What the Duke Wants

Chapter Fourteen




When they arrived at Greenford Waters, it was full dark and he was concerned that Lottie was perhaps catching a chill. He wrapped his arms around her tighter, pulling her soft body into his own, furthering his damnable need for her to extreme proportions. But his desire was secondary, first on his mind was her care. It was amazing how one person could become a man’s whole world. His vision was tinted with the intense desire to protect her, care for her, love her. Every other emotion or need fell away in light of it.

And she had chosen him.

Rather, she had let him choose her.

And it was quite perfect.

“Are you too cold?” he asked, again. Honestly, he had lost track of how many times he had asked that very question.

“Yes, I’m quite warm, your grace.”

“Charles.”

“Charles.” She still spoke his name shyly, as if she couldn’t quite believe she was saying it.

And every time she did say it, his heartbeat quickened and his body ached for her with a need he had never experienced.

Strangely enough, as delirious with desire as he had been this past evening, he had never found restraint easier.

Odd that.

At first, he had assumed it stemmed from the nature of his proposal. He’d never live it down once the word reached London.

But he couldn’t care less.

As the shock wore off, he realized that his newfound powers of self-control stemmed from the fierce desire to protect her. Love had a way of changing the way a man saw things. When he thought about his past, he repressed the need to cringe. He wanted nothing of his past, his selfish and self-seeking nature to touch her, no. She was not one of the other countless women who had shared his bed for a night or two— she was different. She wouldn’t be visiting his bed, but making it her bed too. He’d wake up with her every morning, have the delight of loving her, every delicious inch of her, each night. With the sun, she’d not disappear discretely, nor would she need her own apartment where he’d visit on his leisure. She’d bear their children, grow grey with him and nag him when they were both too old and deaf to hear each other.

The future had never looked so bright.

It was that very future that caused his restraint to be ironclad. Because this new life, new beginning was going to remain as perfect as he was able. Which demanded he wait.

And if anything spoke of the depth of his love, it was that he was determined to wait until they were married before he took her.

That wait alone might kill him.

But at least he’d die knowing he was honorable—for her.

Because in the end, it all came back to her.

After dismounting, he pulled her forward, kissing her deeply, searchingly till he could taste the honey of her desire filling his senses. Reluctantly, he released her and tugged on her hand while she stumbled dazedly toward the entrance.

Before they made it to the side entrance, the large wooden door swung open and the three girls rushed forward, running. If not for his intervention, they surely would have knocked his beloved Lottie to the ground.

Her smile was breathtaking, almost too beautiful to look at. Like staring at the sun, her face was lit up by the light flooding out from the wide open door.

All he could do was stare.

“Girls!” she shouted, her voice full of joy, relief.

They all hugged her at once, Berty, being Berty, was completely engulfed in her skirts while the two older girls hugged her waist. With tender caresses, she patted their heads, cupped their faces, and kissed their cheeks.

She would be a great mother.

Charles felt his grin grow wide.

A mother to his children.

Yes, it was a wonderful night.

“You’re here! Oh, thank heavens! Charles how ever did you do it?” Lady Southridge exclaimed as she came out to meet them.

“It took some convincing,” he replied, rocking back on his heels.

“Oh?”

Carlotta raised an eyebrow. “He was quite persuasive, Lady Southridge.”

“Indeed I was.” He met her warm gaze.

“And I have wonderful news. Tomorrow there will be a wedding.” He spoke, not once taking his eyes from her.

“What? Hooray!” Berty jumped up and down, dancing. Then paused. “Wait… who’s getting married?” She glanced at Lottie, then him, questioning.

“I am, Berty.” Carlotta rushed forward and grasped the little girl’s hands, spinning her around and pulling her into a tight hug.

“You are? To the duke? Oh, please tell me it’s to the duke! We were trying so hard to—”

“Berty!” Bethanny’s eyes widened.

“Yes, to the duke, Miss Berty.” He chuckled. “And Bethanny, don’t think we didn’t see right through you.” She had the good grace to look abashed.

“Oh, he didn’t see through it till he had made quite a scene though, for that I thank you girls.” Carlotta reached out and waited until the other girls joined her embrace.

“Quite a scene, Charles? It seems you have a story to tell.”

“It’s quite a story, Lady Southridge. As it is, I doubt he’ll want to grace the door of White’s for quite some time,” Carlotta teased, giving him a saucy grin.

His body coiled in tension, flaming to life and all it took was one smile. Just one night. He reminded himself. He only needed to practice restraint for one more night.

Perhaps he spoke too soon, rather thought too soon, about the whole restraint thing.

Maybe there was something to be said for impatience.

But as soon as the traitorous thought traveled across his imagination, he forced himself into check once more.

He would wait. He would.

But bloody hell if that smile of hers made it almost impossible.


“Well are we going to stand out here all night or can we go inside and hear the whole sordid tale?” Lady Southridge asked teasingly.

“Romantic, it was quite romantic,” Carlotta corrected with a wink towards him.

