Page 13 of The Winter Rogue
Drew groaned softly, trying to quell his wildly inappropriate thoughts.“If anyone were to come by here and see you like that, there would most definitely be a scandal!”
“Who in the world is going to venture by for a visit in the middle of a bloody snow storm?”She looked at him like he was crazy.
“It doesn't matter.It is not appropriate.I've met prostitutes who were more modestly dressed than you are!”
Her eyebrows rose and her mouth gaped open, but no sound escaped.
Had he ever seen her at a loss for words?Certainly not as a child.Not even when she’d punched him.
“Now go put some fucking clothes on, Charlie.”More words flew out of his mouth, and Drew wanted to bang his head against the table.The bloody woman drove him to distraction.
Her face became a mottled shade of magenta that was not particularly attractive, but then he supposed in that moment she wasn't too concerned about what she looked like.“You have no right to say anything to me.You are not my father and you are certainly not my husband.You're not even my friend—and I told you not to call me by that name.My name is Charlene.”With that, she stormed out of the room, leaving him to sit in blessed silence.
Drew sat there alone and tried to understand how things had got so out of hand.
Yes, he wanted her a little miffed at him.But he hadn't intended to get her into a full on rage.He knew when things had got out of hand—when she had stood up with the full force of all her curves was on display in a way he had never seen before.All Drew could think about was wrapping his hands around her hips as he pounded into her welcoming body.
Swallowing hard, he knew he would be an unmitigated fool if he'd thought riling her up was going to work in his favor.The last time he'd done that, she'd punched him in the stomach.
He knew he was lucky to escape this encounter unscathed.
The question was, what would happen when next they met?Drew knew retaliation of some kind would come.It was just a question of what she would do—and whether he could continue to keep his hands off Lady Charlene.
Chapter Seven
Charlenestormedoutofthe breakfast room, absolutely furious with Drew.Stopping in an alcove to calm down and gather her wits about her, she tried to inhale slowly.
In all these years, one thing hadn't changed about Drew Wentworth: the man could still make her as mad as an angry hornet's nest.Tucked away in her shadowed spot, she saw—or, more accurately, heard—him stomp into his study.
With a sigh of disappointment at how the morning had turned out, Charlene pushed out of the alcove and yawned heartily—the man really was exhausting—as she wandered toward the orangery attached to Glenn Ivy Manor.It was a lush and beautiful indoor botanical space—it was so much more than a mere garden—filled with orange trees, lemon trees, elephant ear plants, and many other tropical varieties that wouldn't normally survive in their cold climate.It was also quite warm, despite the snowstorm.It had been a favorite spot of hers as a child when she and her mother came to visit, especially after she'd punched Drew.
This was the place she had hid.
Charlene found a lovely little bench near the orange tree and sat down.She had woken up this morning nearly as tired as when she'd gone to bed last night, and truth be told, it was Drew's fault.After that kiss in his study she had dreamed of him all night, which had her sleeping fitfully as she tried to escape her sleeping fantasy.Every time she ran, the blasted man caught her and kissed her to within an inch of her life.
It was infuriating.The brute had invaded her sleep and despite that, she had woken determined to be a pleasant breakfast companion.After all, she was stuck here for the duration—however long that turned out to be—and she really didn't want to spend that time fighting with the only other occupant of the house.To be sure, there was Polly, but she kept to herself mostly, or so Charlene would expect of a housekeeper.That was certainly how it was at her parent’s home.
Needless to say, Drew's boorish behavior at breakfast had thwarted all her best intentions.
The idiot knew she hated being called Charlie.She had always hated it, even as a girl.Without a doubt, she had been a bit of a tomboy, but that had been the only way to spend time with Drew, and it had hardly been her fault that she'd taken a fancy to him as a girl.She was woman enough to admit that now.
But the fact the man had needled her with that nickname he'd given her long ago, on top of demanding she change her clothes, was outside of enough.What the hell did the man think?That she had absconded into the night and brought a trunk of gowns with her?
She'd packed light, believing she would arrive at Brookhaven Manor where she would have plenty of clothes at her disposal.She had hardly planned on being caught in a bloody snowstorm.Who could plan for that this far south?
And she was fully covered!Her trousers didn't show a sliver of skin.It's not like the man didn't know what legs looked like—he had a pair, after all.
Charlene frowned.Could…could he be attracted to her?
The thought pinged around in her mind, wreaking all kinds of havoc on her psyche.That was impossible…although they had kissed—or she had kissed him, really.She didn't believe for a moment Drew could find her attractive.She was far too plump for such a thing—well beyond the fashionable amount of curves for a woman.Her former fiancé had made it more than clear that no man would ever find her appealing beyond her dowry and the connection to her father.
Well, if Drew wanted to regress to old behaviors, Charlene thought wickedly, two could play that game.She knew there was a pianoforte in this house.After all, she'd played it as a child when forced by her mother.She hated playing the thing as she was terrible at it, truly awful.She could never make her fingers go where they needed to, and she had no sense of timing.
Perhaps it was time she practiced again?
A few minutes later she found the music room, conveniently located across the hall from Drew's study, though everything was draped in holland covers.Pulling the cloth off the pianoforte, she coughed as the dust floated into the air in a million tiny little particles.How long had it been since the instrument had been tuned?Charlene grinned.All the better for her to punish her rude host, she thought as she pulled out the bench and sat down.
The question was, what should she play?
