Page 33 of A Lady's Dangerous Secret
James needed to find out the full truth from Charlotte, but now was not the time. Nevertheless, if talking about her dream would help, he would lend an ear.
“What happened?” He asked softly, and gently held her hand.
Charlotte shook her head vigorously. “I can’t tell you.”
“You begged someone not to kill you,” he said more harshly than he intended. He would personally murder anyone who threatened to harm her.
“Ow!” Charlotte squeaked.
James did not realize his grip had tightened around her hand. He loosened it and turned her body so that she looked directly at him.
“You don’t need to tell me everything, but you have to let me in, just a little. Someone tried to kill you tonight. I need to know who’s after you so they never lay a finger on you again.”
Charlotte felt a warmth develop inside her. James was willing to fight her demons. She had never experienced someone taking care of her like this. Yes, Arthur protected her in a brotherly fashion and would defend her honor if required, but he was the bookish sort. She could not imagine him physically fighting for her; it was simply not in his nature.
James, though, was a different story. Charlotte had gotten a taste of his unleashed strength when he accidentally tightened his grip on her hand, and she was utterly intrigued. It distracted her from the nightmare she had just experienced.
“Please tell me who’s after you,” he pleaded.
Charlotte closed her eyes to collect her thoughts, but that was a mistake.
It all came rushing back.
Dark, beady eyes glared at her while her wrists were shoved against the wall and held in place by a surprisingly strong, masculine hand. A stab of pain jolted through Charlotte’s body, and her head jerked painfully against the wall. The door was kicked shut with a thud and then locked with a key in the man’sfree hand.His lips widened into a snarl, exposing yellowed teeth and fetid breath.
“You have pushed me too far!” His fist thumped next to Charlotte’s head for emphasis, which caused her to flinch.
“Do you know what happens to chits who anger me?” Charlotte winced from spittle that landed on her cheek. Her eyes darted around the room and searched for an escape. She twisted her wrists, but they were still pinned to the wall and did not budge.
“You didn’t answer me, you worthless nob! I’ll do it for you.” The pressure on her wrists increased, causing Charlotte to fear they would be crushed.
“They die,” her tormentor hissed.
Charlotte reacted with the first action that came to mind and jerked her knee upward into his manhood. He let out a shriek and clutched his crotch, releasing her restraint. Charlotte bolted to the door. The doorknob rattled as she frantically tried to open it.
“You bitch! You’re not going anywhere until I’m done with you!” Charlotte glanced over her shoulder before she futilely tugged on the doorknob some more. She saw the man run to his desk and yank the drawer open. Charlotte searched again for an escape and found nothing. She looked back toward the desk, only to find the barrel of a gun moving closer to her.
“Don’t kill me!” Charlotte screamed.
She floated in the world of the in-between. She thought she was awake but could not leave the past. The horrific scenes of theIncidentintruded into her thoughts and would not let her escape.
Her eyes flew open. In the dim light, eyes of silver looked at her with concern.
“Lottie, you’re safe. You screamed again about someone trying to kill you.”
“Who’s Lottie?” Charlotte had to distract herself from the nightmare that was her mind.
“Why you, of course.” James looked back at her with a crooked grin on his face that looked oddly familiar. When James was not scowling and did not have a storm brewing in his eyes, he was quite attractive.
“No one has ever called me Lottie. Arthur calls me Charlie, but that’s the only nickname I’ve ever had.” She shrugged, trying to ignore what was left unsaid. She did not want to focus on the fact she had never had the chance to be close to anyone besides her brother.
“Well, I’ve called you Lottie,” James replied warmly.
His eyes bored into her, and she thought it was caring she saw in them, and not the pity she was dreading.
Could she confide in James?
She had told Arthur the story of theIncident, but no one else.
