
“I am.”
“Your audacity leaves me breathless,” he rejoined, no longer surprised by her boldness. “I wonder what excuse would you provide if you are found here?”
“That we are close and dear friends?”
