“Aye.” What was she going to do here alone in her room all day?
“Then I carried you up the stairs for nothing?”
Her eyebrows shot up. “For nothing? No! I was…I was sick then. No matter what I was feeling, Michael, I appreciate you doing that. I will think of it often,” she promised, blushing.
“So will I,” he vowed quietly, his gaze fixed on hers as she walked slowly to him.
They were still in her room, but she didn’t care. She didn’t stop walking when she reached him and pressed her body to his.
Tilting her chin, she let her lips dangle beneath his for an instant, until he took her in his arms and ravished her mouth, her throat, and a bit beyond.
She groaned softly at the scandalous heat flowing through her, making her want to strip naked and then strip him naked, too. No. She couldn’t give herself to him. What if she had his child and he had to throw her in prison? Did they allow you to see your child before you were hanged?
Oh, but he kissed her so completely, consuming every part of her. His lips promised pleasures she could not imagine. She wanted to test his promise.
Taking his lower lip between her teeth, she groaned into his mouth. His hands opened and slipped to her bottom. His broad hands pushed her into him while he broke free of her mouth and raked his teeth down her throat.
“Michael…oh, stop.”
He released her immediately and stepped back. He didn’t ask her why she wanted to stop. He knew why as well as she.
She caught her breath and they exchanged a smile. “We must practice control.”
“For our sakes,” he asked “or theirs?”
She didn’t know, but they left her room together, resolved to stay strong against the other. As much as they tried not to, they laughed and teased each other on the way to the stairs.
Where the judge waited with his hands on his hips.
“Pendridge, I have been looking for you. Have you found the criminal who escaped you last night?”
“He didn’t escapeme,” Michael corrected. “I was here at your party. Next time, I know where to be.”
Her father was silent. Charlotte liked it. But the bliss didn’t last long.
“There was a robbery on the road to West Wickham last night,” her father informed them. In truth, he was speaking to Michael. Not her.
Michael stopped.
“Last night, a highwayman held up the carriage of an elderly dowager,” her father went on. “She later perished from the strain to her heart. This is the fifth highwayman robbery in the last few months. I want this to end. If you cannot see to it, I shall find someone who can. Understood?”
“Yes, Sir. Aye,” Michael answered, looking sickened by the news.
“And,” the judge continued, narrowing his dark eyes on Michael, “what is this I hear that you shot Lord Sutton in the leg?”
“He would not deliver your daughter over to me and was waving his pistol around, so I shot him in the thigh. It gave him a good reason to whine.”
Charlotte could see the hint of a smile on her father’s face. He was glad Michael had shot Preston. Her father hated Preston. He blamed Preston for teaching her how to be cunning and devious, and a thief. But he was wrong. Preston didn’t teach her how to be those things. Her father did.
At first, she did it all for his attention. Then, she did it to hurt him. Now—
“Here.” Her father pulled something from a pocket in his justaucorps and flipped it to Michael, who caught it in the air. A bullet. “I will see your stores are full of them.”
“Thanks,” Michael said.
Her father’s smile widened for all to see. He looked at Charlotte and motioned to her and moved his gaze to the detective. “Thanks.”
“What about me, Father?” she asked while she had him understandably amused by Michael’s words.
