16
Cameron blinked the sleep out of his eyes, struggling to register the room around him. His blankets were twisted around his legs and his skin felt hot and damp. There was a lingering feeling of terror, but it was quickly being overwhelmed with something warm and comforting laying across his chest.
He sucked in a deep breath, his lungs burning as though that was the first breath he had been able to take in ages. But there was something else in the air, something that brought him relief beyond just being able to breathe. It smelled like the fresh morning dew and roses. It smelled like Charlotte.
The thought of her in his rooms had him fully awake in a matter of seconds. With air flowing through his body again, his brain began to process what was going on. Charlotte hadn’t just been a figment of his imagination, she wasn’t just a blissful part of his nightmare. She was really there, in his rooms. And not just in his chambers, but in his arms, laid across his chest. She stayed frozen, as though she was just as surprised to find herself there.
He pushed her away, panicked that he had done something to hurt her but also wanting answers as to why exactly she was there.
“Charlotte,” he rasped out, his voice hoarse and gruff from sleep and perhaps screaming. “Wh-what are ye doin’ in my rooms? Why are ye here?”
As soon as his arms unwrapped from around her, she sat up and put some distance between them. He pushed himself up to sit against his headboard, pulling the blankets up with him as he went. He avoided her gaze until he was sure that everything was situated and settled. Likewise, she busied herself with standing from the bed and smoothing her skirts and tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ear.
He watched for a moment, awestruck at how beautiful she looked in the candlelight.
Cameron shook his head, trying to clear his sleep-addled thoughts. He needed to stay focused on finding out what she was doing in his room before anything else. Sending her an expectant look, he folded his arms across his chest, surprised to find just how damp his nightshirt was.
“I did nae mean to wake ye,” she told him as she started to explain. “I sought ye out so we could talk.”
“Talk?” he questioned, his suspicions clear in his eyes.
“Aye. Talk. I dinnae ken if ye have noticed, but I have been avoiding ye since we last spoke. I thought it was time we cleared the air, so I came to talk.”
“Hmph,” he huffed.
He had noticed her absence and had never believed it was because of an illness. Her maid had a different story as to what Charlotte had been sick with every day. But her desire to talk still didn’t explain why she was in his room and he told as much.
“Ye were nae at dinner last night nor at breakfast this morning. I thought ye were avoiding me,” she admitted, her eyes on the floor and her cheeks pink. “I came to yer rooms to ask for an audience. Well, demand an audience, really.”
His eyebrows shot up at her confession. He would never have pegged her as the type to demand anything from anyone but he found it a refreshing color on her.
“I knocked. Several times. I even called yer name.”
“I was asleep,” he interrupted.
“Aye. I gathered that after I let myself in.”
He nodded, slowly starting to get the picture as to what had happened.
“So ye were informed I was ill, I presume, but decided that ye had thrown enough of a fit and wanted to talk. Then, when yer banging and shouting went unanswered, ye pushed yerself inside my rooms and did nae leave when ye saw that I was, in fact, sleeping. Do I have everything correct?” he asked, his words dripping with sarcasm.
Frustrated by it all, he pushed himself out of bed and strode towards his wardrobe. He was halfway there before he realized that he was improperly dressed to be in front of a lady like Charlotte. He sighed as his hand went to his brows and rubbed at the tension that had been building there.
“Why dinnae ye let yerself into my sitting room? We can finish this conversation there. I need a moment to…I need a moment.”
She didn’t reply, but the sound of her retreating footsteps were answer enough. Alone, he sagged against the sturdy wood of the wardrobe, letting it support his weight. Despite what Charlotte might have thought, he truly had taken to his bed yesterday afternoon, weary from the burden of the clan and all he had to do to ensure its continuation. Her marked absence had only added to that as he worried that his slip was going to cost them everything. But she was here, in his rooms no less, wanting to work things out between them. There was no telling what that truly meant, but it gave him a glimmer of hope that he hadn’t ruined things.
Sucking in another deep breath, Cameron opened the wardrobe and pulled out a pair of trousers and a fresh shirt. He slipped them on quickly and then wrapped a heavy robe around him, tying it tightly around his waist. Even that little amount of work cost him much more energy than he had expected. His restless sleep had done little to fight off the exhaustion that clawed at his bones. He could only hope that his conversation with Charlotte was over quickly.
Dressed, Cameron trudged into the sitting room only to find her standing in front of a window, looking out at the gardens below. As much as he wanted to stand there and watch her, he knew his energy was dwindling. If he was going to have any chance at staying awake for their conversation, they would need to start it quickly.
Clearing his throat to get her attention, he shuffled further into the room and sat on one of the sofas. She turned and followed suit, sitting on the sofa opposite him.
He waited for her to start, though he did not have to wait long.
“I thought ye were ignoring me. I thought ye were still angry with me. That is why I entered yer chambers even after my knocking went unanswered. I wanted ye to ken that I was ready to discuss things with ye, that I would nae be hiding anymore. When I found ye asleep, I turned to leave. But then ye cried out as if ye were in pain. I thought something was wrong and that ye needed a healer. A moment later, I realized it was only a nightmare. So I stayed only long enough to tuck ye back in. When I went to leave a second time, ye grabbed my wrist and would nae let me go.” He didn’t miss the way her fingers rubbed the skin around her right wrist. “Ye were having such a hard time. The shouting turned into what I thought would become another breathing attack. I could nae leave ye to face that on yer own. I was only trying to help.”
He sat on her words, realizing that he had been having a nightmare and if roles were reversed, he would have hesitated to leave too, no matter how improper it might have been.
