Cold shocked his system, slithering from the base of his neck down his spine. Snow. Charley must have dropped it down his back. “You little minx.” Not that he didn’t deserve it. He rolled off of her.
She leapt to her feet, brushing snow from her trousers. “Kiss me at the hunting cottage.” She flashed a coy smile, jogging a few steps through the snow before settling into a brisk walk. “You promised to warm me up. Remember?”
Alex gaped in total disbelief. Had he correctly interpreted her double meaning?
“Coming?” Charley asked with the innocent luminescence of an angel.
“Of course.” As if he’d turn down an invitation like that. With the enthusiasm of a green schoolboy Alex clamored to his feet, bounding after her with ground eating strides. “You and I, sweet Charley, may have very different ideas in regard to the meaning of warming up.”
“Oh?” Those huge green eyes flicked up to him. “What is your definition?”
He blinked, assessing… Was she really that innocent? Impossible. She couldn’t be. He glanced down and caught the secretive curve of her lips. No, she wasn’t that innocent after all which meant… He shook away the lurid thought. If he was going to gain Charley’s trust he must hold off on pressuring her for wifely duties. Hell, how many men had been married for three years and not consummated their marriage? Not many to be sure. “I do believe you’re flirting with me.”
“Perhaps, but I don’t have much practice.”
“Why do I find that hard to believe? A pretty girl like you is sure to attract a horde of admirers.”
“You think I’m pretty?” Charley slowed, Alex followed suit and they stopped walking, facing each other. She looked up without warning, pegging him with one of her brilliant smiles. He was lost. Totally wrecked. Sunlight lived in that smile, more luminous than even the diamond speckled snow, and he was a better man for her.
“I think you’re so beautiful it hurts,” he murmured, tugging at a lone curl draped across the side of her face.
“Stop.” She flushed, casting her gaze down into the snow. “You flatter me.”
“No.” He grasped her face, relishing the smooth, creamy skin beneath his calloused hands. Alex refused to break the bond of their eyes. She couldn’t look away from him. She was his life line. His reason for breathing. Life itself paled in comparison to the sheer passion churning in her eyes. “I speak the truth,” he rasped, throat bone dry. “You deserve to be flattered. Lord knows you deserve better than me.”
A flash of undeniable longing shot through her eyes. In response a rush of liquid hot desire surged through him. For a long moment they stood facing each other, searching each other’s eyes, their souls. She reached up, covering his hands with her own. Chilly fingers curled around his palms, her touch cool and searing all at the same time. “What do you mean?”
Memory of the woods in France churned in his brain, battling his conscience. Instinctively he shied from the remembrance. By Christ he couldn’t tell Charley the truth. She’d find out sooner or later, but not yet. For one day he wanted her to look at him with adoration brimming in her eyes. For one day he needed to be the man who saved her from murderers instead of being a murderer. Tomorrow he would tell her the truth about General Witherspoon. Tomorrow.
“Alex, what is wrong?”
He took her hands, wrapping them within his much larger palms and drew them to his lips. “You’re cold,” he murmured, dropping a kiss on the icy digits. “I will be remiss in my husbandly duties if I do not see you to the hunting lodge with all haste.”
She smiled, and the miserable fate awaiting him in London faded. “It would be infinitely more remiss if you did not warm me up once we arrive.” The unspoken invitation was writ all over her face, and Alex was hard pressed not to ravish her there in the powdery snow.
Slow. Go slow. Grudgingly he broke away from his wife and, offering his arm—which she graciously took—continued toward the cottage. Odd, but his wits seemed thoroughly scattered. The only comprehensible thought in his head what he’d like to do to Charley once they reached the lodge. His mind spun, searching for something suitable to say. The weather, politics… Christmas was coming up, did she have plans? But, dear Lord, even the gentle touch of her fingers through the heavy greatcoat sent ripples of vibrant awareness flowing across his skin.
