by Dayna Quince
“You want me to hit you?”
He chuckled. “No—well, perhaps we will include that at some point. You never know when words will cease to be effective, and only a right hook will do.”
Charlotte frowned. “I don’t know what any of that means.”
He moved closer to her, crowding her against the cot. She didn’t back up because his closeness was something she desperately wanted. She took a slow breath to quiet her pounding heart.
“Chadwick may grow restless. What will you do?” His eyes grew dark. “He wants you. He couldn’t talk enough about you during our trip to London. If only I’d known it was you.”
“He was like that from the beginning,” Charlotte murmured. She licked her lips.
“Was he?”
“I did nothing to encourage him, I assure you.” She wanted to reach for him and pull him closer.
“I believe you. But men like Chadwick and Shelding, they don’t need encouragement.” He moved a fraction closer. “They take what they want. They feel it is already owed to them by the mere fact it exists and that they want it.”
“That isn’t fair.” The air felt thinner, each breath more shallow and difficult than the last. Holding herself back from him hurt.
“Life rarely is for people like you and me, Charlotte. But we don’t give in. We fight back. Most, like Chadwick, will be frightened off by the resistance. They are confused by it and retreat. But men like Shelding get violent. They bully, and they beat, until their opponent is too weak to fight back.”
Charlotte swallowed. “You’re scaring me.” It was as if he could see her future. He could see all her fears clearer than she could.
“Fear is good and allows you to be aware and prepare. Fear is a gift and animal instinct. It tells us to run or fight. Sometimes you can’t run, so one must fight.”
“I can’t do that.”
“You have to. You have no choice.”
“How?”
“With me. I’m going to…force myself on you, and I want you to fight me off. Fight with everything you have.”
Her heart lurched. “What if I hurt you?”
“Don’t think of that. Think about you. Protect yourself at whatever cost.” She tried to shake her head. He caught her face in his hands.
“Chadwick, Shelding, they won’t give you a choice. They are going to hurt you anyway they can to get what they want. It starts with me. You know I mean you no harm. I am safe. You are safe. Practice defending yourself now, when it isn’t really needed, so that you can be ready when it is.”
“I cannot do that. I don’t know how to fight.”
“You do. Everyone has the will to survive. That includes fighting for one’s life. Even flowers have thorns to protect themselves. You have much more than that.”
Charlotte took a deep breath. She could smell him, and at once, she was calm. She closed her eyes. “I’m ready.”
“I’ve caught you in the hall. I’m trying to force you into a room. What do you do?”
Charlotte opened her eyes. “No.”
“Who are you saying no to so weakly? I think you want this.” He pulled her against him. Charlotte’s mind flashed to Edward, to the moment he had her pinned against her own door. How many times had she feared that exact moment, feared entering a dark hall where he may be lurking?
“No, Edward.”
“Be meaner. Fight.” His hands roughly pawed at her back.
“Get off me you…you—”
“I like a little resistance. It makes me feel powerful. I think you want me, Charlotte. Just as much as I want you.”
Charlotte tensed. In her mind, she’d heard Edward’s voice, not Thorn’s. “You disgust me. Remove yourself at once.”
“Or what? I own you. You will submit to me.” He nuzzled her neck, exactly as Edward had done before.
“No!” Charlotte barked in his ear.
His head pulled away. “Good.”
“What?”
“You were firm. Your tone left no room for argument, and you also hurt my ear.” He rubbed his ear.
“I’m sorry.” She felt shaky now. The moment had felt too real. She didn’t like it. She didn’t want memories of Edward invading her closeness with Thorn.
“Now, I’m going to attack you again, but this time I’ll show you some sensitive parts to strike to wound him.”
“No. I don’t like this.” She rubbed her arms.
“You’ll like being raped even less.”
Her gaze snapped to his. She felt all the color leave her face.
He rushed to her. “Charlotte? I’m sorry. That was beyond crass. I was only trying to impress upon you the seriousness of this.”
