Chapter 34

CHAPTER 34

T he two weeks before the May Day celebration passed in a blur. Charlotte's days were filled with committee meetings, creating the decorations—she did more overseeing than creating them herself—and planning the food items. Everyone on the committee listened to her opinion with rapt attention, eager to have their modest celebration rival that of ton gatherings.

As for her nights—and sometimes her afternoons and mornings—she spent them in Simon's arms. He continued to be a generous and giving husband, providing her time alone or giving her his undivided attention as she needed it. Their lovemaking continued to surprise her—often gentle, with whispered words and tender caresses, but at times more vigorous—as Simon described it. Once he didn't even wait to get her to the bed, but braced her against the door of their bedroom, lifting her body and rucking up skirts so she could wrap her legs around his waist.

Surprised to discover she rather liked such spontaneity, Charlotte concluded her perspective had changed because she trusted her husband. When she rewarded his impromptu expressions of affection, he vowed to surprise her often.

And with each passing day, she grew to care for him more.

Instead of seeing Simon as a rake who used his smile and easy manner to manipulate and control others, she acknowledged his genuine joie de vivre. Simon simply loved life and lived it to the fullest. Rather than constantly annoy her, his sunny disposition became contagious, and she found herself laughing frequently. Being married to Simon Beckham had changed her.

For good.

The day before the May Day celebration, Charlotte sat at the escritoire in the parlor of their cottage, poring over the last-minute food changes she had suggested. Lost in her task, she startled when hands pressed over her eyes and warm breath brushed against her neck.

"Guess who?" Simon whispered in her ear.

"John. I thought you'd never arrive. Quick, undress! We must hurry before my husband returns!"

Simon's hands dropped from her face, and she held her breath. When she turned to face him, he stared wide-eyed, his mouth gaping open like one of the fish he would catch. Had he misinterpreted her joke and taken offense?

Then he threw back his head and laughed. "Minx!" He pulled her from the chair and enveloped her in his arms, kissing her soundly. "As if I don't keep you busy enough." He kissed her again, his lips traveling down her neck to skim the bodice of her gown. "But if you ever decide to take me off guard like that again, please give me fair warning. My heart nearly stopped."

"Where would be the fun in warning you?"

He laughed, the sound vibrating against her skin in sensual ripples. "Who are you and what have you done with my prim and proper wife?"

"You don't like this side of me?" She sent him a saucy grin.

"I love every side of you. Which speaking of"—he hooked a finger in her bodice and pulled it down. "Since you were expecting a rendezvous with our footman who, I should mention, is old enough to be your father, let it not be said I don't aim to please my wife." He turned toward the open door. "John! My wife wants?—"

She slapped a hand over his mouth and tugged up her bodice. "You wouldn't dare!" Her face flamed as John appeared in the doorway.

"Yes, sir?"

Simon only grinned at her before saying, "My wife wants a bit of privacy. If you would ensure we're not disturbed."

She breathed a sigh of relief when John left, closing the door behind him.

"Now"—her husband pulled her into his arms again—"where were we?"

After a quick peck on his nose, she placed a hand on his chest and pushed. "None of that. Mother is coming over to review everything for tomorrow."

He hitched a dark brow. "You're calling her Mother?"

She blinked. Had she? The word had flowed effortlessly off her tongue. "She asked me to." And frankly, Charlotte wanted to. Certainty settled deep within her that the Beckhams had burrowed their way past her defenses and taken root in her heart.

Little by little, they had won her over. Like Elizabeth Bennet when she first saw Pemberley, Charlotte had fallen in love with their home, but it was a superficial love based on appearance.

Yet, as she witnessed the kindness, the warmth, and the affection dwelling within the house, Charlotte had come to understand what made it a home. The gentle teasing, the hugs of comfort, words of encouragement and praise filled the space until it overflowed to all who inhabited it.

An aching tenderness bloomed in her chest, and she pressed a hand to her bosom at the unfamiliar sensation, accepting the reason with surprise. She loved the Beckhams, and as she gazed at her husband's quizzical expression, she admitted she loved him, too. However, she refused to speak the words. Not when he had adamantly stated he didn't want a woman to love him. After all, they had made a pact, and she would abide by his wish.

It certainly had nothing to do with protecting herself.

"Now go!" She gave him a little push toward the door. "You'll be in the way."

