Page 6 of To Resist a Scandalous Rogue
A sharp, piercing sensation penetrated Charlotte’s eyelids, and she fluttered them open with a groan. The world spun for a moment before righting, and she blinked as her surroundings came into focus. The opulent furnishings took her aback, and her mouth dropped open in wonder as she took it in.
That is, until she caught a glimpse of a blond head on the pillow next to her own.
She clasped her hands to her mouth to hold back her screech. Why on earth was a man in her bed? Her gaze darted about once more, and she realized it would probably be more accurate to ask how she came to be inhisbed.
Finlay.
The charming man from the gardens. The man who made her laugh, and roll her eyes, and forget all her problems. The man with the flask filled with superb whisky that made her forget her intentions.
Flashes of their night together danced through her thoughts, and she blushed as she remembered all the things he’d done to her. The things she’d done to him. The taste of his lips. The taste of his…other parts of his body.
Lord, her head might be pounding the Devil’s tune, but her body was relaxed and sated.
Charlotte looked down at him, the morning light streaming through the drapes and falling on him like an illumination from the heavens. She studied him as she’d not been able to the night before.
Streaks of red peppered his blond hair, rendered vibrant under the sun’s rays. Thick, dark lashes spread out like a fan across his cheeks, highlighting bold cheekbones. His patrician’s nose led down to full, sinfully talented lips. The white satin sheet lay pooled around his waist, and, with his arm thrown up over his head, he looked like the subject of a mythological painting. The sight made heat pool between her legs anew.
He was surely a Grigori sent to lead her astray. If she was going to indulge in sin, she couldn’t have chosen a more handsome man to accompany her. Finlay would certainly be a fond memory she’d carry for the rest of her lonely life.
Clutching the sheet to her chest as a shield, she slipped from the bed. She glimpsed her dress draped across the chair by the hearth and made a move to retrieve it when a hand shot out and grabbed her wrist.
“Why are you rising so early?” Finlay mumbled, his voice sleepy. He rose up on his elbow and looked at her with a cocked brow and a teasing smile on his tempting mouth. “Surely there’s still more time we can spend together. And I know just how we can spend it.”
Arousal bloomed deep in her core at his bluntness, but she gritted her teeth against it and carefully pried his hand from her wrist. “I was just going to get us some tea.”
“A maid can do that,” he said lazily, relaxing back on the pillows. Charlotte tried not to notice the heat that blazed in his eyes.
“I was supposed to be a maid, remember?” She offered him a pointed look.
The grin that overtook his face was decidedly wicked. “I have a much better position to offer you.”
Dread displaced arousal, and she jumped away as if she’d been singed. She knew what position he had in mind, and she couldn’t allow herself to be enticed. If he said the words, she wasn’t certain she could deny him.
“Yes, well, allow me to get us a tea tray and you can tell me about it.”
He frowned. She almost rolled her eyes when she noticed the expression only made him more ridiculously handsome. Finally, he capitulated. “Very well.”
Charlotte dressed quickly, aware he watched her every move. Gooseflesh spread across her skin under the heat of his gaze. She wished she had the luxury to return to the bed, with its divine satin sheets, and enjoy his kisses and caresses for a while longer.
But if she was anything, she was a realist. The only place for a woman like her in a man like Finlay’s life was in his bed. Her body would certainly find it agreeable, but her mind and heart reminded her what could happen if she depended upon a man for her livelihood.
Once she’d donned her clothes, she glanced at him and opened the door. “I’ll return shortly.”
“I hope so,” he said, his voice resembling a low growl.
She slipped out the door, closing it behind her. In the hall, she dropped her head to her chest and inhaled deeply, determined to fight back the melancholy until she had the opportunity to indulge it. Today was not that day.
Without another word, she raced up the stairs to Eliza’s small chamber. She wasn’t sure if she was relieved or upset to find her cousin absent. She sank down onto the narrow bed and flopped back on the mattress.
She had nowhere to go and only a pound to her name. Charlotte massaged her temples as she contemplated whether she should wait for Eliza to return. In truth, she wasn’t anxious to see her cousin. After she’d spurned her offer of work because she couldn’t stomach bedding a man for money, she’d still found herself in bed with one of the guests. And her coin purse was just as empty. The hypocrisy of her actions stung.
Finlay. Her night with him was a mistake, but she couldn’t…and wouldn’t…regret it. It was the most exhilarating time she’d had since Roderick died. Perhaps ever.
He was witty. Self-deprecating. Clever. Charming. Undoubtedly a rogue of the highest order, yet he had been a total gentleman. Well, Charlotte thought as her cheeks heated, he had been until, he kissed her and set the night ablaze.
He made her feel as if she were the most enchanting, beautiful woman he’d ever met. For one night, he had made her forget her stresses and worries and given her an excuse to wallow in pleasure.
Charlotte brought her head up with a snap and sucked a sharp breath into her lungs. The time for daydreams, fantasies, and what-ifs was over. Reality had returned, and she needed a plan. Reflection on her glorious night with the beautiful blond man waiting for her downstairs had to cease.
