Chapter 17

17

S he woke up to the sun streaming through her windows, warming her cheeks. She slowly came back to herself, pulling away from the dreams of Alasdair and the comfort she found sleeping in his arms. But when she opened her eyes, she found she was alone.

As she sat up and squinted in the sun, she realized how late she had slept. And without Alasdair here to ease her into the day, she began to question everything that had happened last night. She had gotten carried away by the moonlight and Alasdair's closeness. And then there was Orlaith's book and that glass of brandy.

Where is he now? Does he regret what happened?

Charlotte saw movement outside, and she crossed to the window. Now that they were deep into spring, the garden was finally blooming, and she saw the gardener pointing and gesturing. He was organizing a group of men who held ladders and gardening tools, ready to clean up hedges and prune the plants, so they would be in peak bloom for the party.

The party. How quickly it's coming upon us.

Charlotte felt a pang of worry that Ben might not be ready for all those people. He had finally started to speak. How would he feel with so many people around him? And then there was Charlotte's departure, looming large though she had tried to push it aside.

Time was marching forward far too quickly. Even thinking about leaving made panic rise in her throat and tears prick at her eyes. It was a visceral reaction, something she didn't quite understand.

The orphanage needs you. Sarah is all by herself.

Charlotte walked down to breakfast, struggling to push the butterflies out of her stomach. Thoughts of last night kept arriving unbidden, bringing a flush to her cheeks. She saw the muscles of Alasdair's chest and that mischievous grin as he dropped his head between her hips. She pushed the thoughts aside. She needed to stay focused on the task at hand: help Ben and return to the orphanage.

As she walked into the room, she felt all eyes on her. Ben, Alasdair, Orlaith, and Hayden were all there, their faces serious. For a brief moment she wondered if Alasdair had told them about last night, but she immediately pushed the thought aside. Of course, he hadn't. Charlotte forced a smile, but Alasdair's gaze was cold and distant, as if he barely registered who stood in the doorway.

She heard the scrape of a chair on the ground, and Ben rushed toward her. His body collided with her legs as he grabbed onto her, squeezing tight around her waist.

"What is it?" she asked. "Are you all right?"

She looked down at Ben, listening for a quiet response, but his mouth was closed tight. She recognized the terror in his eyes and the firm set of his jaw. It was just like when he arrived at the orphanage when he couldn't bring himself to speak. Something had happened.

She looked up with concern, trying to read the expressions around the table. Alasdair stood up, regarding her gravely.

"There was an attack last night. Someone tried to take Ben."

She felt him squeeze harder around her legs, and Charlotte dropped down to him, desperate to comfort him. She wrapped her arms around him and held his head against her shoulder, trying to show him as much love as she could in the gesture.

"Oh, Ben," she said. "You're all right. You're safe now."

She tried to stand up, but he clung to her. Charlotte lifted the boy as she crossed to the table, looking at Orlaith and Hayden before finally setting her eyes back on Alasdair.

"What happened?"

"They came in through the balcony," Hayden said. "They evaded the guards, and they were in the room before anyone noticed. Alasdair found them. He…"

Hayden's eyes dropped to the back of Ben's head.

"…took care of them." he finished. From the tone of his voice and the look in his eye, Charlotte understood exactly what Hayden meant by those words.

"He isn't safe," Charlotte cried out, feeling a burst of protection for the boy. She thought about the gardeners outside and their preparations for the celebration. "We need to cancel the party. We don't know who might be dangerous."

"They are our friends," Orlaith said, as if she needed to protect their good names. "None of them would hurt our Ben."

"You don't know that!" Charlotte protested. "We should postpone until we understand who wants to harm him."

"We willnae cancel," Alasdair said, his voice calm but lethal. The coldness of it stopped Charlotte's voice. She looked over at him, taking in the angry set of his jaw and the hardness in his eyes. It was almost like looking at a stranger.

"It could be dangerous," she said carefully, nervous under the man's gaze.

