Call of the Wild Wind (Waterloo Heroes Book 2)
Page 10
“Feel what?”
“I don’t know how to explain it other than to say, he made me feel…alive.”
Chelsea chuckled. “That’s how John makes me feel. When he smiles, when he kisses me. When he walks into view.”
“Yes. Exactly. But he annoys me as well.” When he smiled. When he kissed her. When he walked into view.
“Hmm.” Chelsea nodded. “That sounds like love.”
Britannia blinked. “I always imagined love was a peaceful thing. A safe place. A sanctuary. Not this constant…angst.”
“I can only speak for myself, but I have to say, when I first met John, when we first realized we had feelings for each other, it was difficult.”
“How so?”
“He was a groom. I was the earl’s sister. He felt he wasn’t good enough for me. Beyond that, he resisted our attraction because he didn’t remember who he was. I think, even then, he felt conflicted. Perhaps a part of him did remember that he was promised to someone else.”
“Did he tell you when his memory returned?”
Chelsea’s expression soured. “No, he did not.”
“I hope you scold him heartily for that.”
“Oh, I intend to. Trust me.” Her lashes flickered. “So Britannia, do you forgive me for stealing your betrothed?”
“Forgive you?” She stared at the girl in shock. “There is nothing to forgive. You didn’t steal him. None of this was intentional on your part.”
“Can you forgive Peter?”
It only took a moment of thought. “Yes. I can.” And the reason she could so easily release all of her pain and anger was a surprise.
Or maybe not a surprise, as much as a blinding realization.
She loved Peter. But only as a friend.
Charles…
Well, Charles was much, much more. Charles was her heart’s desire.
That annoying, vexing, tempting, irresistible man.
She loved him with everything in her. So much, that if he did not return her feelings, she thought for certain she would expire. Life would cease to have meaning without him in it. The Lucius Ring could claim its victim and she would hardly care.
Upon reflection, she wasn’t sure she liked love at all. Just as the wild adventure she’d always craved, it was far too treacherous.
She turned to Chelsea and took both her hands. “I hope you and Peter will be very happy together.”
“Oh thank you!” Chelsea pulled her into a long hug with lots of rocking and a plethora of pats and sobs. There might have been a tear or two on her part, but Britannia brushed them away. “And what about you?” Chelsea asked. “What about the man you met? Could you have a future with him? Does he love you as well?”
“I don’t know.”
Her hopeful expression fell. “Oh, Britannia. I am sorry.”
“I will have to find out, I suppose.” It was a dismaying feeling, this. To realize she loved Charles with all her heart while not knowing how he felt. How he really felt. She knew he found her attractive. She knew he didn’t mind kissing her. An affair would probably be acceptable to him, as long as her father never found out.
But they’d never talked about this. Not really. They’d never spoken of anything other than what might happen between them should John not be her betrothed.
Britannia glanced down at the ring on her finger, the one with a suddenly ghastly curse attached. She’d never put much stock in the stories her mother and grandmother told her, never worried about being alone for eternity. But only because she hadn’t really understood what it could mean.
Life without Charles was a devastating prospect.
No matter how much he annoyed her. No matter how much easier things would be without this complicated relationship. No matter what.
She sighed. “I should probably talk to him.”
Chelsea blinked. “Talk to him?”
Britannia offered a sad smile. “Haven’t you realized who it is yet?”
“Not Charles?” She stared at Britannia and, at her nod, threw her arms around her once more with a squeal. “Oh, that is brilliant!”
Was it? Was it brilliant?
Or was it a disaster?
“I’m nervous.”
Chelsea grinned. “Don’t be. I’m sure he adores you as well.”
“How can you say that? You’ve just met me.”
“He stared at you all through dinner. And he did not look pleased.”
“That is my point, exactly. He’s been a bear since we arrived.”
“Can you see why? If he does have feelings for you? Being forced to see you reunited with your fiancé? Not certain how things will turn out?”
