Chapter Five

The party was by far the most extravagant birthday celebration Charles had ever had. The day had lost all its meaning when his mother died and it had become just another day on the calendar. His cousin's widow, however, was determined not to allow his thirty-third birthday to slip by unnoticed. Indeed, it seemed as if she'd gone well above and beyond to give him an experience worthy of all the years he'd spent avoiding celebrations. In fact, Eugenia seemed to revel in it.

She had been prepared to move from the expansive home upon Charles' arrival from America, but he'd immediately made it clear that he wanted nothing of her life to change. She would continue liv- ing as she had as the duchess and he would ensure she was provided for. Grateful beyond words, she remained in residence and made it her mission to treat Charles as her adopted son, taking him around London and introducing him to her friends and other notable connections.

Charles had gradually developed the suspicion that Eugenia harbored a secret hope that Charles would make London his home…but that road would only lead to disappointment.

He did not doubt she knew Charles would have put a stop to the extravagance of this celebration if he'd caught wind of it, which was precisely why she'd organized it in secret. Eugenia had been so pleased to pull it off that Charles hadn't had the heart to send everyone out of his house. Faced with an expectant crowd of people he barely knew, he took a deep breath and prepared himself for an interminable evening filled with fuss and stuffy conversation.

The dowager had done her best to welcome him with warmth and kindness, it was the least he could do in return; especially because he would be leaving in less than two weeks.

He cut a swath through the crowd, nodding and exchanging pleasantries. If he was weary of this farce in London, he almost dreaded how he'd be received back home where dukes were as mystical and uncommon as unicorns. Even if he refused to use his title, he didn't doubt the word had already spread. His life would be irrevocably altered no matter what continent he was on. He'd made it halfway across the room when the shattering glass drew his gaze. Instead of a shamefaced servant, however, the woman he saw made the world go silent…

And, when her wide eyes met his, the room's din came crashing down around him all at once.

Ariel .

"Shit," he muttered, his heart suddenly pounding against his ribcage like a battering ram. He opened his mouth to say her name, but she brushed off her companion and whirled away before he could. She moved with impressive speed and had ducked from the room before he could make it two strides. Not caring how rude it was, Charles shoved through countless guests trying to both verbally and physically grab his attention. He knew he had to reach her before she left or he'd never have another chance. He couldn't call upon her at her brother's house—at least, not without setting tongues wagging—and she would likely turn him away anyway. There were a thousand ways for her to avoid him and very few options left to him if he wished to try to make things right.

Driven by his need to reach her, Charles trod on toes and took advantage of his title; these Brits would forgive a great deal when one's name was as lofty as his. But Ariel was nowhere in sight by the time he reached the hallway. It took several moments for his eyes to adjust to the dimmer lighting, but he thought he caught a glimpse of blue- green skirts turning the corner. He'd learned the general layout of the house by then and knew she could reach the front door, hail her carriage, and leave in a relatively short amount of time by cutting through the daffodil-yellow sitting room. Under no circumstances could he allow that to happen. Having her slip through his fingers was unthinkable.

He'd tried to deny it to himself over and over again, but he'd thought of little else other than her smile and her eyes and her body the last few days. When he saw her in the ballroom, he'd been unaccountably pleased, his heart and stomach doing a little flip-flop dance around one another.

He cursed the slick soles of his boots—designed more for form than function—as he nearly collided with a table and crystal vase during a particularly sharp turn.

"Ariel," he hissed as loudly as he dared, not wanting to yell lest he alert the staff or other guests. The last thing either of them needed was an audience. Charles cursed again. "Ariel," he called slightly louder that time.

Ariel's strides were long, but his were longer. He was rewarded by a solid view of teal floral skirts just as they disappeared into a room. Had she turned right, she'd have reached the proper sitting room and her quick escape; this turn, however, led her away from the front of the house. He knew he had her.

Charles burst through the door into the darkened room. Only a sliver of silver moonlight seeped between the drapes, but it was all he needed to catch sight of Ariel's shimmering rose-gold hair, the ringlets spilling down her right shoulder like molten ore. She had her back to him as she attempted to wrench open another door on the other side of the room, but it didn't budge. A rapid round of rather creative curses poured from her pretty lips.

