He left her where she lay, sleeping, warm and soft, her flesh beckoning and calling to him with a glow that crept into his heart and soul. He covered her, standing for a long time next to the bed, admiring the picture she made in the golden candlelight with her lips swollen from his kisses, and tears of joy still staining her cheeks. The tears were salty on his tongue; her skin was pure and sweet and tasted of something that was wholly Charlotte.

He left her, walking stiffly through the connecting door to her bedchamber, looking with abhorrence at the dark, cold bed. His body was tight and hard and hurting with a pain he didn’t know was possible without a physical wound.

“Hell,” he sighed, giving up the battle and climbing into the bed. He glared at his hand. It wasn’t what his body clamored for and it wouldn’t really satisfy him, but it might give him enough relief to allow him to sleep. He wrapped his long fingers around the aching length of his need, and prayed it wouldn’t take Charlotte long to fall in love with him.

“I just hope I don’t grow hair on my palms. I’d have a hell of a time explaining that.”

***

“Alasdair, you’re being unreasonable.”

“I’m not being unreasonable, I’m being practical, and my name is Dare. I know you can say it; you did last night.”

Charlotte opened her eyes very wide and sent him a scathing look. “That was a special circumstance.” The thought of just how special the circumstance was had her heart quickening and various parts of her body quivering in remembrance. She couldn’t believe how the mere touch of his hands and mouth had transported her, but transport her they did, to some place she had never visited but was determined to visit again. Frequently. That very night. She eyed Dare speculatively. Afternoon was a good time, too.

“Be that as it may, I would like to point out that I’ve spoken to you several times now regarding the necessity of economizing, and regretfully, purchasing a new wardrobe does not fall under that heading.”

“Dare, if you were to give Charlotte my dowry, she could buy—” Patricia started to say, but stopped when her brother glared across the sunny breakfast table at her. She busied herself with buttering a muffin.

Charlotte sent an appreciative smile to her sister-in-law, then turned the smile to a frown for her husband as she reached for the pot of chocolate. “Yes, you have mentioned that bit of ridiculousness frequently. You may rest assured you have made your point.”

“Good,” Dare said, turning his attention back to his plate of ham.

“Therefore, you may now give me what I want secure in the knowledge that you have done your part in protesting that you have no money with which to clothe my back, and authorize a visit to Mme. Terwilliger’s. She is the latest crack in modistes,” Charlotte told Patricia in a confidential tone.