Heat, embarrassment, and concern rushed through Matthew. Although a part of him felt flattered, Matthew worried thatCharlotte would have been mortified if she had been fully cognizant of what she was saying.
“That is very kind of you, Lady Charlotte.” Matthew made his voice polite and exceedingly neutral. “Yours are marvelous as well, but you might wish to shut them. You should rest after your injury and stitches.”
Charlotte, however, did not seem to hear. Still pointing at him, or at least in his general direction, she continued, “I have no earthly idea how gray eyes can seem so, so, so very warm. Sparkly warm. Yuletide warm…”
Charlotte trailed off as if searching for the right word. Suddenly, she gave a silly grin and said triumphantly, “Just warm.”
“Warm!” Pan squawked in a loud cackle.
Tavish’s shoulder scraped against Matthew’s as the man tried to smother his laughter. He was not successful. A strangled chortle escaped him.
Charlotte bobbled in his direction, her face scrunched, her voice slightly cross. “But aren’t his eyes snuggly? Just look at them!”
Sophia gently patted Charlotte’s shoulder. “Perhaps you should sleep. Matthew is right. You’ve had an eventful day, and he is a physician. It is wise to listen.”
“All right,” Charlotte agreed with a grin. She yawned like a Scottish kit before burrowing back into the squabs. Her eyelids fluttered closed. Within seconds, her head lolled against Hannah’s shoulder, and a tiny snore escaped her.
At first, Matthew did his best to look anywhere but at Charlotte, especially with every other occupant of the carriage scrutinizing him. Pan resettled on Matthew’s head and bent to stick his amber eye in front of Matthew’s. Despite the parrot and the unwanted attention, Matthew could not help but occasionally glance at Charlotte—quick peeks that only caused his heart to swell more.
Thankfully, no one spoke, giving Matthew time to unravel whyCharlotte had chosen to fling herself between him and a lead ball. Both his heart and his brain seemed too afraid to hope for what the answer could be.
Matthew was still shying away from the obvious but impossible conclusion when the carriage pulled up at Tavish’s estate. Hannah signaled for him to carry Charlotte, who remained fast asleep. It might not be entirely proper, but both Hannah and Sophia were there as some sort of chaperones. Besides, Tavish and the people he employed would never even whisper about this night.
Even with Matthew’s forearms burning from where he’d scraped them during his escape from the goat, Charlotte felt deceptively fragile, a weight much less than some of the animals that he hauled in crates. She was not delicate, though, but fiercer than the wildest panther.
Charlotte curled against his chest. Every muscle lining Matthew’s rib cage seized with tenderness and the need to protect—nay, not just to protect but to shelter. To care for her. Not just physically, but in a way much, much more encompassing.
They made an odd procession as they trooped through the stately manor. Tavish took the lead while Matthew followed with Charlotte in his arms and Pan still perched like an absurd feathered cap on his head. Hannah and Sophia made up the rear.
After two sets of stairs, Matthew was feeling a slight strain in his back when they finally reached a well-appointed guest bedroom. Matthew turned sideways and inched through the open door, careful not to bump Charlotte’s head or feet. Pan whistled in annoyance as his lime-green crown passed under the frame. Hannah and Sophia bustled behind them. Tavish, however, lingered in the hallway, presumably to give Charlotte a semblance of privacy.
Just as Matthew gingerly lowered Charlotte onto the featherbed, Pan shrieked, “Banshee!”
Charlotte’s eyelids snapped open. She blinked several times,clearly trying to gather her senses. The light from the Wick cousins’ candles illuminated her irises, revealing that a semblance of lucidity had returned.
“Oh, we’ve arrived at Mr. Stewart’s.” Charlotte stretched like a lynx.
Matthew tried exceedingly hard not to notice how the action pulled down her already fashionably low-cut bodice. When she hissed in pain, though, all other thoughts but concern fled his mind.
“You must be careful not to move your arm too much,” Matthew instructed. “It is best not to take off the sling I’ve placed it in.”
“How are you feeling?” Sophia asked Charlotte.
“Sore… and also fuzzy—like my head is encased in wonderfully springy cotton fluff,” Charlotte reported.
“The latter would be from the whiskey,” Hannah said matter-of-factly.
“Banshee!” Pan screamed.
Charlotte carefully turned her head in the direction of the bird, and her mouth stretched into a silly grin. “Ooooooh, are you escorting Pan to see his monkey-love?”
“Ban-sheeeeee!” Pan bellowed even louder than before.
Matthew could feel the parrot bobbing up and down on his head. His talons seemed to dig a wee bit deeper with each demanding bounce.
“I am afraid I don’t have a choice,” Matthew sighed.
“I want to come and see their reunion,” Charlotte announced as if this were the most obvious decision to make after being shot and then becoming inebriated… or, upon further consideration, the intoxication might be the reason for her sudden unbridled enthusiasm.
