Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Miss Charlotte threw her hand to her mouth as she gasped, her eyes wide in horror at her own words. Alexander paused, shocked. He'd wanted to kiss her; he'd been so very tempted. But he hadn't realized it had been so obvious. And neither had he realized she wanted it. With a growl of petulant frustration, she turned and once again marched away.

He blinked, watching her go for a long moment, her buttocks swaying as she walked. But then he laughed. The entire situation was amusing, but her frustration was both beautiful and alluring.

"I'm sorry," he said without meaning it, "but did you just say you've never been kissed?"

"Please forget I said anything," she said, not slowing her steps. "What else is on the list?"

"Forgive me boldness, but I must know. How is it you have reached your age without ever being kissed?"

Alexander hurried to catch up with her. Her cheeks were as red as the snapdragon that brushed against her wrist, and the bright yellow of the sunflower bounced off her forehead. He laughed again, this time with abandon.

She stopped and snarled at him. "And what, tell me, do you find so funny now? Is it really so amusing that I have never been kissed?"

He shook his head. "No, I'm sorry. It's just…" He raised his hand to indicate her face and laughed again. "Draped in flowers and with such bright cheeks, you look like a garden sprite or a little flower fairy."

She stared at him in horror for a long moment, and Alexander worried that he had made yet another mistake. But then she broke into giggles, a hand to her lips and turning away from him. She reached up to take the sunflower out, but he reached forward and grabbed her hand.

"No," he said quickly. "Don't. It really does look lovely."

She turned back, looking at him through her lashes. "But I am not a fairy," she said.

"No. You are so much more."

She turned to him fully now and looked up at him. The pause between them was heavy, and Alexander felt his breath slow.

"Do you really think so?" she asked.

"A wise woman once told me that there is a fine line between tension and passion," he told me.

Miss Charlotte giggled again. "Lady Chelsea said it to me."

"In that case, you were wise to repeat it." He paused, pressing his lips together as she looked up at him coyly. He felt as though his body was vibrating. He wanted to kiss her, but he still wasn't certain it was the right moment.

"Do you really think so?" she asked again.

She looked up at him with such hope, such pleading, and Alexander knew he couldn't wait any longer. He stepped closer to her and put his hand to her cheek as he had before. She shuddered under his touch.

"Charlotte, I know I infuriate you often, quite without meaning to. But know this. I admire everything about you. You are intelligent and strong and free. You are everything I would love to be, and you are beautiful with it."

She leaned into his palm, her big green eyes gazing up at him, and in that moment the world fell away from them. He lowered his face slowly to hers, wondering how he could kiss her when he knew he shouldn't. When he knew how much he wanted to.

His lips were barely an inch from hers when she said, "Are you going to kiss me?"

Her breath rushed past his face, and he shuddered. Yes, he was going to kiss her.

"Do you want me to?" he asked.

"Yes."

"All right." Still he paused, his hammering heart making him hesitate.

"I have never been kissed," she repeated. "And you look like you know how to kiss very well indeed."

"All right," he repeated.

And then he no longer paused. He no longer hesitated. He dipped his head until their lips gently touched, brushing against each other tenderly. It took a moment, but she responded to his touch, and then, suddenly, they crossed the line into passion.

She stepped forward, bridging the already small gap between them and pushing her body against his. She felt lithe and soft, and he wrapped an arm around her waist to prevent her from going anywhere. It was exactly as he'd imagined it, the feel of her breasts pressed against his hard chest, the way her hair tickled his face.

It was just a kiss. Nothing, really. A triviality. Something he had done with many women before. But this kiss was different. More powerful. It stirred that familiar feeling in his groin, rousing the sleeping part of him that Charlotte seemed to know how to wake so succinctly. He squirmed, hoping she wouldn't feel him against her leg, worried that it would frighten her off.

Too soon. Too much.

To distract himself, he thrust his hand into her hair and kissed her harder, walking her back so that she was against the wall. With his free hand, he explored her body. He traced the curve at the back of her neck and down her shoulders, her back.

Then he moved around, gliding across the smooth fabric at her waist and sliding his fingers up until he cupped her breast. She let out a squeak, one he was certain was delight, and she curved her body toward him so that her hips met his.

He couldn't stop himself now. Everything about her was irresistible. Even the way she snapped at him. He moved his lips from her, following the line of her jaw until he kissed her neck, nibbled her lobe. She gasped, encouraging him further, but when he felt the tap on his arm, he knew she meant him to stop.

Alexander jumped back, wiping the corner of his lips and quite unable to meet her eyes. "I… I'm sorry," he stuttered. "I really shouldn't have—"

"Dandelion," she said then laughed, the sound ringing out over the garden.

"Dandelion?" he asked, looking up at her as though she had gone as mad as his cousin, Norman.

"Dandelion," she repeated. " A well-dressed cat ! Come with me!"

With a delighted giggle, she grabbed hold of his hand and pulled him through the garden. Alexander staggered after her, feeling lighter—happier—than he had done in months. Maybe even years. And it was all thanks to this wonderful, confounding woman.

Charlotte stopped, stooping down to pick a dandelion from the wildflowers scattered amongst the trees. He opened his mouth to tell her how he made her feel, how strange it all was but how much he enjoyed her company. How happy he had made her that day, as crazy as it sounded.

