Chapter 20

20

A fter watching Ben rush away from the party, Charlotte wanted to check on him. She knew Alasdair had gone to him, but Charlotte wanted to see the boy for herself. She knew she wouldn't sleep if she was tossing and turning all night worrying about him.

She walked quietly down the hallway as the gentle sounds of the castle at night reached her. When she got to Ben's door, she pressed her ear against it to listen. Nothing. She turned the knob and peered inside.

From her space in the doorway, she first saw Ben sleeping. He was curled up on his side, his eyes closed. But immediately after this, she saw the form of Alasdair behind him, still quietly reading from a storybook. She watched them for a moment, enjoying the quiet peace of a father reading to his son.

She should leave them. Now that she knew Ben was safe, she could go to bed. But something kept her there. She watched them, and before long, Alasdair's eyes floated up to find her in the doorway.

When he saw her, he rushed off the bed, leaving the book. He went to her side, standing close, so they could whisper without waking Ben.

"Is everything alright?" he asked.

"Yes." Charlotte felt her stomach clench at his proximity. "I only wanted to check on Ben and talk to you about something."

"What is it?" he asked. She looked away, feeling sick as she thought about the words. She didn't know if she could ever force them out of her mouth, but then Charlotte pictured the orphanage and the children waiting for her.

"It's almost time," she said. "In a few days, I'm to leave here and go back to the orphanage."

"Leave?" he asked. His voice rose, and Charlotte darted her eyes to the bed, checking that Ben was still asleep. She sighed in relief as she saw there was no interruption to his steady, calm breathing.

"Can't ye stay longer?" Alasdair asked. He looked back and forth between Charlotte and Ben, as if trying to imagine the two of them apart. It only made Charlotte's heart ache more. She couldn't imagine leaving Ben's side, but that was the agreement, and she knew she needed to keep it.

"At least until Ben's speaking again," he tried. She watched his face light up as he remembered something he needed to tell her: "He spoke to me tonight! He asked me for the dragon story."

For a brief moment they celebrated, or at least, they celebrated as much as they could in a room where a child was sleeping. Hearing that Ben had spoken brought a lightness to Charlotte's heart. He would be all right. Ben would find his way.

"I must go back to the other children," she said. "I've left the orphanage too long in Sarah's hands."

"Follow me." Alasdair took a gentle hold on her sleeve, and he guided her down the hallway, only to steer her directly into his chambers. She was shocked to be here so unexpectedly, but Alasdair didn't give her time to think. He rushed around the room, gathering things that he laid on the small table in front of her.

"Books," he said, adding three more to the stack he was forming in front of her. "For the children. I ken they daenae have much, so I wanted to help."

"Thank you," Charlotte said, taking in the tall stack that Alasdair continued to add to. She walked forward and placed a hand on the pile. "They will love them."

"I'll have them packed up for yer departure. Daenae worry about that. We'll arrange a carriage for ye the whole way, and I'll send a guard with ye to ensure ye are safe."

"I'll be quite fine on my own," Charlotte laughed, but Alasdair was still moving, as if he was unable to stand still.

"There's something else," he said. Charlotte saw him disappear into an adjoining room momentarily before he emerged with something cupped in his hand. He stood before her and held his hand up before dropping a necklace down and holding it aloft.

Charlotte saw the deep blue sapphires sparkling back at her. It was a necklace fit for the finest lady of the finest clan, not a former nun who owned an orphanage.

"It's a family heirloom," he said. "It's been in me clan and me family for a century and a half."

"And you're giving it to me?" She was stunned by the gesture. It was so elaborate that she wondered if he could be joking with her. She scanned his face for any hint of a smile, but she found nothing.

"It's the least I can do," he said. "Ye brought me son back to me. And ye have helped him come out of his shell. I told ye, we could never have done this without ye."

She saw him unclasp the necklace and step forward, trying to put it around her neck.

"I can't take it," she said. "You should save it for Ben. He can give it to his future wife." She continued to babble, finding every excuse she could to push the necklace away from her, but Alasdair stood still. He only shook his head at her.

"It is for ye," he said. "And I willnae hear any more about it."

