Chapter 3

3

T he look Alasdair gave his son told Charlotte everything she needed to know. All hints of anger and frustration disappeared as the man gazed at him. He gave Ben a look of affection that Charlotte could only dream of receiving from a parent. In this single look, she saw this was a man who would never hurt his child.

Alasdair knelt to be at eye level with Ben. He was beaming at the boy, taking in every detail of his face, his hands, his shoes. He looked at Ben like he was a precious object he couldn't believe he was looking at. And then, the man opened his arms to his son.

Ben rushed forward without hesitation, and his father lifted him into the air. The little boy was dwarfed by the man's strong arms, but Charlotte saw how gently Alasdair held him. It made her own heart light to watch them.

"I've been looking for ye," Alasdair told him. "For two years, I've been searching. I never gave up on ye."

Two years? If Ben wasn't with his father, where had he been?

Charlotte watched the man stand up and look at her, she had to take a step back. The space between them still felt charged, and his presence was making it hard for Charlotte to breathe. She hadn't had many opportunities to stand so close to a man before, and her body was responding in ways she could never imagine.

"I… I'm sorry for the misunderstanding," she mumbled. "I wanted to be sure he would be safe."

Charlotte remembered Ben hiding behind the table when his father entered the room. Was there a reason the boy had seemed so afraid of the man? She pushed the thought aside. It was likely Ben was simply afraid of the soldiers bursting through so suddenly as all the other children had been.

Even so, she felt an urge to delay Ben's departure as long as possible. She wanted to make sure the child felt comfortable before leaving the orphanage. And then there was his father. Something about this man and those mysterious eyes made Charlotte eager to know him better. She longed to ask him questions and to feel that dark gaze that made her whole body warm with his attention.

"It is late," Charlotte said. "Perhaps you and your men would like to stay here for the night? You can set out first thing in the morning."

"Nay," Alasdair said, putting his son back on the ground. "I've waited long enough to bring me boy home. It's time to leave."

Ben rushed forward at the words, disengaging from Alasdair to grab onto Charlotte's hand. She saw the surprise on Alasdair's face as Ben hid behind her, and they both realized Ben wasn't ready to leave Charlotte's side.

"What is it, Ben?" he asked, his eyebrows dropping in concern. "Ye daenae wish to go home?"

She felt Ben squirm as he hid further behind her skirts.

"What's wrong?" Alasdair asked. "Why does he nay speak?"

Charlotte looked down to Ben's round eyes and saw him pleading with her. She had grown used to his expressions, able to read and understand him with a single glance.

"Sir, there's something you need to know," Charlotte said. "Perhaps we could speak privately and let Ben finish his dinner?"

"Why didn't ye tell me me son isnae speaking?"

Alasdair paced the woman's cramped office. It felt more like servant's quarters than the office of a woman who ran an orphanage. Alasdair already felt stifled in here, as if the walls were closing in on his tall frame. He was eager to return to his son, whom he had left with Hayden, his man-at-arms and trusted friend.

"You didn't exactly give me a chance." He looked up in surprise at her curt words and felt the corner of his mouth twitch in amusement.

"Sorry, sir," she said, seeming to catch herself.

"Ye ken," he replied, finally standing still to stare into the woman's light blue eyes, "no one in Scotland calls me ‘sir'."

In this small room, with the sun setting outside the narrow window, he noticed how beautiful she was. Her face was round, her cheeks almost perpetually flushed with pink. And those eyes… they seemed to take in every inch of him in a way he found both invasive and exhilarating.

"I apologize," she said, breaking his gaze. "I am not used to dealing with Lairds, Laird O'Malley."

She said his name like she was trying out a new language, and it thrilled Alasdair to hear it from her mouth.

"Now, Laird O'Malley, could I ask you… you said you have been looking for Ben for two years?"

"Aye," Alasdair said, feeling his blood boil as it did anytime he thought of the night his son was kidnapped.

"What happened, if I might ask?" He sensed the hesitation in her voice. "Why was Ben not with you?"

He kept his face hard as he answered her, his hands held tight in fists.

"He was taken. I dinnae ken by who, but ye can be sure that whoever kidnapped me child will pay for what he did. I willnae let them get away with it!"

Alasdair's voice rose louder than he intended, and he saw Charlotte stiffen at the outburst. He forced his hands to open, releasing the pent-up energy from his body. When he turned back to Charlotte, he saw compassion in her eyes.

"I'm so sorry," she said, and then she nodded to the small chair across from her desk. "Would you sit down, please?"

He didn't like the look on her face, a look that told him she had bad news to deliver to him. He glanced at the delicate chair and grunted.

"Thank ye," he said. "I'll stand."

For a moment he thought she would protest. He saw a flash of frustration in her eyes, but she quickly hid it behind her polite smile. She set her spine in a straight line and began speaking.

"When Ben arrived to us, he was malnourished. We've managed to put a bit of weight back on him, but you will see he is still thin. And despite my best efforts, he's not eating much."

"Because the boy isnae used to this English food," Alasdair scoffed.

"I think it might be more than that," Charlotte said. Alasdair sensed hesitation in her voice, and he narrowed his eyes at her.

"What is it?" he asked, bracing himself on the back of the chair. He saw Charlotte sigh.

"When Ben arrived, he was covered with bruises. And there were welts on the back of his legs. On his first night, he wrote me a message. He said a monster was coming for him. I believe your son was beaten, Laird O'Malley. And he's afraid of whoever hurt him."

Alasdair squeezed the back of the chair with such force he thought the wood would splinter beneath his hands.

"Bastard!" he screamed, and he noted the shock that crossed Charlotte's face as he cursed.