Of course, when he was practicing herculean self-control, the temptress unveiled herself.

He should have known.

“Of course.” Charles gestured towards the door. Knowing he had the longest night in his life stretching out endlessly before him.

****

He was right, the night went on forever.

And ever.

And then stretched longer still, until he was sure that God was holding off dawn just to spite him.

Though it would be quite merciful if he simply was holding off dawn when Charles knew he deserved far worse.

So he didn’t complain, too much.

Finally, when the darkness was gaining the faintest touch of light, he rose and walked to the library. Immediately the memories from the past evening overtook him. The girls had admitted to a bit of planning… and stretching of the truth.

A lot of stretching, in his opinion.

They had been chided, without any heat to the scolding, and sent to bed after the tame version of the story. The version that didn’t include his quite ruining kiss in front of his solicitor and fellow peer of the realm.

Although, he was surprised to discover the depth of the girl’s involvement. It seemed that they had been conniving even before they left London, seeing the expression in his eyes, they said. He should quit playing cards at Whites, being in love made him easy to read, apparently. They further admitted to cornering Mr. Burrows and ironically, soliciting his aid. Mr. Burrows then explained that he’d have to speak with Lord Darby and well… the rest was history.

Quite humbling history, but history nonetheless.

Lady Southridge demanded the unedited version of their tale as soon as the girls left, and cackled in glee when she learned the desperate measures he had taken to insure Lottie’s hand.

Her eyes rested on Lottie as she took her hand. “I’m so thankful he found you, so thankful.”

Charles felt the need to clear his throat… just because he was in love didn’t mean he necessarily wanted to wade in feminine emotions all evening. And if he didn’t distract Lady Southridge, it would be a long and emotional evening indeed.

Thankfully, she took his hint and left them alone shortly after.

Alone.

For heaven’s sake, the woman was mad.

Or maybe just desperate to make sure Carlotta was ruined enough to never make another escape.

Either way the temptation was enough to make him cross-eyed.

And he was far too pretty to be cross-eyed.

So he did the honorable thing, gave Carlotta a quick kiss, whispered, “I love you,” and demanded that she lock her door.

And put a chair in front of it.

And if possible, her bed pushed against it as well.

Then he went to his own room, locked his own door, and stared at it. Trying very hard not to imagine what it would take to scale the outside wall and make it to her room alive.

But of course, the time he tried not to think of something, was the time that he could only think of that very thing,

In every possible way.

Which was why he was still awake after that eternal night, and was now pacing the library, trying very hard not to imagine what she looked like with her golden hair resting across her pillow, her eyes softly closed in sweet blissful slumber, or how seductive her expression would be when woken up with a morning kiss.

He groaned in agony. When did a vicar awaken? He glanced outside, noting the increasing light on the horizon. Maybe an hour more? He could survive an hour. One hour.

Sixty minutes.

But not one moment more.

****

Carlotta couldn’t sleep. Every time she tried to close her eyes, his gaze would come into focus, stealing her breath and making her want to pinch herself. Just to make sure it was real.

All of it.

Biting her lip, she remembered his determined stride as he commanded her kiss, not caring for his own reputation but wanting her, needing her so badly that he was willing to do anything to have her.

He was brave enough for the both of them, because a part of her knew that if he showed even the slightest hesitation, it would have ended differently.

But it didn’t.

It was rather like a fairy tale. The idea made her smile wider.

With a small sigh she rose from bed, it was full daylight now and she squealed in excitement knowing that today, this span of daylight would end with her being married…to Charles.

Who also happened to be a duke.

A quite notorious duke.

Wonders never ceased. Ever.

A soft knock on the door interrupted her sweet musings. “Yes,” she called.

Three girls rushed into her room, all speaking at once.

She grinned at her own foolishness at not taking the Duke’s advice and locking her door. A reckless folly, to be sure, but one she was thrilled to indulge in.

“Do you know what you’re going to wear? Bethanny asked, immediately going to her wardrobe.

“Can I do your hair?” Berty asked as she was hugged.

“You’re getting married today!” Beatrix twirled, her face beaming.

“Yes, I am getting married today, girls! And I need your help! Bethanny? What do you think I should wear?”

An hour later, her dress was chosen, her hair braided, quite lopsided by Berty —she hadn’t the heart to tell her she couldn’t help, the braid was precarious enough that it would unwind on its own in a few moments, easily allowing her to seek the aid of a lady’s maid for a proper coiffure— and Beatrix had smiled the entire morning, her face awash with excitement.

“I’m starving, can we please eat now?” Berty whined, even though she had a smile still lighting up her cherub-like countenance.

“Yes, I’m quite famished myself,” Carlotta teased as she lightly touched Beatrix’s nose.

“Carlotta?” Lady Southridge’s voice called through the closed door to her chamber.

“Yes?” Carlotta opened the door.

