Page 56 of To Woo a Wicked Widow

“James’s family has lived on Wrotham property for over six generations. The family works together to farm the land while James plies his trade. Now their house is in ruins, the contents ransacked, James’s tools stolen.” The sight had sickened him. “Even worse, James and his wife looked on helplessly while the gang of masked men looted and burned their home in broad daylight.”

“Was anyone hurt?” Charlotte asked.

Nash shook his head. “They were lucky. Neither they nor any of their six children were harmed. I spent the morning arranging lodging for them until their house can be rebuilt. I’ll see about replacing James’s tools also, though I’ll have to send to Maidstone or perhaps Rochester for them.”

Charlotte looked at him, a softness in her face. “You’re a good landlord, Nash. You care greatly about the people here.”

“They depend on me.” As simple as that. “I can’t fail them. That’s why I’m working so hard to find this gang and see justice done. They seem not to be local men. No one has identified them. And their violence seems to be escalating. There’s no telling who they will attack next.” He gazed into her eyes. He’d thought them green, but today they were gray-green flecked with brown.

“That is appalling. I had no idea they had gotten so out of hand.” She looked indignant rather than frightened, which concerned him not a little.

“In fact, when you leave, I’ll send one of my grooms with you. Only one person to protect you is not enough any longer.” Nash patted her hand. “I want to keep you safe, Charlotte.”

Her gaze suddenly plummeted to her lap, where her hands now twisted in her skirt. What did that mean? Nash lifted her chin.

“Charlotte? What’s wrong?”

She sighed and her hands stilled. “I suppose you’ll find out anyway.”

He gripped her hands. “Find out what? Were you attacked on the way over?”

“No, but . . . I rode here alone.”

“Alone?” His blood froze. “Don’t you know how dangerous that is?”

“No, I didn’t. The grooms mentioned a gang of robbers, but I didn’t think they would attack in the daytime.” Her voice rose, petulant.

“Obviously they will attack whenever they please.” He couldn’t believe she had been so stupid. “You were lucky you were not robbed or worse.”

“Well, I wasn’t, so there is no harm done.” Charlotte pulled her hand from his grip and stood. The light had gone out of her eyes.

Nash rose as well, scowling. “There might very well have been. I know you have been told you should always ride with a man present. Every girl is given that instruction from the schoolroom.”

She rounded on him, her formerly gray eyes now a furious green. “I am not a girl, I’m a woman. A woman free to make her own decisions. If I want to ride to London without an escort, I can do it. No one can tell me what to do and not do.”

“Well, perhaps someone should!”

Charlotte’s face went white and she drew back her hand to slap his face. He caught her wrist and pulled her against his chest, imprisoning her. He expected another attack, but none came. Surprisingly, as in the library, she relaxed against him. Nash gently drew his arms around her waist. The woman was such an enigma. Never could he predict what she would do next.

She lifted her face, slid her arms around his neck, and pulled him toward her.

Nash groaned as her soft lips met his. She turned her head, sealing their mouths perfectly, then opened herself to him. He needed no further invitation, by God, and thrust his tongue into her mouth.

Raging heat blasted through him, filling him with a lust he could scarcely contain. His shaft swelled until it strained against the fall of his breeches. He hoped she could feel it prodding against her, seeking that for which it was meant. He didn’t care what she had come for; she had found this instead.

The incredible taste of her overwhelmed him. Wine and sweetness, like a single drop from a honeysuckle, mixed together created a delicious treat for him to explore. He slowed his frantic pace, licking, tickling, savoring every inch of her.

When she pressed her tongue into his mouth, he thought he would burst. She took her time, advancing an inch, retreating a bit, exploring as he had done but languorously, as if she had all the time in the world.

He didn’t. If he didn’t make a move to get her into his bedroom quickly, their first lovemaking would be on the hard floor of this receiving room. Not an auspicious beginning to their marriage.

Her hands moved to the waistband of his breeches.

To hell with the floor. He scooped her up in his arms, their lips becoming disengaged. “Come with me?” Nash had to ask. Had to make sure she wanted this . . . with him.

Charlotte nodded against his chest. “It’s why I’m here.”

The world spun. She was his at last. He crushed her to him and ran for the stairs, taking them two at a time. On the first floor he turned toward his suite of rooms, which took up the whole north corner of the house. He slammed the door to his sitting room open, then kicked it closed.