At the entrance, he peered over his shoulder and graced her with his ridiculous grin. "We'll continue later."

And as he exited the room whistling, she hoped to conclude her business with Judith quickly.

Because she could hardly wait for later.

The next day, clouds gathered in the blue sky, fluffy and white like little puffs of cotton. Simon breathed a sigh as he looked out the window, relieved the view held no threat of storms.

He wanted the day to be perfect for Charlotte. She had worked so hard organizing the May Day celebration, he didn't want anything to spoil it. And although stormy weather dampened anyone's spirits, it paralyzed Charlotte.

"Are you going to stare out that window all morning, or are you going to finish dressing? The festivities begin in less than an hour," his bossy and adorable wife called.

Simon allowed the curtain to fall back into place. He'd lain in bed too long that morning, boneless and completely relaxed from their long sessions of lovemaking.

Lovemaking. He chuckled to himself, remembering the conversation he'd had with Charlotte when he proposed their arrangement and she had taken offense at the word sex.

Because making love was exactly what it had become to him. Even in heated, frantic moments, he found it difficult to think of what they shared in the marriage bed as anything less.

He slipped his trousers on over his smalls and winked. "I was waiting in the event you wanted a repeat performance."

Charlotte's lips pressed together in a straight line, but the sparkle in her brown eyes gave her away. "You are..." She shook her head, then released the laugh she'd been withholding.

Yes, he wanted the day to be perfect for her. Not only because of her part in the town's celebration, but he had decided to confess his feelings for her.

He didn't expect her to reciprocate, but he wanted her to know she was loveable. That he loved her. Unconditionally.

Confident the perfect moment would reveal itself, Simon slipped the shirt over his head, then tucked it inside his trousers. "Promise me one thing."

"What?" Charlotte asked as she checked her appearance in the looking glass, which, in his opinion, was perfect.

"That when you dance with me this evening, you won't step on my feet."

Although she faced away from him, her smile rang in her voice. "What would be the fun of that?" She rose and strode toward him. "Plus, it will bring back fond memories."

"Fond for whom? Certainly not me. My toes hurt for days." Still, he pulled her into his arms. "But if it pleases you, stamp away. It will give me an excuse to refuse all the other ladies vying for my attention."

She slapped his chest. "You overestimate your charm, sir."

He hitched a brow. "Do I?" he asked, lacing as much seduction in his words as he possibly could, then lowered his head and captured her lips in a searing kiss.

Ten minutes later, he finally finished dressing, wishing to God they didn't have to leave so soon.

When they arrived in Swindon, the festivities were in full swing. Brightly colored streams of ribbons dangled from a tall pole in the middle of the town's main street. People had dressed in their finest for the occasion, waving as Simon pulled his curricle up and handed Charlotte down. It only took a moment for him to realize they were greeting Charlotte rather than him.

"You've attracted a crowd, Wife."

A girl about four-years-old approached, holding out a bunch of flowers. "For you."

Simon flung a hand to his heart. "For me? How thoughtful."

The child's dark curls bobbed as she shook her head and giggled. "No! For her." She pointed at Charlotte.

Simon couldn't help but imagine his own daughter with Charlotte's dark hair and eyes and feisty spirit. True, he needed a son, but he wanted a daughter just as much, especially if she looked like Charlotte.

Charlotte crouched before the child, smiling warmly. "Don't mind him. He's a bit of a nodcock. What's your name?"

The girl cast her gaze to the ground, then peeped up under her lashes, giving Charlotte a shy smile. "Lizzie."

"These are lovely, Lizzie. Thank you."

Flowers delivered in Charlotte's hands, Lizzie grinned up at Simon, then raced back to her family, burying her face in her mother's skirts and sneaking peeks at Charlotte and then Simon amid her giggles.

Simon sighed. "Charmed by a fair lady, only to have my heart broken once again."

"She's a little young for you, don't you think?" Charlotte's lips curved up slightly, making him want to kiss her right there in public.

"I want all ladies to feel special and beautiful. It's my mission in life. Besides, she might wind up with our son someday, and I want her to like me."

Charlotte's dark brow arched. "Our son, who isn't even possibly conceived?" She scoffed a laugh. "You have extraordinary faith in your abilities, husband. And she would be at least several years older."

