Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

Ian scrubbed his face, certain he had fallen asleep sometime during dinner. But he had prevailed and fooled his guests that he was awake.

As Charlotte had instructed, he had been civil to Kate and her burly Scot of a husband, Gabriel. But it didn’t explain why his wife had sat at dinner with the fakest smile on her face. Or why the four later played whist, and Charlotte lost hand after hand.

She never lost at whist.

He folded his spectacles, tucked them away, and stood up, holding the half-emptied tumbler of whisky in his hand. Fine Scottish whisky that Gabriel’s distillery was producing. While it had helped numb the pain of all the bee stings, it wasn’t quite enough. He needed a bath and a good night’s sleep.

“Your Grace,” Kate exclaimed as if surprised to catch him in his own library.

“I thought you had retired for the evening.”

His wife’s friend was a spitfire who had written to him once years ago, telling him what a grave mistake he was making. He hadn’t replied, instead leaving the next morning from London to travel to France .

Kate shrugged. “I forgot my book.”

He motioned for her to proceed. She grabbed the book and turned to leave, then froze.

“Your Grace?”

“Yes?”

“I feel you may need help with Charlotte.”

“Help, how?”

“You want to win her back, do you not?”

He didn’t pause. Sometime over the last month, he had become a man obsessed. “Yes, above everything, that’s what I want.”

“Then take her to London. Spoil her. Show her you wish to be with her. That is what she needs. She is desperate to be seen by you. The beau monde was anything but kind to her while you were away.”

“And you trust I can prove this to her? I’m sure you have called me nearly every name in the book. You despise me. You did not hold back your opinions of my character in your last letter.”

“Two things may be true. I hate how you have treated her. I hated having to watch her become a shell of who she was while you paraded around the continent with actresses and opera singers.”

He clenched his fists. “I was faithful despite what the on-dits shared.”

Kate shrugged. “I am not the one you should be trying to convince. Anyway, please excuse me. Good evening.”

“Good night, Mrs. MacInnes, and thank you for your advice.”

“Don’t waste it.” Kate pointed at him, her eyes narrowed, before she spun and left the room just as quickly as she had burst into it.

Ian stretched and then walked to his rooms, curious as to why lights flickered in his bathroom. He hadn’t asked anyone to draw a bath for him yet.

He stopped in the doorway, his chest tightening as Charlotte sat in his bathtub with her eyes closed and her hair pinned up, revealing the long line of her neck. She remained in the water with her chemise on, the wet fabric hiding little of her soft curves.

Ian’s mouth was suddenly dry .

“Come in, husband.”

Her voice cracked, not out of nerves though. When she gazed at him, her eyes were rimmed with red and swollen.

She had been crying.

Damn it.

He hated it when she cried.

“I don’t mean to impose. I thought…” he cleared his throat. “I thought I would take a bath, but I see you beat me to it. Wait,” he looked around at the candles flickering around the tiled room. “Why are you in here? You have a washroom attached to your bedchamber.”

Charlotte wiped at her eyes and forced out a lifeless laugh. “I’ve come to seduce you if you can believe it.”

It wasn’t as if Ian hadn’t been dreaming of this very moment for years now. He had been. But finding her crying in his bathtub was not how he envisioned the moment going between them.

Ian scratched the back of his neck, uncertain how best to proceed. “You’ve been crying.”

“So I have.”

“Why?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“I would argue that it does.”

She rubbed her temple and sighed. “When have I mattered to you?”

Always . He had been a cad for lying to himself that she didn’t.

He pushed off from the doorway and approached the bathtub before sinking to his knees to look into her eyes. He needed her to see the truth.

“You matter very much to me.”

“Then I am here to seduce you.”

He reached out for her, feeling her brokenness, and needing more than anything in that moment to be her strength.

Charlotte pressed her face into his palm, tears brimming over and spilling onto her cheeks. “She’s having a baby, Ian.”

“Who?”

“Kate. And I am the very worst friend in the world because I am so happy for her, and yet I… ”

She swatted his hand away, sitting up.

“You what?”