Alasdair stepped forward, and Charlotte stayed put, unable to think of any more excuses. She felt frozen as he reached around her neck and clasped the delicate piece around her neck. His fingers tickled the back of her neck as he struggled with the closure, but then she felt it rest, heavy against her chest.

His eyes observed the necklace, but he didn't step back. Instead, he let his hands linger on her neck for a moment too long. The kind gesture of this necklace and the warm touch of his hands on her neck made her body thrum with energy and anticipation. Standing here with his eyes on her, she felt far too exposed, but there was something thrilling about it. Something that was telling her to ask for more.

She was shocked when she leaned forward, initiating the kiss. She pressed her lips against his, gripping his arms and pulling him closer. Alasdair responded with hunger, filled with fire as he pushed back against Charlotte, matching her desire. Her mind was awash with memories of his mouth between her legs and the unbridled pleasure he had brought to her.

Alasdair's hands roamed up her back, and she felt his insistent fingers pulling at the laces of her dress. She felt the ties give way and the loosening of the fabric around her chest. Alasdair smirked at her before pulling roughly at the dress, dragging it down her arms, so she was exposed to him, standing in only her shift. The dress bunched at her waist, and Alasdair growled, losing patience for the bulky fabric.

He pulled the dress to the floor, and Charlotte shivered as his eyes ran up and down her body as she stood in the thin fabric. Alasdair kissed her again, and then his arms were around her, lifting her to the bed.

"Your arm!" she cried out. Though his injury was healing, he still had a nasty cut the healer was treating. He only shook his head at her.

"Ye think I will let a little cut stop me?" He placed her on the bed, and she saw his eyes on her chest. It brought a flush to her cheeks that she knew carried down to the rest of her body. Alasdair lifted her feet and began carefully untying her shoes.

"Look at ye," he said, dropping one boot to the ground with a thud. "Ye are beautiful." He unlaced the other, never taking his eyes from Charlotte's face and her open, eager mouth.

She gasped as he ran his hands up her legs, reaching for the top of her stocking. His fingers played at her thighs, and Charlotte felt her hips press forward, desperate for him to reach higher. He sensed her eagerness, and he briefly gave in, brushing his fingers up to the warm space between her legs.

"I was thinkin' of ye like this all day," he said, his voice low as he swept his fingers deeper, making Charlotte's breath come fast. "And how to make ye scream me name."

She moaned, feeling a start of pleasure through her core as she imagined Alasdair dreaming of their touching. She leaned back, resting on her elbows, but just as she settled in, he pulled back, dropping his warm fingers to her other stocking and pulling it down her leg.

Charlotte sat up, shocked that he had left her, and she got a gentle chuckle from Alasdair as he saw her outrage.

"That necklace is beautiful on ye," he said. He pulled her stocking off and dropped it to the ground. "Beautiful enough to wear all on its own."

He raised his eyebrows at her, and she saw the challenge there. Alasdair stepped back with an invitation. He reached behind his back and yanked hard at the fabric of his shirt before pulling it up and over his head. Charlotte stepped forward. She wanted to press her hands against his chest, to feel how solid he was. She ran her finger along the deepest scar, thinking of the painful memory it would always evoke for him.

There was a moment of quiet between them, a softness in the eyes as they were each transported to the past for the briefest of moments. She wanted to pull Alasdair against her chest and comfort him, but just as she thought this, he gave her a rueful smile, returning to the task at hand. He tugged at her shift, lifting it slowly as he asked a question with her eyes.

She didn't know what came over her, but she didn't stop him. She let Alasdair pull the fabric up and over her head, and she was suddenly naked, standing in nothing but the heavy necklace that draped around her neck.

"Just perfect," he growled, devouring her with his eyes, and Charlotte pushed away her shyness. She fought all of her instincts to cover herself and instead focused on the thrill of desire coursing through her as she stood naked in front of a man.

He closed the distance between them, and his mouth was on her neck. His hand moved to her breast, bold and insistent. And then his lips travelled down, and she felt them surround her eager nipple. The sensation of his tongue pressing against her made her knees weak and her head giddy. And then his hand dropped down and returned to the soft place between her legs.

She couldn't stand when he did this. It made her too weak in the knees, and Alasdair pushed her back to the bed. He laid her gently across it, letting her legs hang over the edge of the mattress. In a swift moment, he opened her legs and pressed his hips against her. Charlotte's eyes flew open as she felt his hardness pressing against her.