“You’re a vision… except, well…” Her eyes took in the lopsided braid. But before she could comment, Carlotta glanced meaningfully to Berty, who was beaming. “Your hair is lovely.” She nodded.

Quick woman, that Lady Southridge.

“We have much to do if you’re getting married today. To think! No waiting for the banns, no church! Charles should be ashamed of himself.” It would have sounded like a scolding, had she not been smiling the whole time she said it, or clapping her hands excitedly. “You’ll be gossip of the year… of course I’ll make sure everyone knows it was a love match, an impatient one. Not one out of necessity.” She nodded sternly.

“Er, yes,” Carlotta agreed, her face heating. Of course, that would be easily proven false in year when she didn’t give birth to the duke’s heir after an exceptionally short term.

But it still was nice, knowing she had a force like Lady Southridge in her corner.

Because the woman was, indeed, a force.

“We’ll breakfast and then hopefully Charles will have returned. It seems he’s already left… strange man. You’d think he’d want to be with his future bride.” She clicked her tongue and led them all away towards the dining hall, the girls following behind, giggling and asking a million questions about the special day.

The question of the duke’s whereabouts was answered as they were finishing breakfast, when he arrived with a very disgruntled vicar in tow.

“Are you ready?”


“You can’t be serious!” Lady Southridge stood as she tossed her napkin on the table.

“My question was not aimed at you, madam.” The duke spared her only a glance.

“But it’s… simply not done! She needs to have her hair properly… er…” Lady Southridge glanced to Berty. “It needs to be re-braided,” she finished, which was the truth as it was slowly coming unwound.

“Oh! I can fix that!” Berty took the words as her cue and rushed around the table to re-braid the ends of her hair.

“Perfect! Now, are you ready?” the duke asked again, walking over towards Carlotta and placing a quick kiss on her lips.

“For?” she asked, quite perfectly pleased at his show of affection. She could get used to morning kisses at the breakfast table… dinner kisses, bedtime kisses. Especially bedtime kisses.

“To get married?”

“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a more eager groom. Quite odd,” Lady Southridge commented, her fingers resting on her chin as if deep in thought.

“Eager, dedicated, stubborn, take your pick, but I’m starting to wonder if I’m talking to myself since I’m not getting any answers,” the duke grumbled.

And, because really there was nothing else to say. “Yes,” Carlotta answered. While she would have wished for a few more moments to ready herself, as she dwelled on it, this was quite perfect.

And appropriate.

Her hair was braided, lovingly —if not lopsided— by Berty.

The duke, Charles, she reminded herself, was simply being himself. Demanding… all because he loved her that much.

Lady Southridge was meddling, because, that was simply what she did.

And Bethanny and Beatrix had excused themselves quite silently and were now returning with some flowers they had pilfered from the gardens. The little minxes!

What more could she ask for?

“Delightful! I was beginning to think I needed to cause another scene… but a man can only do so many before he gets a complex.”

“I have all faith your ego will survive.” Lady Southridge shook her head.

He glared at her.

“Shall we?” Carlotta stood and walked towards the vicar who had been watching the exchange with avid interest and found it amusing enough to grin slightly.

At least she thought it was a grin.

It might have been annoyance but she chose to believe it was a grin. This was her day, after all.

“My lady,” the duke offered her his arm, and escorted her to the small prayer chapel within Greenford Waters. It was a cozy room, with wooden hewn crosses and stained glass windows that let in amber colored light. Flowers dotted the altars, and candles flickered in the colored light.

“It’s beautiful,” Carlotta whispered as they walked in.

“I’m thankful you appreciate my efforts,” the duke commented.

“You did this?” She glanced over at him, her eyes wide.

“Of course! It’s not as if I have no forethought,” he grumbled, then grinned. “Of course, Tibbs helped.”

“The plot thickens.”

He raised an eyebrow then paused. “I, well. Should I walk you in then? Or would you rather… it seems I didn’t have as much forethought as I believed. Dash it all. You’re walking in with me.” He answered his own question. “Berty? Bethanny? Beatrix, follow Miss Lottie. Lady Southridge? Get Tibbs, I want another witness.”

Lady Southridge nodded and left, returning less than a minute later with a very satisfied looking Butler.

“Now.” The duke glanced around, and finding that all was in order. Turning to Carlotta, he asked. “Shall we?”

He asked, he did not demand, nor push her down the aisle —which she didn’t think he’d hesitate to do, rather endearing, that. Rather, he asked.

“I love you.” She reached up and caressed his face with her gloved hand, her fingers trailing the line of his jaw.

“This damn wedding cannot happen soon enough,” he cursed, then pulled her in. His hands wound around her back, pulling her flush against his body while his mouth met hers in a hungry passion.

The vicar cleared his throat.

Berty gagged.

And Lady Southridge chuckled. “My, my how the mighty have fallen.”

“You try my patience, Miss Lottie. Are you ready?” he whispered against her lips, the sweet scent of peppermint and desire intoxicating her.

“Yes.”

“Finally,” he replied and led her down the short isle.