Wildwood Flower

by Dayna Quince

  “Mr. Angelwood kept meticulous records of his failed crops, season after season, but he didn’t have a clue what he was doing.”

  “What was he growing?’

  “Clover, wheat, and hops. All three failed. He blamed it on the weather and his cursed luck.”

  She heard Thorn snort. “The weather? The weather is excellent here.”

  “Yes, but it proved too damp for his crops, if you know what I mean.”

  Charlotte could hear Shelding’s smugness and imagine the slimy smile that accompanied the words. She bit her fist to keep herself from doing something irrational.

  “I think I do,” Thorn said after a moment of silence. “So how did you do it?”

  “We both have channels connected to Faversham creek. Every night my tenant would lift the gate that controlled the flow of water. By morning, all evidence would be gone. As I said, only the strongest and smartest succeed.”

  The chair groaned as Shelding pushed himself up. “I have a meeting to attend to, but I will say I am pleased with the speed that the brewery was built. This first harvest will be a huge success. The biggest in the area.”

  Charlotte waited for Thorn to respond but he didn’t. The men strode to the door and left. She waited until she couldn’t hear anything and crawled out from the desk.

  Vibrating with rage, she sat on the floor. Shelding had sabotaged her father’s crops. He was the reason for their financial ruin. The last two years of her father’s life had been spent in agony, and Shelding was to blame for all of it. She couldn’t believe a person could be so evil.

  She slowly stood, noticing the drawer that had been locked was still slightly open. She pulled and lifted out the ledger. Opening it, a slip of paper fell out and floated to the carpet. Charlotte bent and picked it up, setting the ledger down and opening the note. Her heart fluttered.

  Luck was finally on her side. It was a note from Mr. Frank, complete with return address. She folded it and tucked it in her pocket.

  All she had to do now was find her old dresses. She peeked into the hall and listened for voices or steps, but once again, the house felt empty. She wondered about the horses out front. Shelding would have recognized his own horses and groom, unless he came from the rear of the house and entered through the drawing room. She hoped that was the case.

  She pushed the thought away and hurried up the stairs to the attic. She’d find out soon enough what happened. In the attic, she found her trunk and an old leather satchel. She stuffed it with three dresses. She would ask James to return for the rest later today. She hurried down the stairs, almost to the first floor when a door opened. She froze, turning to see who may have caught her.

  Blue eyes stared back at her.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “This is my property. I can come and go as I please.” She felt the fire in her blood, fueled by anger, even hate. She turned to face him fully. “You may as well pack your things and leave. Once I get hold of my father’s solicitor, I will have you evicted from here and any profits gained from the hops will be mine.”

  He stepped into the hall. “You think Shelding won’t fight you?”

  “I know he will. But he is a thief. No amount of cunning sabotage will stop me from taking back what is rightfully mine.”

  He stepped toward her, his eyes blazing. Charlotte held her ground. For the first time in her life, she was not going to bend to another’s will.

  There was a commotion in the hall. Charlotte looked over her shoulder. She saw a maid enter the hall. Abruptly she was scooped up, and a hand covered her mouth. Her hood flew over her face as the world tipped, and then just as abruptly she was set down again, but the hand didn’t leave her mouth.

  She glared at Thorn.

  He kept one arm around her, presumably to keep her from running. She looked around, finding herself in one of the guest rooms, and now apparently Thorn’s room. She recognized the green tweed coat tossed on the bed as his.

  “Shelding may still be here,” he whispered.

  Charlotte remained still.

  “Are you going to scream?”

  “Are you mad?” She said against his hand.

  He dropped his hand, but his arm still caged her. She didn’t let her mind dwell on how wonderful it felt.

  “I don’t want to be caught here anymore than you want to be caught with me here. My only business was an address for Mr. Frank and my dresses.” She looked around. “Where are my dresses?”

  “You dropped them in the hall. Wait here. I’ll see if it is clear.”

