Chapter Eight

The final night of Charles' stay in London boasted an overcast moon and strong breeze, carrying with it the heavy scents of the city. The air was thick with foreboding, which suited Charles' mood just fine as he trudged through the streets of Mayfair, head down, glaring at the cobblestones beneath his feet. His legs ate up the blocks with subconscious speed.

Ariel was supposed to meet him at his Townhouse in an hour, but he'd already spent the better part of the afternoon pacing anxiously while his belongings were packed for delivery to the docks. They would be stored ahead of the ship's departure the following morning.

His legs carried him to the walk spanning the face of the home belonging to the Earl of Darby. Had it only been two weeks since he'd so innocently climbed those steps and rapped upon that door? Only fourteen days since he'd first laid eyes upon Ariel's beautiful face and taught her the joys and passions one could find in the arms of a man who cherished her?

Will she take another lover once I'm gone? The question popped into his head with all the sudden violence as a stiletto to the sternum, instantly curling his hands into white-knuckled fists. The thought of her inviting another man into her arms and her bed was utterly intolerable. It made him as nauseous as if he'd already boarded a ship and sailed directly into a squall.

The clatter of tack and horseshoes echoed up the street as a beautifully appointed carriage was brought ‘round from the mews and rocked to a stop before the Townhouse he'd been eyeing. Charles smoothly stepped back into a pocket of shadows to watch as a man—the earl—exited the home and, without a glance at his surroundings, bounded up into the conveyance and was off. He knew the earl wasn't scheduled to leave for another hour, which meant Charles could still find Ariel at home. Likely, she was preparing herself to visit him.

The desirous beast inside of him stirred and he slunk around the back of the house to locate an unobserved point of entry.

∞∞∞

"Your timing is impeccable," Ariel said in greeting to her maid and continued examining her appearance in the looking glass perched atop her vanity. She'd bathed and her skin was flushed a healthy pink. Her hair was pulled back from her face with a ribbon so she might better be able to daub on a small bit of rouge. She wasn't in the habit of donning a great deal of makeup, but that evening felt special and she wanted to look the part. All that was left to do was finish fixing her hair and being laced into her dress.

"I think it may be time for your brother to employ more than a deaf butler and an aging housekeeper."

Ariel gasped and whirled around at the low voice behind her. Her heart knew who she would find before her eyes registered him.

Charles stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed over his broad chest with negligent nonchalance. It took a moment for her heart to remember to beat and her lungs to resume breathing.

"What are you doing here?" she hissed frantically, standing and rushing to usher him into the room, nearly tripping over the hem of her dressing gown. She was careful to shut it quietly despite her trembling hands.

"The butler and housekeeper may be elderly, but we still have maids and footmen in the house even if they don't reside on the premises." Ariel thrust her hands on her hips and faced him. It was a mistake, however, because he seemed to fill the room. Every corner of the space was his. Her every breath carried his scent deep inside her body. Heat rolled off his body like a warm brick on a winter's night.

The wide pools of his eyes dragged her in and refused to release her. It was nearly impossible to swallow past the lump in her throat.

"What are you doing here?" she repeated, trying to speak evenly and failing more than she wished to admit. "I thought we were to meet at your home." She was suddenly very conscious of the fact that she wore only her shift beneath her dressing gown. She inwardly acknowledged it was absurd, but this felt like another level of intimacy. The man had seen, touched, and kissed every inch of her flesh, but this was somehow different. She'd always been fully dressed at the beginning of all their other meetings. Charles standing there, watching her at her vanity, fresh from the bath, was intimate. Private. It was something that would pass between a husband and wife. The last made her cheeks burn uncomfortably.

"I couldn't wait any longer." Charles' voice sent vibrations through the air around them, tickling her skin. "It seemed like such a waste of time when you know I am—"

"Don't." She held up a hand to cut him off. It was childish, but she wasn't ready to hear that word yet. Goodbye was final and she didn't think her heart could handle hearing it with him facing her. Besides, this was to be their final evening together, and the last thing she wished was for it to be tainted with sadness.

