To Dare a Rogue, Lana Williams [read an ebook week txt] 📗

to make certain she had returned home safely. How could he possibly seek his bed without knowing for certain?

James carefully considered the distance to the window then took aim and threw, ridiculously pleased when the pebble struck the windowpane with a satisfying clack. A long moment passed but nothing happened.

With a frustrated growl, he searched for another rock, even more determined on his quest. He threw the next one a little too hard, and it smacked against the glass, making him worry he’d cracked the pane. But his effort was rewarded when the light inside the chamber shifted. At least he thought it did. He’d definitely had too much to drink. A candle soon appeared in the window along with the shadow of a person. Was it Charlotte?

Good heavens. A knot of worry tightened his chest. What if that was Lord or Lady Wynn’s window? How could he possibly explain his presence?

Heart pounding, hands damp, he studied the shadow for clues but couldn’t tell for certain who it was. The sound of a latch click filled the night, and the window opened. Charlotte leaned out to peer at him, and he was ever so thrilled to see her.

“Who is it?” Her hushed tone had never sounded so delightful. His knees went weak with relief, nearly making him stagger again.

“It's me,” he whispered only to realize she couldn't possibly know who that was. “James.”

“Whatever are you doing down there? Never mind.” She disappeared, the window latching shut.

Disappointment struck him as he stared at the empty window. When the candlelight disappeared, leaving the room dark, his shoulders slumped in defeat. How silly of him to think they could carry on a conversation in the middle of the night through an open upstairs window.

He had come to make certain she’d returned home, and she obviously had. Perhaps now he could get some sleep. Yet he couldn't seem to tear himself away and continued to watch the window as if he were some lovesick swain, wishing she would return.

The rattle of a garden door had him turning, one hand braced against the tree. To his surprise, Charlotte stepped out, looking this way and that until she found him. “James? What on earth are you doing here? Do you have any idea what time it is?”

He frowned, trying to decide which question to answer first. “Not really.” He knew the hour was late but had no idea of the exact time. “Did I wake you?” He shook his head at the silly question.

She moved toward him, her white robe visible in the night. He walked forward, much like a bee seeking a flower, bobbing a bit along the way in an unsteady path.

“I was reading.” She glanced up at the window then back at him. “How did you know which bedchamber was mine?”

He didn't care to answer that question as it revealed just how much he paid attention to everything that involved her and had since their younger days.

“I wanted to make certain you arrived home safely.” He could just see her smile in the moonlight.

“I did. Although if I hadn't it would be a little late now to start looking for me, wouldn't it?”

He lifted a shoulder, hoping the casual gesture hid how concerned he’d been. “I couldn't escape Edward any sooner. Nor could I return home until I knew you were well.”

She reached up and smoothed a hand along the lapel of his suit coat. The gentle touch quickened his breath. It seemed the spirits he’d imbibed had somehow stolen his common sense. He had no business reacting to Charlotte’s touch. Yet of their own accord, his fingers reached out to touch her cheek, appreciating her soft skin. The contact anchored him and seemed to settle his whirling thoughts.

“I would hazard a guess that you and Edward had an enjoyable evening,” she whispered. “How many drinks did you have?”

“What makes you think I had any?”

“For one I can smell it, and two, I can see you are a little unsteady on your feet.”

He waved his free hand. “Nonsense. I am quite fit.

“Indeed, you are.”

Warmth filled his entire body at the emphasis she placed on her answer. What did she mean by that exactly? But he didn't dare ask. “You shouldn't be out here alone with me,” he chided.

Her head tilted at his words as if they puzzled her. “Didn’t you summon me? So you could see that no harm had come to me?”

“What if it hadn't been me?” He couldn't help but continue to fret over her safety. What if Palmer had been the one throwing rocks at her window?

“I wouldn't have come out if I hadn't realized it was you. I believe I would know you anywhere.” Her remark heated him further as did the beauty of her face in the moonlight.

A moment such as this might never come along again—one alone with her in the moonlight, and the quiet of the night surrounding them. His gaze dropped to her mouth and the urge to kiss her became overwhelming.

“Charlotte?”

“Yes, James.”

“May I kiss you?”

“I should like that very much,” she whispered.

Despite all the reasons he knew this was a terrible idea, he simply couldn't resist. His will to keep his distance was nowhere to be seen. He reached for her upper arms and drew her forward. Then he took her mouth with his, amazed at how perfect she felt. Her lips were soft and warm, her body pliant.

Charlotte’s hands settled on his chest briefly then moved up to the back of his neck to flutter along his skin. The sensation was glorious and lit the carefully banked fire within him.

He tried to think of her as the young girl he used to know. But the woman in his arms was someone completely different. She was a woman who knew her own mind. She was complicated, intelligent, and cared deeply for others.

Considering how much he'd imbibed, he had no business kissing her now when his defenses were so low. Yet his hands shifted to