  She waited. She had no other option. He was back in a moment, satchel in hand.

  “Were these really worth the risk of coming here?”

  “Yes. I have nothing else to wear.” She snatched the satchel from him, shoving the clothing back into the bag.

  “Excuse me.” She brushed past him, mind in turmoil. She hated him, she was sure of it, but every touch made her want more. She didn’t want to be angry with him. He didn’t come here to steal from her. But nevertheless, he was.

  “Wait.” He grabbed her arm. “I’ll help you sneak out of here.”

  She yanked her arm away. “I don’t want your help.” She hated how weak her voice sounded. She took a deep breath and met his eyes. “I don’t want anything from you.”

  “You wanted my help before.”

  “Yes.” She swallowed. Her throat felt tight. Just looking at him hurt. She felt hollow and cold. Anger was not a warm bedfellow. No matter how hot it burned in your head, it left the heart frozen. “But now I don’t.”

  “You need my help. You cannot do this on your own. I don’t think you know how treacherous this is going to be. Shelding is dangerous.”

  “I know but so are you.”

  “I would never hurt you.” He stepped toward her again, his eyes softer. “Please, Charlotte. This morning killed me. I’m so sorry for every word.”

  “You can’t take them back. It doesn’t change anything.” She wanted to run away. The more she looked at him, the more his words sunk into her bones, the weaker she felt. “Stay away from me.” She forced herself to take a step back, her back bumping into the door.

  “You heard Shelding. There isn’t a level he won’t stoop to get what he wants. You were in the hall, weren’t you?”

  “No. I was under the desk—”

  “What?”

  “I heard everything he said, and now I can write directly to my father’s—my solicitor,” she corrected herself.

  “And say what exactly.” He folded his arms.

  “That Shelding is trying to steal my land.”

  “He already has.”

  “No. Not completely. He only has so much power until I marry Edward, which I will not be doing. Therefore, he can’t legally take my land, and you cannot grow hops on it without my permission, which you have, but you won’t be keeping any of the profits.” Charlotte turned back to the door. She felt good about her position now.

  “I agree.”

  That stopped her short. “You agree?”

  “Shelding may think he’s being clever in his business tactics, but what he really is, is a scheming bastard. That is not how I do business, and I don’t want to be associated with anyone who does.”

  “You already are.”

  “But I can end it.” He uncrossed his arms and stepped to her. “Let me fix my part in this mess. It’s the least I can do.”

  “How?” She tried to move back, but doing so meant putting her back to the door. She summoned her anger, her courage, every ounce of the wrath that had carried her here, but facing him again scattered her wits. Her tender heart throbbed for him, her body ached with longing to get closer, to feel his strength and gentle touch once more. Charlotte fought the urge. She would only be hurt again.

  “I can testify that Lord Shelding mislead me. I came here under the pretense that this land was his. If this goes awry—and it will—I don’t want my brewery and reputation to go with it.”

  C
harlotte raised her chin. The words stung. She shouldn’t have expected anything less. “The reputation of your brewery?”

  “Yes. My family depends on me. This brewery is all that we have.”

  Charlotte closed her eyes and nodded. “I understand.” She pulled herself together, but it took all her effort. “I will pass on your sentiments to Mr. Frank.”

  “May I have his address so I may write to him myself?”

  Charlotte bit her lip. Watching him carefully, she couldn’t detect a trace of deception, but she was afraid. “I suppose I can include your missive with mine.”

  He frowned. “You don’t trust me?”

  “I can’t risk Shelding knowing what I’m doing. As far as I’m concerned, you are still his business partner.”

  His face hardened. “I see.”

  “Good. I must go now.” She spun around and turned the knob.

  He put his hand on the door. “Charlotte.”

  She dared not move. She could feel him right behind her, not quite touching her but close enough his breath stirred the fine hairs on the nape of her neck. She should have been afraid, but she wasn’t. He was not a monster, not the way Shelding and Edward were. She’d known that since the moment she’d set eyes on him in the meadow. He’d never do her physical harm.

