Page 70 of Miss Beresford and the Beast

“Perhaps I am. But I’m not an idiot, Magnus. I understand what the likely result is of my having stayed here with you after my fall. In the eyes of the world, I’ve been compromised.”

“Yes,” he gritted out. “By me.”

“What you don’t realize,” she continued, “is that I don’t mind it. Not because I’m inexperienced, but because I’m an excellent judge of character.”

His defenses fractured. “Charlotte⁠—”

“I knew you before I knew you,” she said. “During that short space of time when I thought we were married. I recognized who you were even then. A kind gentleman who⁠—”

“Kind,” he echoed the word like a curse.

She slid her hands to his shoulders, giving him a little shake. “Yes, kind! And honorable, and dear. A gentleman who makes my heart beat faster.”

Magnus would have pulled away from her if she wasn’t gripping him so tightly. He couldn’t hear it. Couldn’t accept it. “Charlotte, don’t⁠—”

“And no gentleman has ever done that,” she continued determinedly. “I began to fear I would never experience the feeling at all. That I would end my days married to someone I merely liked, and not someone I’ve fallen in⁠—”

“Don’t say it,” he objected hoarsely.

At last, she broke off. Her expression grew stern, though her cheeks remained very pink indeed. “Very well,” she said. “I won’t say it. I’ll speak of Chance.”

Magnus blinked. Yet again, she’d managed to take him off his guard. “Of your dog?”

“I thought he was mine,” she said. “But it’s you he loves. I couldn’t take him now if I wanted to.”

Magnus’s brows snapped together. “You had better take him,” he growled. “That was the agreement we made.”

“What do hearts know of agreements?” she retorted. “And you have Chance’s heart now without doubt. Only think of how sad he would be to leave you.”

As she spoke, her color deepened, making Magnus’s blood heat to a disconcerting simmer in return.

“I would be sad to leave you,” she said.

It was her final salvo. A whispered admission, powerful enough to make the last of Magnus’s defenses crumble.

He reached for her before he could stop himself, a scowl still on his brow. His hand came to cup her face.

Charlotte gazed up at him in trembling anticipation.

But Magnus didn’t move. Couldn’t speak. He could only look back at her steadily, feeling the inexorable pull of his own destiny. A force that had been drawing them closer, inch by perilous inch, ever since he’d first locked eyes with her as she’d balanced atop his garden wall.

“What are you doing?” she asked. Her heated cheek was smooth as silk under his palm.

Magnus bent his head to hers. He was tired of fighting it. “Sealing my fate,” he answered.

Charlotte gasped faintly as his mouth captured hers. He had given her every indication of his intentions. Yet, still his kiss had surprised her.

But not repelled her, it seemed.

Her arms twined about his neck as her lips yielded to his. She didn’t quite kiss him back. Not yet. She was innocent in that regard, it was evident. But there was a melting softness in her touch. The same softness he’d experienced when he’d held her that first night in his bed as he’d undressed her.

She trusted him.

Magnus didn’t take it lightly. Indeed, as he kissed her sweet mouth once more, he was possessed by the unshakable conviction that, even if he lived to be one hundred and ten, having earned the trust and affection of Charlotte Beresford would remain, until his dying day, the greatest honor of his life.

She slid her fingers through the hair at his nape, clenching gently. “Sealing your fate?” she murmured against his lips. “It’s not a bad fate, surely?”

Magnus’s breath hitched. There was something in the way she handled him that was distinctly proprietary.