"I believe a key is more likely to open that door than curses," Charles said, a light pant to his voice only partially due to his mad dash after her. Being alone with her once more was doing strange things to his pulse.

Her shoulders rose nearly to her ears and stiffened, but she did not turn around. The silence between them was leaden. Charles was morbidly curious to see how long she would allow it to last.

"Ariel," he finally said; "at least hear me out."

She whirled on him then, all glorious rage and spitfire. "Don't you dare use my name as if we were so familiar," she practically growled.

"I would think we're quite familiar."

Her cheeks stained an even darker shade and he knew it was precisely the wrong thing to say.

"Familiar?" she snarled and stalked toward him a couple of steps. He tried not to focus on how delectable her bosom looked swathed in that low-cut bodice—now was not the time, nor the place, no matter that a part of him was childishly thrilled at seeing her once again when he'd never thought it would come to pass. "You are the basest of beings. The verist of swindlers. The—the—my God , you are the Duke of Ryton." She loosed a loud bark of incredulous laughter at the irony and flung her hand in his direction. Charles didn't think they'd been followed, but it wouldn't do to be discovered. He needed her to keep her voice down. He held up a palm in what he hoped was a calming gesture.

"Please, let me explain," he said in an even, low tone.

"Explain?" Ariel demanded much more loudly than he would have preferred. "How could you possibly explain this?" A door down the hall closed with a thud. It was likely a servant slipping down the back stairwell to retrieve something, but Charles couldn't chance it…he couldn't allow Ariel to chance it. "There isn't anything you could say—" There was simply no preventing it. Charles cut off her tirade with one hand on her arm and the other palm clapped over her lips. She glared at him with those striking eyes and clasped his forearm to free herself, but he was still much stronger than she.

"I need you to listen," he spoke close to her ear, trying to ignore her heady scent. "I can explain all of this, but we need to go somewhere quiet." He felt her mouth shift beneath his palm. "And if you bite me, I promise to bite back," Charles growled. Her lips stilled, but the fire still burned in her eyes.

He needed to take her somewhere they could speak uninterrupted without the risk of damaging her reputation—anywhere there might be a locked door and they wouldn't be quickly discovered. Her nails bit into his arm through his coat as he hauled her along with him out into the dim hallway. He didn't feel good about dragging her along with him as he dashed further toward the back of the house and into the room that had once been the study of the old duke. Charles had yet to spend any real time there other than to peruse some dusty papers, but he did know with complete certainty that there was a solid working lock on the door and it was far from the party in the ballroom. He toted Ariel along with him, the last few strides going more smoothly when it seemed she realized the futility of her physical resistance. He pressed the door closed and turned the mechanism to barricade the room. Ariel immediately spun away from him and stomped out of his reach.

"Of all the impertinent, ill-mannered—"

"Yes, I believe we've established that you don't much care for me at the moment. May we move on?" He crossed his arms over his chest, watching as Ariel emitted a sound dangerously close to a growl and stalked away from him. "Now, will you allow me to explain?" he repeated, his patience thinning like ice beneath the growing heat of his frustration.

"As if you could possibly provide me with any excuse that would lessen my anger," she scoffed. Charles' hands balled into fists.

"Of course, I cannot blame you for your anger, ma'am…but I can assure you there was no premeditation or nefarious plotting on my end."

"Unlikely." She whirled away and Charles could help himself no longer; he was tired of chasing her through the damned house. His long stride devoured the space between them, effectively backing Ariel against the mahogany wainscoting and caging her in with his palms pressed flat against the wall on either side of her.

"You are an intelligent woman, Ariel. How could I have known before arriving upon your doorstep that you had hired a man for the evening?" Though the lighting was poor, he could still see the deepening flush upon her cheeks. The little minx refused to be cowed, however, and he found he admired her greatly when she proudly tilted her chin up and met his eyes squarely.

"You will address me as Lady Ariel. I did not give you leave to use my given name."

Charles released an undignified sound from his nose. "I seem to recall otherwise."

"I permitted Charles. You are the Duke of Ryton; a different man entirely."

His jaw clenched. She'd struck a deeper nerve than she'd intended. This was the crux of the issue Charles took with his new title. He was viewed as a different man in every way. What would it take for someone to see that he was still just that—a man?

Their bodies were so close he could feel the heat rolling off her and it took everything he had not to press himself against her bountiful curves…the very body he'd dreamt about each night since leaving her bed.

