Page 21 of Charlotte's Kisses

“You do not expect me to eat that, do you?” He glared at the soap suspiciously before grinning at her. Half dead and still teasing. Heavens, he was adorable.

“You may eat in a moment. First, let me clean your wounds.”

She expected him to argue. Instead, he closed his eyes and leaned toward her. If his subtle smile was any indication, he was favorably anticipating her ministrations.

Charlotte dipped the cloth into the water, then lightly blotted his nose.

He moaned.

“Did I hurt you?” she asked as she pulled her hand back.

“No. Keep going.”

She added a dab of soap to the towel and passed it over his cheek. Her gentle cleansing elicited another deep moan.

“I am hurting—”

He opened his eyes and grasped her hand, holding it against his cheek. “It does not hurt.”

Sandwiched between his palm and his cheek, her hand absorbed powerful sparks. Never in her wildest imagination would she have guessed that simply touching a man could send lightning bolts of heat shooting through her. But here she was, feeling as though she were being scorched alive.

“Do not stop,” he demanded. “You make the pain go away.”

Perchance he was moaning from pleasure. After all, she was a burning mass of molten desire.

Heavens above. What kind of woman became overwrought with need while caring for the injured, and why was she just discovering at the age of two and twenty, that she lacked moral discipline? She needed to pull herself together and care for him instead of treating him like a masculine amusement.

Attempting to ignore the humming thrill traveling beneath her skin, she patted at his nose, washing away the last of the blood. Once he was clean, she smeared a dollop of herbal salve onto his cuts. “There,” she said. “As good as new.”

“Hardly.” He chuckled. “May I eat now? Although I could be persuaded to wait a bit longer if you care to crawl onto my lap and ease the rest of my aches.”

As much as she desired this, she should not. Her gaze traveled to the bulge in his trousers that sat atop his muscular thighs. He had a nice lap, indeed. Perfect for straddling—once he was better.

Swallowing hard, she averted her gaze. “You should eat.”

His frown only lasted a moment. The second she began emptying the basket on the table, his face lit up. She arranged ham slices, a block of cheese, and pickled cauliflower in front of him.

He shoved in meat and spoke with his mouth full. “I cannot remember the last time I ate.” After swallowing, he huffed. “I’ve had a time of it these last few days.”

“You can tell me all about it. I am quite a good listener.” Charlotte could listen to his velvety baritone forever.

“I am sure you are. But my days as a Bow Street Runner are filled with criminals and darkness. Nothing I want to saddle a sparkling Firefly with.”

“I am not as delicate as you think,” Charlotte declared as her inner voice chided,Liar, liar. You have no idea what it is like outside these manor walls.Unless the viper pit oftonladies who often visited Chesterhill Manor were as vicious as the criminals in the London jails. Hmm? What if the only difference was that the ladies of her class wore lacey frocks and diamond hair pins?

Charlotte smiled like a daft fool as Hugh shoveled in food and talked about growing up in a luxurious inn on the coast. If only she could visit his childhood home?

Spending time with Hugh was beyond delightful. Relief replaced some of her apprehension, for surely, a hungry man was a healthy man—or at least on his way to good health, and until then, she would care for him. It was much more entertaining than needlepoint and suffering Lady Chesterhill’s pretentious social gatherings of cruelty and torture.

Hugh swallowed the last hunk of cheese. “Thank you. That was the best meal I have ever eaten.”

“You are too kind. ’Twas nothing fancy.”

“I do not care for fancy. I enjoy ham and cheese.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “I also rather like bacon and fruit pies.”

She giggled—giggled, for heaven’s sake—like a missish adolescent. “Tomorrow, I shall bring you bacon and apple pie.”

“Mmm.” His eyelids drooped as if he found pork and pastries seductive.