A Spinster's Awakening (A New Adventure Begins - Star Elite 2)

It was too quiet, too rural, with far too many people looking out of windows while watching others. While the women in the tapestry group were engaging, they were still busy-bodies; people who, if he had to live with them or around them, would drive him completely nuts within a month. He suspected he would never have any privacy, peace of mind, or masculinity left by the time they had finished hen-pecking him at every quarter.

“They are already trying my patience, and I have only met them once,” he bit out.

With a disgusted sigh, Angus pushed to his feet and began to make his way toward the house. Once it was in sight, though, he detoured to the back of Mr Lawrence’s neighbour’s property. It was only when he was studying the back of the darkened structure that he realised he had to go and see Charity, if only to find out what their new quarry’s name was.

With nothing more than a casual glare at the property, he slowly made his way toward Charity’s house. It didn’t occur to him to stop and think about just how familiar it was starting to become to step inside the cosy kitchen as though he lived there, or how naturally he removed his cloak and draped it over a high-backed chair next to the kitchen table, or how instinctively he made his way through the darkened house, without bumping into any of the furniture.

It didn’t occur to him just how right it felt to creep into Charity’s room to make sure she was safely tucked up in bed, before he quietly snuck back out again, reassured by the knowledge she was safe and protected.

It wasn’t until Aaron had left, and he had taken up position by the window once more, that Angus realised Charity’s house was already starting to feel like home, and that was even more dangerous than any risk the men across the street might pose.

Charity lay perfectly still. Her heart raced. She daren’t breathe for fear of alerting whoever had crept into her room that she was still awake. Thankfully, she didn’t need to hold her breath for too long. Whoever was checking on her made sure she was asleep before they quietly left again, that’s all. Were they making sure she was in bed, so she was away from their investigation, or because they wanted to make sure she was all right?

Charity had no idea, but didn’t want to think about it too closely, mostly because she wasn’t at all sure she would like whatever conclusion she came to.

Once she heard the quiet click of the door, Charity’s breath escaped her on a whoosh of relief, and she sagged against the soft sheets beneath her with a heavy sigh. Charity didn’t completely relax, and as a result, couldn’t give herself over to slumber as intended. She was too upset, too worried, and felt so utterly out of control of, well, practically everything in her life that she still struggled to comprehend just how it had all gone so horribly wrong.

In just over a day, her quiet, ordinary life had been turned on its head. The solitude she had become accustomed to had been obliterated. Her life had been invaded by a group of powerful men all of whom seemed to fill up every inch of her small house with their commanding personalities. Not only that, but one of them had awoken something inside her that she wasn’t at all sure would ever quieten down again. It was a side of herself Charity had never known existed. She had certainly never been so bold as to challenge a relative stranger before, especially a lawman like Angus. Nor had she ever been so foolishly brash as to race off into the night after any of the villagers. Moreover, she had never been so wanton as to give herself over to the mastery of any man’s kisses before, or his embrace for that matter.

Had she totally misread the situation, Angus’s closeness outside, and made a complete fool of herself as a result?

“It cannot happen again,” she promised herself. “It mustn’t. Somehow, I must keep my distance from him, but to do that I have to keep myself busy.”

Like a flame to a candle, an idea struck light into the darker recesses of Charity’s cluttered mind. She carefully began to recount the other events of the evening. It was true to say that she had traversed the darkness better than Angus because she was more familiar with it. Not only that, but she knew Mr Lawrence couldn’t possibly be responsible for kidnapping young women.

“Mr Horvat could,” she mused as she contemplated the small, swarthy looking man who inhabited the house next door to Mr Lawrence. “Angus and his friends are most definitely mistaken to think it might be Mr Lawrence.”

That led Charity to contemplate what else the War Office might have gotten wrong, and whether it could be hindering them apprehending the real culprit for the kidnaps.

“I have been in this village all my life, and so have many of the ladies of the tapestry group. We know the locals. We can move about undetected. Nobody will notice us going about our business in broad daylight. We have to help,” she whispered to herself.

When she realised how foolish she would sound muttering to herself, Charity turned over in bed, forced all thoughts aside of Angus’s presence in the room just down the hallway, and tried to get some sleep.

She had a strong suspicion tomorrow was going to be a very long day indeed.

CHAPTER SEVEN

The following morning, Charity made her way downstairs in a house that was eerily quiet. It was most disconcerting to hear her own breathing. Were the men still in the house? Curiosity made her want to go back upstairs and take a quick peek inside her bed chamber to make sure someone was still in there. Someone had been up and about throughout Charity’s long and sleepless night. She had heard them. The occasional faint creak of a floorboard had been fleeting at best, but it had definitely been someone moving about. Surely, they couldn’t have just left without telling her – could they?

She contemplated going back upstairs, but the disgruntled rumbling of her empty stomach demanded sustenance instead. With another yawn, Charity made her way to the kitchen. She had things to do today, and it didn’t only include feeding her empty stomach. Once she had eaten, she needed to decide how she was going to help the men with their investigation, despite their vehement objection, preferably before she met with them again.

“And help them I will. If they wish to continue to stay in my house then they must let me do something to help,” she muttered. “First, though, breakfast.”

Half an hour later, Charity carried a heavily laden tray up to the bed chamber the men were using and kicked the door with the soft soles of her slipper-clad feet.

At first, her knock received no response.

“Come on,” she sighed.

Charity couldn’t ignore the very strong need for the man who answered the door to be Angus. She didn’t dare think why, or what she would do if it wasn’t him.

Her arms trembled with the weight of her cumbersome burden. Again, the door thudded as she kicked it. She truly had no idea why she felt compelled to bother to feed him. Angus was grumpy, and quite clearly didn’t like her, despite his kisses. Still, the human, feminine, nurturing side of her wanted to ensure he had something to eat, and thus there she was, standing outside her own bed chamber, kicking her own door down in determination to get him to graciously accept her generosity.

“Angus,” she snapped loudly, her voice rife with impatience.

Glaring at the door, Charity lifted her foot in preparation to kick it for a third time when it was suddenly yanked open. A decidedly disgruntled Angus appeared in the doorway with a heavy scowl on his face.

Charity’s heart flipped when she saw him again. He was tired, that was evident from the dark circles beneath his wonderful green eyes. While physically he looked just the same as always, today, there was a hardness in his eye that she couldn’t remember seeing before. It made her feel even more foolish about what she had allowed to happen between them yesterday and was a stark reminder that she didn’t really know him.