He cleared his throat, searching for a suitable topic of conversation, and the number of ways he wanted to undress her would hardly suffice. “When exactly did my mother take such a poignant dislike to you? If I remember correctly she was the one who most insisted we marry three years ago.”
“Her opinions and loyalties change with the winds.” Charley looked down at their feet and kicked at the snow. “The first offense was when I failed to conceive after the wedding night.”
“So I’d gathered.”
“But what really set her against me is when I gave sanctuary to a woman wishing to leave her abusive husband.”
“Really?” Interest piqued Alex looked down at her with new respect. “What happened?”
Charley shrugged. “There is not much to tell.”
“Why do I not believe that?” He chuckled softly, the incident had certainly been enough to spark his mother’s insatiable ire. More seriously he coaxed, “Truly, love, I’d like to hear the tale.”
Charley remained silent for so long Alex feared she would not confide in him. Trust was a thing long in developing and unfortunately he’d wrecked most of what she’d had in him. “One day about two and a half years ago I was invited to afternoon tea with Lady Carson. A maid in her employ had an absolutely garish bruise all across the left side of her face. The maid claimed some ridiculous excuse of running into an open cabinet.”
“How do you know the excuse was ridiculous?”
Reproachful green fixed on his face. “That’s it. I’m not telling you the rest of the story. You’ll never understand.”
“What? Why do you think I won’t understand?”
“Because you’re already blindly siding with her husband.” Charley rolled her eyes. “Men always do.”
Alex took offense to that. “Oh, and women don’t always side with other women?”
“No, women are far worse. At least men will choose a side, however misguided. Women claim a situation like Missy’s is none of their business, turn their backs to the other woman, and then gossip incessantly behind her back. Women are contemptible.”
Alex paused, regarding his wife with new eyes. Charley spoke with such strength of conviction about subjects he’d never suspected entered her thoughts. She’d always had an unwavering sense of honor; he’d just never realized how deep the root ran. She’d actually incurred the wrath of, not only his mother, but the entire ton to help a woman in need. A maid of far lesser rank even.
“I’m not siding with the husband,” Alex said quietly. “I am merely pointing out that she really may have run into a cabinet.”
“Doors do not have fingers,” she clipped pointedly, staring straight ahead, “and a handprint was clearly visible on Missy’s face.”
“Well, you didn’t include that bit in the first part of the story.”
“Only because you were too busy interrupting me.”
He laid a palm out before them. “Please continue, my lady. I give you my wholehearted promise to listen and nothing more.”
Charley regarded him with serious eyes. “Lady Carson,” she continued at last, “being the gossip she is about anyone and everyone, went on to tell me the woman’s husband was a sailor and that she only had accidents when his ship was in port. The truth of the situation was painfully obvious and I made a point of seeking the girl out. At first Missy was horrified by my questions, denied any mistreatment from her husband, and refused my help.” Charley grew more animated as she talked. “Mind you I can be very persistent and one night she came to Coverstone House beaten and bloodied, begging for help. I couldn’t turn her away and promised to help her get to her aunt in Scotland. Missy’s husband was clo
se on her heels with a handful of other seamen.” She cocked her head contemplatively. “Six I think, but that is of no matter.” She paused as though collecting her thoughts. “Regina was furious, but no matter how she raged I refused to turn the girl out to the drunken mob. Even when they threatened to storm the house I held firm and smuggled Missy out the back door with one of our grooms.”
Alex raised a brow. “How did you hold them off?”
Charley pursed her lips but could not keep a prideful grin at bay. “I took out one of your father’s dueling pistols and threatened to shoot the husband. His name was Josiah Baker. I’ll never forget it as long as I live. Apparently Mr. Baker thought I was serious.”
Alex snorted with laughter. “Were you?”
“I’m not really sure,” she replied honestly. “Fortunately he didn’t press and left never to be seen again. Sailed to Australia of all places I’m told. I hear from Missy from time to time and she is well.”
“That is quite a story.”
“Every word of it is true too,” she said proudly.
He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, kissing the top of her head. “Few would have looked twice at an abused servant woman. I’m proud of you.”
