Page 36 of Charlotte's Kisses

Careful not to wake Hugh, she slid from beneath the counterpane. She quietly dressed, kicking her stays beneath the bed. She’d retrieve them later. She packed her basket, leaving Hugh the bacon and a few miscellaneous accessories. After extinguishing the lanterns, she snuck out of the cottage into the glorious pre-dawn.

Swinging her basket, Charlotte strolled along, humming a cheerful tune. Since it was much too early to encounter anyone on the well-worn main path, she did not have to tramp through the woods.

Swatches of pink and orange slid across the horizon, announcing the dawn. Colorful flowers lined the walkway. Leaves unfurled and petals opened to drink the morning dew. Chirping merrily, the birds sang the chorus to her song.

A clamorous gurgle interrupted her musical duet. She patted her noisy belly. Once she reached Chesterhill Manor, she would enjoy thick slices of bread, marmalade, and coffee. She giggled, for it seemed amorous congress made one ravenous. And oh, had it been amorous,exceeding every one of her expectations.

She halted to watch two bunnies hop about. “I would take you home and feed you the biggest carrots you have ever seen, you adorable little fur balls, but my stepmother would probably chop you up and bathe in your blood.”

Something behind her crackled—perhaps a deer or a squirrel skittering about? Or maybe not, since the hair on the back of her neck stood at attention. The sound of snapping twigs and crunching leaves grew closer. Anxiety crushed her heart.

She lifted her skirts and dashed into the woods. Her assailant followed, their feet thumping against the forest floor.

Her lungs caught fire as she tried to take in air. ’Twas no use because she did not know how to sprint. Someone behind her grasped the basket, pulling it from her hands. The contentstumbled to the ground. Hunching forward, she gasped for breath.

A strong hand clutched her forearm. “Lady Charlotte.”

She swung around to face Leon. A gust of wind lifted the edge of his cape. It fluttered dramatically before falling into place alongside his ankles. She attempted to wriggle from his grasp, but he pinched harder. The brute!

“Let go of me,” she demanded.

“’Tis not safe for a lady to be wandering around the woods on her own.”

“I was on the path, thank you very much.” At least she had been before he terrified her.

“I shall escort you to safety,” he said.

He did not give a fig about her safety. She harrumphed and swatted his hand away. “I do not require an escort.” She bent to pick up her scattered belongings.

Sighing loudly, he squatted beside her and helped gather her possessions. Once everything was contained in her basket, he helped her stand. His eyes raised heavenward. “Please forgive me.”

Who was he talking to? Was he apologizing for spilling her belongings? Maybe she should forgive him since he had helped pick them up. He did seem truly apologetic.

“You are forgiven,” Charlotte said.

His gaze dropped to her face. Confusion clouded his expression. “I have no other choice.”

What in the dickens was he talking about?

He took her basket in one hand and grasped her forearm with the other. “Please do not fight me. I do not want to harm you.”

To Beelzebub with him. She refused to be dragged about the woods willingly. “Ouch,” she murmured under her breathevery time his fingers dug into her flesh. His grip firm, he ignored her complaints as he tugged her along beside him. Every so often, he applied unwarranted pressure. This was not a man concerned with her safety. Nay, she was his captive, which could only mean one thing—he had been sent to find her.

Did he know she had been with Hugh? Had he waited outside the cottage, then followed her?

“Are you taking me to Lady Chesterhill?” she asked, even though she was certain what his answer would be.

However, he did not say anything. He simply grunted as he tugged her all the way to Chesterhill Manor.

Wearing a scarlet dress, Lady Chesterhill perched on a vermillion chair. Her cheeks were crimson from anger, and heated flames ignited her eyes. Her caped men and stern lady’s maids surrounded her. Charlotte blinked, but the blood-colored nightmare did not fade.

“How dare you send someone to spy on me,” Charlotte said with as much spirit as she could muster.

Lady Chesterhill flicked her fingers toward the exit of her private parlor. “Please excuse me, I must speak with my stepdaughter privately,” she told her staff. “Except for you, Leon. I may need your assistance.”

Assistance?Did Lady Chesterhill mean to use Leon to intimidate her? It was more likely that Leon would have to protect her stepmother since Charlotte was currently fantasizing about wrapping her hands around the woman’s neck.

By the time Charlotte returned from her murderous daydream, all the servants had gone except for Leon, who stood sentry, his arms folded across his massive chest, his expression unreadable.