  But her heart was already broken.

  “Charlotte, you have to trust me.”

  “I can’t.”

  “You have to.”

  “Why is that?” Charlotte turned around and met his eyes.

  He was so close, his eyes glowed as he looked down at her, and Charlotte had the sensation of falling. She struggled to keep her head straight. “Give me a reason to trust you.”

  “I would never hurt you.”

  “I think it’s been established that you already have.”

  He winced a little. Did he feel guilty? It was nothing compared to the raw anguish she felt inside, the open wound being liberally sprinkled with lemon and salt every minute she was near him.

  “But I never wanted to hurt you. I take full responsibility. I should have never let myself want you. I should have stayed away from you.”

  Her heart was pounding now, reverberating in her ears. “Why didn’t you?”

  “I couldn’t.”

  She wanted to pinch her eyes close and spare herself the anguish she would feel whenever she remembered this moment. His expression was a look of regret and it killed her. “I’m sorry,” she murmured and forced herself to look away. Her eyes burned with the rush of tears.

  “Christ, Charlotte, don’t be sorry. You have nothing to be sorry for. This is my fault. I’m the one that damned us both.”

  Charlotte took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She didn’t want to see his face as she bared her soul to him, but it had to be said, because this may be her only chance.

  “I know you think that we’ve done something worthy of regret, but I don’t. For the first time, I got to feel what I’d only dreamed of feeling. The moment I saw you… It was as if my prayers had been answered. The person I’d been looking for all my life was in front of me. I cannot regret a single moment with you, because every one of them is precious, even the awful ones, like this one.”

  As she inhaled, firm lips caught hers. His arms came around her in a hug tight enough to bar her from breathing. His arms relaxed, allowing her to breath, and she wrapped her arms around his neck as he carried her away from the door. She inhaled his scent, the musk of leather and soap. His beard abraded her skin, but she loved it. The roughness made their kiss real and raw, exactly how she felt whenever she was in his arms. No more dreaming, no more wishing, no more prayers. In his arm’s, she was alive.

  Her legs hit the bed, and he collapsed, almost suffocating her under his weight until he propped himself up on his elbows. He broke the kiss, burying his face in her neck, worshiping the skin below her ear with scalding, slow kisses, burning a trail all the way to her collarbone.

  “I’m so sorry, Charlotte,” he said to her skin. “I wanted to resist you, for both our sakes, but I can’t. I wanted to protect you and save you, but I’m just a man, and your words have undone me.” He stopped kissing her and pressed his cheek to her chest, over her pounding heart. Charlotte was afraid to move for fear he might resume control of whatever her confession had unleashed in him. She wanted this, she wanted it more than anything in the entire world.

  “No one has ever made me feel like I am more than a common man. No one but you. You make me want to move mountains and part the seas for you. You make me want to…to…”

  “To harness thunder?” She couldn’t help saying. He may not be Thor, but he would always be her Thorn. Better than any god of legend, because he was a flesh and blood man, warm, strong, and worth so much more than he could know. To her, he was everything because…because she loved him, because she was in love with him. She’d thought it before, but now it was undeniable. No matter what happened, whether he left her tomorrow or a month from now, she would love him until her last breath.

  “Never be sorry for this. I want this too.” She shivered as he pulled her skirts up, her nerves shrieking, but she did not resist him. Her legs parted as his hand moved up her thigh and to her folds. She sighed, the touch of his fingers a welcome delight. He was everywhere, over her, around her, inside her. She wanted to experience everything at once, but she could only focus on one thing at a time.

  What held her attention presently was the hard ridge against her thigh. She could feel the heat of his manhood through his trousers, and it called to her. She wanted it, she wanted him. She felt empty inside, a moan escaping her as she bucked against his hand, searching for him, craving the completeness of joining with him at last.