"It is not yer decision to make," he growled. "Cancelling would only let them win. They would see they have rattled us. I willnae show them weakness. I willnae let them think me afraid."

She started to push back, letting Ben give her courage. She was doing this for him. No matter how grumpy Alasdair was, she needed to remember she was here to protect the child. But one glance at Alasdair's scowl, and she lost her courage. Charlotte closed her mouth and swallowed hard, dropping her eyes away from him.

"Come here, Ben." Alasdair's tone was much kinder now, and she felt Ben shift on her lap. He went right to his father, showing no sign of hesitation. Ben stood beside Alasdair's chair, and his father held out his hands to him. Ben put his hands there as Alasdair spoke to him.

"I ken ye had a terrible night," he said, "but we need to ken where ye were after ye were kidnapped. It will help us keep ye safe."

Charlotte stiffened, remembering their argument on the very first day she arrived at the castle. She remembered Alasdair's insistence that Ben tell him who kidnapped him and the screaming the followed. She didn't want a repeat of that night, but she already felt her ire rising, outrage beginning to build.

Ben looked directly at his father and shook his head.

"We need to ken," Alasdair pushed. "Any detail ye can give us. Anything to help us find him."

Charlotte began to stand from her chair, but Ben moved first. He pulled his hands from his father's grip and turned away. He rushed out of the room, nearly running in his desire to escape.

"I'll go," Orlaith said. She gave Alasdair a nod before setting off after Ben. Hayden stood as well, shadowing Orlaith and Ben with the determination of someone who had pledged to keep them both in his sights.

Charlotte was left hovering over her chair, wondering if she should follow Ben or stay here with the brooding Alasdair.

He felt Charlotte's eyes on him. All it took was a look, and he knew she was disappointed in him, angry that he would push Ben to talk after what had happened. But before she could chastise him, Alasdair defended himself.

"We need to ken," he said. "It's the only way to keep him safe."

"The more you push him, the longer he'll stay silent. Couldn't you wait a day before confronting the child?"

"I daenae have a day! Until we ken who is responsible, Ben willnae be safe."

He felt a sudden need to make her understand, a deep desire to tell Charlotte how important this was. The deep cut on his arm, bandaged up beneath his shirt, throbbed with the blood pumping through his body.

"And so, you pressure the child into speaking?" she asked, and he read disgust on her face. "He was getting better. Are you trying to erase all that we have done?"

"Daenae speak to me about me son."

"I thought that was my job," she said. Charlotte leaned across the table, and he saw the challenge in her eyes. "I'm here to protect Ben. Even if that means protecting him from you ."

"Leave this room!" Alasdair flew to his feet, his anger boiling over as he knocked a cup to the ground. "Ye dinnae understand."

"Then make me," Charlotte said. Instead of meeting his anger with her own fury, she was suddenly calm, her voice gentle. She stepped closer to him, and Alasdair felt the anger drain out of him as those kind eyes gazed at him with compassion.

"Please make me understand. Tell me why you keep pushing him when he isn't ready."

"Isn't ready?" Alasdair scoffed. He sat back down, turning his body away from her, but Charlotte circled his chair and pulled out the seat he was now staring at. "That's not why Ben isn't talking."

Though he stared at the ground, he saw her shoes and her skirts as she sat across from him. Her knees were close to his, nearly brushing against him as he leaned forward, staring down in shame.

"What is it?" she asked. "Why is Ben not speaking?"

"Because it's all me fault." He forced himself to look at her. If he was going to tell her this, he would make himself look her in the face as he did so. And he would accept whatever reaction Charlotte had, no matter how bad it was.

"Your fault?" she asked. "Last night?"

Alasdair shook his head.

"I couldnae save him. Two years ago, when he was taken from his bed and carried through fighting soldiers, I couldnae stop them. He saw me there, fighting me way toward him, but I failed him. I couldnae make it."

"It wasn't your fault," she said, wanting nothing more than to take Alasdair's hands in her own. "You did everything you could."