"See what ye do to me?" he gasped. He pulled away a step though Charlotte tried to grab onto his hips and pull him back. Instead, he brought his fingers back to her wetness. He held one of her legs wrapped around his thigh as he stood in front of her, running his fingers in and out of her with amused triumph on his face.

She felt the pressure build instantly, swift and overpowering. Charlotte laid back, pressing her head hard against the bed. Her arms reached out, grasping for the bedclothes. She gripped them hard as she felt herself rocking back and forth against those fingers.

"Alasdair!" she cried out as he pushed his fingers inside her. It pushed her over the edge, and Charlotte felt her stomach clench and all the muscles in her legs tense as she crashed into her pleasure. She cried out as she shook beneath him, squeezing her eyes closed as his pace slowed.

He guided her down gently, letting his fingers languish inside of her. He knew she would be far too sensitive for too much pressure, and so he kept his eyes on her face to read her tolerance. He thought she would curl up and rest after he brought her down from this high. It was what they had done last time. So he was surprised when she sat up, her cheeks flushed and her eyes desperate for more.

"Come here," she said. She pulled at his hips, making him step forward and then, with a tentative touch, she ran her fingers along the outline of his arousal.

"Charlotte," he gasped. He closed his eyes as those gentle hands touched him, learning how to tease him as his hips moved all on their own. Her touch made him lengthen even further, and he couldn't stop himself from grabbing her hand and pressing her palm hard against him.

He rocked his hips, staring at her as he began to show her what it meant to pleasure him.

"Alasdair," she gasped. Her eyes locked with his, and he saw something uncertain there, a vulnerability he couldn't read.

"This is… I'm going home soon." Her fingers continued to explore, telling him what she wanted before she managed to form the words.

Will you… please… take me?"

He groaned at the words, feeling just how much he wanted to do exactly that. But at the same time, Charlotte's eager request was a wake-up call. He wrapped his hand gently around her wrist and pulled her hand away from his arousal. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to get control of himself.

"I cannae," he said. He leaned down and kissed her sweetly, a chaste kiss that was meant to cool this interaction. "Ye must save that for yer future husband."

He saw the hurt in her eyes and felt a stab of guilt to be the cause of it. But then he watched her think through the situation, and there was something like gratitude on her face.

"And you?" she asked. Alasdair was shocked to see her eyes drop down to the bulge still prevalent between his legs. He smirked at her.

"Hasnae yer book told ye about this?" he asked.

She shook her head slowly at him.

"Ah, then there is much more to teach. Me pleasure doesnae require someone else, lass. I can take care of this all by meself."

He grabbed his shirt from the ground and threw it over his head before stepping toward the door. He turned back for a final glance.

"Ye can pleasure yerself too," he told her with a glint in his eye. "Perhaps ye should give it a try."

She shook her head at his insinuation even as her cheeks flushed. She watched Alasdair leave the room, closing the door with a decisive click, but his racy words were not the things floating through her mind once he left.

Ye must save that for yer future husband.

He had meant to cool her feelings with the words, to remind her that there was someone else out there for her. But his words didn't make her think of some stranger she was yet to meet. No, when she thought of her husband, the only man she could imagine was Alasdair. That was the future she dreamed of though it had taken her a long while to realize it.

You love him.

She remembered Molly's words and her teasing. She had accused Charlotte of looking at Alasdair with love in her eyes. And now, sitting alone in her room, she realized that Molly was right. Charlotte loved Alasdair.

It doesn't matter. You're going home.

The reality of tomorrow's departure crashed around her like cold water, pushing aside all remnants of pleasure. Any feelings she had for him didn't matter. She was going home to the orphanage she had founded and the children who needed her. She was going back to Sarah, who had run things on her own for far too long. The reality was that in another few days, Charlotte would be back in England. She and Alasdair would be in different countries, and she would have to put these fantasies aside.

Charlotte dropped down to her pillows and pulled another one against her chest. A sharp pain cut through her chest as tears pooled in her eyes.

"I love him," she whispered, trying the words out in her mouth, but she quickly scowled, berating herself for the thought. Tears fell down her cheeks as she felt anger and disappointment course through her.

It doesn't matter. You're too late.