“Please,” she whispered. “Let me go.”
“First, let me say me piece.” His hand slid from the door to her shoulder. It was such a gentle touch, the soft brush of his large hand that she flinched in surprise.
Slowly, he turned her around with that grasp on her shoulder. She turned, her back flat to the door, but she couldn’t meet his gaze. She was already fighting the prickling sensation in her eyes, trying her best not to cry. She had a feeling if she looked him in the eye again that she might lose that battle.
“What is it you have to say?” she asked under her breath, impatiently, longing to be free of this room. “If you are intending to try and let my poor heart down gently, do not waste your breath. You told me all I needed to know last time.”
“Charlotte –”
“Please, do not use that gentle tone. I cannot bear it.”
“Ye want me to be firm instead?”
“I want you to let me go. Just let me out of this room –”
“Charlotte, will ye nae listen to me?” he pleaded, but she was already regretting her willingness to be turned around to face him. She wished she had remained the other way, facing the door, for being this close to him was unbearable.
“Let me go,” she repeated.
“In the name of the wee man, if ye willnae let me speak, then perhaps actions are better than words.”
“What do you mean – hmm!” Charlotte didn’t get chance to finish her words. He had taken her chin, a firm yet soft touch still, and lifted her head. She abided, so startled by the touch, only to find his lips pressed to hers.
The kiss was much firmer than their last one, with a hidden passion lingering beneath the surface.
Charlotte didn’t dare touch him. She could not think about what was happening or why he was doing it. She kept her hands behind her back, only thinking of his lips on hers and the way he had so easily taken command of her.
When he pulled back from her, it was tortuously slowly. She longed for the kiss again, then cursed her weakness. She was now looking up at him, giving into the temptation of connecting their gazes.
“I’m in love with ye, lass,” he said, so softly that for a second, she was certain she hadn’t heard him correctly. “And these last few weeks away from ye have been the hardest of me life. That is what I have been wantin’ to say to ye, all evening.” He moved down and kissed her again. It was a chaste kiss, only this time, she gave in.
Charlotte returned that kiss with full vigor, her hands reaching up between them and clutching onto the edges of his waistcoat. He arched his back further down to her, compensating for the difference in their height. His hand had moved from the door to her waist, holding her close.
When they pulled back again, she was trembling, unable to be convinced by his words.
“You love me?” she whispered, her voice light and baffled. “But… you said…”
“I ken what I said.” He released her suddenly, backing away across the room. He paced, thrusting a hand into his hair and pulling on the tendrils. She followed him, now so confused, she could not help it. “I ken I shouldnae love ye.”
“Oh, that’s flattering.” Charlotte placed her hands on her hips, confused more than ever at the feelings going on inside her chest.
“Nay, Charlotte.” He turned back to face her. “I shouldnae love ye because I vowed I wouldnae marry. I shouldnae love ye because look at ye—” he waved his hands at her, “—ye deserve a man far better than the illegitimate son of a duke and a maid.”
“Your parentage does not define who you are.” Charlotte shook his head. “Have I taught you nothing in our lessons?”
“Pray, daenae talk of our lessons.” He returned to his pacing. “They are tortuous memories to me now, memories I cannae relive, but wish to.”
“I do not understand.”
“Charlotte.” He shifted to face her, moving toward her and taking one of her hands. He raised it toward his lips, not quite kissing the back, but hesitating and hovering there. It was the promise of a kiss, one that had her stomach quivering like the wings of a butterfly. “I dinnae expect to fall in love with ye, and that shock, as much as anythin’ else, was what drove me to run away.”
“I knew you ran away,” she whispered, looking at the connection of their hands. “I knew it.”
“Ye ken me,” he said simply, looking at their hands, too. “I was terrified of repeatin’ the past, so when ye wormed yer way under me skin, it scared me. I feared I was repeating the past.” Suddenly, he disentangled their hands. He pulled out something gold and glittering from his pocket and held it up toward her.
“What’s this?” she murmured.
“My father gave it to me mother. She cherished it, her whole life. Aye, I think it was a symbol of the love that they shared.” He glared down at the necklace, as if he was unsure how to feel about it. “I never understood why she kept it, why she wouldnae sell it for food when we were at our most desperate, but now… now I understand it.”
