Harlequin Historical July 2021--Box Set 2 of 2 Read online

  It had been six years since he’d been with a woman—when he’d last lain with Lottie. There hadn’t been anyone else he wanted. Not like her.

  Her arms slid up his back and she pulled him down to her.

  He resisted. ‘I don’t want to crush you.’

  She shook her head. ‘You won’t.’

  Finally he acquiesced and lay against her, skin on skin, hot with desire. Sensual.

  Lottie moaned in his ear as she clung to him, shifting her hips in time with the flex of his pelvis. He slowed his pace, savouring the feel of her under him, around him, their bodies moving in perfect tandem. It was a marvel how each subtle shift brought the most exquisite pleasure.

  Her breath was warm against the crook of his neck, her exhalations near his ear as her sweet, floral scent embraced him with an intoxicating decadence. She lifted her face and he kissed her as their bodies joined together, again and again. When her breathing changed, becoming faster, he quickened his thrusts, pumping into her.

  Fire scorched his veins and they both panted with their effort until at last their bodies exploded with the force of their mutual release. They clung to one another as their climax took them. They didn’t let go, not even as their heartbeats calmed and their breathing evened.

  Holding her was a heaven he’d dreamed of for far too long to relinquish her with any haste. No, he wanted to stay like this for ever, his blood humming with the lingering effects of their mutual pleasure, cradling her against him like something precious. His chest ached with the wish to have her this way always.

  She gazed up at him, studying him with an expression he couldn’t read. He wanted to tell her he loved her again, that he would always love her. But even though they’d shared the depth of such intimacy, she seemed almost more skittish to him now than she had before.

  Maybe it was being this close to her that made the force of his hope too powerful. To be rejected by her again after what they’d shared would be devastating.

  He withdrew from her and rolled onto his side next to her. Neither spoke as he curled his arms around her protectively and held her. They remained thus until their body heat and emotional exhaustion had them drifting towards a quiet slumber.

  It was some time before Evander woke. Light still peeked in through the bottoms of the drawn curtains, indicating night had not yet fallen. Lottie remained in his arms. At some point she’d turned in her slumber, so her head lay on his chest.

  He stroked a lock of hair away from her face and studied her profile. Though six years had passed, she remained untouched by age. Her skin was still smooth as cream, her dark lashes long where they rested against her cheeks. But there was another element to her now.

  When she’d been young, she hadn’t known of her own beauty. Now, as a woman, she was well aware of it—and of its power. It made her seem untouchable.

  Except that she was there, next to him, having given herself wholly to him.

  What she’d told him earlier that day sat like a stone in his chest. Their daughter, Lily. How hard it must have been for Lottie to endure what she’d gone through without him there. She had sacrificed every part of herself to ensure the safety of their child.

  Evander had never faulted her for what she’d done to survive in his prolonged absence. Now, knowing all he did, he admired her for it. Her strength was unlike any other he’d known.

  He ran the back of his hand down her cheek and she tilted her face towards the caress. A slow smile lifted the corners of her mouth. She blinked her eyes open and he was once more struck by the lovely, brilliant blue of her eyes.

  ‘It would appear we both fell asleep.’ She gave a lazy, indulgent chuckle, and put her hand under her chin to look up at him. ‘Thank you for being here today.’

  ‘For forcing my way in?’ He lifted a brow. ‘I hope Sarah won’t be judged too harshly.’

  Lottie sighed. ‘Sarah knows exactly how much she can do without a reprimand. She takes advantage of how very dear she is to me.’

  ‘I’m grateful you have her.’ Evander swallowed. ‘That she was there for you when I wasn’t. I owe her an enormous debt of gratitude.’

  ‘You couldn’t possibly have known what had happened in your absence,’ Lottie said softly.

  But not knowing didn’t excuse him from what he’d missed in Lottie’s life. And in Lily’s. Not when it was his own fault for not sending more than two letters that somehow never made their way to English soil.

