his mind or further discuss their kiss-a topic she longed to forget. “We really must rejoin the others.”
He inclined his head, and they proceeded back toward the supper boxes in silence. Meredith kept her distance from him, careful not to brush her arm against his. No good could come of this impossible attraction to him. They belonged in different worlds. He was destined to marry a woman of his own class-once he broke the curse. And if he failed to break the curse, he couldn’t marry. Either way, she could only ever be a temporary diversion for him, a plaything to be tossed aside when the games were finished, and she would never allow herself to be that to any man. An image of her mother’s face rose in her mind, and she squeezed her eyes shut. No. She would never make the same mistakes Mama had made. Never do what Mama had done.
Charlotte cracked opened her bedchamber door and peeked into the corridor. The light flickering beneath Albert’s door indicated he’d finally lit his candles and retired for the evening. Assured that she would be alone, she hurried to the kitchen to make herself a much-needed pot of hot, soothing tea. She pushed open the kitchen door and halted as if she’d walked into a brick wall. Albert leaned against the wooden work counter, a biscuit in one hand, a steaming cup in the other hand. Her appearance in the doorway froze his hand halfway to his lips. He appeared as startled and disconcerted as she.
Charlotte’s heart slapped against her ribs as she took in his appearance. His light brown hair was badly disheveled, as if he’d overindulged in his habit of raking his long fingers through the thick strands. The glow from the low burning flame in the grate cast his lean features into stark shadows, accentuating the shading along his jaw-line from the nighttime stubble of his beard. Her gaze traveled downward, and her heart threatened to cease slapping altogether.
He wore the dark blue flannel robe she’d given him for his last birthday, almost a year ago. At the time, she hadn’t thought twice about purchasing such a personal item for him-he was Albert, after all. Part of her family. But after he’d opened her gift, he’d hugged her, pressing a warm kiss to her forehead. Simple gestures of gratitude, nothing more. Yet it was as if she’d taken a blow to the head. He’d never done such a thing before. Indeed, it sometimes seemed that Albert went out of his way
That hug and tender kiss to her forehead were the first time in her life a man had ever touched her with kindness and gentle care. With friendship. Without expecting or wanting more from her. It was a revelation, and one that had set her on this destructive course of impossible, unacceptable feelings for Albert.
Her gaze traveled downward, and her mouth went dry. The robe gaped open at the chest, revealing a V of hair-dusted skin. Skin she instantly wanted to touch her lips to. The robe ended just below his knees, revealing his calves, one noticeably more muscular than the other due to his injured leg. His feet were bare. Desire, strong and unwanted, gushed through her, and she bit her bottom lip to contain the moan of longing that threatened to spring free. If she’d been capable of it, she would have laughed at herself and the sheer irony of this situation.
When she’d arrived on Meredith’s doorstep five years ago, badly beaten and pregnant with a child, the identity of whose father she could only guess at, she’d sworn she’d never want another man to touch her again for as long as she lived. And she’d kept that vow. Until she’d given Albert that damnable robe.
God help her, she had to make these feelings go away, but how? He was a loving, caring, decent young man who deserved a beautiful, innocent, adoring young woman. Not a jaded, homely, used-up former whore five years his senior. He knew what she’d been, how she’d lived her life before Meredith took her in. He’d always been kind enough to never throw her past in her face, but that only made her love him more.
“I thought you’d gone to bed,” they said simultaneously.
Charlotte forced a weak smile, trying her utmost not to show how unnerved she was. “I could not sleep. I thought some tea might help.”
He nodded toward the kettle, his gaze never leaving hers. “I already made some. Yer welcome to it.”
Relieved to have something to do that allowed her to turn away from him and busy her hands, Charlotte set about pouring her tea, but her attention remained riveted on the man behind her. She heard him set his cup, then the biscuit, down on the counter. Heard his shuffling gait as he crossed the floor, then stopped behind her.
“Why couldn’t ye sleep, Charlotte?”
He stood close. Too close. It took all of her strength not to step backward until her back touched his chest. “My… my mind is just busy. Wondering how Meredith is faring at Vauxhall. How about you?”
The instant the question left her lips, she longed to snatch it back. What if he couldn’t sleep because he’d been thinking about some beautiful young thing he was smitten with? He’d never spoken of anyone, but she knew all about young men his age and the urges that ruled them.
“I couldn’t sleep, because, like ye, my mind was busy.”
She drew a deep breath, summoned her courage, then turned to face him.
He stood no more than two feet away from her. “Are you worried about Meredith?” she asked. “It
“No. If she were alone with that Greybourne bloke who looks at her as if she were a pork chop and he were a hound, I might be. But other folks are there. Actually, it’s
“Me? Whatever for?”
“Ye haven’t seemed yourself lately.”
Dear God, had she revealed herself? “In what way?”
He frowned. “Can’t explain it exactly. Like yer out of sorts. With me.” His gaze searched hers. “Have I done somethin‘ to upset ye?”
“No. I’ve merely been tired lately.”
“I can see that. Ye’ve circles under yer eyes.” Before she realized what he was about, he reached out and brushed the tip of his index finger under her eye. She drew in a sharp breath at the heat his feathery touch shimmered through her. Jerking her head back, away from his hand, she pressed her hips against the counter and leaned as far away from him as possible.
He slowly lowered his hand. There was no mistaking the stricken look in his eyes. “Charlotte… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…” He dragged unsteady hands down his face. “But surely ye know I’d never hurt you.”
Shame filled her that her reaction would make him think for even an instant that she’d believe he’d hurt her. But how could she tell him that she’d rejected his touch not because she didn’t trust him, but because she did not trust herself? Unable to form a word around the lump in her throat, she merely nodded.
None of the tension left his expression or stance. “I’m glad ye know that. And I’d never let anyone else hurt ye. Not ever again.”
What was left of her heart simply melted. He looked and sounded so fierce, like a robe-garbed warrior defending his castle. “Thank you, Albert.” She’d certainly had no intention of touching him, but somehow, of its own volition-perhaps because she wanted to so very badly- her hand lifted, and she laid her palm against his cheek.
The instant she touched him she realized her grave error. Her gaze riveted on the provocative sight of her hand resting against his face. His skin was warm, and the stubble of his beard lightly abraded her palm. The urge to stroke her fingers over his cheek, to explore the stark panes of his face, overwhelmed her. And she might well have given in to the temptation… but then she realized he’d gone completely, utterly still. A muscle jumped spasmodically beneath her fingers, indicating he clenched and unclenched his jaw. His eyes were squeezed shut, as if he were in pain-the sort of pain one suffered when placed in a grossly uncomfortable situation. Like being touched by someone you did not want to touch you.
Embarrassment and humiliation scorched her, and she snatched her hand away as if he’d turned into a pillar of fire. To her further mortification, hot tears pushed at the backs of her eyes, threatening to spill over. She needed to get away from him.
“I… I think I heard Hope,” she said, grasping at the first excuse that came to mind. “I must go. Good night.” She ran from the room, not stopping until she’d reached the safety of her bedchamber.
What an impossible situation. She could not continue living like this much longer. Her only hope was to avoid him completely, but how could that be accomplished while they lived under the same roof? If she remained, it was only a matter of time before she gave herself away. Yet she had nowhere else to go. She ached at the thought of leaving here, the only true home she’d ever known. Of taking Hope away from Meredith and Albert. Of taking herself away from them. What on earth was she going to do?
