“Of course, my lord,” Mrs Ramsey said with a curt nod. Her eyes flicked to Charlie, and Charlie wondered what she must look like with her whisky nose and bleary eyes.
She straightened herself up and managed a weak smile. “Hello,” she said.
Mrs Ramsey’s stern expression softened slightly. “Welcome, Miss Charlotte,” she replied, stepping aside to allow them entrance.
The interior of the house was as impressive as its exterior. Tall ceilings, draped with candle-filled chandeliers, hung from the ceiling and the cherry wood paneling on the walls gleamed as though freshly polished.
Mrs Ramsey led them through the hallway into a sitting room. A large fireplace sat on one side of the room while plush sofas and armchairs were arranged in comfortable clusters.
“I’ll fetch ye something to drink,” said Mrs Ramsey, disappearing through a side door.
“Please, have a seat,” Niall motioned towards an armchair.
“Good idea,” Charlie murmured. She took a step, staggered, and then went tumbling.
In a flash, Niall was there, catching her before she hit the floor.
“Oops,” she muttered. “That’s twice now. Some might say you’re making a habit of saving me.”
Niall pulled her upright but didn’t let her go. He was standing so close that Charlie could see the golden flecks in his otherwise green eyes. Wow, he was good-looking.
“I really should find a way to thank you,” she said, her words slurring a little. “How about this?”
She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him.
He went rigid with shock. But then he relaxed and responded. His arms tightened around her waist, pulling her closer to him. The kiss was slow, but heated. Charlie forgot about the dizziness, about Mrs Ramsey and the strange house, and how out of place everything felt. She forgot about everything but the feel of his lips on hers.
Niall suddenly pulled back, disentangled himself from her arms, and stepped away.
“I’m sorry,” he said hoarsely, running his fingers through his hair. “I shouldnae have done that.”
“Why not?” Charlie slurred. “I kind of liked it.”
“Because ye are drunk and I gave ye my word that nothing improper would happen.”
“Improper?” she said with a laugh. “Whosaysthat? You talk weird.”
Before he could reply, the door creaked open, and Mrs Ramsey walked in with a tray of tea. She halted, her eyes flicking between Niall and Charlie as though she guessed what had just happened.
Niall cleared his throat. “I...I’ll leave ye in Mrs Ramsey’s capable hands,” he said, shifting his feet awkwardly. “Goodnight, Charlotte.”
He walked out the door, pulling it shut behind him.
Mrs Ramsey cleared her throat, drawing Charlie’s attention back to her. “If ye’d follow me, miss, we’ll take the tea up to yer room.”
Charlie followed as Mrs Ramsay led her up a grand staircase and down a hallway lined with portraits of stern-looking men. There was, she noticed in her distracted, drunken way, no electricity in the house. What little light there was came from candles in sconces attached to the walls.
There was something significant about that, Charlie was sure, but try as she might, her addled brain couldn’t quite grasp what it might be.
Mrs Ramsey stopped at a polished wooden door which she nudged open and backed through, carrying the tray. The room inside was easily as nice as Charlie’s boutique hotel room. A four-poster bed dominated the space, draped with rich fabrics that glowed under the candlelight. A small sitting area was arranged by a cold fireplace, and a polished wooden dressing table stood against one wall.
“Will ye be needing anything else, miss?” Mrs Ramsey asked, setting the tray down on a small table.
“Um, no thank you,” Charlie replied, wringing her hands. “Actually, there is something.”
“Oh?”
“Um.” Charlie wrung her hands a bit more. “Could you tell me where I am?”