  It was the most selfish desire she’d ever claimed for herself. She’d given up everything, but she was going to give herself to him, no matter what happened afterward. This was going to be for her. Her single moment of pure happiness.

  “Thorn, please,” she begged, afraid that at any moment he would stop, refuse her again for the empty reward of not risking her future. But to Charlotte nothing else mattered. She wanted to be claimed by him, she wanted to be completely his in every carnal way. She wanted him to be her first everything.

  He groaned, the words unintelligible.

  Charlotte reached for the buttons of his breeches. Her fingers scrambled to undo them. “I need to feel you.”

  “Wait.” He pulled away.

  Now it was Charlotte’s turn to groan, but hers was one of frustration. She fisted her hands at her sides, her teeth grinding. “Don’t tell me to wait. I’ve been waiting two years to feel like this, two years of suffering Edward’s attention. No other man would look at me or dare touch me.”

  “I’m trying to save you, even from yourself.” He sat back on his haunches.

  She arched up to her elbows. “I don’t want you to save me from this.”

  “This”—he jerked his hand between them—“is reckless.”

  “I’m not asking you to marry me. I know your only desire is to build your brewery and return home. I just want to have this moment with you, to have these memories for myself no matter where it takes me.”

  “Or where it leaves you, ruined, possibly carrying my child. Am I supposed to accept that and be able to walk away?”

  Charlotte felt lightheaded. Her lungs could only manage quick shallow breaths. “I’ll risk it.”

  “I won’t.” He climbed off the bed. He turned away and set his hands on his hips. He was breathing hard.

  “You may want this for yourself and damn the consequences, but when those consequences mean my own flesh and blood, it is not so easy for me to give in and then walk away.”

  Charlotte’s cheeks burned with a shameful blush as she shoved her skirts down and slid off the bed. “You expect me to believe you’ve been celibate all your life?”

  “No, but you are not those women.”

  “Then what kind of woman am I?”

  He turned to
face her. “A woman who deserves more than I could ever offer.”

  Charlotte was not mollified, not when her body ached with need and unspent desire, not when his rejection felt like an insult and not an honorable action. She felt alone, and she was afraid that she would always be this way.

  “Perhaps one day I will be one of those women, and we shall meet again.” She strode to the door and picked up her satchel.

  “I am doing right by you.”

  “It feels awful.” She snatched open the door.

  There was a squeak of surprise from the hall. Charlotte met the eyes of the woman. She recognized her. She was a common face around town, an older woman who hired herself as temporary help when needed.

  “Margery.” Charlotte nodded and slipped out the door.

  “Miss Angelwood.” Margery dipped awkwardly.

  Charlotte raced down the stairs and out the front door. She paused in the drive, looking around in dismay. Had the groom left her stranded?

  There was a whistle, and then he appeared from around the side of the house. “Over hear, miss.”

  He led the horses to her. Charlotte wanted to weep with relief, but she was determined to hold the storm inside her at bay until she was alone in her room.

  “You hid from Lord Shelding?”

  “Aye, miss. I thought it best he not know we’re here.”

  “Brilliant, Max. You did the right thing.”

  “Did he see you inside?”

  “No, I hid from him, but I may be discovered anyhow.” Charlotte pulled herself into the saddle. She looked up at the house, seeing the shadow of a lone figure in the window. She didn’t know who it could be, but she imagined it was Thorn. She jerked her horse away and rode down the drive at a gallop.

  She could feel an invisible noose around her neck.

  Chapter 16

  July 6th 1823

  Father,

  I have arrived safely in England. I have met with Lord Shelding, and things are moving quickly. The hops yard is thriving, and I predict this venture will be most lucrative. I hope things are well at home. Give mother a kiss for me, and tell Christine to keep my brothers in line. The climate and scenery is pleasant here, it looks the same as home. There are trees, hills, clouds, and farmland as far as the eye can see, but it feels different. I know I’m not home here. Nothing is like home. I will return soon, and I promise to bring gifts for everyone.