Her father bemoaned her skills being wasted on such an isolated estate, but Charlotte accepted her fate. After almost a decade caring for Fermoy, she was comfortable with her life and resigned to live the most fulfilling existence she could,away from society.
Perry’s arrival had destroyed the peace she had achieved. Trained to deny her existence on the estate, the servants would be of no help to him. It was for the best to stay hidden. Forgotten. Keep her presence a secret and protect the simple life they reveled in at Fermoy.
If he discovered her, Peregrine might start making demands. She would not bow down to her fate as her younger self had. She was determined to choose her own path. Should he realize Aurelia existed, he might cast Charlotte aside and take the child to live in the city. She would have no means to fight his power. As a ruined woman, she had no weapons against his powerful family. Though it made sense to give Aurelia the best life she deserved, the cost seemed too high.
In her vision, Charlotte would use a portion of the money they had received from the elder duke as a dowry to help secure Aurelia a marriage in the future. A sum that would help any suitor forget the mystery surrounding her daughter’s lineage. Perhaps they would even introduce her as a distant cousin. Charlotte had a solution for everything, except having her daughter taken from her. Selfishly, Charlotte feared losing her child and loathed the thought of another woman raising Aurelia. His proper wife.
Closing her eyes, Charlotte inhaled a calming breath.
No.
She refused to let it happen.
The servants would help her.
They must continue to keep the secret until Peregrine left. It was the only way to keep her life as it was.
Safe.
Alone, yet in control of her own destiny.
Chapter Twelve
Asliver of warm sunlight had heated his skin as Perry had awoken from slumber, lazing in the meadow amongst the wildflowers and grasses. This place was so familiar. Covering his eyes as the brightness danced around him, his temporary blindness enhanced his other senses. He recognized her scent before he saw her, a breeze of gardenias surrounding him, then drifting away, leaving him bereft. Sitting up on his blanket, he hunted the nymph who dared approach him, dared to interrupt his sweet reverie. Could it be she had sought him out after so long? His chest ached as the sweet sound of her laughter danced on the breeze. A sound he had missed with every part of his being. Could it be she still lived? Was he dreaming? How could he be, when everything seemed so real?
Perhaps she was a ghost, only seen in his mind.
Pushing himself up on a somehow pain-free arm, he gave chase. He would never miss an opportunity to crash into this ethereal being that had tormented his thoughts for so long.
Peregrine ran, pushing aside branches and dodging obstacles without losing track of his prey. Waves of silky light brown hair floated behind her as she kept just out of his reach. He didn’tunderstand why she suddenly appeared to him, sending him into a frenzy of longing and need. He ran in his bare feet yet felt no pain as the mossy forest floor collected his footsteps and erased them as he passed. The forest was thick, he ran between large trees and stumbled along as Charlotte seemed to float before him.
Beckoning.
Though he could not see her face, her musical voice drifted softly, caressing his ear. How he had missed that voice. It soothed him, a balm to his very soul. He had forgotten how the sound of her could weaken him, like a kick to the gut, and set him afire. Lungs burning, he ran to see the teasing smile that beckoned him further. She was his forest nymph, leading him on a merry chase. He would always find her.
They had met in the forest, fallen in love beneath the canopy of oak trees, and laughed as the shade protected their secrets. She knew the forest by heart. Each tree and lush fern moved to make a path for her as her cream-colored chemise danced in her wake, not getting stuck to any branch or bush. She was his dream, and he longed to bury himself inside her and not come up for air.
“Lottie, wait,” he called out to her, and her head turned for a moment as she continued to run just out of his reach. The chase both frustrated and delighted him. If this was to be the dream that tormented him, he may as well enjoy it. Her sweet scent surrounded him, lush and intoxicating. His eyes to rolled back in his head in pure pleasure.
“I’m here, Perry,” she said as she leaped away from him. A whisper of soft cotton tickled his fingers. He almost had her. His body filled with a sense of daring as lust surged in his loins. No woman had eased the ache or filled the emptiness since she had disappeared from his life. If he was lucky enough to hold her in his arms again, he would die a happy man. He longed to feel the lustrous skin beneath his palms, taste the lush rose-colored lips. Her petal-soft mouth would taste as sweet as it looked. Each step drew him closer to the warmth and love radiating from her.
His desire was fueled by an assault of memories, his adrenaline pushing him forward. Harder. Faster. How he yearned to feel something again. As a man who had been numb for so long, her presence overwhelmed him. He was painfully aware of how blindly he had been walking through life, seeking this fulfillment and that distraction, yet somehow achieving nothing. She was an abundance of feeling, of sweetness, of soul-shattering adoration, all wrapped in a dagger that would stab him directly in the heart once she left again.
Because he knew.
He knew.
It wasn’t real.
He was dreaming.
Charlotte was dead. She had been taken from him before they could ever discover what they were destined to be.
So, Peregrine ran. He ran like a man running through the desert toward a mirage. He would drink from the fountain. He would revel in the passion. He would catch her and make her his, knowing in the back of his mind that none of it was real. He would steal his sweet Lottie and drown in the waters of their passion, if only for a brief moment.
Since the shooting, his days blended together in a feverish haze. Perhaps Charlotte was an angel, come to bring him to paradise. He would gladly follow her anywhere now that he had found her. If this was death, he would fearlessly cross the bridge to be in her arms again.
“Lottie, I need you,” he begged softly, and she turned. Their chests heaving from the exertion of running, his eyes ate up each tempting, and sun-kissed inch of her skin. Her hand wrapped around his, and he pulled her toward him. “I caught you, my forest fairy.”