He closed his eyes to regain control, but it did no good when his deep inhalation only filled his lungs with Ariel's scent. His abdomen clenched and his cock twitched in anticipation.

"I need you to hear me and listen." His voice was rough as sawn wood and, when he opened his eyes once more, he saw Ariel's eyes on his face. Unless he was mistaken, there was an unwitting tenderness there. Her mind was on a similar track to his, whether she wished it or not. "You were never supposed to discover my real identity," he began. "It was supposed to be one night and we were never going to encounter one another again."

∞∞∞

Ariel was instantly mortified by this man's words, but fury quickly overtook it. "So you stumbled upon an opportunity and thought to lie your way into my bed before running off for a laugh when you were finished?" Angry tears burned behind her eyes.

"That wasn't it at all."

"Then what was it? Pity? I want none of it—oh how you must have laughed at me!"

"Ariel," the duke growled, even though she'd told him to stop us- ing her name. She loathed it, but it still sent her stomach fluttering. "The fact that you feel that way drives me mad. I lied about nothing that night other than the reason I'd arrived on your doorstep. I truly was there only to discuss the purchase of a horse from your brother, but I allowed you to take the lead when I realized the error that had been made." Ariel's cheeks flushed so deeply they burned. "I believed I was doing you a favor."

"Well, thank you for your kind and generous soul, Your Grace." Her every word dripped with facetiousness.

"Listen to me!" he barked and her lips snapped shut. When all was said and done, she truly knew very, very little about this man effectively holding her hostage in the study in his home. He was tall and she knew firsthand his strength; he'd been able to lift her with surpris- ingly little effort. And now she also knew he was a duke with more power in his little finger than she could ever dream of wielding. "I made an instantaneous decision to be the safer, better choice for you in your circumstances than a random male prostitute or courtesan—whatever term you Brits use. I wanted to protect you." The adamancy in his voice at the last was striking. "I admit what I did was out of a twisted sense of chivalry and, yes, desire… None of it was a chore in the least." Ariel's stomach began flipping all over again. "I lied about nothing when we were in your bedroom. Nothing." The dark pools of his eyes focused on her mouth, where she was currently nibbling on her lower lip. This seemed to set him over some dangerous edge and his restraint snapped. "Here is your evidence if you don't believe me," he growled, wrenching her hand down to cup the thick, hard ridge of his erection straining against the fabric of his breeches. The solid heat of his aroused flesh against her palm was enough to bring all the memories back to the forefront of her mind—whether she wanted them or not—and her knees became weak. She continued to meet Charles' eyes unflinchingly and kept her hand there against him even after he released her.

"Why?" The question slipped out on a breath, barely above a whisper.

"Because I couldn't resist. Because I wanted to." A muscle in his jaw flexed. "Because I couldn't walk away knowing your first time with a man—your first kiss—was going to be thrown away on a man who had had a hundred women and couldn't cherish them as the gifts they truly were. You deserved so much more than that…even if you never knew the truth of it." Charles cleared his throat before continuing. "The last thing I wanted to do was cause you shame or pain over it. I admit it was selfish—I was even aware of that at the time—but I wanted those gifts for myself…and how can you blame me when you are as captivating and desirable as you are?"

Ariel's mind went blank. All rational thoughts halted and her heart took over.

She believed him.

She shouldn't have done so—by all accounts, she should have slapped him, kicked him in the shin, and fled from the room—but there was something in his eyes, something about feeling the evidence of his desire for her once more, the pained honesty in his words that urged her to stand on her toes and press a gentle kiss to his lips.

Charles seemed only too happy to accept the gesture, as it immediately morphed into something more passionate. His tongue plunged into her mouth, rasping against hers in an insistent, seductive rhythm. He instantly pressed the hard length of his body against her, crushing her comfortably against the wall. Trapping her.

Her arms wound around his neck of their own volition, tugging him down to meet her greedy lips. She sighed in pleasure. Oh, how she'd missed the taste of him. And to have him kissing her with his body against hers once again was a sinful delight she'd never thought to experience. His pelvis rocked against her, reminding Ariel of just what awaited. A whimper of need escaped her throat, snapping what little restraint remained in Charles.