  ‘I wish I could reverse time,’ he said. ‘To be there for you. And to meet her. I would give up anything to go back.’

  But such wishes were impossible. All the money in the world couldn’t buy back time.

  It was a hard-won lesson. And one whose effects would be felt for the rest of his life.

  He looked across the room to where the painting of the cottage still stood on the easel, half finished. All around it, discarded on the floor, were other paintings. If he put them together he would know what the cottage looked like from all angles. And yet there were none of the little girl Lottie had described. There were none of Lily.

  Suddenly he wanted the experience of going there. Of seeing where they’d lived—how they’d lived. And, if Lily had been buried there, of seeing her small grave.

  ‘Lottie,’ he said gently.

  She followed his gaze. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Will you take me to the cottage?’

  She stiffened. The movement would have been imperceptible had they not been so close to one another.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ She pushed up and off him and rose on her elbows to regard him, the sheets tucked over her breasts.

  ‘The cottage.’ Evander indicated the painting. ‘Will you take me?’

  * * *

  Lottie’s thoughts raced at Evander’s request. It was simple enough. And it made sense. Of course he would want to see where Lily had lived. No doubt he would also want to visit her grave.

  Except his enquiry made her freeze. She hadn’t been back to the cottage since Sarah had finally prised her away from the grave. And as insistent as Lottie had been then, on remaining there day and night, in vigil for her lost daughter, she was just as insistent now on not going back.

  Her heart could not bear it.

  The comfort she’d drawn from Evander ebbed and was replaced with a restless agitation. She rose from the bed and went to the ewer to freshen up.

  ‘Lottie,’ Evander said. ‘What is it?’

  She shook her head, not quite certain exactly what it was herself. But the ache of it split open like a void within her.

  ‘Why do you want to go?’ she asked.

  It was a stupid question. The reason was obvious. Anyone in Evander’s position would want to go. She was simply postponing having to give him an answer.

  He rose from bed, his lean body all sharp angles and cut muscle. Her hands tingled with the memory of how such strength had felt beneath her touch.

  ‘I want to see where you lived,’ he answered, with more patience than the question deserved. ‘It’s the closest thing I can have to being near Lily.’ He hesitated before adding, ‘Is she buried there?’

  Lottie nodded, unable to answer the question out loud. She’d lain over that small grave for three days before Sarah had finally convinced her to leave. It had been more than Lottie could bear, imagining her sweet girl all alone in the small wooden coffin, surrounded by cold, dark earth.

  ‘Please, Lottie.’ He strode towards her, unabashed in his nakedness, and reached for her shoulder.

  But Lottie stepped back.

  Hurt flashed in his eyes for the briefest of moments, but he hid it with a glance downward as he dragged a hand through his hair.

  ‘You could go without me,’ she suggested.

  He looked back at her with a frown. ‘Why don’t you want to go?’

  The answer sat heavy in h
er mind, her tongue suddenly too thick to put her reply into words.

  ‘What is it?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m afraid,’ she answered at last.

  His brow furrowed with apparent confusion. ‘I don’t understand.’

  And how could he? He hadn’t lived through what she had. Yes, he knew what she had told him, but it wasn’t the same as experiencing it. Words could never properly convey the level of her despair, the precise anguish of her grief. And there was more...

  There was the fear that she would relive the emotions she had felt when she resided in that cottage. When she had received no letters from him. How many times had she sat in the small rocker, considering the diamond on her finger and wondering how worthless his promises had been?

  There had been no news of him in all those years. If there had been she would have known, as she’d made it a point to be in the proper circles to gain such information.

  Some nights she’d presumed him dead and wept. Others she’d berated herself for a fool who had been played by a rake. She had wept then too, bitter tears for her own naivety and for what such carelessness had brought upon her sweet, innocent child.

  And when she had seen Evander at Comlongon all those nights had rushed back to her, along with the pain of the struggles she’d endured. That rage that had burned within her flickered to life once more. He’d been right earlier. She should be angry with him for what he’d done.

