Page 20 of A Touch of Charm
Chapter Eight
When Andre climbedback up the stairs with a packet of ice, Thea was in front of him. What an idiot he was allowing a princess to come to his cellar.
“I must apologize, Thea,” he said, wrapping the ice tighter in the towel as if the cold seeping through the cotton could also cool his thoughts.
“Why?” She turned over her shoulder while holding the thin metal bar as a railing to the cellar. Andre’s heart quickened when he looked up at her. With the light from the kitchen above, her curly blonde flyaways looked like a halo around her face.
He’d been holding up the lantern so she could see where she was going in the narrow staircase connecting the kitchen and the cellar, but the orange glow from the lantern now shone like gold on her perfect features. But her intelligent eyes caught Andre off guard. He swallowed hard and almost forgot how one lifts a foot to climb stairs when his gaze fell involuntarily to her behind. She shuffled and reached the top of the stairs just when Andre thought her backside looked like a fresh pear hanging from a tree in the height of summer. Juicy, delicious, and utterly forbidden.
“This is not a place for a princess.”
“I followed you to the cellar, and I’m glad I did. Your icebox is brilliant. I’m glad I had the opportunity to see it.” She cast him a smile that nearly made his heart shatter.
Since this was the first time in his life that he couldn’t pursue a woman, he wished he’d been born at a different time and titled so he could pursue the princess. She was precious, intelligent, and oh so beautiful. When her eyes met his, his stomach twisted with joy that he got her attention—but he wanted more. But it was the first time in his life that Andre felt inadequate in such a profound, irrevocable way. He was helpless.
The only thing he could help with was keeping the princess safe—from Baron von List, his lackeys, and himself.
Overwhelmed by the desire coursing through him, Andre gathered the food and followed Thea with the tray, the ice nestled beside the fruit meant for Stan.
When they arrived upstairs, Andre pushed the door open with his shoulder, balancing the tray in his hands, expecting to see Stan in the throes of pain. Instead, his eyes landed on Thea, who quickly swept a loose strand behind her ear and blushed furiously upon seeing Stan.
The room held an air of fragile tension. Thea’s face, bright pink, showed traces of vulnerability she’d kept hidden before, even in the carriage after the highwaymen kidnapped her. What could have shaken this strong woman terribly in just the past few minutes. What did Stan know and didn’t want him to find out?
Andre gently set the tray down on the side table, the clink of porcelain breaking the silence. He straightened, his gaze meeting Thea’s, and held it momentarily before dropping it respectfully.
“I gathered some refreshments,” he said, his voice steady and calm, though his heart ached at the sight of her distress. “Peppermint tea, for Mary if she wakes up, and other things that might help.”
He glanced over his shoulder, confirming again that the child was safe after the earlier attack. The little girl was still sleeping in the room across the hall, cozily wrapped under the blankets he’d provided.That’s good; children need to rest.
Thea nodded, her eyes glistening but grateful. Stan rose from his bed, giving Andre a slight nod of thanks before coming toward the biscuits and nuts.
Andre busied himself, pouring the tea, the fragrant steam rising as he worked. He placed a cup before Thea and offered her the honey jar. She managed a small smile, a fragile gesture that spoke volumes.
“Thank you, Andre,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. Andre inclined his head, carefully placing the piece of ice wrapped in the towel on Stan’s shoulder, right where the incision was. Heat was one of the many signs of infections and Andre’s suspicion that the cut could have been unclean had been confirmed. He could tell that the wound was infected by the heat emanating from it and how quickly it melted the ice, visible from the wet stain on the towel, and he hoped the cooling would slow the process.
“If you need anything else, just let me know.” His words were simple, but they carried sincere depth.
He turned to leave again, but Thea’s voice stopped him. “Andre, please stay. For a while.”
He paused, studying her face. Something in her eyes was a plea for normalcy, for someone to share the moment’s weight. He gave a slight nod and sat on the only chair while Thea and Stan sat on the bed, the room settling into a more comfortable silence.
Andre felt a sense of quiet resolve as Stan chewed the crunchy biscuits, and the scent of tea mingled with the warm spices from the biscuits. He was here for whatever they needed, ready to offer a steady presence amid their turmoil.
“I’m not going to be able to sleep if Thea is still in danger,” Stan said.
“Let me stay awake and stand guard,” Andre said. “You should cool the incision. Perhaps it will Lessen the effects ofinfection.”
“You look like Fräulein Schmidt,” Stan said to Thea, but Andre knew it was a joke about him when Stan set the ice down to help himself to a cup of tea.
“Our governess?” Thea tugged at her simple dress.
Stan laughed, then winced and dropped his arm again, pressing the ice onto it with the other hand. “Our governess was a rather stern woman, surely a spinster, with no greater pleasure than conjugating verbs in Latin,” he told Andre.
“Mine was called Signorina Bianca. She also made us conjugate and declinate, and I don’t remember how many times I had to write the capitals on the map of Europe,” Andre said.
“You had a governess?” Thea asked.
Andre was instantly sorry and wondered if he’d said too much.
