Page 72 of Beloved Enemy
Every doubt she’d clung to—the fear, the hesitation, the desperate need to hold on to the amulet, to that small link to her past—seemed so distant now, trivial even.
It was crazy. They’d spent more time fighting, being suspicious, than anything else, and yet here she was, wrapped in the certainty that this was where she was supposed to be. With him. There was no more question, no more uncertainty. Just peace. Finally, peace.
Reid lifted his head, his own breathing nearly returned to normal, his skin glowing with a bare sheen of perspiration.
“I like watching ye come apart in my arms.”
A serene smile creased her face. “I likedfeelingit.” She sighed and her smile faded. “Do you have any idea how many times I imagined this?”
“Aye, I might.”
***
He didn’t want to leave, he wanted to stay here forever in the tower, and keep the world and all harsh reality at bay.
The torch he’d brought to the tower endured, a wide but soft golden shaft of light that allowed him to see that she slept peacefully, her expression unguarded.
It was easy for Reid to replay the moments of the past hour in his mind, each expression she’d worn, each flicker of wonder, pleasure, and joy. All magnificent. He marveled at how, with so light a touch, she’d wielded such power over him, leaving him raw and vulnerable in a way he hadn’t thought possible. For a man who had long relied on control and restraint, she had undone him so easily. In her eyes, he had seen not just passion, but something more, a want and expectation of a deeper connection, which both thrilled and terrified him.
A pity then, that it would come to naught, that he could not again surrender to so wild a passion for her. Aye, 'twas only a taste, one bound to leave him aching for more all the rest of his days, but it was not to be.
He cast another glance at her, a pang of regret squeezing his chest. He didn’t know what to believe of Charlotte anymore—witch, time traveler, spy—each possibility seemed more implausible, more dangerous than the last, yet he could not dismiss any of them. But no matter who or what she truly was, he knew one thing for certain: she was someone with whom he could not share another night like this, not without risking everything he’d sworn to protect.
For his own sake, for the sake of Kingswood, he would have to harden his heart once more. And yet, as he gazed down at her exquisite face, part of him wondered if he was already lost.
Chapter Twenty
Charlotte stirred, her body warm beneath Reid’s plaid, the sagging ropes beneath the thin mattress a stark reminder of where she was. Awareness and memory flooded her instantly—the tower, the locked room, and then the night, Reid’s exquisite lovemaking. Her eyes fluttered open to the dim glow of the dying torch flickering on the far wall, casting weak, uneven shadows across the circular chamber.
It was still dark outside, the heavy silence of pre-dawn lingering in the air—silence interrupted by the rustle of clothing. Turning her head, she saw Reid standing by the barred window, already half-dressed, his broad back to her as he pulled his tunic over his head and shoulders, the fabric stretching tight across his muscular frame.
For a moment, she stayed still, caught between the hazy warmth of sleep, the recollection of the hours spent in Reid’s arms, and a chilling dread that he meant to sneak away from her like a thief in the night.
She sensed it almost intuitively; he was distant again. She could feel it in the way his movements were sharp, in his attempts to dress without a sound.
“Reid?” Her voice was soft, tentative. “It’s... not even light out yet.”
He didn’t turn at first, attaching the Nicholson plaid to his person with deliberate precision. When he finally glanced over his shoulder and then faced her fully, he wore a mask of unreadable calm, any trace of the intimacy they had shared hours ago now replaced by something colder, more guarded.
“Go back to sleep,” he said gruffly, his tone devoid of the tenderness that had seduced her hours ago.
Charlotte sat up slowly, holding the plaid up over her naked breasts, her stomach tightening with larger dread. She searched his face, trying to find some remnant of their shared passion, but it was gone, replaced by the wall he’d built around himself.
“I thought...” she began, her voice trailing off, unsure of what to say.
He reached for his belt, fastening it with a sharp tug. The torch sputtered, casting long shadows that stretched toward him, making him seem even more distant, as though he were already gone.
"Reid..." She tried again, more insistently this time, but the words caught in her throat. What could she say? What had she expected?
“Nothing has changed,” he announced coolly.
Charlotte’s breath caught in her throat as he stabbed that knife into her heart.
“I see,” she said on a pained exhale. Lifting her chin and curling her fingers into the plaid, she announced, “Fine. Go. Doesn’t surprise me. Use your false distrust as a shield. You won’t allow yourself to believe me. That would mean there was nothing standing in your way, that you would have to give credit to the fact that you have feelings for me. And we both know you won’t do that because you’re afraid. You’ve built walls around yourself—you think Elspeth’s behavior and betrayal is the norm, not the exception. You know that’s not true, of course, but it’s safer that way. Wow, she must have really done a number on you. Unless... do you keep that memento as a warning to yourself, or as a memory of the love you felt for her?”My God, had Fiona lied to her. Did he love Elspeth still?
Without addressing her question, he righted his boots and shoved his feet into them. He didn’t look at her when he said, “As a female, ye want to attach emotion to what we did. I assure ye there is none.”
Heart-breaking words, ones that might have dropped her to her knees, but that he straightened at that moment and met her gaze. It was there for only a heartbeat, a flicker of vulnerability, barely perceptible beneath the steel before the mask slipped back into place. But she caught it, the way his eyes softened just for a second, before hardening again. She knew then—this wasn’t about Elspeth. His harshness, his refusal to trust, had nothing to do with love for someone else.
