Free His Australian Heiress by Margaret Way Page A

“minders” in place. They were so good at going unnoticed, Charlotte would have had no idea she was being watched over.
    â€œIt’s not safe to be an heiress,” she said, thinking of past tragedies she had read about.
    â€œYou’re a lot safer than some innocent young woman snatched off the street,” he pointed out. “You’re a lot safer in this country than anywhere else.”
    â€œThere’s that.” She nodded her agreement. “Don’t mind me, Bren. With an approaching milestone birthday, I’m feeling a bit emotional.”
    â€œWhy wouldn’t you be?” he said, his illusions about families staying together, long destroyed.
    â€œYes.” She took the camellia he had given her out of her hair and began twirling it around in her fingers. “I sometimes think I might not ever get what I want.”
    â€œDo you know what you want, Charlie?” he asked.
    â€œLife. Ordinary, love-filled life. Love is the flower of life. It’s a vision. It’s a . . .” She broke off, as involuntary tears sprang into her beautiful emerald-green eyes.
    â€œCharlie!” His heart smote him. He had never seen Charlie cry. Not at the funerals of her parents. Not at the very public funeral of Sir Reginald. Those tears had been dammed up, but surely the dam had to be full to bursting point? On impulse he leaned sideways, intending to kiss her smooth cheek, only simultaneously she turned her blond head.
    What happened next came as a shock to both of them. The chaste kiss Brendon had intended landed directly on her full-lipped, parted mouth. The thrill of impact was enormous. It strained every bit of Brendon’s willpower not to deepen this kiss that was already perilously on the brink of becoming intense. Her lips seemed to part even more. That excited and moved him unbearably. This wasn’t the gentle understanding kiss of a long, close friendship. This wasn’t a “cousinly” kiss. His heart was beating violently. He had the wildest impulse to pull her across his knees, make love to her—to her , little Charlie—in the dazzling afternoon light. It was proving extraordinarily difficult to let her go.
    Both tripped each other up to speak. “There’s nothing like a kiss, is there?” Charlotte quavered, visibly unnerved.
    â€œWell, you would turn your head,” he said, shaken right out of his normal composure. “I don’t think you need ever worry about being a cold person.”
    â€œI’m never cold with you, Bren,” Charlotte said. “You were my one ray of sunshine for yonks. As a matter of fact”—she was getting her breath back—“as an unintended little peck, it was pretty good.” Trying hard not to show her wildly unruly emotions, Charlotte sat upright, locking her hands together. “You might not guess this, but that was my very first kiss. A good thing I’ll be able to remember it with pleasure.”
    â€œYour first kiss?” It wasn’t like Charlie to tell a lie. “Charlie, I can not believe you’ve never been kissed.” In his view she was a natural. He had never received such pleasure from a single kiss.
    â€œBelieve what you like,” she said, tilting back her golden head. “I’m a very old-fashioned girl. Besides, I have a need to always be safe. My generation of friends wants everything at once. A lot of the girls I know believe they have to accede to whatever their boyfriends want, and we all know what that is. I’m different , Bren. There’s plenty of time for me to get into sex if I want it. First I have to be sure. That kiss was real , wasn’t it, Bren?”
    He should have said, “ You know it was .” Instead he backed off. “Kisses can be dangerous, Charlotte.”
    A faint shiver ran through her. “You mean, we’re living with the memory of the sins of our family? Dangerous kisses lead to