Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Charlotte jumped down from the rock onto the soft ground below. She snatched up her cloak and wrapped it quickly around her, pulling it tight against prying eyes. The air had suddenly turned cooler and she shivered, her gaze searching the trees for where she had seen the man.

The branches had folded in, disguising where he had been hidden, but he had been there, she was certain of it. She had imagined men gazing at her in longing often enough, but they had never been as real as he had been.

Her heart racing, she bent down to gather the rest of her belongings. The magic of the place had disappeared, her peace broken by the unwelcome intrusion. She had felt so free, so unrestricted by society's gaze, but she should have known better. Society's gaze was always there, always watched. She shivered again, the very thought of it almost too much to bear.

And yet… There was something about that man's eyes in particular, something about his gaze. She didn't know him, nor did she want to know him. And she certainly didn't want him watching her from within the trees. But a part of her had secretly enjoyed it, too. Part of her had wanted to show herself to him.

Indeed, if she was perfectly honest with herself, she had known there was someone watching long before the snap of the twig rang out through the air. She had sensed the roving eyes on her, and she had enjoyed it. The wrongness of it… had felt so right.

She had stretched her body out as she dove, slipping into the water as smoothly and as elegantly as she knew how. But when the twig snapped, her head had shot up, and the pretense was over. She realized what she was doing, and her cheeks had turned red with shame.

I am a fulsome harlot and no mistake.

Now, she slipped her damp feet back into her shoes and gathered the rest of her things in her arms, her back to the gap in the trees where he had been, her heart hammering in her chest. When she straightened and turned back, she gasped. Not only was the man there again, but he was striding toward her with purpose. Charlotte pulled her shawl even tighter, her shoulders curling in on themselves.

Foolish woman , she chastised herself. She had led him to her, surely, in her quietly wanton thoughts. She had brought this situation on herself by displaying herself so openly. But despite the discomfort she felt in her body, her anger showed on her face. With a furrowed brow and pursed lips, she scowled at him, just as she had when she had first made eye contact with him.

How dare he?

This man, this brute, thought he had the right to intrude on her peace and worse than that, he had watched her, as if she were a horse in dressage. It was ungentlemanly to say the least, but then from the look of him, he was no gentleman at all. A hunter, perhaps, trespassing on private property, and had she had the energy, she would have scolded him for it. Instead, she raised her chin defiantly into the air and waited for him to approach.

He did so tentatively, hands out in front of him as if to tame her. It was almost laughable. It wouldn't be the first time she had been told she needed to be tamed. She said nothing, continuing only to scowl, but her insides began to twist and swirl.

There was something about him that drew her, and her body responded even though fear and worry vibrated in her heart. Though her arms were folded tightly across her chest, her body curved, gravitating naturally toward him. It was as if her body wanted to know him, while her mind pulled back.

"I am dreadfully sorry," he said, and she turned her head away from him petulantly. She had no interest in his apology. "I should have left as soon as I saw you. I stopped merely to lead my horse to water for the poor thing was awfully hot, and… well, there you were. I cannot express to you how very sorry I am. I ought to have turned away immediately but… I don't know, I suppose something caught my attention."

To say he was handsome was an understatement. Though his expression was suitably repentant, his emerald-green eyes shone with amusement and the twist of his thin pink lips suggested he was enjoying himself. His apology may well have been genuine, but she could tell that he liked having to say it. What riled her even further was that she found herself wanting to look at him, talk with him even. But she would not. She would not allow it.

She glared at him. "I am not interested in your apology, sir," she snapped. "Your behavior has been exceedingly rude!"

He blinked in shock. He had clearly not expected to be reprimanded. He may even have thought he'd found himself a new friend. But she wouldn't allow it, even if her looseness of earlier would have given any man the wrong impression. She bared her teeth as he had seen the dogs on the estate do.