Britannia put out a lip. “That is no excuse to be rude.”
“Charles is rarely rude. But when he is, there is a reason. And being a man, as he is, it’s usually because he’s not getting his way.”
Oh, that was a lovely thought. “Do you really think so?”
“I think the only way you can find out is by asking him.”
So true.
The thought also made her stomach churn. What if, when put to the point, he did not share her deeper feelings? What if she was the only one interested in pursuing this tension between them? What if—
It was pointless to wonder. She needed to speak with Charles.
If he wasn’t interested in her, so be it. She would leave posthaste even though it would break her heart and, indeed, condemn her to a lifetime of loneliness.
Oh, not because of any old ring. Or curse. Or family legend. But because she knew now, there was no other man for her.
If she could not have Charles, she didn’t want anyone at all.
“Britannia?”
Her pulse lurched and she whirled around to find the object of her thoughts standing in the shadows, hovering at the entrance of the garden.
“Y-yes?”
He hesitated. Kicked the toe of his shoe into the grass. “May I have a moment of your time?”
Britannia glanced at Chelsea, who attempted to hide her smile. She patted Britannia on the shoulder. “I shall leave you two alone.” And then she leaned in and whispered, “Good luck.”
She watched as Chelsea headed back to the house, desperately attempting to calm herself. It didn’t help that Charles stepped closer. But didn’t touch her, thank God. She needed to focus on her questions and she knew if he so much as breathed on her, her attention would shatter.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” he said softly.
“Chelsea and I were done speaking.”
“Were you?” He toyed with a protruding branch, most likely to have something to do with his hands. “What did you talk about?”
“Peter. Or John.”
“And?”
“She loves him.”
“I…ah… How do you feel about that?”
She sucked in a deep breath and locked her gaze on his face. “May I ask you something, Charles?”
He blinked. “Of course.”
“How disappointed were you? When we discovered John was Peter?”
He didn’t answer, but his fingers tightened on the branch. It snapped.
“I’d really like to know, Charles.” The fact that he’d been so blasé, so casual about it, had devastated her.
His lashes flickered. His Adam’s apple bobbed. Without meeting her gaze he said, “I…ah…was verra disappointed.”
“You didn’t seem upset.”
“Upset? Upset?” A snort. He pinned her with his icy-sharp gaze. “Do you no’ know? Can you no’ see it?”
Her heart fluttered. Her head went light. “See what?”
He grimaced and turned away, which made her heart flutter in panic. But then he pinned her with an intense stare and whispered, “Can you no’ see how much I need you?”
Yes. Yes.
“You need me?”
His stare intensified. His features went taut. “Aye.”
“So why did you act like you didn’t care when I found Peter aga
in?”
He huffed a laugh. “Surely that is not a mystery to you?”
“Clearly it is.”
“Do you intend to humble me utterly, Britannia Halsey?”
Humble him? What had she ever done to humble him? “Tell me. Please.”
“How should I act when the woman I love is reunited with the love of her life?”
The woman he loved? Oh lord, had he said that? Had he truly said that?
“He’s not,” she blurted.
Charles blinked. “What?”
“He’s not the love of my life.” She took his hands and stared into his eyes, willing all her adoration to shine through.
He must have missed it, for he broke away and raked his hair with his fingers. “Beyond that, you are the daughter of a duke. You’ve lived in London your whole life.”
“I rather prefer the country.”
He ignored her. “And what am I? Naught but a lowly Scot. A savage. A lesser soul?”
“No. No. Never.” She tugged on his arm until he turned to her. “Never. Never that.”
“Then what?” His tone was ragged, his eyes red-rimmed.
“What are you to me?” she asked.
“Yes.”
Her heart swelled. “Everything. You are everything to me.”