"There's something to be said for older women. Speaking of"—he winked—"I never asked your age."

"Because it's rude to do so."

He waved it aside. "I should know how old my wife is, don't you think?"

"You first."

"Twenty-nine."

Her lips twitched as if holding in a secret.

Interesting. He most definitely needed to find a secluded spot and whisk her away for a kiss. "Your turn," he said.

"Also twenty-nine."

"Ah, but when is the date of your birth?"

She hesitated, then sighed. "Tomorrow, actually."

"And you didn't tell me?! We'll celebrate today." Keeping his voice casual, he added, "Mine isn't until December, Christmas Day, to be exact." He leaned in and whispered in her ear, "I rest my case about older women."

Before she could answer with a scathing retort, his gaze snagged on his family descending from their carriage, and he waved to catch their attention. "Our family has arrived."

Her lips opened in that enticing little o . Her eyes shimmered with a thin line of moisture forming at the rim. She blinked it away. " Our family?"

"Well, yes. You're a Beckham now whether you like it or not." Did she like it? He hoped so, but she averted her gaze so quickly, he worried he may have offended her. "Charlotte, I know you didn't choose me but?—"

"Simon!" Georgie raced forward, throwing herself in his arms. At least his sisters liked him. Well, most of them, at least. Frannie and Beth were questionable.

"Georgie!" his mother said, rushing up and out of breath. " How many times have I told you? It is not appropriate for a young lady to run."

"Oh, I don't know," Simon said. "Charlotte runs when I chase her around the bedroom. But then again, I just discovered she's older than I am, so— oof "

Charlotte elbowed him in the ribs, then completely ignoring her malicious action, smiled sweetly. "Your mother is correct, Georgie. It's not seemly." She gazed askance at Simon. "At least in public."

"Minx," he whispered for Charlotte's ears only.

His mother linked an arm into Charlotte's. "Ignore him, my dear. Let's inspect your handiwork. Simon, were you aware our Charlotte managed most of the details herself? Even Mrs. Bailey admitted to me she was impressed and has decided to bow out completely. Your wife is a marvel."

She was indeed. The evening couldn't come soon enough. Perhaps while they slipped outside the crowded assembly room and strolled in the moonlight, he would tell her he loved her more than the moon itself.

Satisfaction of a job well done swelled in Charlotte's chest as she took in her surroundings. Garlands of flowers draped over shop doors, and windows displayed wreaths in vibrant colors. She couldn't wait to taste the food on the menu for the dance at the assembly that evening.

Simon pulled a white anemone from the bouquet Lizzie had given her.

Charlotte slapped his hand. "You're ruining it."

His lips curved upward, not as wide as his usual grin, but more thoughtful and...affectionate? "This particular flower belongs elsewhere." He tucked the flower into her hair above her ear, then stood back to assess the effect. "Perfect. You make it even more beautiful."

Her stomach tumbled at the light in his blue eyes. If she didn't know better, she would think he—loved her. She dismissed the impossible notion. "Don't think your flattery will have me swooning at your feet. You forget who you're flirting with."

His laugh rolled over her skin, a wave of sensuous pleasure. "I could never forget that."

Georgie made a gagging sound, and Rebecca, Beth, and Frannie sighed.

Kate said, "I agree with Georgie. You two lovebirds are becoming sickening."

Charlotte dismissed Kate's comments as well as the others' reactions. Surely, they must be imagining things.

"Oh, dear," Judith said. "Samuel appears positively livid."

Sure enough, the baker glared at them from the doorway of his shop.

Simon grasped her by the elbow and whispered, "Let's steer clear of him as much as possible today."

And as the day progressed, they did exactly that. Samuel's accusatory glare faded into the background amid laughter and sunny smiles from the other townspeople.

During the maypole celebration, as dancers wove their colored ribbons around in intricate patterns. Georgie said, "I can't wait until I can join in the maypole dance."

Simon groaned. "Perhaps when you're eighty. You're already too devious for words. I shudder to think what mischief you will machinate when you're older."

Charlotte laughed. "Look who's speaking."

The dance ended and as children unwound the ribbons, the mischievousness Simon accused Georgie of glinted in his eyes. He tugged on Charlotte's hand. "Come, let's do the next one!"

"Isn't that more for couples courting?"

He only grinned, and her heart fluttered at the implication.