ached for him.
She took a deep breath. “You are trying to distract me.”
“No, I am trying to seduce you—to lure you into my bed so I can kiss every inch of your body and bury myself in your heat.”
She grabbed the back of a handy chair. Her knees threatened to give out.
She tried to concentrate on something other than her sensitive breasts and the throbbing between her legs.
“Why didn’t you write me about Meg, Charles? If Sarah noticed, you must have—or at least, Sarah must have told James and he must have mentioned it to you.”
“Well, he didn’t.” Charles shrugged. Emma watched his muscles shift.
Meg. Think about Meg.
“How could James not have said anything? How could you not have seen what was going on?”
“Because, Emma, I’ve not made a habit of going to balls and other social events. I don’t want to hear the silly chatter that goes on there, and I certainly don’t need to see the latest crop of young girls.”
She straightened. “I should hope not.” She did not like to think of Charles looking at other women—or of other women looking at Charles.
He smiled briefly. “I go to the House of Lords, to White’s, to meetings with likeminded men. I come home and read—and miss you and the boys and Isabelle and Claire.”
“Oh.”
“And, as you say, Meg is not a debutante. She survived last Season with Aunt Bea. I didn’t think there was cause for concern.”
Emma sighed. “Neither did I, but obviously I was mistaken. What am I going to do?”
“Come to bed. You’ve fed Henry?”
“Yes. He should make it through the night now.” She smiled. “He’s a greedy little devil.”
“Just like his father. I have missed you dreadfully, you know.”
“As I’ve missed you.”
She came over and climbed into bed. Charles stretched out his arm, and she laid her head on his shoulder, putting her hand on his chest. He held her close.
He was so big and solid. She got used to sleeping alone when he was in London, but she much preferred having his comforting body next to hers. She closed her eyes for a moment, inhaling his scent, soaking up his warmth and strength.
She wanted this for her sister—this connectedness. This love. Would Meg find it with Mr. Parker-Roth?
How could she? Scandal was not a very good matchmaker.
Charles started stroking her hip, reminding her of all the other reasons she missed him.
“I should have come to Town when I first received Lady Olston’s letter.” She ran her fingers through the short, springy hair on his chest. “I should have been Meg’s chaperone instead of Lady Beatrice.”
Charles shifted to lean up on one elbow. He started unbuttoning her nightgown. “Emma, you had the children to care for. You know they are happier in the country.”
“Hmm.” His fingers felt so good brushing against her skin. She knew his mouth would feel even better. “Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe the children would do fine in London, and then we wouldn’t be away from you so much.”
He grinned down at her. “Well, I’d certainly like to have you here.”
And she would like to be here, if she could spend all her time in bed with him. She ran her hands over his shoulders and chest. She felt his erection heavy against her leg, and her body came to life. Heat and dampness blossomed between her thighs. She remembered so clearly it was almost painful just what he felt like sliding deep inside her.
Need and a sharp emptiness expanded in her womb.
He kissed her eyelids. “But London is not a good place to raise children. It is much too dirty and noisy. And if you were going to all the society events with Meg, you’d be exhausted all the time.”
“Yes, but—oh.” Charles’s hands were on her breasts now. She wanted his tongue and lips there.
“Meg is not a silly, young girl, Emma. She is twenty-one, in her second Season, independent, and strong willed. She is more than capable of making her own decisions.”
“You don’t understand—”
Charles put his finger on her lips.
“I do understand that you feel the need to take responsibility for too many people. Let Meg live her own life. You have Charlie and Henry and Isabelle and Claire and me to take care of. Isn’t that enough?”
“Yes, but—”
“Part of loving is letting go, sweetheart. It’s time to let Meg go. From what Robbie tells me, Parks is a good man. She could have done much worse. Would have done much worse if Bennington had been found with her.”
Charles sounded so reasonable. “Perhaps you are right.”
“Of course I am right. I’m always right.”
She pushed on his chest. “No, you’re not.”
He covered her hand with his and grinned down at her. “No? Well, I think I’m right in saying it’s time to stop talking about Meg.”
“Well…” She sucked in her breath as his hand skimmed over her breasts again.
“And I am also right in my opinion that this nightgown is very much in the way. I want to have your beautiful body naked under mine.”
He started to pull her nightgown up. She lifted her hips to assist him, and then sat up to yank the gown over her head. She sent it sailing off into the shadows.
“On that point at least, Lord Knightsdale, I will not argue.”
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