“Thank you.” She snuggled the side of her face in his coat.
“Now, tell me about your charity work.”
“Your mother doesn’t approve.”
“Why does that not surprise me?” He smiled down at her, encouraging. “However, I am not my mother.”
She squeezed his arm, a weak smile accompanying the warm gesture. “Mostly I sponsor funds for the London orphanages, and almost every week I go to read to the children.”
Alex had seen countless thin faced children on the continent, families destroyed, left penniless and—perhaps worse—fatherless due to war. “I should like to join you for that.”
“Truly?” Charley appeared thoroughly astonished, which irked Alex in no small degree. Did everyone believe him a callous, selfish ass?
“Of course.”
“Then I shall hold you to it. The children would love to meet a real war hero. Many of them lost fathers to the war.”
“I probably knew some of them.”
“Have you lost many men?”
“Dozens.” Though if he stopped to count the number would climb to hundreds, and still he remembered every last one. Their names filed neatly away in his mind like rows of tidy soldiers. He dared not forget them lest he lose a piece of his humanity, become like his superiors who no longer saw men, only numbers.
Charley opened her mouth to respond.
“This is a dark subject,” he cut in quickly, deterring further questions. “I daresay, let’s enjoy this beautiful day.”
Charley cocked her head to look up at him, quiet for a long moment mouth puckered in the singular way it did when she warred with what to say. An emotion almost akin to hurt drifted elusively through her eyes, or perhaps more accurately disappointment. “As you wish.”
The flash of emotion was gone before he had much time to dwell on it, leaving Alex oddly discontented, as though he’d erred in some way.
A companionable silence lapsed, and arm in arm, they crested a gently sloping hill and the lodge came in to view. Picturesque and quaint, the small stone cottage sat in a grove of wintry green pine trees, a vision so homey and inviting Alex actually ached. Like a dream from one of Charley’s fairytale novels—and he was sharing it with her. Not that he was a romantic, anything but, however, being with her left him hopeful.
“Finally,” Charley said, releasing his arm, oblivious to his wistfulness. She dashed forward into the snow with an exuberance born of guiltless purity. What he wouldn’t give to feel that innocent again. That young—funny… he was only two years her senior. “I’ll race you to the front door.” She flashed an impish grin over her shoulder and galloped animatedly down the hill.
“That is not fair,” Alex called after her sprinting form. As if he could run as fast as she with a bum leg. Granted, losing was not so bad given the view of her perfectly curved backside. He clocked his head to the side. Yes, losing definitely had its perks.
Breathing Heavily, Charley laid a hand on the front door, surveying the area around the cottage. “Alex, come look at this,” she called. “Someone’s been here.”
Odd. Given the recent snow any fresh footprints would have come from that day. He quickened the pace only to slow when the first booted track struck his gaze. Unease slithered down his spine, rekindling the sense of being watched he’d experienced just the day before. Every hair on the back of his neck stood on end as he scrutinized the woods behind the cabin.
“Rather strange, don’t you think?” Charley appeared as his elbow, pointing a toe at the large print. A few miniature clumps of snow rolled into the indentation.
“Probably one of the hands hired to maintain the place,” Alex rationalized. “The house does look in excellent repair.”
Charley visibly relaxed. “Yes, that does make sense. After those men…” She shuddered and Alex wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She leaned into him, and a thrill of victory shot through him. “After what happened the other night I can’t help but be a little nervous.”
“Understandable, love.” He couldn’t resist dropping a light kiss on her head, relishing the heady perfume of her hair. “How will we get inside? I doubt if the door is unlocked.” Releasing Charley, he strode forward giving the handle a quick shake. Next he rattled the window to the right of the portal. Wouldn’t budge.
“I’ll climb through that window.” She stepped around the stone corner and pointed up. “It’s never locked.”
Alex followed her index finger to the second story. “You’ll never make it up there.”
“Of course I will. Thomas and I used to come here all the time. All I have to do is climb up that tree, open the window and jump inside. It’s not hard.”
