Page 45 of A Touch of Charm
“Are you hurt?” he asked.
Thea’s eyes, wide and filled with panic and relief, met his. She furrowed her brow and then winced when she tried to stand up. She tried to speak, but words failed her, choked by the tremor of unspent fear. Her fingers clutched at his sleeve, seeking assurance that this nightmare was truly over. Andre’s gaze softened, though the storm within him did not abate. He wrapped his arms around her, drawing her into the fortress of his embrace, where he vowed no harm would dare trespass again.
“May I carry you?”
She nodded. And then she burst into tears.
As Andre lifted Thea into his arms, the weight of her vulnerability pressed heavily upon him. Her slender frame trembled, and as she buried her face into the crook of his shoulder, he felt the warmth of her tears seep through his shirt. Each sob was a dagger of doubt, piercing his heart with the fear that perhaps he had not reached her in time, that her injuries were more grievous than they appeared.
The sun shone as if nothing had happened, as if it were normal to illuminate the brutality of the moments just passed, as he made his way toward Cloverdale House. He hated the violence that had brought them to this moment, the brutality that shattered peace and inflicted pain. Violence was a beast he despised, a force that left injuries both seen and unseen. Yet, he knew in his soul that sometimes, it must be confronted to protect what one holds dear. And from the violent encounter, he’d emerged with single-minded clarity: he, Dr. Andre Fernando von Dürer, was better for Thea than any man who’d hurt her—he’d lay his life down to ensure her safety. And even if he wasn’t the one who deserved her, there wouldn’t ever be another who’d cherish her as he did.
“Thank you!” Thea whispered.
“I vowed to protect you at all costs,” Andre said, but he wasn’t pleased with himself. He wondered if he could have done less damage in the heat of the moment. But that was the problem with violence. In the quiet, his voice emerged, a gentle murmur against the afternoon’s chaos. “You’re safe now.” Each word was a promise, a vow as unwavering as the princess in his arms. He tightened his grip, feeling her heartbeat against his chest, a rhythm that reminded him of her fragility and his duty to safeguard her.
As they neared the house, its silhouette a looming sanctuary, he hoped that Thea’s injuries were not severe. He could not bear the thought of her enduring further pain, regardless of whether it was physical or emotional. His mind clung to the singular truth that mattered: he would lay down his life to ensure her safety, to see her smile again, unburdened by the shadows of that day.
Chapter Seventeen
Thea instantly regrettedit when Andre set her down after he locked the door behind them. It was absurd to think it at the moment, but when he’d cradled her in his arms and carried her to safety, she’d never felt more—it was challenging to think it—at home. Yes, that was the right way to think of it. She wasn’t merely safe in Andre’s arms, but felt like she’d arrived precisely where her path had led her. It may have seemed odd in theory, but practically—she felt it deep in her heart—she was meant to be close to him. And when he’d carried her, she became his.
Not because he touched her or because she’d risked—and perhaps succeeded in—getting compromised. That wasn’t it at all. She became his as soon as he scooped her up in a moment of vulnerability and weakness, and she felt she’d never be alone with him. She’d never feel bare or insignificant because she was a girl—she was a princess and no fairy tale damsel in distress. With him, even in a moment of need, she was more. He hadn’t patronized or removed her from danger because she couldn’t defend herself—even though that was precisely what happened, it wasn’t how Andre made her feel—instead, he’d asked if he could assist her. He left her in control and merely offered his support. All of that tact and humility after he saved her—there wasn’t an aristocrat, her brothers included, who would have wanted to support her more than save her. It was a fine line, an insignificant nuance to most, but it meant the world to Thea.
The handsome, tall doctor with a chest and shoulders as hard as wood, Thea thought when she wrapped her arm around Andre’s neck. In the woods a few moments ago, she’d reeled in his closeness. This was different. He hadn’t merely saved her; he was her protector in a way that it seemed he was doing it for himself more than her safety. She meant something to him, didn’t she?
And he’d felt so good.
Wise.
Brilliant.
And oh, so close.
Thea realized she was still clutching Andre’s arm and looked up at him. He was nearly one head taller but just the right height for their eyes to meet again.
And Thea’s breath hitched when he blinked at her with those dark lashes as if he’d heard her thoughts.
“What happened?” Stan called out when Thea limped and held on to Andre’s arm as they stepped into the orangery at Cloverdale House.
“Thea!” Mary cried as she threw herself against Thea’s legs and hugged her tightly, nearly making her topple again. But Andre’s arm was already on her back.
He offered his support.
Again.
And hopefully forever.
“Thea!” Stan called out in horror as he eyed her intensely.
“Andre came out of nowhere, and then he lunged at them. The taller one hit him, but Andre ducked.” Thea heaved for air, but suddenly, tears came in a torrent of emotion when she realized what could have happened.
Oh, it was embarrassing to be so overcome with emotion, but now that she thought about the danger she’d been in, she hoped she may have just gotten away with her virtue and her life.
“I recognized one of them; it was the same man as in the woods,” Andre said. “A Prussian.”
Stan froze and looked at Andre and Thea with resignation at first, but then it turned into fury. “They’re attacking my family,” Stan mumbled.
“They already did. Twice!” Thea winced when she tried to put weight on her leg.