“Don’t you think I know how serious it is? I’ve had to live with him for months, and he has already done exactly what you did.”
His face hardened. “He did what?”
“Cornered me against my door, pressed himself against me, trying to convince me to allow him liberties. It was revolting. I don’t want him to ruin my memories of you. I don’t want to think of him when I’m with you.”
“Charlotte.” He pulled her close again, this time with gentle hands. He stroked her back and her hair, soothing her. “I’m sorry.”
“So am I.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t say no from the very beginning when my father asked me to agree to this travesty. I’m sorry… I’m sorry for every moment I should have said something and I didn’t.”
“Hush. You cannot dwell on the past. Nothing can change it, but you have the control now.”
“It doesn’t feel like it.”
“Look at me.” He tilted her face up. She didn’t want to look at him, at his caring eyes. She wanted to bury herself in him, in his calm words, his conviction. That was what she needed, if only it was as simple as absorbing it through touch, like a fine oil on the skin. She would lather herself with him, and then she could be stronger, better.
But instead, she met his eyes, feeling as though she could never have any of the things she wanted, especially him. She absorbed him with her eyes, committing his face to memory. In all her life, no one had ever looked at her as he did now, as if they were the only two people in existence. The shabby cabin, the scary world outside of it all disappeared. He was her sun, her single source of light and warmth.
“Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?” She took a shaky breath.
“Like I’m more than a common man.”
“But you are.”
“You make me want to believe I am.”
“I can believe enough for the both of us. You have all the strength, and I have all the faith.”
He shook his head. “Don’t. If I let myself feel more of what…what you make me feel, I’ll kiss you.”
“Please do it. I need you to.”
He did, and her soul sang. His lips plundered hers. She opened her mouth, welcoming him. If he stopped, she thought she might die. He was giving her life. His touch made her feel whole, connected to every part of herself in a way she’d never been before. She could feel everything, her heart, her blood racing through her, her skin tingling. She was alive.
She wanted so many things at once; she couldn’t focus on just one. She needed more, to feel his bare skin, to feel his lips everywhere on her body. She didn’t know if such a thing was acceptable, but it sounded divine in her mind.
Charlotte reached up, needing to touch him as much as she needed his touch. She dug her fingers into his hair, feeling the small tie holding it back fall away. His hair fell into her hands. Softer than any man’s hair has a right to be. She took a fist full in each hand, glorying in the pleasure that lanced her body, making her hot all over. She squirmed, her body becoming restless, especially where the heat pooled between her legs.
He groaned, the deep rumble echoing her own ravaging need.
“Yes,” she cried softly.
“No, Charlotte.” He trie
d to pull away, but she wouldn’t let him. He pressed his forehead to hers.
“This isn’t why I’m here. I’m supposed to help you.”
“You are helping me.”
He chuckled. “I was supposed to teach you to fend off advances. Not make them.”
“I’m making the advance. Are you going to fend me off?” She looked up into his eyes, begging with her own.
“No. I don’t think I can.”
She came up on her toes to kiss him, but he was so much taller than her that she couldn’t reach. He bent to her, catching her lips and swooping her into his arms. He sat on the cot, it moaned under their weight, but they didn’t stop kissing. The room around them fell to a hush. The only sounds Charlotte could hear were their mixed breaths, and her pulse pounding in her ears. It was a lovely sound that matched the fever in her skin, a symphony of all her want and desire for this man.
It was a perfect moment, until the shuffle of feet outside the door ruined it. They both stilled, their lips and bodies peeling apart slowly.
Then someone knocked.
“Thorn,” came a whispered voice.
“It’s Pruitt.” He gently slid her off his lap. Charlotte stood, feeling exposed and scared.
He straightened his clothes, and she did the same. They had been caught. She couldn’t stop her hands from shaking as she moved away from the cot, clutching the basket and holding it in front of her body.