Every muscle in Alasdair's body tightened as he struggled to keep himself from destroying every chair in the whole damn monastery.

"I know you are upset," Charlotte tried, but she slammed her lips closed as Alasdair's dark eyes darted toward her like daggers.

"Ye ken nothin' about it," Alasdair said, his tone now icy with disgust. "How could ye?"

"You know nothing about me," Charlotte challenged, and the force of her words brought Alasdair's attention to her face. "And I will thank you not to presume any further. We are here to talk about your son, Laird O'Malley. I am only trying to help him through this difficult time."

Alasdair pressed his lips firmly together, taking in the flash of anger in Charlotte's eyes. He watched her fold her hands in front of herself as she watched him, as if waiting to see if he would protest. When he didn't speak, she continued.

"Ben has been through a lot. I believe this is why he isn't speaking."

"He did speak," Alasdair grunted, unable to hold his tongue. Charlotte looked up, and he finally crossed to the chair and sat down. "In the dining room, he told me not to hurt ye."

"Yes," Charlotte said. "So, we know he is capable of speech. But the ability to speak and the willingness to speak are often two different things. Ben's going to need time to recover."

"He will get all the time he needs back at his own castle."

"He's in a frail state," she explained. "He will have a difficult time over the next few months. Perhaps we can help him with this current transition."

Alasdair scoffed at the words. How could this woman think she knew what was best for his son? He was beginning to grow frustrated, and he felt his muscles twitching with impatience.

"Help him how?" he grunted.

"Let him stay here for a bit longer. You could stay as well. We can get him back to his full weight and keep working on his speech. It could do him well to spend time with you here before going to a whole new place."

He barely moved at the words. He simply looked at her with incredulity and let out a derisive snort.

"Nay."

Alasdair turned and began to stride out of the room. No matter how beautiful this woman was, he was done humoring her.

"Wait!" he heard from behind him. "If you won't stay here, perhaps I can go with you?"

The words were out of her mouth before Charlotte could think them through.

Leave the orphanage? What are you thinking?

But she couldn't stop thinking about Ben's eyes as he looked up at her, begging her to speak for him. And then there was Alasdair. She had just met the man, but she couldn't push down the sense of panic she felt when she thought about him and Ben riding off toward Scotland.

Charlotte rushed forward, blocking the door with her body.

"Please," she said. "I can accompany you on the journey. I can be a comfort to Ben, so he has someone familiar until you make it back home."

"Familiar?" Alasdair growled. "And who is more familiar than his faither?"

Charlotte's back pressed against the solid wood of the door as Alasdair approached her. She struggled to breathe as the man's solid form stalked closer and closer until he was near enough to touch. She could feel the heat radiating from the man's body as he brought his hands to either side of her, pressing his palms into the wood beside her head.

"My Laird?" she asked, feeling a flutter deep in her stomach as she stood trapped beneath him. She had never been so close to a man before, and her body was buzzing with new sensations. Her eyes followed the scars that covered his face, speaking of a past Charlotte could only guess at.

"Are ye tryin' to say I cannae care for me son?" he asked as he leaned closer, bringing his mouth near her ear.

"No," she whispered. Feeling his breath along her neck made Charlotte weak in the knees. "I want to do what's best for Ben. I care about him."

Charlotte heard her heartbeat loud in her ears as Alasdair observed her. She felt a jolt as his eyes dropped down to her lips. The silence extended between them as their chests heaved, something primal and dangerous between them.

"Please?" she begged, her voice nearly breathless. The word surprised her, coming nearly unbidden as she locked her eyes with his own. What was it about this man that made her desperate to stay near him? He looked surprised at her word, and then his face melted into a look of raw hunger.

"A month," he said, and Charlotte was transfixed by the movement of his lips. "Ye can stay at O'Malley castle until Ben is back on his feet. But it's only a month. Not a day longer."

"A month?" Charlotte asked, and Alasdair saw how much he had shocked her.

He pulled his arms away from the wall and went back to pacing, desperate to keep his body moving in the claustrophobic space. The proximity to Charlotte had made him nearly dizzy with desire for the woman. And then there was the way she begged. That simple, breathless question hit him fast and unexpectedly, and suddenly, he agreed, all rational thought abandoned in the face of his longing.

"Ye said ye wanted to help Ben," he said, clasping his hands behind his back lest he reach out and touch the girl. "What good will a few days do for the boy? Ye will live with us for a month while Ben gets settled."

The shock of his proposal was so much that Charlotte was still plastered to the door, unmoving. He glanced back at her and raised his eyebrows, waiting for an answer. The idea of bringing Charlotte home with him was becoming increasingly intriguing. Something about this woman made him desperate to keep her by his side.

"I can't just leave the orphanage," Charlotte said. "Who will run it?"

"Don't ye have people for that?" he asked coolly.

"I have Sarah," she said, and Alasdair cut her off, sensing a resolution that could seemingly satisfy everyone.

"Perfect," he said, snapping his fingers to end the conversation. "Ye will leave the orphanage to her when ye are gone. And ye will travel with me and Ben back to Scotland."

Alasdair moved back to the door, and he heard a slight gasp from Charlotte as he urgently approached her. The heat he had felt so viscerally moments before now radiated between them once again.

"If ye don't mind?" Alasdair asked. He saw the look of confusion on Charlotte's face. And was there anticipation there?

Alasdair brushed the thought aside and nodded toward the door, reaching for the handle.

"Sorry," Charlotte mumbled. She rushed away from the door, hugging the wall to distance herself from Alasdair.

Desperate to leave this stifling room and the tempting woman inside of it, Alasdair opened the door and burst into the hallway.

"Ye have an hour to pack."