Chapter Thirteen

Thomas escorted Charlotte back, and then headed home for some much needed rest, though he doubted he would sleep much this night.

The sight awaiting Charlotte when she opened the door was one that stopped her where she stood.

Julien was out of bed. He was wearing one of her father’s dressing gowns, sitting in a chair by the kitchen fire. Before him was an empty bowl and a glass of wine. He held a piece of bread in his good hand and appeared to be eating with a healthy appetite as Charlotte’s parents looked on approvingly.

“My, what is this?” she said, smiling as she hung her shawl up on the hook by the door. “Our guest is finally moving about? Father, however did you manage it?”

“It seems Julien’s strength has increased greatly in the last few days, which is a relief and a joy to see,” Walter replied, hoisting his glass toward Julien as if to toast. “It was with but minimal assistance and the new crutch I procured for him that he was able to make it from your bed to the table.”

“Remarkable. I am so happy for you, Julien.”

“I hope to begin walking up and down the halls in the house. I know that it is too dangerous still for me to be seen out of doors,” Julien replied, before taking a sip of his wine. The halls of their house consisted of one short, narrow passage that led to the two small bedrooms; the walk would have to be monotonous and often repeated to gain him any real exercise. Still, Charlotte was overjoyed he was so much improved.

“Eat something, Charlotte, you must be hungry,” her mother entreated, gesturing toward the pot suspended above the fire.

Charlotte looked at the small gathering before her, and thought better of beginning any sort of serious discussion tonight. The hour grew late, it would have to wait until morning. “No, thank you, I could not. I am actually quite tired, I was thinking I should sleep. If His Highness feels that he can be left alone for a few hours’ time now…”

“Are you feeling all right?” Walter asked, concerned. “You look quite pale, Charlotte.”

“It is only tiredness, Father, I will be fine after a good night’s rest.”

“It’s been a while since you have had one, and that is all down to me,” Julien said, as a puzzled expression crossed his face and he suddenly realized something. “I have been sleeping in your bed, haven’t I?”

“Of course,” Charlotte replied, “We have only the two rooms, where else were we to put you?”

“But then, where have you slept?”

Charlotte felt color and heat rising to her face. “I have done just fine out here by the fire. Some nights I sleep in the barn.”

“The barn!” Julien sat up straighter in his chair, appearing overwhelmed. “I won’t hear of it. Tonight I shall sleep in the kitchen, or the barn. You shall have your bed back, Charlotte.”

“I must object,” Walter said, raising a hand. “Your honor is admirable, but you are still at risk of infection, and I insist you remain in the house and in that bed. Perhaps I was foolish to give you that liberating stick so soon?” He gestured toward the wooden crutch leaning against the wall behind Julien.

“It’s all right, Julien,” Charlotte whispered, self-conscious now as Julien’s gaze never seemed to leave her for a second. “I’ve suffered no harm from sleeping in another place. One does what one must.”

“You’ve done an awful lot for me.”

The pair stared at each other, and suddenly, Marie Rousseau tugged upon her husband’s sleeve. “I am tired, Walter, and I know you are exhausted as well. Shall we retire?”

“Yes, my dear, if Charlotte would perhaps be kind enough to see to the dishes before she sleeps? And do you think you can assist our guest back to bed when he is ready? Unless, sir, you believe you will require my aid?”

“I am confident we can manage. Thank you, sir,” Julien replied, as he finished his wine and set the goblet aside. “If Charlotte agrees.”

“Of course.” Charlotte gestured for them to go. “Father. Mother. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, my dear girl.” The old man helped his frail wife up out of her chair and led her down the hall toward their room. A moment later they closed the door.

After the elderly couple had disappeared, Charlotte became very much aware just how alone she and Julien were. Her mind spun all sorts of thoughts, and she struggled to move forward, to begin to clear away the dishes from the table and set them into the wash basin.

“Would you prefer to retire now as well?” she asked her guest. “You mustn’t do too much your first time out of bed.”

“Soon. Not just yet,” Julien replied. “It is wonderful to sit by a fire again, to feel the warmth on such an unseasonably cold evening as this.”

“It is cold tonight. I will add another blanket to your bed.” Charlotte stoked the fire a little. “Better?”

“Mmm.” Julien closed his eye a moment and inhaled deeply. He appeared to be in pain, and Charlotte leapt to his side.

“Are you ailing, sir? How can I help you?”

“My muscles are sore from so long in bed, I believe. I will survive.” He took advantage of her nearness and caught hold of her by the cuff of her sleeve. “Charlotte, it is more than tiredness that is ailing you tonight. May I ask what is wrong?”

“Tomorrow, sir, please,” she begged, too exhausted to broach the topic of proposed espionage, Thomas, and her own potential involvement in such a scheme. “Tonight I am far too emotional to speak of much. It is for that reason that I must finish my work here and then close my eyes.”

He tilted his head thoughtfully. “Sometimes we wish for sleep the most when our mind is deeply troubled. To escape, for a short time, into dreaming a better world. I have found myself tempted to indulge in such slumber the past few days, but I have realized the time has come for me to fully waken. To take control of the future that is laid out before me, whatever that future may mean. So, up and out of bed am I. You, though...” He ran a hand along her arm, and Charlotte shivered.

She analyzed him in the light from the fire now, and realized in this moment just how handsome he still was to her; even after all. His eyes had both been bright and blue and the one remaining still was; it had a light resonating from it that reached into her heart and grasped hold. His lips were full and soft. His beard, growing in heavily now, made him look so different than when clean-shaven. It contrasted with his fair skin, and matched the chestnut color of his curls.

