Who Will Take This Man?

The heat of humiliation at his clumsiness instantly changed into heat of an entirely different sort, radiating need and want through him from where her hands touched him. Somewhere in the back of his mind a small voice screamed at him to move away from her. But instead he looked into her eyes.

Beautiful gray eyes that stared up at him with an expression he couldn’t name, but that halted his breath just the same. By God, the feel of her hands, even through his shirt, burned fire through him. She was so close. She smelled so delicious. He loved her so deeply. And God help him, he wanted her so badly…

He’d meant to step away. Surely he had. But the longing and desire he’d fought against for so long overwhelmed him, and he stepped forward. Cupped her pale face with one unsteady hand. Wrapped his other arm around her waist to draw her flush against him. Heart slamming against his ribs, limbs shaking, he leaned in and touched his lips to hers, kissing her with all the pent-up love in his soul. For several euphoric seconds. Until he realized he was the only one participating. Abruptly ending the kiss, he straightened. And froze.

She stood wooden in his embrace, face devoid of color, eyes wide and filled with shock. Nothing but shock. No warmth, no desire, no tenderness.

He released her as if she’d burned him, and took two hasty steps backward. And finally another expression filled her eyes.

Pity.

Jesus. Anything but that. Anger. Hatred. Disgust. But not pity. For the virginal cripple who’d made a complete ass out of himself. And destroyed years of friendship with a single, thoughtless act. How could he have been so incredibly stupid?

“I… I’m sorry, Charlotte. Please, forgive me.”

She said nothing, just stood rigidly, hands clenched at her sides, staring at him with that same stunned, pity- filled expression that jabbed a knife straight through his heart. Turning, he strode from the room as swiftly as his lame leg allowed, not stopping until he reached the privacy of his bedchamber. Sitting on the edge of his bed, he propped his elbows on his shaking knees, then lowered his head into his hands.

God Almighty, never, never had anything hurt like this. Not Taggert’s fists, not his leg, nothing. And just when he thought he couldn’t be more mortified, hot tears pushed at the backs of his eyes and a shudder shook him. Bloody hell, he hadn’t been reduced to tears since he was a lad. But these weren’t tears of pain. They were tears of loss.

Another shudder racked him, and a litany of self-directed obscenities whispered past his lips. He’d ruined everything. That one-sided kiss, her utter rejection, and his utter humiliation would always stand between them. Christ, how could he ever look her in the eye again? He’d betrayed her trust. She no doubt thought him nothing more than a randy bastard, the same sort who’d misused her for years.

Raising his head, he dragged his hands down his face. He had two choices. He could try to find some way to accomplish the impossible-to find the words to make amends to her, then pray they could go on as if tonight had never happened. Or he could leave Miss Merrie’s house.

His heart shattered as it recognized that there was really only one choice.

Charlotte stared at the empty doorway where Albert had disappeared, and slowly emerged from the stupor that had afflicted her since the instant he’d stumbled into her arms. Raising a shaking hand, she pressed her fingers to her lips.

Lips that only moments before he’d touched with his own.

Heat swamped her, awakening her senses that his unexpected kiss had frozen with shock. Her eyes slid closed, and she allowed herself to relive those few seconds. Never had a man kissed her like that. With sweet, heart- stopping gentleness. With all her experience, she hadn’t known a kiss could be so… beautiful. Hadn’t known it could rob her of breath. Of movement. Render her wide-eyed, stunned, and speechless.

Yet she should have known that Albert would kiss like that. Everything about him was good and kind, tender and sweet. And heaven help her, she wanted all that goodness and kindness for herself. She wanted Albert for herself. And after the way he’d held her against him, after she’d seen the blatant desire burning in his eyes, there was no denying he’d wanted her.

Pity had suffused her that someone as fine as Albert would waste his desires on someone like her. Which brought to mind the most nagging of questions. Why would he want someone like her? Had he been drinking? No, there’d been no hint of spirits about him. Perhaps it hadn’t been her he’d desired-maybe she’d just happened upon him when he’d been thinking about some other woman, a woman he desired. Yes, most likely she’d simply found Albert at a randy moment. She well knew that men had plenty of those. A man got hard, and any woman would do.

Yet the instant the thought entered her mind, her heart rejected it. No. Albert wasn’t just any man. He was honorable. He’d kissed her because he’d wanted her. And it wasn’t just his body that told her that. It was the look in his eyes.

But that still did not answer why. Why would a decent young man desire a used-up, former whore? ‘Cause he’s lookin’ fer a little tumble, you nodcock. You haven’t wanted a man to touch you fer the past five years. Now you do. Why not give ‘im what he wants? You’ll both get yer itches scratched.

No! She clapped her hands over her ears to drown out the guttural voice from her past. That voice she’d worked so hard, with Meredith’s help, to bury. She wasn’t that woman anymore. She’d made a decent life for herself and for her daughter. And Albert wasn’t the sort of man who’d expect a tumble from her. No, Albert was the sort of man who only would have kissed her if he…

Cared for her. As she cared for him.

Everything inside her stilled. Dear God, was it possible? She hadn’t allowed herself to hope for such a miracle. She squeezed her eyes tight, recalling how unresponsive she’d stood in his arms, and his stricken expression. He would naturally assume her wooden reaction stemmed from being repulsed by him.

She had to know if he cared for her. Had to. Now. If he didn’t, well, she’d take that blow as she’d taken so many others. If he did… She pressed her hands over the spot where her heart beat frantically. Either way, her life was about to change.

Drawing a deep, resolute breath, she walked swiftly from the room and headed toward the stairs. When she reached Albert’s closed bedchamber door, she paused. She heard his distinctive shuffle as he moved about. Summoning all her courage, she knocked.

Nearly a minute passed before he opened the door. Their eyes met, and her insides squeezed at his bleak expression. Stepping across the threshold, she said, “Albert, I…”

Her voice trailed off at the sight of his worn leather portmanteau setting on his neatly made bed. Her gaze panned around the chamber, and her heart sank to her toes. Even in the dim glow of a single candle, she could see that all signs of his personal belongings were gone. His hairbrush. His shaving equipment. Hope’s childish drawings that he’d proudly framed and hung upon his wall as if they’d been painted by Gainsborough himself. His open wardrobe gave testimony to the fact that it was empty.

A deafening silence engulfed them. Charlotte licked her dry lips, and managed to find her voice. “What are you doing?”

A muscle jerked in his cheek. “I’m leaving, Charlotte.”

Three little words. How was it possible for three little words to wreak such havoc? To hurt so badly? “Why?”

Pain flashed in his eyes, then his expression went blank. Shifting his gaze down to the open portmanteau, he said, “I just… need to leave.”

A flicker of hope sparked in her chest at his abject misery. Surely he wouldn’t be so utterly forlorn if he didn’t care deeply? ‘Tis now or never, Charlotte.

Summoning every ounce of bravery she possessed, she asked, “Are you leaving because of me, Albert?”

His head jerked up, and he stared at her through tortured eyes. When he did not reply, she said softly, “Are you leaving because of what just happened between us?”

Color rushed into his face. “I’m sorry, Charlotte. I-”

“It’s not an apology I seek, Albert, but an explanation. Why did you kiss me?”

“I lost my head. I don’t know what I was thinkin‘.”

“Were you thinking about me… or was someone else in your mind?”