The Marquis and I (The Worthingtons #4)(73)

She felt so good, so soft and lovely. Slowly, so as not to frighten her, Con cupped one of Charlotte’s breasts and feathered her nipple with his thumb. Tilting her head, once again she deepened the kiss and pressed her body tighter against him. This time, he moved his hand to her bottom, pulling it against him. Her fingers tangled with the hair at the nape of his neck, scraping his skull.

Was this her way of telling him she would marry him? Or was it the danger they’d been in while rescuing Miss Cloverly making itself known? He damn well better find out before this went too far.

Charlotte tightened her hold, slipping her body up his as she did. God, she was going to be the death of him. His cock was harder than it had ever been, pressing against her, and damn he wanted her like he had never desired another woman.

He’d wanted her since the first time they’d met, but this . . . this was more. Not merely a seduction. Although, at the moment, he had no idea who was seducing whom. This was the woman he wanted for the rest of his life.

Her grip on his neck loosened, and one of her hands slid beneath his jacket, then down to the small of his back. Her fingers hovered just above his bottom, tantalizingly close to touching him as he touched her.

Con’s blood heated as if fires blazed on his skin and in his veins. He wanted his hands on her naked body and her hands on his. Never would he have thought an innocent could make him so hot. He wanted nothing more than to lift her skirts and plunge into her, making her his forever.

Then she’d have to wed him. Or hate him for the rest of their lives. Christ, he didn’t even know if she knew what she was doing or the effect she had on him.

And he needed to know.

Now.

If she was not willing to commit to him, to them, this had to stop before it went any further.

He eased back from their kiss, pressing his lips to the corner of her mouth, then over her jaw and down her neck as she sighed.

“Charlotte, my love.”

Constantine’s lips were pressed against Charlotte’s neck, muffling his speech, but still she heard him clearly. She fought down the excitement she felt at being called his love. Did he truly love her, or was that just a term of endearment?

How would she know? “Yes?”

“Does this mean we will marry?” His voice was a low growl. “Soon?”

Opening her eyes, she looked up at him. An anxious look clouded his green eyes. As if he had as many questions as she did, and she smiled. “Yes, it does.”

“Thank God!” The words sounded more like a groan, and his mouth came down hard on hers.

She almost laughed when he swept her into his arms. He must love her. Why else would he risk her anger and her family’s?

“Your chamber, is it over there?”

“It is.” Or perhaps he just wanted her and wasn’t in love, and didn’t care about what she felt.

He held her close as his long strides ate up the distance to her door. “Your maid?”

“I told her she wouldn’t be needed.” Charlotte pulled his head down and kissed him. Her friends told her his kiss would tell her what she wanted to know, but she wasn’t quite sure. Yet, perhaps it was herself she didn’t quite trust. Although, she should. Despite everything, her initial impression of him had been correct. Constantine was kind, and caring, and wanted to help those less fortunate than he. He had simply not understood he was hurting others. And once he had realized his mistake, he did something about it.

She knew she was right. All this questioning herself was just a slight bit of fear at the change she was about to make. And the fact that he had not told her he loved her.

He juggled her as he lifted the latch and opened the door. Once in the room, he carefully lowered her and she could feel every inch of his muscular body slide against hers as her feet touched the carpet.

A ridge as hard as steel—that must be the reason some referred to it as a sword—rode against her stomach, and she wanted to caress it, but that might be a little too bold at the moment. Instead she rubbed against it, grinning to herself when he groaned again, gathering her into his arms.

This, being with Constantine, felt right. Earlier today was the first time she’d thought she wanted him forever; now she knew she would never let him go.

He lifted his head, breaking the kiss. A smile played around his firm lips, but his eyes were warm with desire. “Are you seducing me, my love?”

There was that word again, love. Did he love her? She wanted to ask, but fear stopped her. What would she do if he did not? Yet, she was sure she loved him. But could she love him if he did not love her as well? Wrinkling her nose, she concentrated on the question at hand. “I’m trying to.”

“Why?” He gazed down at her with a look so intense she was almost speechless.

“Because we shall be m-married?” She felt like a fool. Surely, this was the moment she should tell him she loved him.

“Is that all?” Constantine’s fingers tightened, binding her closer to him. “Charlotte, when this first—drat it. That’s not what I want to say. Charlotte, I love you. I cannot imagine a life without you. If you do not feel the same—”

Thank heaven! “I love you too.” She pressed her lips to his, more eagerly than before. “I want to spend the rest of my days with you.”

He rested his forehead against hers. “Then let’s do this properly.” He held her shoulders out just enough that they could see each other’s faces. “Lady Charlotte, will you do me the honor of being my wife, the mother of our children, and my marchioness? Will you go to bed with me every night and wake up with me each morning? Will you grow old with me? And will you always tell me when I’m being an idiot?”