Page 29 of Charlotte's Kisses

At last, the proof he required since Cornelius and Mary Ravenforde were Theodore’s parents.

Hugh stretched his arms above his head and then rubbed his tired eyes. Exhaling long and hard, he dropped his gaze to his notes. He’d been so preoccupied he had not realized the sun had set. He would need to light the lantern if he meant to continue reading and writing. But why would he do that when Charlotte would be there soon and set the room ablaze?

Whistling a happy tune, he dropped his notes and the books into the trunk. He dragged the trunk across the room. Pushing the bed over a few inches, he hid the box in the corner beside it. After pouring himself another drink, he leaned against the headboard, and waited for his glowworm—nay, his magnificent firefly—to light up the cottage.

Chapter sixteen

Since Charlotte had spentthe day anticipating her visit with Hugh, she’d been unable to concentrate on anything except for the book she’d pilfered from the highest shelf in the library. Her father may have thought he’d hiddenThe Secret Life of Gentlemen, but Alexander had found it when he was about fourteen years old. Soon after, Charlotte had stumbled upon her red-faced, stammering brother. He had tried to conceal that he’d been looking at the book; therefore, Charlotte pretended she hadn’t seen a thing. But later that evening, she’d snuck into the library, climbed the ladder, and retrieved the shocking manuscript. Naked men and women in various positions filled over two hundred pages. The contents had not interested the eleven-year-old Charlotte. In truth, the artwork had made her rather ill, and she wished she’d had a maternal figure to explain the scandalous images. Perhaps then, they would not have haunted her adolescent dreams.

Knowing that Papa was searching for a worthy husband for her, a few weeks ago, she’d again sought out the book, and this time the pages piqued her interest. However, she could not imagine even kissing George Nash.

Earlier that morning, she’d again climbed that ladder. She’d tucked the book beneath her elbow and carried it back to her room to peruse it. Now, at two and twenty, and having experienced desire for Hugh, the artwork thrilled her to her tingling toes.

Goose flesh tickled every inch of her skin as she strolled to the gardener’s cottage, thinking about those indecent drawings. Especially the one where a woman knelt before a man, taking his length into her mouth. Maybe the idea should disgust her, but the truth was, she wanted to kneel in front of a naked Hugh and taste him.

Lantern and basket in tow, hoping to sneak past anyone associated with her father or stepmother, she avoided the well-worn path.

Upon reaching the cottage, she performed a silly jig. Since no light emanated from the loan window, Hugh must be alone. However, darkness might also mean he was asleep.Please let him be healthy and awake, she silently prayed as she tiptoed into the cottage and locked the door behind her. She stopped short, for she felt someone watching her.

She slowly circled, aiming her light into each corner. A soft beam illuminated a figure ensconced in shadow leaning against the headboard.

“Good evening, Firefly,” Hugh said, joy evident in his rich voice.

She fought her urge to skip to him and leap onto the bed. “Why are you sitting in the dark?”

“I have no need for a lantern because you light up the room.”

Such flowery romantic declarations from any other man would be insincere, but one of the things that drew her to Hugh was that he did not seem the type of person to say something he did not mean. Unless she was simply in denial because she fancied him so much.

Although she’d prefer to kiss him, she should feed him first. “I have brought you bacon and apple pie.”

His deep chuckle only made her desire to kiss, lick, and nibble on him stronger. She was hopeless. A hopeless, lust-filled, hedonistic wench.

She placed the basket on the table and attempted to concentrate on lighting a second lantern as he approached. However, her hand shook the second his breath tickled her cheek.

He leaned close to rummage through the supplies.

She inhaled fresh soap. Steadying her ragged breaths, she faced him, her nose accidentally brushing against his cheek.

Although the brief contact almost did her in, he seemed unphased. He reached in front of her and lifted the pie from the basket. Licking his lips, he hummed his appreciation.

Perhaps he found the food more alluring than he found her. What a dismal notion. One thing was for certain—if he did not cease his sensual noises, she would grab him by the collar and pull him to her—and it would serve him right.

Wait. Was he wearing a different shirt? He was still cravet-less, and the fabric hung open, providing a glimpse of tanned skin, but it was not rumpled, and the blood stains were gone.

It seemed Hugh had changed clothing and taken a bath. A new decanter of liquor and an extra lantern were also on thetable. That could mean only one thing. “Did my father bring you fresh clothing?”

“He did.” Hugh stabbed a fork into the pie, shoveling a large bite into his mouth. He closed his eyes and moaned. “Mmm. Mmm. My compliments to the cook.”

Dare Charlotte grab her fork, dig into the thick crust, and behave like a gluttonous swine?

Never! Although she did not mind Hugh doing it. Truth be told, she rather enjoyed his fervor. Instead, she picked up the knife, cut two slices, and placed them on plates.

“Shall we sit?” she asked.

“Of course.” He poured them each a drink from the decanter and lowered himself onto the chair.

Charlotte could hardly believe her luck. She was sitting across from the most handsome man in the world, and they were about to eat pie and drink brandy.