“Lily has Rafe, and they have two children running around London. And now Kate is with her husband. Did you know Gabriel is already guardian to his two nieces Lorna and Maisie? Kate has a new family entirely.”

Ian felt a cold wave of dread wash over him. She was jealous, and though she wouldn’t admit it, the blame lay with him. He had left. He had robbed her of the same happiness her friends now shared.

“And you have…”

“Bees!” she exclaimed, throwing her head back to cry. “I have bees, and then you come back demanding an heir.”

“I didn’t exactly demand it.”

She waved her hands in the air, sniffing back her tears. “I want a divorce, and you need an heir. I wish for a child, I do. But you broke my heart, Ian. I can’t have a child with you. I need to be loved. And whether you like it or not, in the time you’ve been gone, I have found my voice, and I deserve more than to be stuck at Stonehurst waiting for you to grow bored with seeing the world.”

He stood and nodded, then slipped one button free from his shirt.

“What are you doing?”

“I was promised a seduction.”

She scoffed. “I couldn’t even keep my husband’s attention for the wedding night. How do you expect—” Charlotte gestured to herself crying, alone in the bath.

When he unbuttoned another, she squeaked. “You can’t come in here.”

“I was planning on a bath. Consider this a convenient coincidence.”

Ian shrugged off his shirt and left his trousers on. There was no point in pushing her away when he was so close.

“Move over, Lottie. I’m climbing in.”

Charlotte buried her face in her hands and scooted to the front of the tub. Ian chuckled to himself, then stretched out, placing a leg on either side of her.

“I am yours to do as you wish,” he said, his voice low .

She looked back over her shoulder at him as the water sloshed against the edges of the tub.

“I hated you,” she whispered. “And then I wished to run away from you. To escape. And now…”

He tilted his head, his heart thrumming in his chest as he waited on her every word, desperate to hear she wanted him, too.

“I never stopped loving you,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “But I cannot survive having my heart broken again.”

Silence fell between them before she reached back and unpinned her long honey hair. He held his breath as she leaned back to rest against him.

It was the sweetest torture to feel her arse pushed against his cock, to feel the weight of her in his arms. She rested her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes, tipping her head up to the ceiling.

“But I am so tired of fighting it as well.”

What could they share now? He had been desperate to have her the first night they met. And then furious as he spent the years away from her, craving her, nonetheless. And he was surprised to discover he still wanted his wife above anyone else when he returned.

Even when she didn’t want him.

But there was hope. They had an opportunity to fix that.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. He spread his hand out against her soft stomach, the thin linen of her chemise doing little to block the way he traced his fingers over her.

She shuddered under him, her breath skipping.

God. Damn. It. All.

“You sweet, sweet woman,” he whispered against her ear. “Can you feel what you do to me?”

As if to test him, she wiggled her bottom against his cock.

“Yes, that’s it. That is only because of you.”

Charlotte gripped the sides of the tub and tilted her head toward the window, revealing the length of her throat.

“Tell me about them,” she said. “I want to know. Did you love them?”

“Who? ”

Ian skirted his hand farther up her body, resting just below her breasts as she sucked in a sharp breath.

“Your opera singers. The dancers. I wouldn’t be surprised if you had a taste for widows.”

“You pretty, foolish girl,” he whispered, pressing his lips against her throat. Her pulse raced beneath his lips as he slowly swiped his tongue against her salty skin, tasting her. He wanted to devour her. Had dreamt of it. “I haven’t been with anyone since I met you.”

“That’s been years.”

Years . Impossibly long and lonely, he hadn’t been able to rid himself of his obsession with his wife. He was done denying himself. Done with the lies.

He was far from a saint, and now that he returned to beg for penance, he was willing to crawl to her if only she would allow him to kiss her, to touch her, to taste her. To drive himself inside of her and hear her scream his name.

Mine , he thought, nipping at her skin as she shivered beneath him.

Charlotte let out the softest whimper as his fingers brushed against the bottom of her breast. She arched into his touch, and he trailed his fingers higher, cupping her full breasts into his hands.

“Only you, Honeybee. And I need you.”