Thorn waited until she nodded before opening the door. Pruitt stood there, his expression stating he had quite a few ideas about what they had been up to.
Shamefully, Charlotte looked away.
“Shelding came by the house. He was expecting to see you.”
“And?” Thorn folded his arms across his chest. “What did you tell him?”
“I told him you were down at the docks. He left word that he expects you for dinner tonight.”
Thorn looked back at Charlotte. “Do you know anything about this?”
She shook her head. “I only see him or speak to him when it cannot be avoided.”
“I don’t think he knows of this place,” Pruitt said.
Charlotte met his eyes. “He doesn’t.”
“I suggest we all make haste to our expected destinations.”
Charlotte nodded. She put on her cloak and grabbed the basket again. The men stepped aside while she passed. She stopped at the door. She wanted to say goodbye to Thorn properly, to know this wasn’t the mistake he might think it was, but Pruitt stood there like a sentinel.
“Good afternoon, gentlemen.” She turned away and fled.
“Goodbye,” they murmured.
Thorn gathered his coat and smothered the fire. He knew Pruitt had a lecture just bursting to get out of him.
“What the devil was going on back there?” Pruitt growled as they strode back to the house.
“Not what you think,” Thorn said.
“How long have these rendezvous been happening.”
“What business is it of yours?”
“That’s precisely it, Thorn. It is our business. I have a stake in this venture.”
“Just as you suspected, Charlotte needs help. She’s been manipulated into a marriage with Chadwick. I’m trying to help her develop her inner strength so that she can leave him and claim her own life.”
Pruitt scoffed. “You were doing a fine job of that when I passed by the window. Your skills never cease to amaze me.”
Thorn could feel heat climbing his neck. “I never took you for a voyeur.”
“I came here to warn you. I knew you were up to something. You’ll be damned lucky if Shelding doesn’t suspect something.”
“Why would he? I’ve only met Charlotte once in his presence. We barely spoke. Why would he ever suspect we’ve been meeting? Only you know—only you can suspect because you’ve seen Charlotte and I together as ourselves.”
“What do you mean?”
“The single time we met at the house, we pretended not to know each other. But you know differently.”
“Yes, and I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist her.”
“Resist her?”
“I’ve never seen a fool fall harder for a woman than you.”
Thorn stopped and turned to Pruitt. “I’m trying to help her.”
“Yes. With your tongue.”
Thorn put his hands on his hips. “That’s beside the point. Yes, we have a strong attraction to each other, but I’ve been seeing her twice a day almost every day for a month, and this was the first time that attraction got the best of us.”
Pruitt looked skeptical.
“This is not something I would lie about. We both know the risks.”
“You are flaunting those same risks. What will you do at dinner tonight? Pretend you don’t know her again? She is young, and I have a feeling she’s put a lot of her heart and hope on you. You think she could manage a cool response from you?”
“She has to. She knows that.”
“I hope you both are as good at acting as you wish to be.” Pruitt began walking again. “Because from what I saw, she was ready to—”
“Stop talking.” Thorn marched past him. “Don’t say another word.”
Chapter 13
May 4th, 1823
Dear Rose,
I hope this letter finds you well. I have so much to tell you, I cannot even begin to describe all that has happened. I’m still trying to understand it myself. My father succumbed at last. It should be a relief. He fought so very hard right until the end. But it feels worse now. I feel lost. There is more to say, but I cannot do it right now.
* * *
Charlotte
Charlotte dressed for dinner and entered the dining room first. She counted the minutes on the mantle clock until she thought she might go mad. Checking the hall, there was no sign of anyone joining her yet. She was ready far earlier than usual. She did something she’d never done before.
She poured herself a drink.
Per Lady Shelding, a woman should never drink spirits. The only exception being champagne for toasts. And wine. Lady Shelding drank wine as if it were water, but she never allowed Charlotte more than one watered half glass.