To her aggravation, he did not seem to believe her. He stood rigid, his expression harsh. “My life is here. In Scotland.” He gestured to the lovely garden, the beautiful vista beyond the shore, dappled in moonlight as it was. “A far cry from the life you lead in London. I couldn’t ask you to—”
“I hated that life. Hated those parties. Hated pretending. Hated interacting with insincere and arrogant members of the ton.” She stepped closer and took hold of his sleeve as though, by that small gesture, she could claim him. Keep him.
He stared at her hand for a moment, then swallowed. “What about Peter?”
“Peter can worry about Peter.”
“But your betrothal?”
She snorted. “I believe Peter has other plans. With your blessing, of course.”
He stared at her for a long, long moment, as though he were fitting the pieces of a puzzle together in his head. At long last, he said, “And what do you want in all this, Britannia?”
“I think you know.” She set her hand on his cheek and he turned into it. There was no need for prevarication. Not anymore.
He stared at her. His eyes shone. His nostrils flared. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
She sucked in a breath and prepared herself to say the words she’d been holding back for so long, even before she knew them. “I love you, Charles Grant. I love you with all my heart.” Ah. They tasted good.
“Then you’re mine?”
She tipped back her head and gazed up at him. “Yours and yours alone, my wild warrior.”
He snorted a laugh. “Hardly wild.”
“Very wild.” She smiled him. “I mean, verra wild. When you kiss me, at least.”
His eyes narrowed. His intensity flared. “That is an invitation if I’ve ever heard one,” he said, and he lowered his head and kissed her.
It was, perhaps, a coincidence that just then, the wild Scottish wind kicked up, whipping through the garden with an unholy and glorious glee, as though the elements themselves were celebrating Charles and Britannia with the enthusiasm of someone who’d had a role in bringing the two together.
Or perhaps it was no coincidence at all.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Her Royal Hotness, Sabrina York, is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of hot, humorous stories for smart and sexy readers. Her titles range from sweet & sexy to scorching romance. Visit her webpage at www.sabrinayork.com to check out her books, excerpts and contests.
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Books by Sabrina York
HISTORICAL
BookShots
Bedding the Highlander
Waterloo Heroes
Tarnished Honor
Call of the Wild Wind
Untamed Highlanders
Hannah and the Highlander Book 1
Susana and the Scot Book 2
Lana and the Laird Book 3
The Dundragon Time Travel Trilogy
Laird of her Heart Book 1
Her Hot Highlander Book 2 (Coming Soon)
His Highland Lass Book 3 (Coming Soon)
Noble Passions Series
Dark Fancy, Book 1
Dark Duke, Book 2
Brigand, Book 3
Defiant, Book 4
Folly, Book 5
CONTEMPORARY
Stand Alone
Heartbreak on a Stick (Contemporary Romance)
Pool Man (Sexy Vacation Debacle)
Whipped (Contemporary Romance)
Fierce (One Night Stand, Decadent Publishing)
Snow Angels (Calendar Men Series from Decadent Publishing)
Stone Hard SEALs—Action Adventure Romance
Stone Hard SEALs (Action-Packed Military Romance Duet)
Guard Dog (Stone Hard SEALs/Hot SEALs Crossover)
Herding Cat (Stone Hard SEALs/Hot SEALs Crossover)
Hot Rod (Omega Team)
Stripped Down Cowboys (And Prequel Novellas)
Stud For Hire, Book 1
Cowboy to Command, Book 2
Spurred On, Book 3
Prequel Novellas
The Real McCoy Prequel Book 1
Come Hell or High Water Prequel Book 2
Protect and Serve—Cowboy Justice 12 Pack Prequel Book 3
Tryst Island Series—Steamy Contemporary Romance
Rebound Book 1
Dragonfly Kisses Book 2
Smoking Holt Book 3
Heart of Ash Book 4
Devlin’s Dare Book 5
Parker’s Passion Book 6
COLLECTIONS
Cowboys
Protect and Serve—Cowboy Justice 12 Pack
Elite Metal/Action Adventure
Lithium’s Rescue—Elite Metal Ghosts
Sterling’s Seduction—Elite Metal Collection