Chapter 15

Chapter

Fifteen

A lexander could not say what came over him at the tilting of Lady Charlotte's chin. Perhaps it was the smirk, the realization within her that she knew exactly what she was doing to him and was enjoying every damn moment.

He stormed after her, heedless of where they were or who could walk in on them at any moment. He hauled her around, pressed her up against the door she was so proudly about to walk through, and kissed her.

Hard.

He took her sweet, plump lips that had haunted his dreams for months and ravished her as he'd dreamed of. She did not shy away, gasp in outrage, or pretend this was not what she had wanted all along. Oh no, she kissed him back, relented to his onslaught to have her finally in his arms, and allowed him into every delicious part of her.

She was all sweetness, tasting of tea and fruit—no doubt she had enjoyed a few tartlets during her afternoon tea. A fierce surge of possessiveness overwhelmed him at the thought of Charlotte kissing another man. His fingers tightened around her delicate jaw, the pressure of his touch silently commanding her to be his and only his. Her taste lingered on his lips, igniting a fire deep within him that no mere kiss could quench. Now that he had claimed her, the craving for her consumed him, more intense than he'd ever imagined. His kiss had marked her, but it wasn't enough. The thought of her slipping from his grasp was unbearable, and he knew, with a certainty that bordered on desperation, that he wouldn't be satisfied until she was his completely—mind, body, and soul.

He wanted more.

Without shame, he slipped his hands under her bottom and carried her to a nearby sideboard. He set her on top, all the while kissing her to within an inch of her life.

Her fingers spiked through his hair, gripping him with such a force that, should he wish for this kiss to end, it would surely be impossible. She made sweet, hungry mewling sounds as the kiss continued, and he knew he had to stop. Halt this madness before he pushed them both too far.

Her tongue slipped against his, tentative at first and then with determination. Heat licked along every inch of his skin. He burned and ached for the woman in his arms. For months, he'd watched her from afar, lusted after her—there was no doubt of that—but he liked her much, much more than that.

She was privileged, yes, far more than anyone ought to be in the world, and by fortune of birth, that was the life she had been given. But she was considerate, amusing, and adored by her family.

Adored by him too now.

That she was far too above him for her to take notice of a mere steward was an accepted crime he'd learned to live with. That he was kissing her now, that she was kissing him back, was a dream he never wished to wake from.

Kissing her, wanting her as much as he did—which after today would only increase tenfold—would only lead to heartache.

His especially.

He broke the kiss and stepped back. She reached for him, a beseeching look on her face that tore him in two. He didn't want to disappoint her. Damn it all to hell, he didn't want to stop kissing her, but he had to.

He was illegitimate. She was a duke's daughter.

He was her father's steward, and she was an heiress, duty-bound to marry as high in the social sphere as possible. Just as he was duty bound to never be part of her viperish world.

She was not his to have.

"Lady Charlotte, I?—"

"Do not dare apologize for kissing me." She slipped from the sideboard, adjusted her gown, and checked her hair in a nearby mirror, ensuring everything was in order. She pushed a diamond-encrusted hairpin back into her hair when a curl slipped free of her style.

"I cannot begin to explain how I have acted this afternoon. I do apologize."

She made a growling sound and rounded on him, glaring with an annoyance he'd not seen before. Even in her vexation, she was far too beautiful not to admire.

"I'm not sorry you finally kissed me. I've been wanting you to kiss me for months." She stared at him as if he'd grown two heads, and perhaps he ought to produce another, merely so he could start thinking clearly and far more rationally. "Why are you fighting what is clearly happening between us? I know I do not want to ignore how I feel around you."

"You cannot feel anything for me, Lady Charlotte. I'm never going to be suitable for you. Please understand that. As much as it may pain us both, you're a duke's daughter, and I'm the illegitimate son of a maid."

His words, cutting and final, brought her tirade to a halt. Her eyes widened, and he hated to see the realization come over her features that no matter how they may feel toward each other, it could never change their history or birthright.

She had the world at her feet.

Rich he may be—through gambling, not the noblest of ways, but not the most dishonest either—but not even his money would allow him to marry her.

She walked over to a nearby settee and sat. "Your mama is a maid?" She gave him a small smile, but even he could see she was being polite and not wanting to flee his presence too soon. To do so would be far too obvious, and he had spoken a truth that would forever change the outcome of their friendship.

Or whatever the hell it was that was happening between them.

"Yes, and the man she loved and thought loved her—pretending to marry her even—kicked her out of her home when the family became aware of his indiscretion and the distraction she caused. She was sent away to England, and it was there that she found out she was pregnant with me."

She digested his words for several heartbeats before she said, "I do not know what to say."

"What is there to say?" Alexander moved over to the desk and started to collect the ledgers and papers he'd been working on. "A man of privilege and wealth took advantage of a woman who had no family or support, and I'm the outcome of that tryst. But my mother worked hard to show love and affection all my life, and now that I'm a rich man, I can repay the debt and keep her housed and clothed with no need to work."

"You speak as if you owe her a debt of gratitude. I do not think any mama would look at her child in such a way, even if you were not expected or planned."

He shrugged, unable to know if that was the case or not. Nor could he worry about things such as this any longer. "I'm trying to say that your father, no matter the fire that burns between us, would never allow me to court or marry you. While I enjoyed our kiss, that will be the last one that will ever occur between us. You should return to your world, marry a man who courts you, even if that man is not Lord Anson, and move away. That is what would be best for you."

"And if I do not wish to marry just any man because he happens to court me and has the correct parentage to please my family, what then? What if I do not wish to marry a man who does not spark the desire I have only felt with you?" She pushed up from the settee and approached him, took his hands, and waited for him to meet her eye.

He ground his teeth, fighting the urge to do so for as long as he could before giving in and looking at her.

He hated the fear that twisted in his stomach, knowing no matter what he said, he would do whatever she wanted if only she asked.

"I want you, Alexander. And while that may not be acceptable for anyone else in our lives, it is acceptable for me."

He sighed, unsure what to do. What he wanted to do was wrench her onto his lap in the chair at his back and kiss her again—lose himself in her touch, her warmth, her desire—but he refrained.

"There is much to think about, and like you, I will ponder the matter, but not here. And you should not be so close to me now. If anyone were to walk in, well… I would not like the repercussions."

"Very well." She stepped away, letting go of his hands. The instant he lost her touch, he missed her warmth. She strolled toward the door, head held high and a lady to her core. "But I'm certain there is a way forward for us, and I'm determined to find it. When I want something, I'm unwilling not to get what I want."

Alexander chuckled, but even to his ears, his laugh was tinged with foreboding trouble. "Have a lovely evening tonight, Lady Charlotte. Behave yourself."

She grinned, and hunger burned in his stomach. "Always, Mr. Richards. I'm the epitome of good behavior, did you not know?"

He shook his head. After their kiss this afternoon, he knew that was far from the truth. And delightfully so.