“But you left. You didn’t need me then. Why suddenly now?”

He rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and as she relaxed fully against him, his cockstand was becoming uncomfortable.

“Tonight, I am here. Tomorrow. And the day after. If we’re to start again, then let us begin as if I just walked across that crowded ballroom to you.”

Charlotte froze beneath his touch, then reached to push away his hands. She sat up and he bit his tongue, certain he had said the wrong thing until she gripped the tub and spun to straddle him.

“What are you…?”

Charlotte stood on her knees before him, her chemise soaked through, and her cheeks flushed. The left side of her neck was marked with red from his teeth. He was too afraid to speak and break the heated stare she flashed at him now .

“You will stay.” She reached out toward his swollen lip and pressed her thumb against the tender flesh. “And there will be no one else.”

He remained still, wonder struck as her honey hair fell around her in the candlelight as if she were an avenging angel. Perhaps she was. His heart certainly was being crushed in his chest as she licked her lips and leaned forward.

“Does that hurt?”

She pressed her lips to the sting, then pulled back enough to see him to nod.

“And this?” she asked, trailing her hand down his neck and across his chest.

“Not anymore.”

“No?”

She grabbed his hand and placed it over her heart. “I can kiss you, Ian, but this isn’t quick to forget. You broke it.”

“Let me fix it.”

“I don’t trust you.”

He growled, reaching up to hook his hand behind her neck and drawing her close enough to kiss. Gentle, searching. Begging her to try to trust him, begging for a second chance.

Her lips were soft against his, and she tasted of vanilla and tea, and he was certain she was taking him apart with each small touch by the way his chest ached.

“Come to London with me,” he whispered against her lips as they broke apart.

She ran her hands back into his hair, then tugged, dragging his lips back to hers. She controlled the kiss, licking the seam of his mouth until he allowed her in, and she pressed her tongue against his. Sweet, sweet torture.

Then Charlotte sat down and rolled her hips, pressing against his cockstand. The water sloshed against the side of the bathtub as she sighed into his mouth.

“Let me spoil you,” he continued as he ran his hands down her back and rounded them over her arse. “Let me show how…” He pressed his lips to her temple and rocked up against her, slamming his ey es shut when his cock twitched at the utter torture of feeling her soft quim pressed against him. “ Please .”

Charlotte pulled away, her eyes a little wild as she glanced at his mouth and then at his eyes. She swallowed, tugging at her chemise.

“When I saw you that night, I knew you had my heart before ever hearing your voice. And when you left, I was certain I would never learn to love again. And now you’re here, and I don’t know what I want to do with you.”

Again, his cock twitched. Something about her wishing to control him, even if it was only to protect herself from being hurt once more, only served to increase his desire.

“Don’t go,” he said as she stood, towering above him.

She reached out and ran her fingertips under his chin, tipping his head so he could gaze up at her.

“I can’t stay,” she whispered.

“Come to London, Honeybee.”

He reached for as she stepped out of the tub. He saw a shiver chase down her body as she stood by the candlelight and dried off, never breaking their stare.

“If you meant to seduce me, then I believe you have achieved your goal.”

She scoffed, reaching up to scrunch her hair into the towel, then tossing it onto the chair in the corner. “Thank you,” she said, backing away toward the door.

“For what?”

“For not leaving tonight. And I apologize for how I…” She stopped, a blush burning bright on her cheeks. “Well, I am no singer, no actress. I am certain you never found one of them crying in a tub.”

“I never sought them out.”

He couldn’t tell if she believed him yet, but judging by the small shrug of her shoulders, she didn’t.

“I want you and only you. And I will make sure my name is on your lips when I bring about your pleasure. Stay in my bed tonight, Lottie. Let me show you.”

She waited by the door for a moment, then shook her head. “Not tonight, Ian. I’m not ready to share a bed with you, but I will come to London.”

“Then we’ll leave in the morning.”

Charlotte slipped out, leaving Ian alone. He stepped out of the tub and dried off, before taking himself in hand and imagining what could have happened in that tub if he hadn’t left her all those years ago.