A smile tugged at his lips. Some things never changed. “As a gentleman I must insist that I go up the tree in your stead.”
“Nonsense.” Charley grasped the bottom most branch, and propped a booted foot on the wide trunk. “Seeing as I am not behaving as anything of a lady, I see no reason for you to behave as a gentleman.” She flashed another of those puckish grins and climbed up into the lowest set of boughs.
“Charley, I really must protest.” He grabbed the lowest limb, reaching for her hand.
She ignored him, venturing further into the bare, gnarled branches. “Don’t be so overbearing. It makes you seem even stuffier.”
“Stuffier,” he muttered under his breath. Ouch. “I take offense to that.” Silently admitting defeat, for he knew when not to argue with his wife, he stepped beneath her. The least he could do is catch the chit if she tumbled from her precarious perch. “I’m not stuffy, merely concerned for your welfare. How would I explain your broken neck?”
“An accident,” she replied flippantly. “I’m sure your mother would be thrilled.” She straddled a branch level with the window and scooted across, sending a shower of bark down on Alex.
He held up an arm to shield his eyes. Her words bothered him, bringing back the memory of Regina’s reaction after Charley’s kidnapping.
“Besides,” Charley called down, “you would never fit through this window.”
He glanced toward the square white paned casement and grudgingly agreed. The window would never accommodate his shoulders. “Fair enough.”
With the agility of a cat, Charley stood on the branch and leapt onto the narrow ledge. She teetered on the balls of her feet, swinging one arm for balance and grasping the upper windowpane with the other.
Cold fear shot through Alex. “Christ, love, do be careful.”
Hardy laughter rained down in response. “Please, Alex, I’m fine.” She hoisted the window upward and clamored inside. A moment later her head poked through. “Meet me at the front door.” She slammed the portal closed and disappeared.
Alex shook his head, and ambled back to the fron
t door. He leaned against the doorjamb awaiting his wife. What a gem.
The inner lock rattled and a moment later the door swung open, revealing Charley’s disheveled, albeit radiant, form.
“You would make one hell of a soldier.” Alex strode into the cabin, eyes fixed on Charley. All he wanted was to sweep her up and kiss her senseless. Granted he had the sneaking suspicion it would be him falling senseless to her charms.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“As you should.” He advanced on her steadily more than ready to claim that kiss.
“The lodge isn’t terribly big,” Charley said, moving through the small entryway, into the parlor. A meager kitchen split off to one side of the room, and narrow stairs—no doubt leading to a bedroom; he’d love to see the bedroom—sat at the back corner of the parlor. Green and brown décor lent a warm, inviting aura to the interior.
Charley paused before a picture window. Resting her hands on the sill she leaned toward the glass, looking out. His mouth positively watered. The sight of her sultry, petite figure framed against the window was better—more provocative—than any fantasy weaved by his imagination. Tan breeches enunciated the lush line of her hips and thighs, molding to her curves. Russet curls tumbled down her back, entirely devoid of pins. She was a goddess, divined on this earth for the sole purpose of tempting mortal men.
“When I was a girl we’d come stay out here in the summer,” Charley murmured, drawing a finger along the glass. “A stream runs just beyond the garden and the greenest clovers you’ve ever seen grow along the bank. Mama and I would spend hours picking wild flowers and arranging them in this very room. I miss those summers,” she whispered, in a voice so broken and wistful a piece of his heart swelled up and ached.
He swallowed against the lump in his throat. Suddenly he wanted nothing more than to give her one of those magical summers. He wanted to see this place through her eyes, miles of lush clover and brilliant wild flowers, but mostly he wanted to see her smile and wash the melancholy from her tone. Alex cleared his throat. “You’ll have to show me one day.”
Charley turned to him so suddenly Alex was caught entirely unprepared for the enchanting smile she bestowed upon him. “It is so peaceful here. Not another soul in attendance to judge or eavesdrop. We are perfectly alone.”
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