"It doesn't matter." She couldn't miss the pain in Alasdair's eyes and the far-away look, as if he were re-living that night all over again. "I couldn't protect me son, and now, he willnae talk to me. He doesn't trust me."

"Of course, he does," Charlotte tried, but Alasdair pushed over her.

"And who would blame him? Of course, he willnae tell me who kidnapped him. It willnae protect him. His faither abandoned him once, and he believes I will do so again."

"Please," she said. "You know that isn't true."

She reached out and took his hand, wanting to do something to ease the pain she read in every line of his body. But Alasdair jerked away. She saw his face harden and the anger flash up again behind his eyes.

"Ye ken nothing," he said. "Leave."

She thought about staying. After the time she had shared with him last night, she wanted desperately to coax out the kind and playful Alasdair who had spent time in her bed. But one look at him told her she would be hard-pressed to find him. He had disappeared into his demons, and only he could pull himself out.

"Miss?" Charlotte turned to see a maid in the doorway, her eyes on the ground. With a final glance to Alasdair, who still glared at the table, Charlotte crossed to her.

"A letter for ye."

She took the letter with a thank you and saw the orphanage's seal on the back. It would be an update from Sarah, letting Charlotte know how things were going.

You are going home soon.

Charlotte glanced back at the brooding Alasdair as she held the note, a clear reminder of her future. Her time here was limited, and Charlotte would soon return to the place she had called home for so many years. It was time to prepare for going back.

She turned to Alasdair, searching for something to say to ease his pain, but the man had disappeared into himself. It reminded Charlotte of Ben's darkness when he couldn't find the strength to speak. How similar they were. If only Charlotte could prove it to them.

With renewed energy, Charlotte turned, determined to take advantage of the little time she had left.

"We've searched the woods. We found no tracks and no horses. However those men arrived, they did so stealthily and on foot."

Alasdair swung his broadsword, letting it smack against Hayden's with a satisfying thwack. They were sparring in the ring though Orlaith had protested the idea. She threatened to fetch the healer just, so the woman could scold Alasdair for working out when he had an injury. But Alasdair couldn't sit still and wait for the enemy to arrive. Instead, he had Hayden tie his left arm in a makeshift sling, forcing him to use only his right.

"Then they must be near," Alasdair argued. He jumped over Hayden's blade as he swiped at his feet.

"Or they rode for days only to leave their horses at the village. I've sent men to question all the taverns. We're asking around for anyone who saw a group of three unfamiliar faces."

Alasdair grunted, throwing his energy into wielding the heavy sword with one hand. Despite what Orlaith thought, Alasdair wasn't fighting simply for sport. He feared someone could come back any day to attack, and he wanted to be ready, even if he was injured.

Hayden looked beyond Alasdair's shoulder, and he suddenly stopped.

"Yer governess," Hayden said, nodding beyond the ring. Alasdair rolled his eyes though the derision hid his inward surprise at the words. After the fight in the dining room this morning, Alasdair was surprised Charlotte wanted anything to do with him.

He turned to see her walking with determination in a straight line directly toward him. She glanced at the sling that held his arm, but she didn't comment on it.

"Come with me," she said, and he half expected her to turn around and walk away. That was how much confidence she approached him with.

"I'm busy," he grumbled though Alasdair wanted nothing more than to find a quiet spot with Charlotte where he could apologize to her. His pride wouldn't allow it, however, and he turned back to Hayden, lifting his weapon.

"I'll meet you in the stables," Charlotte said. Alasdair glanced back as Charlotte raised her chin at him before turning around and crossing to the barn.

"The stables," Alasdair spit out in a laugh. He turned back to Hayden, expecting him to shake his head at the woman's audacity, but Hayden only watched Charlotte leave, an amused smile on his face.

"Weapons up," Alasdair said, trying to urge Hayden back into their drill, but his friend didn't move. His sword stayed firmly planted at his side.

"Go with her," he said. "She's waiting for ye."