But the words were stopped by the darkening thoughts that would never leave him alone. She could never love you. Not with your mounting debt.

When she straightened, she turned to face him, brandishing the dandelion like a trophy. "See?" she said with a wide grin. "Dandelion!"

He chuckled. "How very clever of you."

And though he still thought her beautiful, and though he still yearned for her touch, his smile was weak and sad at the same time. He could never have her, and he'd been wrong to even kiss her. What a cruel, unkind man he was.

No gentleman at all.

"What else is on the list?" she asked as she tucked the dandelion safely away.

"The list? Oh!" Alexander dug into his pocket and pulled out the now crumpled but of parchment. He flattened it out and began to read. "Let's see. An onion—"

"Kitchen," she said.

"A playing card—"

"Drawing room."

"A pocket watch—I have one of those we can use. A snuff box—"

"Lord Hurtle's study, without doubt, but we must hurry," she said.

She dashed off again, her excitement at a potential win driving her forward.

"Wait!" he called with a laugh. "Why are you running?"

"Because there will only be one—we must be the first if we want to win!"

Her hair flew out behind her, caught in the breeze, a flash of brown against the bright blue sky. She laughed freely, just as she had the day he had seen her at the lake. And there it was. That same carefree abandon that had so attracted him in the first place. It was innocent and childlike, yet determined and true. He hoped beyond measure that she never lost that, that no one ever snatched it from her.

He ran after her, through the gardens and in through the servants' entrance to the house. They wound their way through the narrow corridors that Alexander assumed must have been for the silent movement of the staff, but Miss Charlotte knew instinctively where she was going. When she burst out into a room, Alexander realized she had fallen upon Lord Hurtle's study in a single try.

She dashed to the desk and snatched up the small, jeweled snuff box that lived on his desk. She held it in the air.

"Yes! We've got it! Kitchen next."

Before he even had a chance to catch his breath, Miss Charlotte had begun to run again, out through the main door of the study and into the family's hallways. She skidded around the corner and trotted down the stairs, dashing into the kitchen. Alexander followed, barely able to keep up, and he almost ran into the back of her when they arrived in the kitchen.

The cook looked at them with great surprise. "I didn't think Lord Hurtle allowed running in his house, Miss Charlotte," she said.

Miss Charlotte giggled, a sound Alexander had come to love. "He doesn't. I need an onion."

The cook nodded over to the window where, lined up on the sill, where six perfectly round onions, waiting for teams to collect them.

"We are the first?" Miss Charlotte asked hopefully.

"Indeed you are."

She thrust the onion into Alexander's hand, and he deposited it in his pocket, finally understanding the pace of their game. He would have no time for consideration. "The drawing room?" he suggested, but she had already gone.

Alexander only managed to reach the drawing room in time to find Miss Charlotte running back out, clutching the ace of hearts.

And my heart with it.

"That's it, we've done it," she cried. "Now to get back to the starting point."

"But that's only—"

He tried to stop her, but she was gone so fast that his words fell on deaf ears. All he could do was follow. She flew from the room, brushing past him as she went, then ran across the entrance hall, garnering a fair few astonished looks from the butler and the passing maids. She dashed down the steps and through the open door, then skidded to a halt on the gravel driveway.

Stewart was there, waiting for the teams to return, and Lady Chelsea and her father were on their way into the house to find the remaining items.

"We've got them all," Miss Charlotte cried.

"My lady," Alexander called from behind her. "Charlotte, wait! There's—"

Miss Charlotte began to unpack all their finds on the wall next to Stewart, while he ticked them off his list.

"Snapdragon, lilac, speedwell, dandelion." She reached up and pulled the flower from her hair, handing it over proudly. "Sunflower."

"Very good," Stewart said, clearly impressed. "And the items."

"Miss Charlotte, please," Alexander tried, but she was so excited that she would not listen.

"Snuff box," she said, pulling it from deep within her reticule. "Playing card." She reached out to Alexander without properly looking at him. If she had, she would see his pleading expression. "The onion and the pocket watch, if you please," she demanded.

He handed them over. "But my lady—"

"There." She placed them in front of Stewart with a grin.

"And… the fifth item?" Stewart asked warily.

"Fifth item?"

Miss Charlotte's shoulders dropped visibly, and Alexander felt a surge of protectiveness. "I tried to tell you there is another item, but you were too excited to—"

"We have the items," Lady Chelsea called from behind them. "Wait just one moment, and Father and I will have won!"

Miss Charlotte turned to him with such pleading, such desperation, that his heart went out to her.

"What's the fifth item?" she asked. "What have I missed?"

"It's a lady's stocking," he said quietly, knowing there was no way they could win now. There was simply not enough time for her to run into the house and find a stocking, no matter how much energy she possessed.

Except, rather than slope her shoulders in defeat, she threw her head back and laughed.

"Miss Charlotte?" Stewart asked, his eyebrows high.

"Are you quite all right?" Alexander asked.

"Perfectly so," she said.

Then she kicked off her shoe and rugged at her toe, pulling her stocking off right there on the driveway and thrusting it into the air.

"The fifth item!" she cried. "A lady's stocking!"