had not gone near a bed. This feeling was due solely to Charlie’s conversation, her laughter and her smiles.
The next day he arrived at midday. With a smile on his face as he and Ash waited on the doorstep for the door to be opened. His heart had a full feeling, as though he’d just eaten a very rich meal. He had completed his duty and now he had two days to do as he wished.
Charlotte, Charlie, opened the door.
‘Hello. Come in.’ She took hold of his coat sleeve and pulled him over the threshold once more. Then her other hand lifted his hat off his head, before he could do it himself. She put it aside on the hall table. ‘We have the whole house to ourselves, I told all the servants to go out.’
‘You will have me strung up,’ he said as he stripped off his gloves.
She only smiled. Then took his gloves from his hand and dropped them on top of his hat. ‘I have luncheon ready in my parlour.’
‘And lemonade?’
‘And lemonade,’ she confirmed with a nod, holding his hand and then pulling him towards her parlour.
‘This is your lair I am being lured into again. Am I to be the luncheon today?’
‘No, you will be dessert.’
Uncertainty lifted his eyebrows, although his smile still broke, yet that twisted a little. He was still unsure whether or not it was wise to call on her here.
They ate their luncheon in her little parlour and drank the lemonade, just as they had done yesterday, talking and laughing together. Then she stood suddenly and took his empty plate from his lap. ‘Shall we go up to bed?’
He glanced at Ash, with a desire to laugh at himself whipping at his chest as his eyebrows lifted again. He was in a strange play. The set for it was perfect; in a feminine parlour. And the scene; the demise of a lustful, sinful soldier. He was still tired from the hours he’d worked through the night, though. For two days he’d had only a couple of hours’ sleep and it made his thoughts disjointed.
He looked up at her as she stood before him, trying to search for some common sense in this. ‘And what will be said by the servants?’
‘They are all out.’
‘I know, but if anyone returns?’
‘I have locked the door between the downstairs and the upstairs and only I have the key,’ her pitch was proud and self-satisfied and her chin tilted upwards, just as it had done yesterday when he’d questioned her judgement.
Damn. The laugh escaped his throat. He could not help himself. The woman was so confusing and enchanting. The Charlotte he had met here, Charlie, was an entirely different person to the trembling woman who’d joined him in a bed in the inn for the first time.
He reached out and held of her hand, without standing or making his decision to accept. Her fingers closed about his as her large eyes looked earnestly at him, asking him why he had not moved yet.
He might be tired but he had learned to ensure his decisions were not slanted by fatigue. ‘Are you certain this is a good idea?’ Perhaps they both needed to come to their senses and stop this now. But his desire to do that was weak, his mind urged him to continue it as much as she did. He wanted to go upstairs with her.
‘Yes. I am. It is the best idea,’ her answer was spoken in her voice that said she intended to live her life as she wished. Her stance reminded him of his youthful self again and his constant refusal to conform to his father’s and older brother’s moralistic view of life. Ah. Damn the world and its judgement.
He stood up.
Damn an army that would make its soldiers march into a battle with a pitiful ration of bullets, let alone food. Damn the infections and diseases that killed the men who had survived the battles and died in filthy beds. Nothing in this world was fair or right.
Who had the power to be a judge over them for choosing to share a bed? No one. They were free to do as they wished.
The emotion that rushed through his body had him lifting a hand to embrace her neck. He wanted this as much as she did. The servants’ or Hillier’s interference be damned. He brought her mouth to his for a long moment.
When they walked upstairs, he led her by the hand as Ash followed them, looking at him with doubt.
If this was a wrong thing to do, then Harry was now cursed, but he would go to hell smiling.
‘Where?’ he asked on the landing.
‘There.’ She pointed to a door in the corner of the landing.
God, he had to ask. ‘Is it the room you share with Hillier?’
‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘It is my room, as the parlour is my room.’
He breathed out the disturbed sensations that began spinning in his blood on a frothing wave. He did not think he could have lain in the bed with her if Hillier had been there before him. Which was a stupid thought because when he’d slept with other women potentially hundreds of men had been in those beds before him.
He clasped the door handle, turned it and pushed the door open. She took over and led him into the room. It was another small room, like her parlour, and the bed was plain and narrow. Beyond that she had a dressing table, wardrobe and a set of drawers, and that was all. There were none of the fancy things like the jewellery boxes and ornaments he knew were in his sisters’ rooms.
She stood before him smiling proudly and they still held hands as Ash walked around the room sniffing at everything. Ash had known where the letter had come from just as Harry had.
Harry’s free hand lifted and stroked Charlie’s neck, then he kissed her.
She kissed him back as her hand pulled loose from his, then reached to release the buttons of his coat.
It was hurried and urgent when they came together; there were still pins in her hair and the dog lay on the floor beside the bed.
It was the first time they had done this in the way he might have done it with a whore, yet it still felt entirely different. The setting and the hours they’d spent together changed everything. And Charlie… Charlie was simply different—she felt different from every other woman in the world.
When he’d finished, he rolled on to his back, content, and his mind was peaceful as it had not been peaceful for more than a year. He closed his eyes and let that peacefulness enfold him.
Charlie sat down on the edge of the bed. Harry did not wake, even when the mattress dipped as she sat. He’d slept all afternoon.
She had risen and taken Ash out for a walk about the garden, before any of Mark’s servants returned, and since then she had been busy sealing her new friendship with Ash in the parlour, playing games. She’d taught the dog tricks for the benefit of some treats from their left-over luncheon; to bark when ordered and lift her paw for a shake and to roll over.
But
