Drew swallowed and moved the lamp to view the woman’s face. Disbelief stole his breath until horror exploded into a blood-curdling cry. He dropped the lamp, lunged into the carriage, and grabbed Charlotte, pressing her cold body to his chest. “Charlotte,” he heard himself moan, her name becoming a tortured chant as grief threatened to swallow him.
~ 7 ~
“Char,” Drew cried out again, burying his head against her neck.
“Yes?” came a soft reply. Drew jerked backwards and stared through the shadowy darkness into Char’s face.
She blinked at him and stretched her arms high above her head, then swiftly brought them back down and wrapped them around her midsection. “Brr. I must have fallen asleep.”
Asleep? He couldn’t form a coherent thought past that one word. Shaking, he fell into the seat beside Charlotte and groped until he found her hand. Though she flicked his fingers away, he clasped her hand firmly in his. “I thought you were dead.” He could not keep his voice from shaking.
Edgeworth leaned into the coach, lamp in hand. “Clearly, she’s alive,” he drawled. “You never have been very observant, Drew, old boy.”
Drew snatched the lamp out of his cousin’s grasp and waved him away. “Go sit in the carriage, Edgy. We’ll be there directly.” Edgeworth opened his mouth as if to retort, glanced from Charlotte to Drew, and nodded, backing out of the carriage.
Needing reassurance that Char was indeed all right, Drew rubbed his fingers gently over the top of her hand. Her skin was cold, but now that his head was clearing and logical thought was returning, he could detect a faint warmness that signaled life. Her life. He hadn’t lost the only person he had ever loved. His fingers curled tight around her small, delicate bones. Bones that should be protected at all cost at all times by her husband. Rage exploded inside of Drew. “Where the bloody hell is Salisbury?”
Char frowned and tried to tug her hand away, but Drew held tight. “How should I know?” she said, tugging again. “Drew.” There was an unmistakable warning in her sharp tone, but he didn’t damn well care. This could be the last time he ever got to feel her softness, caress her, be so near to her, and he was not going to give up the moment until he was in danger of losing his ballocks from frostbite.
“Char.” He brought her hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss on her flesh.
A small gasp escaped her. “You mustn’t do that,” she whispered.
He knew he shouldn’t touch her, but knowing she was right fueled his anger. “Because of your husband?” he snarled.
“No.” She snatched her hand away, and he forced himself not to reach out and grab her hand once again. He wouldn’t dishonor her again, though the need to touch her was a physical ache twitching in every muscle he possessed. “Where’s your illustrious husband? Why did he leave you on your wedding night on the side of the road without anyone in sight to protect you?”
“Salisbury didn’t abandon me.” Charlotte looked down at her hands. “He’s not my husband.”
“What?” Drew could hardly believe he’d heard correctly.
Charlotte’s gaze remained on her hands, which were squeezed into two small fists on her lap. “I…I broke the betrothal last night.”
The block of ice that had been lodged in Drew’s chest for the last year melted with her words. He set the lamp beside him and slid across the space separating them, hooked a finger under her chin, and raised her face so he could see her eyes. “Because of me?”
She pushed his hand away. “Certainly not.”
Char’s lips twitched, displaying her deception. She never had been a very good liar. It took all of Drew’s will to contain his grin. “Then why?”
“Simple,” she said. “I do not love him.”
“Because you still love me,” he said emphatically.
“Ridiculous,” Char disagreed, but the denial was weak, breathless.
“Prove it.” He splayed one hand over the small of her back and slid the other up to cup the delicate curve of her head. His body hummed with his need. Char’s pink tongue darted out to lick her full lips.
She stared at him for a moment, her green gaze unblinking. Finally, she sighed. “Let me go,” she said simply.
He couldn’t, though a gentleman would. The possibility of regaining Char changed all the rules. He was no gentleman anymore. He was a man determined to win the woman he loved no matter what he had to do. “I can’t.”
She quirked an eyebrow. “Can’t or won’t?”
“Both.”
“Drew, I’m no toy for you to pick up off the shelf because you’re interested in playing with me again. I’ll not let what happened between us ever happen again.”
