Page 46 of An Earl for the Archeress

Such mention of offense obliged the man to take it, and he bowed humbly, backing away.

“Please, find room at a board and eat. All are welcome,” Robert added, then sat and dismissed them, casting a glance at Mariel as he tucked back into the board.

“As I said,” he whispered, leaning to her ear. “Not thieves. Good Samaritans.”

A few moments later, Mariel excused herself to her chamber, opting to walk on the rooftops to get away from the torches, the fanfare, the ladies’ scrutiny, and the realization she didn’t want to accept but that was becoming impossible to ignore—that Robert wasn’t the philandering, spoiled earl who amassed wealth at the expense of those beneath him. Could she truly trust him? Could she truly remain here and rest easy that he would protect her, as he had protected the woodsman and his wife who were now sitting at a table, staring at the abundance before them? Could she let down her guard?

…

Robert stood at Charlotte’s door, resting an arm over his head on the door frame. Mariel had practically flown from the great hall earlier that night, and he sensed the reason why. An idea had begun to swirl in his thoughts. He tapped his knuckles on the wood. After a moment, the door pulled open.

“Robert?” Charlotte questioned, staring up at him, her needlepoint in hand. “To what do I owe this private visit?”

“May I enter?” he asked, righting his vest with a quick tug of the bottom hem.

“Certainly.”

She stepped back and gave a sweeping gesture to welcome him in.

Ah, Charlotte. He stepped into the familiar bedchamber. He had visited here many a time to romp between the linens with the beauty before him. Yet to look at her now did nothing to whet his lust. Her supple body, the delicate combs laid out upon her dressing table, and her ever-industrious fingers pulling a needle, no longer sparked his interest. More than five long months had passed since he had liaised with Charlotte, or with anyone else. Five months of only his hand keeping him company. Had Mariel any idea?

Probably not.

Despite sensing Mariel warming to him, despite feeling her admiration on him that eve when he had bestowed Nottingham’s coin on the peasant man and his pregnant wife, despite their perfectly executed raid that morning and the boar his people had feasted upon, the lass probably still thought him a rake who tangled his naked legs with any willing female, including Charlotte, if the way she had sat quietly through the whole of dinner meant anything.

“I have a request to make, though it might seem presumptuous considering our previous status,” he said.

He saw a flicker of hope cross Charlotte’s brow and wanted to slap himself. Hope for a tryst between them was not what he wanted her presuming.

“’Tis not that type of request, Charlotte. I apologize if I led you astray just now.”

Disappointment slumped her brow but was quickly replaced by resolve. “You are a dear friend of mine, Robbie. I would see to your happiness, even if that happiness is not with me.”

He nodded and smiled at her. “My thanks. In fact, I was hoping you could befriend the Scottish girl.”

“Whatever for?” Charlotte gasped. “She has no desire to share friendship with a woman who has known you intimately. That much was clear the other night. She isn’t like other women, and I sense she has no interest in playing the wily games of women, either.”

“That much is certain,” Robert agreed.

“But I could tell, as she stormed out of the castle bent on leaving, that she longed for you, in spite of being adamant to leave,” Charlotte said. Robert crinkled his brow. “Oh yes. I’m a woman, and I can spot pining on another woman’s brow, for I, too, have pined. Seeing you and me together at supper hurt her, for it made her think the worst of you, and I must say, I could tell she felt inadequate. She was about to retreat above stairs when I happened upon her and escorted her in with me.

“And whilst most noblewomen would be willing to play at intrigue for a man such as you, who is one of the most eligible in England,” Charlotte said, “her reaction was the opposite. I think it’s safe to say she’s fond of you, but she’s willing to refuse you. It must be her way of protecting herself. Chances are she’s had little reason to trust anyone and therefore is better off passing on love rather than risking heartache.”

He nodded, flopping into one of the upholstered chairs by the fire. Perhaps Mariel questioned her lack of trust in him now, which was why she’d excused herself. He could only hope she was warming to him enough, for the camaraderie his men and he had shared with her that day had pleased him immensely, even if he could still sense John’s interest in her.

Charlotte came to sit in the chair she had occupied moments ago, bringing the kerchief she was embroidering with her. “She’s a capable woman, rough around the edges, and ’tis clear she’s burdened with an armored heart.” Placing a stitch, Charlotte pulled the needle through the underside of the kerchief, drawing the excess thread through before placing a precise stitch back into the fabric and repeating the ritual. “But if I ever saw one, that woman is terrified and vulnerable, despite her wild ways. Running away from her problems is the only solution she knows. She’ll never remain your lover if she senses you play with her heart.”

“She can’t remain my lover if I’ve never gotten her to bed in the first place,” Robert said. “You’re right.”

Charlotte smiled wistfully. “I never knew you to lack prowess when you wished a woman to submit.”

“I lack it not.” He defended himself, though there was no arrogance in his remark.

“Then why has she refused you?”

“She hasn’t,” he replied. “More than once we could have, well, you know.” She nodded and looked into the flame, pausing in her embroidery. “But I couldn’t make myself follow through.”

Charlotte’s eyes shot to his with shock. “You not follow through? Pray tell, then, why you would seek a woman who doesn’t entice your interest?”