Oh, hell. He clenched his hand, rather than sweep it over her curves. Oh, how he hungered.
She snickered, lightly enough the sound wouldn't trail into the room, and he wondered what she'd heard.
He tapped her shoulder, gently setting her aside so he could latch the door. He took her arm once more, forcing lascivious thoughts away. "Did you observe anything interesting?"
She snorted. "Lord Sanders' father is trying to get him to make an offer for Miss Amelia Carlton, and he said he'd rather eat his own boot than make an offer for ‘the cow.'"
Derek choked. "Well, I can't blame him for his taste. Miss Carlton might be rich and beautiful, but not much else recommends her."
She stopped him in a watered-down patch of light. "When you do this, when you spy, do you ever hear something you wish you hadn't?" Her brows lowered.
"More often than I'd like," he said honestly.
"If I were the lady they had been speaking of, what would he have said about me? If he'd called me the cow? Or worse?"
"You are nothing like Miss Carlton." Derek had heard enough from Miss Carlton's own mouth to know that the cow reference was rather kind.
Charlotte shrugged and looked away, but not before he saw her despair. "I know that. But what I mean is, I do wonder how others view me. Too forward? Undesirable? I've had offers, but none that were worth considering."
He moved closer to her. "I believe others find you beautiful. Exciting."
Her eyes met his. "They do? I don't see how that could be. I'm just a boring debutante. I've never had any real excitement or adventure in my life. I go to parties, to luncheons, to functions with people I see every day. I'm forbidden to speak my mind. I'm discouraged from having a mind."
He drew close, his arms shooting out to the stones behind her, caging her in. "The mind is the only thing that matters. Wealth can be taken, can be lost. Looks," -his gaze hotly burned down her body, her shiver only heating his blood-"fade with time. But this," -he cupped the back of her neck as his eyes bored into hers-"your mind, never dulls. It strengthens in time. Don't ever let anyone take it from you. Do not allow anyone to diminish you because you think for yourself." If she only knew how much he wanted her, desired her. The world came to life with her near. Every breath felt like a gift.
Her mouth gaped open, her pink tongue darting out to moisten dry lips. He groaned as her attention dropped to his lips. He could see every thought, every desire in her expressive gaze. He wanted to give. And take.
She gasped as his lips swept down, claiming hers. His hand held her in place as his other arm slipped around her waist. Squeezing her to him, he waited for any sign that she didn't want his kiss, or him. But she didn't pull back.
His heart lurched when she pushed off the wall, fitting her body against his. She wasn't passive anymore. Her shock had worn off, and instead of the outraged miss her station required her to play, she became eager, pliant. Every bit the aggressor.
Her arms twined around his neck, and she sighed in pleasure. Something snapped within him. Taking advantage of her open lips, he deepened the kiss, relishing the sounds she made in her throat.
She tasted like strawberries and sunshine. Like the forbidden picnics he used to take as a child. And just like when he was younger, he was greedy for more. He wanted to devour her, taste every inch of her until they were both sated. He pressed more firmly against her, intending to do just that when his arm scratched on the rough stone wall. The sensation jerked him out of the haze, and he reared away from her.
This was no place to seduce a lady.
Shame stung his cheeks, and he'd never been more grateful for the dim lighting. "We should head back."
"Derek … "
He shuddered. His name on her lips, he could just imagine her saying it in a different setting.
She reached out to him, but he stepped away. If she touched him now … He closed his eyes in prayer. "Come on." Gritting his teeth, he took her hand in his, her touch flaying his already tortured body.
He guided her through the passages in silence until he could remain quiet no longer. "Charlotte, I-"
A scream echoed through the house, penetrating their hiding spot. There was no way to tell where the sound originated. Nor could he identify the woman.
Charlotte jerked. "Heavens! What was that?"
Derek's face settled like stone. He pulled on her hand, forcing her to continue walking in the dark. He'd heard screams like that enough to know what it was.
Death.
"When we leave the tunnels, you must do every single thing I tell you. Do you understand?"
"Why? What's going on, Derek?"
"You're in danger."
She fell quiet, but he felt a subtle change in her, a distancing. The way she built up her shield. She was so much stronger than he first realized. Any other lady of his acquaintance would have buckled into a heap of tears by this point.
But not Charlotte.
No matter what had happened to her since that fateful night, she had persevered. She'd kept quiet after hearing about deeds no person should ever hear. She'd protected herself as best as she'd been able and fought off an attacker alone. She'd fled her home, journeyed to his estate after dozens of ruthless men attempted to kill her beneath the cloak of night. After everything, she'd stayed strong. She'd trusted him to see to her safety, and not once had she fallen apart.
He admired her. More so than he'd ever admired another. He'd been trained to handle situations such as this, but she had not. For someone who'd been taught to host a ball, entertain houseguests, and pour tea in the proper way, she handled herself better than most seasoned men.
The whoosh of fresh air and hints of cigar smoke hit them once they'd entered his study. He locked the bookcase behind him and strode toward the door. "Don't leave my side."
She worried her bottom lip with her teeth, but finally nodded, shaking out the dusty hems of her skirt. He looked at her rosy lips, the same lips he'd taken with such carelessness in the tunnel, and he swore the next time he kissed her, he'd show more restraint, finesse. Reverence. He'd kiss her the way she deserved.
And there would be a next time. He wouldn't lie to himself. He wanted her. Not just any woman. Her. He wasn't sure he was ready for what came with that line of thinking, but it didn't matter.
A crowd gathered around the front entrance, peering at something on the graveled drive. Henry tried to break up the group, but with Lady Howard mid-swoon, Derek knew he wouldn't have much luck. "What is going on here?" he called, pushing his way through the crowd and down the brick steps.
Henry's eyes darted to Charlotte as he shook his head in warning. Understanding, Derek gripped Charlotte's arm to remove her, but it was too late.
Her body jerked when a clear view opened up. She gulped as Derek rested his hands on her shoulders, urging her to turn away, but she wouldn't. Her dog, the one she'd sequestered in her room, lay lifeless and broken on the drive, her neck turned at an unnatural angle.
Through his hands, he willed all of his strength into her. If she broke now, in front of the crowd, in front of whoever did this, the enemy would win.
Her lungs wheezed in and out before she jerked her chin up and looked away. "Poor thing. He must've had an accident. I wonder whom he belonged to."
She turned, walking away with all the poise and breeding instilled from birth. She didn't stagger under the heavy weight. She looked like she hadn't a care in the world.
But she'd loved that dog.
Pride filled him. Magnificent. He'd never met another woman who equaled her. She'd stood on her own, shining through adversity. But she didn't need to suffer though the grief of losing a beloved pet alone.
He calmed everyone, convincing the crowd to go back inside before approaching Henry. "Is everyone accounted for?"
Henry continued to watch the crowd, shrewd eyes taking in everything. "A sweep was done after the animal was discovered, and I've received word no one is missing."
"Good." At least that was one less thing to worry about. "Bury him in the family pet plot and get the stragglers to move along."
When Derek knew his orders were understood, he went back to his study and locked the door.
Opening the bookcase, he stepped back into the tunnel where he'd been only moments before. Only he wasn't heading out to spy.
He closed the passageway door, cut a sharp left, and climbed the narrow staircase.
He was going to Charlotte.