Page 57 of Pride & Petticoats

She dabbed the moist cloth around his eye and decided it was looking somewhat better. Addy had gone to the kitchen in search of ingredients for one of the salves she’d always made in Charleston, and Charlotte was alone with Freddie. After a peek at the door, Charlotte lifted the covers slightly to peer at his chest. It felt a little awkward to be sitting on the edge of her bed with a naked man underneath the covers. And here she was lifting those very same covers to examine his body. Not that she had dared look below the bruise high on his rib cage. She was tempted, sorely tempted by what she had seen of Freddie’s bronze muscular body, contrasting so strongly with her pale virginal sheets. She just hadn’t gotten up her courage, until now.

Pulling up the covers ever so slightly, she peeked underneath, feeling exactly as she had when she was five and sneaking a piece of candy. The weak light was just beginning to reveal the hard planes of her husband’s stomach when something on the white sheets next to Freddie’s elbow caught her eye. Picking it up, she dropped the covers back down, then brought her hand to her mouth as she realized what it was.

Honeysuckle.

He must have been clutching it in his hand when he came home. Had he bought it for her? Oh, why, when she was at her most vulnerable, did he have to do something like this?

Charlotte brought the small sprig of flowers to her nose and inhaled deeply. The blossoms still retained a faint hint of fragrance.

“They will never smell as sweet as you,” Freddie croaked.

Charlotte’s eyes darted to him, and she almost jumped off the bed from the shock of hearing his voice.

“I thought you were asleep,” she stammered.

Freddie nodded. “I was, but I think I’m coming around.” He took in his surroundings, then tried to sit up.

“No, lie still,” Charlotte urged, pushing his shoulder back gently. “You’re hurt.”

He didn’t argue. Instead he put a hand to his forehead and scowled. Finally the pain receded enough that he grumbled, “Where am I?”

“In my room,” she answered, feeling her cheeks heat. She was still wearing the flimsy nightgown, and he was naked under the sheet. “It was the closest.” Charlotte kept her eyes on the coverlet, trying very hard not to stare at his exposed chest.

“And Wilkins?”

“Everyone has gone to sleep. You should as well. It’s late.”

Freddie smiled a little crookedly. “Is my condition that bad? I think the last time someone ordered me to go to sleep, I was eight.”

“Well, maybe you should listen to someone else for a change. You seem to get into trouble on your own.”

Freddie laughed, then held his head again and groaned. “You have no idea, madam.”

The laugh was genuine, and Charlotte found herself smiling in response. She liked him without all his armor. Taking the chance that the openness between them would last a bit longer, Charlotte said, “What were you thinking tonight? Lord Selbourne told me you were defending me and started a fray. Must you always act the part of the warrior?”

With a surprisingly serious look on his face, Freddie reached out and grasped her hand warmly. “You’re the true warrior, Charlotte. Not I. Had you been there, half of those men would have wasted no time in pledging their loyalty to you.” He brought her fingers to his lips and kissed them tenderly.

Charlotte almost snorted in disbelief, but then his eyes met hers for a long moment. For that moment, she felt like the most stunning woman in the world. But then that was the effect Freddie had on her. And countless other women, too, she supposed.

Still, she couldn’t stop her pulse from racing or her heart from filling her eardrums with its familiar pounding. With the heat of his eyes on her, she was on the verge of saying or doing something she knew she would later regard as ridiculous. But he gave her a momentary reprieve as he released her eyes and his gaze traveled to the honeysuckle she still held in her free hand.

“Do you like it?” he asked. “I’m afraid Selbourne may never speak to me again after the effort I put him to in order to acquire it, but I know it’s your favorite.”

“And how do you know that?”

Freddie put a finger to his lips. “State secret.”

“I love it,” Charlotte said finally. “But it was not necessary.”

“It reminded me of you. Your scent.”

She nodded. “Charleston is full of honeysuckle in the spring. It grows all along one wall of my garden.”

“You miss your home a great deal, don’t you?”

Charlotte looked at him shrewdly. From all appearances, he was quite earnest in all he said, and his sincerity ruffled her more than his usual demeanor. She’d become accustomed to their style of interacting—his bland observations and her angry retorts. But tonight he was different, and suddenly she was nervous. Her heart was hammering incessantly in her ears, and the hand that held the honeysuckle began to tremble. When she looked up, Freddie was watching her with that familiar intensity.

Out of nervousness, Charlotte began talking. To her ears, it sounded like babbling, but she just couldn’t seem to shut herself up. “I love honeysuckle. Always have, though the smell can be overwhelming when it’s in full bloom.”

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