Page 38 of In Need of a Duke
Charlotte.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, slamming her eyes shut.
He laughed to himself, slipping the oversized linen shirt over his head. After the accident, there wasn’t much urgency for fine suits as he worked on the wall.
She swayed, reaching for the wingback chair he had positioned bythe window to steady herself. But someone had returned it to its place beside the fireplace.
Ian rushed forward, holding out his hand for her to grab. Her fingers brushed across his skin in a fluttering touch, as if too afraid to hold on.
He reached around and braced an arm on her shoulder to steady her. Charlotte sighed, whether in frustration or disgust, he didn’t know.
“Do you need help settling into bed?” he asked. “Where’s Susan?”
Her eyes popped open, then blinked hard. She licked her lips before pulling her gaze away, a deep crimson blush burning the tips of her ears and coloring her pale cheeks.
He dropped his touch as she shrank away. “I apologize, it’s only…” He couldn’t manage to speak. His words were trapped in his throat at the sight of her. “You looked as if you had seen a ghost.”
“A ghost?” Charlotte rubbed her forehead and closed her eyes. “No, it’s only…”
“I thought you were out. I didn’t mean to intrude.”
“This is your room, Your Grace. I believe I was the one who intruded.”
Your Grace?
“Don’t call me that, please.”
Charlotte tilted her head. The air was charged with some awkward sad current that buzzed around them.
He followed her gaze, noticing his shirt still hung open. With a raised brow, he made quick work of his buttons.
“I don’t recognize you with your beard,” she said at last, stepping around him to make her way toward the bed. Her glance shot to his hands, then returned to the bed.
“I’ve been meaning to shave…”
He swallowed the rest of that sentence as she ran her hand over the coverlet to grab the green shawl. The sun shone through her shift, creating the perfect shadow of her body underneath.
He was the very devil for even glancing at her.
“It suits you,” she said, slowly turning and spreading the shawl on her shoulders.
Suited him?
“Will you be joining us for dinner this evening?” he asked, suddenly remembering he needed to grab his boots, too distracted by her interruption.
“I’ve a headache.” She shuffled forward, her face paling. Her long golden hair, almost always shining and bright, hung heavy around her shoulders. Charlotte seemed smaller, or maybe she was more distant.
He clenched his hands to stop himself rushing forward.
Whatever the matter was, she wasn’t his any longer. And until recently, he had convinced himself he didn’t wish for her to be his.
“I will leave you then. I apologize for startling you. Are you sure you do not need help?”
She gently shook her head, then wrapped her arms around herself, standing in a long beam of spring sun.
An angel washed in light.
He swallowed.
