Page 66 of To Resist a Scandalous Rogue
He showed her several other techniques she could use to defend herself, and as she practiced each move, she reveled in being close to him. He seemed to enjoy her company, too, because his touches were caresses, his instructions whispered in her ear with husky words. And their conversation was spoken in laughter. At various intervals, Charlotte stopped to just gaze at him, imprinting the memory of his teasing grin on her mind and heart.
Sometime later, he surprised her when he grasped her hand and squeezed it. “Will you play for me again?”
She blinked from her revelry. “You want me to play the kinnor?”
He nodded, falling back on the bed and propping himself up on pillows. “If you don’t mind. I find watching you play quite relaxing.”
“Oh,” she mumbled, pushing hair back from her brow. She felt as if she were underwater. He knew just how to leave her flummoxed with his thoughtful words and gestures.
Charlotte ran her palm over the kinnor strings. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she cradled it in her lap. “Do you want to hear something lively or something…not?”
He pressed his lips together, his forehead crinkling. “I want you to play whatever you’d like.”
“Very well.” She strummed a few strings as she contemplated which song to play. Suddenly she knew. “The Mountains High” seemed an appropriate choice considering how Finlay had absconded with her heart.
The last note echoed through the room, and Charlotte made a show of returning her kinnor to its trunk to hide the tears which, once again, ran down her cheeks. Standing slowly, she looked at Finlay over her shoulder. He met her gaze, a half smile lighting his face. “Come to bed,” he said, extending an arm to her.
She nodded, knowing it would be the last time he ever said such words to her.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Finlay bit back a groan of frustration when Charlotte began to stir in his arms.
Curse the morning. He’d done his best to keep her up late into the night with bouts of lovemaking interspersed with lively conversation. He’d tried, repeatedly, to get her to disclose her late husband’s name, but with no success. If only she trusted him enough to tell him who was threatening her, he could help her. He had yet to hear from Torres regarding his suspicions about the Townsends and did not feel he could make any moves to protect her until he knew for certain they were the threat.
But Charlotte proved to be as circumspect as the most devout Catholic priest.
He’d been telling her about the time he’d been chased up an oak tree by the old bull he’d been warned, repeatedly, to stay away from, when her soft snores caught his attention. Looking down at her nestled into his side, he’d been struck by how young and vulnerable she looked. Her no-nonsense mask had fallen away, and only the true, tenderhearted Charlotte remained. He’d watched her slumber in the light of the gas lamps from the street below until his eyelids grew heavy and he could no longer ignore the lure of sleep.
Now, he mourned that their time together was at an end. He closed his eyes and pressed his fingers into his forehead when he realized how pathetic his thoughts were. He’d morphed into that damn, pathetic Romeo overnight.
Charlotte slowly blinked her eyes open, staring up at the ceiling for a long moment before they slid to meet his. Her lips stretched into a lazy smile. “Fin.”
His name on her lips was a benediction. And a knife to the chest.
She sat up, pulling the sheet to cover herself. “I didn’t think you would still be here.”
“Of course I’m still here.” He pressed his lips to her temple. “I would never leave without saying goodbye.” He chucked her under the chin. “You’re the one who slinked away.”
“I didn’t slink.” She frowned. “I just thought a goodbye would be hard.”
And what would a goodbye feel like now that he knew her so well? Knew the tenor of her laugh. The sparkle that glinted in her eye when she was amused. The fierce protectiveness she felt for those close to her.
The inferno that burned in his chest gave him a good indication of how he’d feel when Charlotte said goodbye. Forcing himself not to drag her into his arms, he asked, “Do you want me to leave?”
She stared straight ahead, silent for a long moment. Finally she nodded. “It would be for the best.”
“What do you intend to do?”
“What do you mean?”
Finlay sighed. “I’ll see you at the home, will I not? You don’t intend on disappearing, do you?”
Her expression was unreadable. “I don’t intend to leave.”
Leaning back against the pillow, Finlay allowed himself a breath of relief. “My sister and her husband are due back in port today. I’d like to bring them by the House on Monday or Tuesday, depending on their schedules. I’d like you to meet them…if you’re amenable.”
Charlotte turned to look at him, her eyes wide. “You want me to meet the duke and duchess?”
