“I hoped you would like it, however you have leave to decorate it in any colors or fabrics you so desire.” He gazed at her.
“And where are your accommodations, my lord?” she asked coyly. He gave her a look that made her body quiver. I am married to him, she reminded herself.
“Glad you asked,” he said, taking her hand and leading her through a door that blended in with the wallpaper next to her wardrobe. They walked through a short corridor linking the suites into a room decorated in deep greens and dark wood.
The smell of sandalwood lingered in the air near his bed, and a fire roared in the fireplace. Two mahogany chairs sat with a small table between them about six feet from the fireplace. It was enough to keep the occupants comfortable without making them too hot.
“I thought we could have our dinner up here tonight,” he said as a look of emotion she could not identify passed over his face. He replaced it with a smile.
“I would like that, Evan.”
Evan watched his wife’s face. She was lovely, almost perfection when she flashed her emerald green eyes in fits of pique. That had been his first vision of her—her eyes sparking and temper riled.
He had wanted to welcome Charlotte to her new home a little more smoothly. But the baron’s ill-timed intrusion threw those plans into disarray, similar to the timing of her intrusion—and he used that word loosely—into his life. Charlotte had intruded—or rather burst in upon his solace with her anger and indignance at his behavior, heralding attention to his conduct. There was so much more to her—something that made him want to help her, and not just because it would help him. He meant his vows—those that promised to be loyal, generous, and provide protection. He would welcome her to his life, his home, and with care, to his bed. He needed to be careful that what happened to Amelia would never happen to Charlotte. His son needed a mother. And he could not lose another wife.
Charlotte’s earlier tensions over her mother and brother seemed to have eased, however his had not. Someone had tipped off Langdale, but who? Should he send for her family? Charlotte had seemed satisfied that the footmen could provide the security needed. Why, then, was his gut telling him something different? “My dear, please allow me to pen a note to Banbury. I have a favor to ask.”
“Of course,” she said absently.
“Have a seat by the fire and warm yourself. I shall return in about ten minutes.”
Charlotte nodded and sat in a leather armchair to the left of his fireplace. He took an extra moment and pulled up the small matching ottoman and lifted her feet onto it before leaving the room.
“I will not be long, dear,” he said, taking a quick backward glance before leaving the room.
Evan hurried downstairs and extracted a sheet of vellum from the box on his desk. Quickly, he penned Banbury a note asking his friend if he would visit his mother-in-law and convince them to stay with him. Knowing Banbury, he would do it without being asked, however just the same, he would feel better knowing his new family was safe. Langdale had acted almost rabid earlier.
Evan pulled out a burgundy taper and heated it, allowing it to drip on the outside of his folded note. Using his signet ring, he sealed it. Ringing for his butler, he eased back in his chair and waited. Bernard responded in a thrice. “Bernard, please have this delivered immediately to Lord Banbury. Have the messenger wait to get a response.”
“Right away, my lord.”
“One more thing. Remind Charles he has the night off but ask him to be ready to leave three days hence with the rest of the estate staff to move to Epsom.”
“Right away, my lord. I believe your valet is in the kitchen eating a noon meal. I shall apprise him of your instructions.”
“Excellent. And please let me know when you have a reply from Lord Banbury.”
His retainer nodded and left to dispatch his note. Feeling somewhat better, Evan headed back upstairs to his room.
The sight that greeted him there stirred his loins. His wife was curled up in his chair, asleep in front of the fireplace. He pulled the drapes and turned down the light in the room. Walking to his bride, he lifted her and moved her to his bed, pulling back the coverlet with one hand while holding her with the other. Satisfied that she was comfortable, he sat in the chair she had just vacated and pulled off his boots. Luckily, these were looser than others and slid off easily. Taking off his waistcoat, he untied his cravat, opened the neck of his shirt, and slid under the covers next to her.
The fresh scent of jasmine stirred his need. Gently, he lifted her hand and with his thumb, rubbed the inside of her hand in little circles. Her eyes fluttered open, and a lazy smile creased her face as she turned to him.
“Shall I stop?” he asked, his voice husky.
Charlotte closed her eyes. “No . . . Evan.” A smile lifted her lips.
Evan leaned down and gently brushed her mouth. With more force, he kissed her, his teeth nibbling gently on her lip. Gentle coaxing from his tongue gained him entry, and she pulled back her neck to give more room.
“Evan . . . we are in your bed . . .” the words fell away as his breath heated her neck.
“And? It is our wedding day. I pulled the curtains. The day and the night are ours to spend at our leisure—until we are persuaded by hunger to gain sustenance. What better way could there be to spend our time?” His breath fanned her ears.
Tenderly, he slipped her sleeves from her arms, exposing her breast. “Allow me to warm you, wife.”
“Evan,” she murmured, wrapping her hands around his neck and pulling him closer.
Evan reveled in
