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“Of course.” She wiggled down from his hold, inspecting the wound. “Does it hurt terribly?”
“No. It’s fine. But perhaps we’ll go somewhere quieter where you can inspect it more thoroughly.”
Quieter? But she didn’t ask as he took her by the arm and pulled her from the room.
Raithe didn’t give a flying fig about the wound. He just needed an excuse to get Charlie alone. To hold her, touch her, and tell her how he felt.
He pulled her along, heading for her room. Up the stairs they started when she gave a tiny tug. “We should go to the kitchen and get some supplies.”
“I don’t need supplies,” he answered, starting up the stairs again.
“But your arm,” she protested, tugging again.
“It’s fine.” He stopped turning back to her. “What I need is you.”
“Oh,” she said, not moving. “I need to tend to your wound. I’ll feel better if I do.”
How could he deny her that? “Charlie.” He pulled her closer, leaning his forehead down to hers. “If I don’t hold you in my arms soon, I might lose my mind.”
She smiled then. So soft and so sweet, he ached. “Five minutes. I just need boiling water and fresh linens.”
“Very well.” He sighed. She started pulling him back down the stairs. “But let me be clear. I
t’s only a flesh wound. Nothing to worry about at all.”
She shook her head. “Men.”
“What about men?”
“So pig-headed.” She huffed. “We’re getting married, aren’t we?”
He smiled at that. “We are.”
“Well, I can’t have you getting an infection before the wedding, now can I? Where will I be then?”
“They’ll all keep your secret. You’ll be fine.”
She turned and looked at him, color staining her cheeks. “Not after tonight, I won’t.”
His body clenched, every nerve coming to attention. “You’d better hurry up with that water, Lady Charlotte. I’ve been waiting for what feels like forever for tonight.”
They headed down the back steps and entered the kitchen. One of the scullery maids passed by. “Excuse me.” Charlie held up a hand. “Could I get some boiling water and clean rags?”
“Of course.” The girl bobbed and disappeared again.
She looked back a Raithe. “You’ve only been in Seabridge Gate for a few days.”
He reached out, cupping her cheek in his hand as he moved closer. “I’ve watched your every step since our dance last year.”
She gasped, her hands fluttering up to his chest. “But why didn’t you ask me to dance again? Or even speak to me?”
He took her face in both hands, looking into her eyes. “Because you are dangerous, my sweet. I knew it from the first moment I touched you.”
She didn’t feel dangerous, but she did feel powerful and wanted. What was more, she wanted him too.
“My lady. The water is ready,” the maid called from in the kitchen.
“Take off your shirt,” she whispered. “We’ll get you all bandaged.”