Ariel smoothed her hand down Charles' lapel, memorizing the slope of his chest, the hardness beneath the layers of fabric, and the heavy beat of the heart behind it all.

"Just…be with me, Charles." His breath hitched and his nostrils flared a moment before he pulled her flush with his body.

"Gladly," he growled.

Just before his lips touched hers, however, there was a light knock on the door.

"Are you ready for me, my lady?"

"Uh—oh, no!" Ariel practically leaped from his arms. "No. Thank you, Mary." Her heart was in her throat, but she managed to calm her tone enough to, through a small crack in the door, convince the maid that she'd decided not to go out after all and would be retiring due to a headache. "You are dismissed for the evening."

"Very good, m'lady." The maid curtseyed and sped down the hall, too excited by the prospect of an early evening to question the reason.

Charles reached around Ariel and pressed the door closed. "Now…where were we?"

She was only too happy to be enveloped in Charles' heat once again, swept off her feet by his all-consuming passion.

∞∞∞

Much, much later, with muscles like molten chocolate and a mind sluggish from multiple releases, Charles reluctantly sat up from Ariel's comfortable mattress. He couldn't resist a glance back at the beautiful sight.

Ariel was unabashed, gorgeous in her glowing nudity, one ripe pink nipple tempting him where the coverlet had slipped too low. Her hair glowed like a burnished halo in the golden light thrown from the low-burning candles. She watched his every move from beneath gilded lashes as he rose entirely nude from the bed and began gathering his clothing. He loved how unashamed she was of her appreciation of his body, how uninhibited she was with him, how she gave herself over to him so completely and wasn't afraid to tell him what she liked. They'd learned so much about one another in these past couple of weeks, but there were chasms more to learn, mountains to climb hand in hand, only…he wouldn't be there to do it with her.

Charles' jaw clenched and his fists flexed. He punched his arms into his sleeves with more force than necessary. There was the rustle of fabric as Ariel sat up and watched his jerky movements.

He finished with his boots and faced her once again. Her supple arms were wrapped protectively around her knees. She looked so vulnerable it made his chest burn and ache, even more so when he noticed the glistening tracks of silent tears coursing down her love-tinted cheeks.

He moved to go to her but froze when she shook her head. It took everything in him to respect her wishes when all he wanted to do was enfold her in his arms, curl back into bed around her and never let go. But he had to. This was it. Their time had reached its inevitable conclusion. He'd known this was coming all along—couldn't believe he had once been looking forward to the date because it meant he'd finally return home—but now…now Charles felt hot and cold, and vaguely nauseous.

"Ariel…" The scratch of his voice was like a scream in the silent room. It was heartbreaking to watch her wipe her eyes on the back of her hand. He wanted to dry her tears…wanted to whip himself for having been the cause of them in the first place.

"Please go," she said in a pained whisper.

"I cannot. Not when you are like this."

"Go."

"Please, Ariel. Can we at least talk?"

"Go!"

Charles froze mid-step toward her when her balled fist hit the bed with a muffled thud.

"Leave now," Ariel sniffed. "I cannot bear it any longer. I need you to go before I break completely." Charles' heart stuttered. "This arrangement always had a clear termination. And I know I'm being unfair acting this way when you have been nothing but forthright, but you'll need to forgive me. This is a very…unique situation."

"Do not apologize for anything." He reached for her, but she snapped back at him.

"If you touch me, I will shatter." Her voice cracked on the last word. She took a slow, shaky breath and screwed her eyes shut "Please respect my wishes and leave. Everyone will be retired by now, so you should be safe leaving by way of the kitchen door. Go home to Boston, Charles." Her shimmering eyes met his. "Return to your life in America."

It took everything in him to not disregard her wishes and comfort her. He respected her far too much to forcibly wrap her in his arms and never let her go, so there was nothing he could do except leave Ariel wrapped in her sheets, tears streaming down her face.

The image would be burned upon his memory forever.

The sound of her quiet sobs would haunt him 'til his dying day.