"I… am sorry," he said hesitantly. "I'll be honest, I had assumed you to be a maid or some such, but now I can hear how well spoken you are, Miss…"

He raised his eyebrows at her, expecting an answer, but no answer came. She merely continued to glare at him, though her thoughts said so much more. They said things like goodness, you are lovely , and what a shame it is that you have to be such a brute when you have such a beautiful face as that.

The man standing in front of her cleared his throat, his shoulders up around his ears. "You do not wish to share your name, I see," he said. He pursed his lips and looked down at the floor, defeated perhaps but not quite ready to give in. "That is a shame. I had rather hoped—"

"You have not earned the right to know my name, sir," she interrupted, her fierce words belying the turmoil of emotions she felt inside.

Never before had she been so attracted to someone. And worse, attracted to someone she so patently disliked even after mere minutes of meeting. From his behavior to his words, there was not a single thing she liked about the man.

Except for everything , she thought, though she quickly shook it away. She did not and would not like a single thing about him, no matter how handsome his stupid face was.

He raised his hands into the air again and bowed, finally accepting his defeat. "Very well. Then I shall leave you in peace. Once again, I am terribly sorry."

He turned and walked away, his shoulders high and his head low.

"As you should be," she called after his retreated back.

Once she was certain he had gone, she stormed off in the direction of her mare. Her day had been entirely ruined, her mood now dark and unstable. To say she was irritated was an understatement. She piled her goods on the back of the waiting horse, then held onto the reins and put her foot in the stirrup.

She didn't lift herself up, though. She found herself quite unsettled and decided returning to the house now would not be a good idea. Instead, she lowered her foot back to the ground, retied the reins, and wandered off into the trees. It was amazing how restorative a little walk in nature could be, her father had always said so.

She spread out her fingers as she walked, letting the leaves and branches hit her hand, their cool wetness satisfying. And she allowed her imagination to play out in her mind. What would have happened had she not sent the stranger away? Pretended she hadn't seen him? Would he have approached anyway?

Would he have taken me?

Though she was infuriated at his impertinence—he obviously thought her a mere maid after all—the thought that he had enjoyed watching her, that her physical being had brought him some pleasure, sent a shiver of excitement down her spine. Would he have taken her? She didn't know—didn't think so—but the thought enticed her all the same. The true question was would she have wanted him to?

Charlotte had never been much of an exhibitionist, preferring instead to sit out from the parade of ladies and gentlemen in the ton . And yet, with this man, she wanted to show him how beautiful she was, a peacock fanning its tail.

She laughed at herself as she stepped over the gnarled tree roots that spread across the ground. Never before had she thought of herself as one to puff her plume, and yet with him, she found herself doing it without thought. Without conscious decision. There was something different about him, and the feelings he evoked in her even after just a short time were different.

Is that what attraction is?

Surely not. She had always been able to objectively say whether a man was handsome or not. She knew how to appraise a gentleman for his good points and his bad. But this was different. This man was different. This feeling that stirred within her very core was different.

She walked through the field of bluebells, admiring the shock of color amid the deep greens of the woods. If the lake was isolated, this was a world of its own, and the quiet helped to calm her thoughts. She giggled to herself as she imagined the stranger diving into the lake with her, his chest glistening with water. She could imagine the taste of him, man mingled with the metallic earthiness of the lake.

It wouldn't do any harm, she supposed, to picture him in such a way. Now that any risk to her safety was gone and her spiraling thoughts had begun to quieten, she could enjoy the moment for what it had been, laughing at herself and the situation she had gotten herself into.

It wasn't the first time something like that had happened to her, but it was the first time that she had responded in such a way. It was the first time she had found herself engrossed in the man in question, instead of turning away from him, annoyed and disgusted.

But it mattered not. She wouldn't see him again. The chances that such a hunter—probably a poacher—would return to the same spot after being caught once was slim. Charlotte breathed a little easier, relieved by the realization. She could indeed enjoy the memory—and she would—safe in the knowledge that she would never see him again.