“I won’t either,” he promised. It was now or never. He’d bare it all to her. Risk it all for her. “I love you. I’ve loved you since that first afternoon we kissed at the meadow, and I’ve never stopped. I’ve been a fool. I’ve been weak, and I’ve been drunk for a year. Now, all I want to be is a man you can love. I want to be your husband and for you to be my wife.”
~ * ~
Charlotte had dreamed of Drew saying those words to her at least a thousand times. But the dream had been of Drew declaring himself when his father had demanded he break their betrothal, or at least the next day when he came to his senses. The dream had never, ever been one year later, after she had endured hell trying to forget him. Why was he toying with her? Why now? “What is it, Drew? Are you bored? Did the women in Paris become dull? The drink too watered-down?”
He grinned an infuriatingly handsome grin, which took Charlotte instantly back to the first time she had seen him on his return from Eton, tall, muscled, and eyes twinkling with merry mischief, all directed her way. His face came so close to hers she could see the black, unshaven whiskers, the small white scar on the cleft of his chin, the fine lines on the surface of his lips. She swallowed her desire. She could not play his doxy. She could not be drawn in to his game.
He swept her hair off her neck, her skin tingling where his fingers touched her skin. “None of the above, Char. The whiskey was plenty strong, but I could never consume enough to forget what I’d done to you. And there were no women, ever, not once, because none of them were you.” He brushed a soft kiss across her lips. Her body responded with such jarring desire it scared her. Intent on putting a safe distance between them, she jerked back. Drew gripped her tighter. “It’s always been you I love. It will always be you I love.”
His words swirled inside of her, coiling around her heart like a snake and tempting her to bite of the apple in the garden of his Eden. She squeezed her eyes shut, breathed deeply, and willed her senses not to desert her. She was no Eve, and Drew offered no garden, only the poison of rejection when he hurt her again. “I find that hard to believe,” she said and sprang past him into the cold, night air. There was nothing like a blast of snow to cool the heat of desire.
Drew caught her arm before she’d taken two steps.
“Let go, Drew. I don’t believe you could ever love me enough to give up your allowance, and I have more important matters to tend to.”
“Such as?”
“My coachman and my father,” she snapped. “I fear my coachman has come to harm on the road and my father is very ill.”
“Char.” His fingers curled tight around her arm. Concern flamed to life in his eyes. “We’ll find your coachman immediately, and I’ll take you personally to Danby. I’m on my way there myself.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I’ve my own coach.”
“That thing back there?”
“It’s a perfectly acceptable coach,” she said tartly. Maybe it wasn’t as expensive as his coach, but it was quite nice when all the wheels were working.
“Don’t be foolish. My coach is built for speed.”
She clenched her jaw together against accepting. He was bad for her. Her head knew it, but her heart and her body could not be trusted. She needed to get away from him as soon as possible.
He blew out
a long breath. “Would you delay helping your father for the sake of your pride?”
Pride? Thank God he didn’t suspect just how much she wanted to throw herself into his arms and feel his lips on her body. She shook her head, afraid her voice would reveal her tumultuous emotions.
“Excellent. Then we’ll sleep at The Queen’s Head tonight and leave together at first light tomorrow for Danby.”
“Fine,” she murmured, trying desperately to ignore the burgeoning giddiness at the thought of being with him alone in a coach for an entire day. She couldn’t be weak or stupid. “I’ll ride with you, but you will sit on the opposite side of the coach.”
“I’ll do whatever you demand.”
She snorted at his absurd declaration.
“Scoff all you like. I deserve it. But know this—I’d rather be penniless than spend one more second without you, and I’m going to prove myself to you.”
“Just how do you plan to do that? Do you mean to face your father and tell him you’re going to marry me? Or better yet,” she taunted, unleashing all the pain she had stored inside her for a year, “perhaps you plan to actually marry me this time. Because I’ll tell you this—” she poked him in the chest— “I’d never be so stupid as to fall for your lies again and let you bed me and leave me twice.”
“I wouldn’t want you to,” Drew said simply. “I’ll not lay one finger on you until you’re my wife. That’s a promise.” Instantly, his warm lips covered hers, sucking, kneading, and leaving her knees weak when he drew back.