The cool air caressed her stockinged legs as the hem of her skirts was rucked up higher and higher. Deft fingers discovered the slit in her drawers. Her knees nearly gave out completely in response to the satisfied groan Charles emitted upon discovering how wet she was already. She might have been embarrassed had he not been so blatantly pleased.

He thrust his two longest fingers deep inside her, both of them gasping at the sensations unleashed.

"God, I've missed this," he moaned against the hammering pulse in his throat. Her eyes snapped open when she thought she heard him murmur, "I've missed you , Ariel," against the tops of her breasts, but she convinced herself she'd only heard what she wished to and focused on the stroking of his fingers and tongue. She cried out and arched forward when he curled his fingers, caressing somewhere inside that set her senses on fire. The pressure began to build and her whimpers filled the air. There was a slight pause as Charles freed himself from his breeches, hooked an arm beneath one of her legs, and thrust into her hard and deep.

"Charles!" she squealed, and he rewarded her with the relentless onslaught of his body on hers. Her fingers clutched his shoulders, holding onto him with all her strength. He was taking her hard, forcefully, but she welcomed the pounding, desperate lovemaking. She needed it, body and soul. She wanted to be claimed by him, marked as forever his. She loved it.

"Yes, Charles, yes !" Her guarded heart began to splinter. She pulled his head down to hers, pressing her forehead against him and meeting his passion-glazed eyes. Their panting breaths mingled in the small space between their lips.

"You amaze me," Charles breathed. "So sweet. So good." He stretched her and filled her, but it wasn't enough. She wanted to take every bit of him into her body, to absorb him and take him with her for all eternity.

"Please," she sobbed; "More…please, Charles."

The corners of his lips turned up in the most wicked grin Ariel had ever seen. "Anything for you." His mouth slanted over hers and his large hands clutched her hips, holding her immobile as he increased both the pace and depth of his thrusts, filling her again and again and again, relentlessly and mercilessly pushing her higher and higher

His mouth broke free from hers to press his lips to her ear. He told her how beautiful she was, how well she pleased him, how he desired to please her. Charles maintained his steady rhythm until, finally, Ariel shattered. She became a mass of trembling muscles and tingling limbs as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her, threatening to drown her in bliss. Charles' words from the other night floated through her mind; she would gladly die in that moment, in the steady arms of this man.

Charles' rhythm stuttered and broke; he tore himself from her body, spilling his seed on the virgin expanse of her thighs with a guttural groan.

Ariel's eyes were closed, her body still wracked with the aftershocks of her climax when the soft press of Charles' lips caressed her damp forehead.

And Ariel knew she was ruined for all other lovers, had she been wont to take one in the future. No other man would make her feel as Charles did. With him, she felt desired and strong.

For his part, Charles experienced the sobering realization that he would never want another woman as he did Ariel. This wild, uninhibited, intelligent woman drove him mad with need.

∞∞∞

When he regained feeling in his legs once more, Charles set them to rights and guided Ariel to the nearby sofa. She collapsed into a heap of skirts and satisfaction, smelling intoxicatingly of jasmine and sex. He chuckled before sitting beside her and nestling her curves against his side. He was both unnerved and comforted by the fact that she fit so well there beneath his arm, her head leaning against the side of his chest, her hand resting casually on his abdomen. He was not a small man and so many women he'd met over the years appeared breakable or too fragile in both body and spirit. That was most certainly not Ariel…

"Does this mean you forgive me?" he asked with more quiet confi- dence than he felt. There had been such genuine pain and anger in her eyes—rightly earned, of course—and a part of him was concerned that she would never accept what he had done. He hadn't been lying before; it had been wrong and selfish…but he regretted nothing. And he never would.

His heart froze and then redoubled when she looked up at him. The apples of her cheeks were tinged pink, her full lips were puffy from his kisses. And she was beautiful.

"I don't know if I've reached forgiveness, but I certainly have more understanding of what you did," she admitted softly. He couldn't resist running his thumb along the curve of her jaw and the soft roundness of her cheek.

"I never meant you any harm, Ariel."

She nibbled on her lower lip for a moment before responding. "I think I believe that."

"You believe, or you know?" he asked, raising a brow at her and loving the way her lips split into a grin. "One implies a level of certainty I would hope you'd have by now."

"We have only met two times, sir." His heart throbbed when she met his banter. "I don't believe I know you well enough for anything of certainty."

