Page 45 of Beloved Enemy
By Charlotte’s estimation, her exclamation was over-dramatized or simply a grotesque falsehood. She shrugged, notquite knowing how to respond or what was expected of her—what Fiona wanted from her.
“But ye understand my curiosity about a woman come to Kingswood, her name on everyone’s lips,” Fiona expounded, glancing sideways at Charlotte—coyly, Charlotte thought. “A woman who has such....power over my brother that he disregards the duties of nearly an entire day simply to fetch her back from wherever she had gotten to.”
Charlotte’s quick impression of her was that she was affable but was particular about whom she might be friendly to, and that she was a bit starchy for the way she’d glanced around Una’s drab house as if she wouldn’t be caught dead inside it. Almost immediately Charlotte decided—right or wrong, time would tell—that Fiona only liked to be in the know, that whatever agenda she had regarding seeking out Charlotte might be based more in nosiness than an actual attempt to make friends with the woman who had, however short-lived, caught her brother’s attention. Essentially, Fiona was here to see if Charlotte merited any of Reid’s regard. Rather than be rude to the woman, though, Charlotte did not advise straight away that Fiona hadn’t anything to worry about, that her brother had proven his worth as chief and laird of Kingswood, responsible for those who dwelled in her shadow, having essentially rescued her, but that otherwise he had no interest in Charlotte, as he’d made perfectly clear last night.
Having little to divulge, Charlotte only said, “It was very kind of him to search for me. I’d gotten turned around on my walk and was afraid that I’d have to spend the night in the forest.”
“Hmm,” was Fiona’s response to this. “Yes, how very kind of him. But ye must tell me about yerself, from where ye hail and who yer family are.”
“Oh, um, well, I’m not from around here, as you might have guessed,” she said.
“O’Rourke, though,” Fiona pondered. “Are ye Irish?”
“I am, but I’m not from Ireland,” Charlotte said. “I’m from Florida, which you’ve probably never heard of.”
“I have nae, but—”
“It’s not on this continent,” Charlotte said, hoping to prevent further questions about Florida, recalling Reid’s advice that it was a good idea to keep her truth hidden. “And my family is not um, well-known. You wouldn’t have heard of them either.”
And I have no plans, dreams, or hopes for your brother, she thought but did not say, even as she guessed that was what Fiona wanted to know, or to have confirmed thereby allaying her fears.
“That’s a very peculiar amulet you have,” Fiona remarked, wearing a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Did your man give that to ye? Ye mentioned during the court hearings that ye were naeunattached.”
Of course, she’d told Reid the truth last night simply with a hope that he would take that as permission to kiss her again, but she didn’t think she needed to confess the same to Fiona.
“It was a gift from my grandmother,” she said of the necklace, refusing to address the invented man.
It was strange, now, how she found solace in the presence of the amulet, suspecting it was her only link to the present—her present time. She wrapped her fingers protectively around it, as she’d done many times yesterday while she’d been lost and over the last week.
“Ye must sit with me at the family table this evening,” Fiona decided.
At the head table? With Reid? Not on her life!
“I appreciate that your invitation is a singular honor and I thank you, Fiona,” Charlotte said, “but my place is with Una, who has been very kind to me and has shown me such open hospitality.”
“Have nae the Nicholsons—my brother particularly—shown ye the same?”
Charlotte gritted her teeth. “Of course, and I am very appreciative,” she said and then tried to make light of it, “but it’s poor Una who must suffer my presence twenty-four-seven. I don’t mean to be rude or to offend you, Fiona—please believe that—but I know my place.”
Of course, this was far from the truth. She hadn’t a clue about her role here and now, or how or why she’d been picked to be thrown back in time. If, even for a moment, she’d entertained any idea that a love that defied time or a soulmate reaching across the centuries was what had brought her here, well that had been fantastically shot to hell yesterday.
Fiona paused again near the path to Una’s front door. Her smile was stiff, imbued with some warning, which was soon underscored by her parting words.
“I’d have ye understand,” Fiona said, her voice firm, “that I’ll nae abide any schemes to trap my brother in a match. There’ve been many who’ve tried, thinking to better their lot by winning favor with the laird of Kingswood. But I’m well able to see when a woman’s heart is truly given, and when it’s naught but ambition that drives her.”
Charlotte smiled without humor, assuring Fiona, “I have no ambitions on your brother. I don’t need or want anything from him except that he take me back to Ben Nevis, where I’m....hoping to be reunited with my family.” Hoping to be returned to her own time, actually, since she had no one waiting for her or missing her. “Fiona, there’s no cause for you to be suspicious of me.”
“Ye’ve seen the strip of fabric he keeps chained to his belt,” Fiona presumed, one brow raised. “'Tis nae kept as a favored memento, but as a reminder that love is a fool’s hope. Elspeth taught him that.”
Though she’d noticed the scrap of fabric before, Charlotte had no idea of its significance until now. A pang of something sharp and unpleasant twisted in her chest, realizing it was more than just a piece of cloth—it was a tether to Reid’s past, to a woman who had clearly wounded him deeply. And while the weight of it, her newfound knowledge, felt heavier than it should, she had to wonder if this might explain his perpetual brooding and harsh demeanor and his instant distrust of her.
“I won’t be here long enough to matter,” Charlotte said after a moment.
Fiona looked over Charlotte again with purposeful indifference.
“Nae, I don’t suppose ye will matter after all,” she concluded.
Though inexplicably wounded by what seemed a harsh dismissal, Charlotte managed to hold the cold smile.