But this evening was like no other, so she poured herself a bit of sherry. They kept it for guests, but it was never touched. Charlotte poured herself just a splash and quickly drank it. It was abysmally sweet at first, but the taste that lingered in her mouth invited her to try more. She poured a bit more, this time taking a slower sip to enjoy it.
She finished it quickly and hid the glass in the cabinet below. She would have to remember to retrieve it at some point. Turning away, she took her usual spot, but once she sat, she stood again. She felt like pacing, but such an act was not typical for her, not in the company of the Shelding’s. She always made herself as small as possible in their presence. She did whatever she had to do to attract the least attention.
Sensing commotion in the hall, Charlotte dove for her spot on the sofa, holding her breath so as not to appear winded, and calmly straightened her skirts.
“You’re early,” Lady Shelding said upon entering. “No doubt you are eager to see Edward. He’s been busy with this new business venture, I dare say. It is lovely to have an evening with us all together.” Lady Shelding sat with her spine rigid as she slowly lowered to the sofa.
Charlotte marveled at her ability to lower herself without having to bend whatsoever. It was a bit unnatural.
“Good evening, Lady Shelding,” Charlotte murmured.
“We need to discuss wedding preparations. The time draws near. Lord Shelding expects to know that date tonight. The banns can be read next Sunday, and the wedding held on October 4th.”
Charlottes hands clenched in reaction. “Oh?” was all she could manage. It was so soon, too soon. She needed more time.
Lady Shelding turned to her, her head cocked to the side. Charlotte stilled. Lady Shelding rarely looked at her directly. “Does the date not please you?” Her tone was
rather arch. Charlotte felt baited. What could she say?
“Um…the fourth is lovely.”
“Come now, Charlotte. You don’t sound the least bit excited about selecting your wedding date.”
Charlotte bit her lip. Was never a date? She had to think of something.
“I never considered a fall wedding. Spring or summer would be better, don’t you think?”
Lady Shelding stilled, her head slowly turning to the door. Then she turned back to Charlotte, taking her hand. She gripped it tightly, almost to the point of painful. Her hands were like cold marble, if marble had claws.
“Don’t let Shelding hear you utter such stupidity. We’ve already accommodated you enough. We only postponed because the good pastor insisted, but you will not be shown such leniency a second time. Heed my warning.” Lady Shelding let go.
Charlotte stared back at her with alarm, rubbing her hand.
“Pick a date.”
“The eleventh.”
“Oh, that is Edwards birthday! How divine. Why didn’t I think of that?”
Charlotte looked away to recover her composure.
At that same moment, the gentlemen entered. Charlotte steeled herself. She took a deep breath and turned to face them, carefully schooling her expression to one of bland curiosity.
Lord Shelding coolly smiled at Thorn as they entered, with Edward looking mulish as he followed. His face transformed when he saw Charlotte, and he hurried to her side.
“My love. How it rejuvenates me to see you.” He took her hand and the space between herself and his mother. Charlotte cringed inwardly.
“Edward, dear. Charlotte has chosen your birthday as the day you will be married. Isn’t that lovely?”
“But I always go to London on my birthday. Madame Legrand always has a special surprise for me on my birthday.”
“Boy, you can go to the brothel after you’ve wed. Weddings are early affairs, remember? Return the next day and do your duty.” Lord Shelding said from the sideboard where he poured himself and Thorn a drink. “I’d prefer the earliest date possible, but the eleventh will do if it pleases Miss Angelwood.”
Charlotte had had enough. She pulled her hand from Edward’s sweaty paw. She looked down, her cheeks fuming, her stomach roiling. She could feel Thorn watching, a witness to her shame. What would he think of her now? This was what they had been discussing, the reason they met so often. If she didn’t find the courage to speak up now, would she ever? Her hands fisted, her nails biting into her palms. She looked up. She caught Thorn’s gaze as he sipped his drink. His eyes smoldered. He looked angry, vengeful, like a God who could smite with one swing of his hammer. But this wasn’t his fight.