Her heart drew her to him, even as he reached for the chair her mother had occupied and pulled it closer to his position. “Please, sit with me a little, and tell me what is troubling you so.”

She finally relented and sat, but could find no words. She did not wish to allow elusive emotions to overcome her by seeking them in this moment, either. So she simply stared into his face as he gathered both of her hands into his healthy one. They disappeared into it, and she realized just how large his hands were. For so long he had looked so frail in bed, so small, it was only now, seeing him up and seated by the fire like this, that she remembered he was at his core a strong, healthy young man and that was why he had survived his injuries.

He was also a man who stirred feelings in her she’d never known.

“Charlotte,” he whispered, leaning closer, “it’s going to be all right, I promise you. Whatever must be done, everything will be as right as I can make it.”

“How can it be right when you want to send my oldest, closest friend into a dragon’s lair?” she blurted, instantly regretting that the words had forced themselves from her lips.

He blinked in surprise. “You’ve spoken to Thomas, then?”

“I have, and I cannot believe what you are asking. He can’t go in there on his own, at least. He must have someone with him to aid him in whatever way possible. That is why I must go, too.”

Julien laughed incredulously, then his expression turned to horror when he realized she was serious. “No,” he gasped, “I could never allow it!”

“You can allow the man who has already saved your life once to risk his to try to save your kingdom, yet you won’t let your nursemaid help him in his task? Why not?”

“Because!”

“That is no answer!” Charlotte lowered her voice even as the Prince raised his, not wanting to draw her parents’ attention.

“Fine! You insist upon an answer?”

“I do.”

“You may not like what you hear.”

“A risk I must take.”

“Even if it changes the way you look at me?”

Charlotte paused. “Sir? I don’t understand.”

In one swift motion he wrapped his arm around her, pulled her closer, and pressed his lips to hers.

At first Charlotte was so stunned she couldn’t move, but quickly her passionate heart overruled her head and she returned his kiss, deeply and in full. She placed her hand behind his head to draw him even nearer, and Julien moaned softly as first his lips parted, then hers.

When finally they were forced to stop to draw breath, he looked at her with an expression she had never seen in him before. It made her knees weak and she trembled, grateful she was sitting down.

“I’m not falling in love with Thomas,” Julien whispered, regarding her tenderly. “That’s why I could ask him to go, and not you.”

“What?” Charlotte’s body still tingled from his touch and the sweet taste of wine on his lips. She struggled to understand what he had just said.

“I love you, Charlotte.” Julien repeated, caressing her face. “You are beautiful, and brilliant. Generous and kind beyond measure. Your heart… ” He paused, his words catching with emotion, “is the one I thought I would never find, and so I gave up searching, long ago. Then I awoke one day, injured, alone, and dare I admit to you now, afraid I would die that way. Yet there you were, and by my side you have loyally stayed.” He stroked her hand with his. “I have no doubt as to what I feel for you.”

“You can’t,” Charlotte’s eyes closed as she tried to move away. “You are meant to marry another. You cannot love me.”

“I will not marry another,” he insisted, running his hand over her silken braid and brushing his fingers near her lips. “Because I do love you, Charlotte. The battle is over, my heart is won.”

She tried to comprehend the implications of his words. Either he would follow this declaration eventually with his intention to propose marriage, which was ridiculous because she was only a country maid with no connections, no experience, and no reason to be accepted by the people: or, he would plan to return to the palace and live out his life alone, leaving the kingdom with no rightful heir as though he had perished as the Duke intended.

Neither option made any sense to her in her current state.

“Bed,” she stammered. “We must take you back to bed.” Charlotte stood. “I am not feeling well, and soon I fear I will not be able to assist you thus.”

Julien looked down at the floor. He would leave the topic here for now, but then he gave her another look that cautioned he would not leave it alone for long. “Very well.”

She rushed to gather his crutch and held on to it as she offered him her arm. He waved her arm away and took the crutch instead, and somehow by relying upon it and on the strength of his healthy leg, he managed to stand. He teetered a little and she rushed to throw her arms around him so he wouldn’t fall. This left them with their faces inches apart once again, and she looked up, and up, and realized just how tall he really was.

“Careful, now,” she whispered, “I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”

“Then don’t let it happen, Charlotte,” he pled. “Save me from the worst pain of all. Only you can.” Finally, he began to shuffle toward her room.

She made no reply as she followed him, ready to offer assistance. He amazed her with his ability to manage the short distance almost on his own.

The hardest part, it seemed, was sitting down to settle back into bed; and she took his crutch so he could manage more easily while allowing him to place a hand on her shoulder for balance.

Once he was in bed, she found herself unconsciously fussing with the blankets. Suddenly, it seemed to make him uncomfortable. “I can do that now. Thank you for your assistance, My Lady.”

“Goodnight, sir,” she turned to leave but he caught her, yet again, by the hand and held fast. He ran his fingers up and down her own, then entwined them and pulled her backwards toward him.

He drew her nearer, until finally he was able to lean over and give her a soft, tender kiss goodnight.

It was entirely different than his first kisses had been. It was tentative, and laced with worry. It was, Charlotte imagined, the kind of kiss a man only gave a woman when he was unsure of her affections.

Despite herself, she returned the embrace, and she shivered with desire as he deepened the kiss anew and tried to pull her closer still, onto the bed beside him.

“I must go,” she said, reluctantly backing away. “Really, I must.”

“Go, then. But I have to warn you of something.”

She tilted her head, curiosity piqued as she waited for him to finish his thought.

“I am still going to be in love with you in the morning.”