She pressed her fingers to her swollen lips. “You touched me,” she accused in desperation against the chaos he had caused inside her.
“Not with my fingers,” he said with a wink and a wicked grin before motioning for her to climb into the carriage.
~ 8 ~
Half a mile down the road, they found Charlotte’s coachman limping through the deep snow at a pace Drew suspected would never have gotten the man to the Queen’s Head before Christmas. Thank God Drew and Edgeworth had come by when they did. If Char had waited for her coachman to rescue her, she would have frozen to death. As Charlotte wrapped blankets around her coachman and fretted over his twisted ankle, Drew tried not to glower at the older man. Based on Edgeworth’s smirk, Drew had not successfully disguised his feelings.
It was petty to begrudge the hurt coachman Char’s nurturing attentions. The man had, after all, set out through the snow to bring help for Char, and of course it wasn’t the clumsy oaf’s fault he’d stepped in a hole and twisted his ankle. Despite those facts, Drew couldn’t help the irritation gripping him. He wanted nothing more than to be near Char, to feel the heat of her body, the press of her leg against his, the smell of freesia that lingered around her and filled his lungs every time he breathed in.
Instead of the stolen, precious moments near her he had anticipated when they set out for the Queen’s Head, he now sat next to Edgeworth, who smelled like sweat and liquor and kept stepping on Drew’s foot. The change in his circumstances made him surly, and when they rode up to the Queen’s Head Inn, and he saw the overflowing courtyard packed with too many carriages to count, his mood worsened.
“Oh, dear.” Charlotte leaned forwards, prompting Drew to hurriedly do the same so he could get a whiff of her heavenly scent. He suspected this might be the closest he would get to her for the rest of the night. She frowned and promptly sat back. “If the inn’s full, what will we do?”
“We’ll have to stay here,” Drew supplied. “Wherever they can squeeze us.”
“Leave it to me,” Edgeworth said, putting on his gloves. “I’ll simply tell them the Duke of Danby’s grandchildren have arrived, and they can boot some other riff-raff out of their room for us.”
“What a horrid thing to even think of doing,” Charlotte snapped. “I wish I could say I’m surprised.” Her glare landed on Drew like a dagger. “But I’m not.”
Drew flinched. The implication didn’t have to be spoken to be there, and that it was true of his deplorable, entitled behavior in the past made it all the harder to hear. He gave Edgeworth a quick jab in his side.
“Say, that hurt,” Edgeworth grumbled while rubbing at his injury.
Drew didn’t feel the least bit of remorse. The bloody fool should have known better. Now, Char was mad at him for what he’d done in his past and what Edgeworth had stupidly said in the present.
Charlotte shook her head. “I’ll have no part in your throwing some poor souls out of their rooms. You two—” she waved her hand at Drew and Edgeworth— “may invoke your grandfather’s name all you like to the detriment of the riff-raff better known as commoners. A class, might I remind you, Lord Edgeworth, I am part of.”
“I’m sorry, Miss Milne. I spoke before I thought.”
“A problem since his birth,” Drew growled.
“No doubt a recurring problem for both of you,” Charlotte snapped, “given that your parents instilled in all of you since your births that you’re better than everyone else.” Charlotte’s coachman jerked as she tapped him on the shoulder. He whipped his head up, his cheeks flaming red, his eyes darting everywhere but on them. “Let us get out, Mr. Perkins and leave these two to their plotting.”
“I’m not plotting,” Drew said helplessly, clambering down the ladder after Char. She was halfway to the entrance of the inn before he caught up. “Char.” He grabbed her arm to stop her brisk exodus from his presence. “Are you going to stay mad at me all night for something I didn’t even say?”
“No.” She yanked her arm free. “I’m mad because I know you share in your cousin’s belief that you are better than me, deserve more than me, simply because you were highborn.”
“I don’t.”
“Ha!” She whirled away and almost ran into her gaping coachman. “Excuse me, Mr. Perkins.”
Drew stomped up the stairs after Charlotte and reached for her arm once again. His fingers grazed the material of her dress. Whirling around, she served him a severe glare. “You’re touching me! Can you not keep even one promise you make?”
