When she said nothing more, he asked, “Were ye able to conclude yer business to yer satisfaction?”
“Yes.”
“So yer editor liked what ye’ve written?”
“She did.”
“Wonderful.” Blayne stepped out into the street and opened the umbrella for her. The carriage wasn’t far – just a pavement width away – but it was still pouring, and while Miss Russell had gotten significantly damp earlier on her way inside, there was no sense in getting more soaked or risking a bout of influenza. Clutching her folio, she stared at him with surprising wariness before stepping forward.
Instinctively, Blayne wrapped one arm around her and pulled her close to his side so she would be better covered. She made a squeaky sound which he ignored, and then he hurried her toward their conveyance. It took but a couple of seconds, but they were long enough for him to consider how good she felt tucked against him. She was petite without being scrawny, and his hand was able to make out the gentle flare of her hip.
His imagination stirred, bringing to life a curvaceous figure clad in nothing at all.
Enough of that, you cad.
He flung the carriage door open and offered his arm for support. She accepted his assistance and allowed him to help her up, after which he climbed in behind her.
“I’ll let you know when I need your help next,” she said when they stopped a while later to drop him off.
Blayne considered her inscrutable expression. While she’d chatted softly with Daisy during the return ride, she hadn’t spared him one glance until now. It was clear she’d not yet forgiven him for the comment he’d made earlier, and while he supposed it had been a bit harsh, he wasn’t going to apologize any more than he already had when his point had been valid.
“Ye can send me a note.”
Jaw clenched, she gave a tight nod.
Blayne fought the chuckle that threatened to rise up his throat. He dipped his head to hide his smile and leapt out into the rain. Pausing there on the street corner for a moment, he watched the carriage drive off. Miss Russell had a delightful temper, and while he knew he probably ought to feel some remorse over riling her, he couldn’t muster the effort.
Turning down Bambridge Street, he made his way back to The Black Swan. She was the most compelling woman he’d ever met – prim and proper on the outside, with passion brimming beneath the surface. It was enough to stir a man’s fantasies in the most wicked way imaginable.
5
Charlotte’s initial plan had been to ask for Mr. MacNeil’s escort the following day when she went to buy ribbons. Not because she feared for her safety on Bond Street, but rather because it made sense to enlist his help as often as possible while he was in her employ.
Except then he’d gone and put his arm around her while holding the umbrella.
She’d been shocked by the forwardness even though there had been a practical reason for it. He’d only meant to shelter her from the rain. Only she could still feel the press of his hand against the side of her waist four days later. With a firm grip, he’d held her so tightly she’d become overwhelmed by the physical strength he’d exuded, his powerful body a solid wall of pure muscle next to her smaller frame. It was the closest she’d been to him yet – closer than on the sofa in her parents’ parlor or on the bench in the garden – and the scandalous proximity had made her incredibly aware of him as a man.
The incident had lasted no more than a couple of seconds, yet in that space of time she’d wanted to press her nose against his person and inhale the most alluring aroma of bergamot mixed with coffee, wet wool, and leather. Clearly, she was an idiot. But the shock it had given her had been enough to prevent her from seeking his company the following day. She needed to recover and gather her wits before she saw him again. In the meantime, she could only hope he’d think she was keeping her distance from him on account of the quarrel they’d had.
His comment had certainly been more direct than most. She’d taken offense because she took her writing seriously and didn’t believe it deserved to be degraded to scribblings. But Mr. MacNeil didn’t know that. And besides, even if he did, he’d just been trying to make a point. An understandable one considering he’d been hired to protect her.
Charlotte sighed and blotted the page she’d just finished. The argument had only led to a brief upset. It was Blayne MacNeil himself who gave cause for reflection.Hewas the true reason she’d needed distance. If only to figure out what her response to him meant.
Not that the past four days had offered any enlightenment whatsoever.
She’d just gotten more confused.
A knock at the door sounded and Charlotte hastily tucked the paper she’d been working on into her desk drawer and pulled out her diary. “Come in!”
It was her father, his bearing as stiff as always, his expression typically guarded like a castle behind its fortifications. “I’ve just received word of Mr. Cooper’s arrival.”
Charlotte sucked in a breath. Her stomach tightened with unease. And yet she managed a smile. “Wonderful.”
Her father nodded in that approving manner of his. “I mean to invite him for dinner tomorrow evening and since I did agree not to favor him over Mr. Wright—” he spoke the name as if it possessed a bitter taste “—you may ask him to join us as well.”
“Thank you, Papa.”
“Hmpf. I’ll do what I can to rid your head of any fanciful notions you have regarding that man. Having met Mr. Cooper myself, I’ve no doubt you’ll agree he’ll make a better match.”