"And yet…" His eyes raked her body from head to toe and back before lowering his tone to a much more suggestive register. "I feel as if I know a few things about you with some certainty."

She flushed and swatted at him, earning another chuckle. My, but it felt good to let his guard down, especially with her. Had he ever jested so easily with a lover before? With anyone? Charles cleared his throat and decided he needed to move toward safer grounds.

"This is interesting," he said, touching the broach she wore pinned to the slightly crooked neckline of her gown. It began as an excuse to touch her, but the glint of the owl's emerald eyes caught his gaze.

"A birthday present," she replied gently.

"An admirer?" The question was posed in a light tone, but there was an undeniable pang of jealousy in his gut at the thought.

She responded with a small laugh through her nose. "If it had, then I wouldn't have had to…well…" She shrugged halfheartedly and glanced up at him from beneath her lashes.

If she'd had an admirer, then she needn't have hired a male prosti- tute for the evening…and they never would have met. "I purchased it for myself."

He cleared his throat, embarrassed at the unfortunateness of his query. "So, are you a budding ornithologist or do you simply have an unnatural affection for owls?"

"Neither," she replied, tracing the delicately wrought feathers on the golden wings. "The owl is one of the symbols of the Greek goddess Athena. I've loved Greek myths and legends ever since I was a little girl; she is my favorite."

"The goddess of wisdom. How appropriate." He thoroughly enjoyed the shy smile with which she rewarded him. "And what fascinates you about these ancient gods?"

"The grand stories, the way their existences and experiences tie in with life and nature. I find it comforting, the surety the ancient Greeks had in knowing the sun would rise with Helios and his chariot; that Spring would come with the return of Persephone, no matter how bleak the winter."

"And what of Athena? What drew you to her?" Charles hooked his finger in the neckline of her gown just behind the owl, his fingertip nestling in the warm crevice between her breasts. He gave a tiny tug while he filled his lungs with her scent and held it within his chest.

"She sprang from her father's head fully formed after Zeus suffered a horrible headache," she answered with a giggle. "My father always said I did the same to him with my incessant questions—he said it with love, of course. She gave humans the sciences and crafts. Athena was brave and wise and needed no man to make her whole." Her eyes darted to his eyes and then his mouth before looking away.

"All admirable traits," Charles mused. "But just because a woman does not need a man does not mean she cannot want him." Ariel's arresting eyes met his once more. "And it does not mean she cannot take what she wants and remain an independent woman."

"Rather radical notions."

He lifted a shoulder dismissively. "What can I say? America is more progressive without a monarchy." This earned him a musical laugh.

"Somehow I doubt even your upstart country is that progressive." They both laughed until Charles tugged her closer to press a sweet, lingering kiss upon her lips.

Her eyes fluttered open and he found the next words spilling from his lips before he could overthink them. "I leave for Boston in nine days and I would like to spend a great portion of my remaining time here with you, Ariel. Is that amenable?"

Her jaw dropped open in shock and it was all he could do not to lean forward and kiss her again. He settled for tucking an errant curl back into her coiffeur. "If it's that abhorrent an idea then you need only—"

"No! That is…no… It isn't abhorrent."

"Then, is that a yes?" Charles tried to deny to himself just how hopeful he was.

"And then you will board a ship bound for America?" He couldn't tell if she was contemplative or disappointed, so he simply nodded.

This was what he'd always planned. He had no desire to move to England. Of course, it couldn't be helped that he would have to make the occasional trans-Atlantic trip every so often, but—as he reminded himself each time he looked into Ariel's eyes—he had a life in Boston. He had never been a man who had dreamed of grandeur. He hadn't been elated when he'd been informed of his inheritance; he'd been terrified and angry. It was inconvenient and created a whole slew of new problematic situations for his life and his business.

Then again…

Without it, he never would have known this woman living an ocean away.

"You needn't answer right at this moment if you need to think it over, but I hope you will consider it."

"Yes."

Charles' heart clenched, but he maintained a stiff upper lip, just as his father would have expected. "Right, then send a note when you decide—" He froze when she placed a hand upon his arm.

"I mean, yes. I would very much like to spend time with you, Charles." It was the first time she'd said his name since learning of his true identity and Charles found he liked it very, very much, indeed.