The thought of anyone hurting this woman made him want to hunt whoever had done it down and make them pay.
“Do not make judgements of me or this family, Mr. Charlton. You know nothing about us. If you walk through life doing so, it will make you blind to the true suffering of those around you. Happiness comes from many things; ours comes from love, but also the bonds that have formed through suffering.”
“Dorset—”
She walked away from him. His eyes tracked her as she moved to where her twin stood. They then slipped an arm around each other.
She’d been shot with an arrow. He wanted to know why but knew inside him that what he really needed was to get away from this place. Get away from the people who thought he could be saved, when in reality he could not.
CHAPTERNINE
Dorrie had risen early for no other reason than she’d tossed and turned all night. The man she’d saved that night in London was here at Raven Castle, and not only that, he was of Raven blood.
Sinclairs always married Ravens. Well, the Sinclairs in her family did.
She would not be marrying that man. His eyes were cold and his face the same. There was no warmth in Ashford Charlton. He was nothing like his brother. Which was not at all fair. She knew very little about the man but was sure what he had become was a result of the life he’d lived since leaving his brother.
He didn’t feel cold when he’d kissed you, a treacherous little voice inside her head said. Dorrie ruthlessly stomped on it.
After washing, she dressed in her warmest coat and boots, wrapped a scarf around her neck, then made her way up the stairs to go for a walk along the parapet. She was a fool to leave her warm bed but felt the need to look down on the sea and have the cold air in her face.
Seeing him had made her feel restless.
Normally if her night was disturbed she would seek out Somer, who was in the room next door, or nearby. Today she could not do that. Yes, there were other family members who would open their arms to her, but no one understood her quite like her twin.
Pushing open the door, she walked outside and found him.
Ashford Charlton. He stood in his overcoat, hands braced on the stone before him. His hair flew around his head as it caught the wind, and the face he turned to her was an emotionless mask as it had been last night.
“What are you doing here?”
“I had not realized this was for you to walk only?” he said in answer to her chilly tone.
“Of course it’s not. I-I just thought you’d still be in bed.”
His eyes ran over her, and she felt wherever they landed. “Do I look like someone who spends hours lying in bed?”
He had a voice that was deep and clipped. Dorrie wondered if he was capable of laughing. Gus had told her that this man and he spent many hours playing as children. There had to be laughter then, surely?
“I don’t know you, so I cannot make a judgement on that, can I?”
His eyes held hers for long seconds, and then he spoke. “Why were you in that carriage alone, Miss Dorset?”
“I have no wish to speak of that night. But I must reiterate that my family do not know I saved you, sir.”
“Why?”
“It is no concern of yours as to why, only that you do not tell them,” she snapped.
“Do all your siblings and those carrying Sinclair blood marry Ravens?”
How had he realized the connection between their families so soon after meeting them?
“Pardon?”
He didn’t answer, just closed the distance between them to stop before her.
“I—ah, we are not all married to Ravens,” she bluffed.
