Page 43 of Beloved Enemy
“I’m so sorry, Una,” Charlotte had whispered, feeling a little bit like she was a teenager, swearing to her grandmother she’d not disobey curfew ever again. “I meant only to walk around the loch but lost my way and then my bearings completely. I hope I didn’t cause you—”
“'Tis fine, aye,” Una had said. “Nae need to fret.”
Chastened a bit by what she gleaned as a cool tone, Charlotte had promptly fallen onto her pallet on the floor.
But as the night wore on, Charlotte found herself replaying Reid’s kiss over and over, her thoughts tumbling in chaotic circles. What had he meant by it? Why had he stopped? Why did his rejection sting so sharply?
Most unsettling of all was the realization that it wasn’t just the kiss that kept her awake—it was the humbling fact that she wanted more when apparently he did not.
She chewed the inside of her cheek, trying to decide if she wanted Reid Nicholson to kiss her again more than she wanted him to take her back to Ben Nevis.
He’d left her at Una’s door with nothing but, “Straight inside, Charlotte, and dinna stray again.”
He hadn't mentioned that he or Una, or anyone else, had been concerned about her. Yet, he had gone out of his way to find her, which Charlotte hoped might signify something more. Or perhaps it meant nothing in the end, given his clear regret over their kiss, which he had called a mistake. It could be that only duty and a deep-seated sense of responsibility had driven him to search for her.
She was then fairly miserable, deciding that she did indeed want Reid to return her to Ben Nevis as he promised. She wanted to go home. She didn’t like this stupid time period. She wanted nothing to do with it or Reid Nicholson.
Even as she thought this, she knew that she lied to herself.
Who was she kidding?
If Reid had kissed her again, if their embrace had deepened beyond a kiss, she might not view this era with such disdain. She might even find herself reluctant to leave it behind.
This, of course, was most ridiculous.
Give up her life, everything she knew in the twenty-first century, for a man?
Hmph!
And yet....
Her parents had long since abandoned her, her grandmother was gone, and while she had friends, she had always kept them at arm's length, not allowing them to truly matter. The sense of connection she craved seemed perpetually out of reach, some of that her own doing. She had built a life of independence, but the isolation had left its mark.
Could she—would she?— truly forfeit her modern life, her carefully constructed existence, for a fleeting romance in a time that was not her own? The very notion seemed ridiculous, yet the allure of what might be, the comfort of belonging and shared intimacy, proved tempting.
It didn’t matter though. Reid had made himself perfectly clear.
It was simply not an option, she told herself.
And let’s be real, she further advised herself, Reid was indeed magnificent and magnetic, but he was also a brooding enigma. His perpetual frown and distant demeanor had left her with the distinct impression that he was not the light-hearted companion she desired.
She had yet to see him smile, his face marred by a constant grimace that seemed to reflect the weight of his responsibilities or perhaps his personal demons. Or he was simply grumpy by nature. His charm was undeniable, but it was wrapped in layers of stubborn pride and a brooding seriousness that was far from her idea of romantic bliss.
Reid might be a compelling figure in this strange and distant past, but that didn’t change the fact that he was fundamentally different from anyone she had ever known—or wanted to know. His gruff exterior and occasional bursts of anger made him seem less like a potential partner and more like a man consumed by his own burdens, certainly not one interested in romance.
Finally convincing herself that she didn’t want anything from him, eventually Charlotte was able to sleep.
In the morning, she awoke with a sense of determination, fueled by the lingering guilt from her absence the previous day. As the first light of dawn filtered through the hole in the roof of Una’s cottage, Charlotte rolled out of bed and set about her chores with renewed purpose, meaning to make amends to Una.
The morning air was crisp and cool, carrying with it the earthy scent of dew-soaked grass. Charlotte padded softly across the wooden floor, her feet finding their way to the hearth which barely smoldered from the night before. She carefully added a clump of peat, coaxing the flames back to life to warm the small house.
“Charlotte,” whispered Lilias from the bed, rubbing sleep from her eyes. Lilias pronounced her name much as everyone else in this time did,Char-lot.
“Come on, love,” Charlotte coaxed softly, knowing Una’s daughter would have to pee. “Put your shoes on and your cloak and I’ll take you outside.”
Charlotte grabbed the plaid breacan Reid had given her nearly a week ago, wrapping that around her shoulders, before she slid her feet into her short hiking boots, the only footwear she possessed.
Lilias woke today as she did every day since Charlotte had been here, groggy and moving in slow motion as she scrambled off the raised bed. The little girl took forever to wake fully in the morning. Thomas, on the other hand, when he woke, would rise bouncing with energy, eager to start the day.