  Except she’d been too tender after having just told him about Lily. She’d been too desperate for comfort.

  ‘I haven’t been back there since...since she was buried,’ Lottie said slowly. ‘I haven’t been able to bring myself to.’

  Evander was quiet for a long moment, and when he finally spoke his voice was thick with emotion. ‘Perhaps it might help us both heal if we go together.’

  Lottie gritted her teeth. ‘There’s more. I... I fear that I might never be able to forgive you if we go back.’

  A muscle flexed in his jaw, but he did not lash out at her. Instead, he offered a stiff nod, eyes blazing with a pain he could not mask. ‘I understand.’

  They said nothing as they both gathered their clothes and put themselves to rights once more. Evander helped tie her undergarments into place and buttoned the back of her gown.

  ‘If you don’t forgive me, I would not blame you.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I am sure I will never be able to forgive myself. I was never able to meet our daughter. I’ve never seen where she lived, heard stories about her life. My heart is aching for a connection with Lily.’ He rubbed a hand over his face. ‘I would never ask you to go through something that causes you pain except in this. Lottie, I want to know about our little girl. Even if it is the final wedge between us, I cannot stand the idea of not knowing about her.’

  He was right, she knew. He needed to find a connection with Lily in any way he could. Only Lottie did not know if she was brave enough to agree.

  She wrapped her arms around herself, though it did not bring comfort. Not as Evander’s embrace had done. How could she say no to such a request?

  ‘I’ll consider it,’ she said at last.

  He nodded. ‘Thank you.’

  He reached for her, but again she stepped back.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said softly.

  He nodded. ‘Good day, Lottie.’

  She pressed her lips together, saying nothing in reply as he left the room. Only when the door clicked closed did she sag to the floor and give in to utter despondency.

  How could she deny him? And yet how could she possibly bring herself to go back there?

  She knew what she ought to do, but she did not know if she was brave enough to face those incredible fears.

  Above all else, she did not want to hate him.

  And going back to the cottage, reliving such suffering, might well make her do that.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Nothing made the press of heartache greater than witnessing new young love.

  The next day Lottie sat opposite Lady Caroline, whose dark eyes glowed with joy.

  ‘He had this ingenious shirt with the steps of the dance. Not only did he not miss a single step, he asked me to dance the next cotillion set with him.’

  ‘I’m so pleased to hear it,’ Lottie said. And truly she was. It warmed her to know her gift yielded such impact.

  She had been like Lady Caroline once—innocent and hopeful, her entire self given to the idea of love. And, happy for the young woman, she could not help but remember when she too had gloried in the throes of first love. The world had seemed so perfect then, as if all the pieces had fallen perfectly into place.

  ‘He’s already asked when my next ball is,’ Lady Caroline said. ‘I believe he actually enjoyed himself.’ She shifted forward on the settee and her dark curls bounced with the movement. ‘I want your counsel on an idea.’

  ‘An idea?’ Lottie gave her a curious look.

  Lady Caroline’s suggestions were often subtle, yet clear enough to determine. By most people, that was. Seldom by Lord Rawley, unfortunately. It wasn’t that he was a stupid man. Quite the opposite. He was extraordinarily intelligent. But Lord Rawley was the sensitive sort—not so much in how he took other’s remarks, but in regard to his consideration towards others.

  His father had passed away when he was barely out of the nursery, and as a result his mother doted on him. Perhaps that was why he was so perceptive in reading others, and overly careful in how he treated them—women, especially.

  The Viscount was a man who took his responsibility seriously and had a care not to give in to the same vices as most of his peers. There was no excessive drinking or gambling or whoring for him. And, while it made him the ideal husband, it made for a frustrating man in the courting game.

  Which was how poor Lady Caroline had ended up on Lottie’s settee. She was beautiful, with dark eyes and hair like her brother, Lord Dalton. Any man would have been all too eager to wed her. But she didn’t want any of them. Her heart was set on Lord Rawley.

