“That is me.” A gentle smile curved her lips, as if he was now amusing her. “With any hope, we can move this conversation towards who you are?”
His entire body seized. If he thought her enchanting before, the curve to her lips was something altogether different. It caught his breath in a different way, and was something he really shouldn’t be thinking at a moment like this, but how could he not?
He was a man reacting to a woman who was brave, beautiful, and had a sense of humor. How could Charles think of—
Charles. Reggie had a duty to his friend, to the man who saved his life. He’d promised he would tell this woman who he was, and hand her the note. He was to wait here until she read it, and then return with her reply.
He’d faced his enemies with broken weaponry and clad in frozen undergarments against his nether regions. Certainly, he could do this small act.
“My name is Reginald Payne, miss,” Reggie said, pleased his voice worked this time. “I am friends with Charles Evans.”
Her bemusement eased as recognition of his friend’s name set in, and just when he thought her expression would slip into something congenial, and there would be an invite into her home, her expression fell some more. Fell completely. Her brows drew down, her sun-warmed skin paled, and the plumpness of her bottom lip thinned as she drew in her rose-colored lips in a slash of worry.
“Oh!” She grabbed his wrist and held on tightly. “How is he? He’s not—?”
The strong, warm grip of her hand frazzled any last logical thought.
Certainly the movement was untoward in polite society, but one of his younger sisters was always hugging and patting humans and animals alike, as if she simply must touch to communicate anything, even something banal, like the weather.
So it wasn’t Miss Williams’ unexpected touch making him lose all sense of reason. Something so simple shouldn’t feel like it did. In fact, he shouldn’t feel it at all through the heavy layers of his greatcoat, jacket, and shirt.
But he felt her strength, the warmth, her proximity sending a heavenly scent of baked bread and boiled turnips.
Logically, he knew she was worried, and her fear was founded in some tragedy befalling Charles. Yet Reggie could not rein in the primitive need to fling this woman over his shoulder and declare to all his possession of her.
But her grip did not lessen, and his need for her suddenly seeped through his skin to his very bones and coursed up his arm through his blood. Until his very heart pounded his need for this woman.
And Charles thought her a troll to throw away? He was mad! He’d been too long from Wales, his home, and a visit to this woman’s cottage.
“What are you not telling me?” She sobbed. “Why are you standing there saying nothing—Has something befallen Charles? Are you here to tell me that he’s, that he is—”
Wake up, wake up,he warned himself.Answer her. She is distressed. But nothing came out. Because he didn’t want to talk of his friend at all. Because what he felt was wholly inappropriate, and if he opened his mouth in this moment, he truly feared he would propose to her instead.
Which was wrong. So violently wrong it pulled him back to the truth and away from his dream.
“No,” he bit out, his one word far too forceful to be kind, but it seemed to reach her, for she released his wrist, clasped her hands together, and lifted her chin.
This woman was beautiful, kind, truly cared for his friend. She was brave and funny, and his friend was a fool not to want to marry such a woman.
He knew how to remedy that. He also knew with certainty he could not help call off a lifelong engagement. The letter in his coat almost cried out in protest, and yet he ignored it.
“Miss Williams, I am Reginald Payne,” he said as clear as any word he’d ever spoken.
The fact he was about to tell lies instead of the truth should have disturbed him, but with Siân Williams before him, and his intense need to keep her close, he found it surprisingly easy.
“I am here to tell you Mr. Evans suffered a broken leg a few months ago and could not make the trip from England to Wales to tell you that he—” He paused.
Her expression eased. There was a vulnerability to her golden eyes, but no longer what he’d worried was fear. “Do go on, Mr. Payne. Now that I know you can complete sentences, I am eager for you to finish the rest.”
“—to tell you, if you and your parents agree, that I am to take you to England, where you will meet with Mr. Evans, who is bedridden, and, once he recovers, to continue with your engagement and marriage.”
Chapter Two
She was saved.
After months,years, of worry and fear. Of utter awareness that—unless, by some unknown providence, she could be rescued by a wealthy benefactor or simply offered a paid position somewhere else—she would be living under her married sister’s house for all her days.
Which wouldn’t be terrible, but her sister’s husband was worse than terrible.
