His hands shook as he jerked out the letters that spelled out his pain, “Because once I do, everything changes.”
For a moment, she paled and he could see she feared that, too. But she shook her head, denying both their hesitations. “Why does it have to? Why do we have to tangle our lifelong friendship with our…desires? Certainly you’ve had sex with women before when it has meant nothing.”
His cheeks flamed and he turned away once more without answering. He stood there, back to her, praying she would let it go. Praying she wouldn’t push this sensitive issue.
But she was Charlotte. Pushing was in her nature. Pushing was what she did. He felt her move behind him, her hand curled around his bicep, and she turned him to face her.
“Haven’t you?” she whispered, her gaze seeking his.
He pursed his lips. Shame and embarrassment had always followed him. His father’s voice, telling him he was worthless, had been joined with whispers of the crowd as he grew older, looks from men and women alike as he strode through their halls. It was why he avoided Society gatherings at all costs.
“Ewan, have you…been with a woman?” she pressed.
He shook his head slowly.
She gasped at the words, releasing his arm as she took a long step away from him. She looked shocked. She looked confused, though he had no idea why.
“How is that possible?” she whispered.
He cocked his head, for he wasn’t certain she was asking the question of him or just to herself. Either way, he signed, “I am damaged.”
She lunged forward, her eyes snapping again, this time in anger. “Stop that. Stop it. You arenotdamaged.”
He lifted both eyebrows, which was the best argument he could make when his hands and body were shaking so hard. She read the expression and threw her hands up at it.
“You aren’t!” she insisted, her voice elevating to a level he’d never heard from her before. Charlotte was always gentle. Soft. “You must have felt the stares of women before.”
He flinched. “I’ve felt the stares of everyone,” he signed swiftly, not meeting her eyes.
“And what do you think those stares have meant?” she asked.
“They wonder if I’m stupid, as my father told them. They wonder how damaged I am. They wonder why I wasn’t put in an asylum years ago, where I wouldn’t darken their halls with my brokenness.”
Her lips parted and tears flooded her eyes. She blinked, somehow keeping them at bay. When she had regained her composure, she moved forward, slower this time. Her voice was soft again as she said, “I’ve stood with women when they looked at you, Ewan. I promise you, that isn’t what they were saying. It isn’t what they were asking me.”
He swallowed and somehow forced himself to keep his stare on her. It was almost impossible when she was delving so deeply into the well of his insecurity. His fear. His pain.
She continued, “They knew we were friends, so they would ask me about you. They would coo over you. They would wax poetic about how handsome you were. They would wonder out loud what you were capable of doing with those…” She shifted. “Those lips of yours. They would whisper about your body and your hands and your…justyouand how beautiful you are.”
He tried to turn, but she caught his arm again, holding him in place.
“And Ihatedthem for it,” she continued as she slid her hand up his arm, to his shoulder. Her other hand came to rest on his stomach, and his knees began to shake with the power of how much he wanted her. “I hated them for talking about you in the ways I couldn’t. I hated them for wanting you like I wanted you. Ewan, you have been desired by a great many women. But none more than me.”
His breath came short and fast now, the only sound in the quiet room for a beat, two, three, until the silence stretched out between them. Then she lifted on her tiptoes as she slid her hand around his neck and drew him down.
He didn’t resist. He couldn’t. Not with her. Their mouths met, and this time she was gentler, slower as she kissed him. He couldn’t pull away. He didn’t want to pull away. She was breaking down the distance he had always chosen to keep between them and he was too weak not to admit to himself that he was not going to deny her.
He could never deny her.
He opened and their tongues met again, swirling and circling each other until he felt dizzy and hot and heavy with need. Only then did she pull back a fraction, only then did she part from him long enough to sign to him, “Come upstairs with me, Ewan. Now.”
She didn’t wait for him to sign something back, or to nod or shake his head. She merely slipped her hand through his and, without breaking eye contact, led him from the dining room.
He followed her up the stairs, shivering every time she stroked her thumb along the webbing between his thumb and finger. He followed her down the hall to the chamber where he had placed her for her time at his home. A chamber he’d chosen not just because it was beautiful, but because it was so far from his own on the other side of the house.
It turned out that was no protection. Not when she closed the door, put her back to it and smiled up at him, her pupils dilated with want, her hand warm in his, so beautiful that he almost couldn’t breathe when he looked at her. Silently, she reached behind and opened the door, drawing him back into the chamber.
“Stoke the fire, will you?” she asked.