He swallowed and dropped his hand, fully expecting her to take flight.
She surprised him by not moving. They stared at each other, breaths coming out in puffs of white into the darkness while snowflakes fell between them. The stairs creaked as Mr. Perkins crept as far away as possible without actually leaving Charlotte alone. Drew immediately changed his opinion of the man. He liked anyone who had the decency to give him some leeway but refused to abandon his first loyalty to Charlotte.
Watching the white flakes fall on her pale skin, he badly wanted to touch her. The desire pulsed from his heart all the way to the tips of his fingers. He’d keep his bloody promise though, even if it killed him. “Please, Char. Hold my past sins against me all you want, but don’t hold me accountable for things I no longer believe.”
She licked her lips, her tongue melting a snowflake that had landed on her upper lip. “That’s fair.”
He breathed a sigh of relief. “Give me a chance to show you I’ve changed.”
“No.”
Her answer was so final, so definite. Yet he couldn’t help but hope. He knew her. It wasn’t in her nature not to give someone a second chance. “I have changed. You’ll see.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want to see. If you think you can’t keep your promise, I’ll find another coach to take me to Danby tomorrow.”
Before Drew could reply, heavy footsteps clomped up the stairs behind him and a hand slapped him smartly on the back. “I hate to interrupt you two, but it’s bloody cold out here.”
Charlotte narrowed her eyes at Edgeworth. “You’re not interrupting anything, Lord Edgeworth.”
“Miss Milne, clearly you are an expert at staying angry.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Charlotte hedged.
“Excellent. A crack in your ferociously righteous armor.”
“Edgeworth,” Drew warned. Why was his cousin purposely trying to get under Charlotte’s skin?
&
nbsp; “Righteous?” Charlotte sputtered.
Edgeworth shrugged. “A bit. Though, while I do admit I deserve your anger, my cousin does not.”
Drew’s irritation with Edgeworth’s earlier blunder vanished.
“Fine. He’s forgiven for your earlier comments. Now can we go in before we all freeze to death?”
Edgeworth swept his hand in front of him. “After you, my lady.”
Charlotte walked ahead as Drew and Edgeworth walked side by side. Drew nudged his cousin in the arm. Thank you, he mouthed.
As Charlotte stepped through the door into the bustling inn, Edgeworth leaned towards Drew. “I heartily approve of Miss Milne. Don’t mess this up.”
“I don’t intend to,” Drew replied.
“Good. And, Drew…”
“Yes?”
Edgeworth gave Drew a cheeky grin. “When you’re dirt poor, you may still call me cousin.”
“How charitable of you,” Drew said with a chuckle and the firm realization that the prospect of being poor did not scare him at all.
~ * ~
After a hot meal and a freezing cold sponge bath, Charlotte crawled into her bed and pulled the covers up to the tip of her chin. Even dressed in her thickest winter bed-gown, and snuggled under the heavy coverlet, Charlotte’s teeth still chattered from the cold. The room held a definite chill, but at least she had a place to lay her head.
A reluctant smile pulled at her lips. She could still see Edgeworth’s astonished face when Drew had refused to tell the innkeeper they were the Duke of Danby’s grandchildren and had threatened Lord Edgeworth with bodily harm if he did so either. She had to admit that she had been astonished too. Especially since Drew’s denial of his rightful title meant he and Edgeworth received no special treatment and therefore no bed.
Charlotte turned over and fluffed her pillow. The small tingle of satisfaction she had experienced earlier when she realized that Drew would spend his night sitting in a cold, drafty tap room without even a blanket or pillow had disappeared. When the innkeeper had told them there were no spare blankets or pillows to be had, Charlotte had gleefully given all the blankets in the carriage to Perkins and Lord Edgeworth’s coachman to use. A petty sense of vengeance had spurred her to do it. Now, though… She groaned at the guilt setting in. In the quiet darkness of her room with her anger ebbed, Charlotte felt churlish and mean to deny Drew and Edgeworth the most basic comforts. She fingered the soft, fuzzy blanket next to her body.
A Summons From Yorkshire (Regency Christmas Summons Collection 1) Page 14