  ‘I want to encourage him to kiss me,’ Lady Caroline said with a gleeful lift of her shoulders. ‘Perhaps if I invite him onto the veranda when no one else is there...’ A shrewd expression replaced her delight and she appeared to gauge Lottie’s reaction.

  Lottie lifted a brow, preferring Lady Caroline to admit the unlikelihood of her scheme actually working rather than having to say it herself.

  Lady Caroline sighed. ‘I know he won’t do it. But what if I kiss him?’ The gleam was back in her eyes.

  ‘Have a care for your reputation,’ Lottie cautioned. ‘It would be preferable if he was courting you first.’

  At that, Lady Caroline beamed.

  Lottie gasped. ‘Do you mean...?’

  Lady Caroline squealed in a very unladylike manner. ‘He spoke with my brother this very afternoon. Seth told me he was practically melting with sweat, the poor dear.’ An endearing smile widened on her face. ‘He said Lord Rawley asked if he might court me. When I asked Seth what he said in reply...’ She giggled behind her hand. ‘He told me he replied, “It’s about bloody time. Please do, by all means.”’

  Lottie laughed along with Lady Caroline, and went to the sweet young woman to embrace her. ‘I’m so very happy for you. Perhaps that kiss isn’t too far off, then. But mind you are still careful.’

  ‘Most certainly,’ Lady Caroline vowed with seriousness. ‘And what of you?’

  The question took Lottie aback. ‘Me?’

  ‘You and your handsome hero,’ Lady Caroline prompted. ‘We all saw Lord Westix punch Lord Devonington at the ball. I wager most men have wanted to put their fist in that man’s face a time or two. And he did. For you. If that isn’t romantic, I dare say I don’t know what is.’

  ‘I... I...’ Lottie stammered.

  ‘And I hear he sends you flowers once a week.’ Lady Caroline
glanced at the irises and white tulips, sitting beside a bundle of pink roses. ‘Eleanor told me.’

  ‘It isn’t like that between us.’ Lottie shook her head. ‘It can’t be. I would never be accepted among the ton.’ Her cheeks went hot as the familiar blanket of humiliation fell over her.

  ‘You already have been. By me, Violet, Eleanor—and all the other ladies you have taken the time to instruct. Fie to the rest of them, I say.’

  ‘We thought to wed once,’ Lottie admitted. ‘But we were young. I was...different.’

  ‘A second chance at love, then?’ Lady Caroline pressed her hands to the crimson velvet bodice of her gown and gave a wistful sigh. ‘Now, that is terribly romantic. Like Lady Alice.’

  ‘You don’t mean with Lord Ledsey, do you?’ Lottie tried to keep the scowl from her face. The Earl really was terribly despicable.

  Lady Caroline recoiled in horror. ‘Heavens, no. I mean her soldier—George.’

  Lottie had received notice from Lady Alice earlier that day, begging off her lessons with a message that she would explain later. Perhaps a miracle had happened.

  ‘Is he home?’ Lottie asked in disbelief.

  ‘Yes,’ Lady Caroline breathed. ‘Isn’t it a marvel?’

  Indeed, it was. And Lottie was overjoyed that her student would be able to recapture her lost love. The topic of the returned soldier was also a fortunate way for Lottie to brush aside any of Lady Caroline’s concern for herself and put the focus back on encouraging Lord Rawley’s affections. Hopefully their courtship would soon turn to marriage and a lifetime of happiness.

  Following Lady Caroline’s lesson, Lottie retired early, sitting before the vanity as she readied herself for bed.

  Silky bumped her head against Lottie’s ankles. Just as she bent to stroke her cat, Sarah approached, regarding her through the reflection in the mirror.

  ‘I wasn’t listening in, but I did overhear what Lady Caroline said as I was passing by about taking a second chance at love. You know how I feel.’