The cracks around the casing began to glow amber, making Charlotte’s pulse skitter and jump.
“Wolfgang?” she whispered, and pressed her hand against the wood.
The door opened and there he stood, outlined in bronze by the candlelight flickering behind him. His hair gleamed, as did one side of his throat and the silk banyan that he’d tied roughly around his waist.
“Charlotte.” He drew her into the room, standing so close that she could feel the warmth of the bed on him, just as she could hear sleep roughening his voice. It would be so easy to sway toward him, tumble down on the mattress and curl up together into the imprint his big body had made, pulling the covers over them and against the world. “Are you all right?”
“I—I…”
Was she all right? Charlotte glanced at the bed but found nothing to say.
The count and the margrave had already left for London. Lady Margot was staying the night and would leave the next morning for Calais and then Paris, where she planned to “take myself off and be a bother to no one,” as she’d said morosely before she swept up the stairs. She meant, of course, live like a queen in the Hôtel Ramsay, but Charlotte saw no need to argue the point.
“Charlotte?” Wolfgang prompted, much too gently.
Charlotte couldn’t quite meet his eyes, and why should she when she could study his shoulders instead? The heavy green silk of his robe clung tight over the slope of his shoulders and down over the dips and swells of his arms. Charlotte swallowed. Strange that his dressing gown should be the one garment that fit him properly.
Her eyes fell to his neck, bared to her gaze by the wide V of his nightshirt.
Oh God. She’d licked that neck just yesterday.
His forehead furrowed. “You’re worrying me, Charlotte.”
“I’m fine, I promise.” Because she was determined to be, very soon.
“Why did you come?” His voice was impossibly gentle.
They both knew the answer, and still her cheeks lit with embarrassment. Perhaps she’d start with something easier?
“I was in my room and I heard you thrashing about. It seemed terribly impolite to turn in without a good-night kiss.”
Wolfgang uttered a low curse, sounding so pained that Charlotte could only be pleased.
Oh, how she loved to be dangerous, especially to this man.
She kept her eyes wide and innocent, holding Wolfgang’s gaze as he brushed a curl off her face, his knuckles rough against her skin, and bent to place a quick kiss on her cheek.
“There,” he growled. “Does that satisfy?”
Not hardly.
She shook her head.
Wolfgang laughed, though it sounded like a groan. “Are you trying to kill me, or only to make me hurt?”
To Charlotte’s horror, something hot began to prickle in her throat. “No. I believe we’ve all had enough unpleasantness today.”
Wolfgang’s mouth went grim. Before she could so much as squeak, he swooped her up against his chest and lowered them both gently to the bed, pulling Charlotte onto his lap as he crooned senseless words against the top of her head.
“No, no! I’m perfectlyfine,” cried Charlotte, just as a big ugly sob pushed its way up her throat.
Wolfgang pulled her closer, his fingers working deep into her hair to find the stiff muscles at the nape of her neck. “That’s right, have a good cry.”
“I don’t want to,” she howled.
Wolfgang’s big body settled around her with all its solid warmth, cradling her close as she cried so that her cheek was flat against his chest and she could hear the steady beat of his heart. Slowly his calm seeped into her, reaching deeper and deeper until it settled into her bones.
“Now,” he said, “tell me what’s wrong.”
