Free The Charmer by C.J. Archer

cry, but her body shuddered, and he held
her harder, tighter, careful not to crush her but enough to let her know she
was safe. Her cheek pressed against his chest and her head tucked under his
chin. He'd expected her to smell of the earth but instead she smelled of
something sweet. It must be the scent she'd added to her water but he couldn't
place the aroma. Whatever it was, it smelled intoxicating and it scrambled his
senses.
    She drew in a long, ragged breath
that pillowed her breasts against him and made the waterfall of her hair ripple
over his bare forearms. He reached one hand up to massage the back of her neck,
marveling at the way the soft strands slid through his fingers. Like the finest
silk. Finer. He could tease it and hold her all night and not grow tired of the
feel of her. His groin ached and his skin grew hot, tight. He wanted her more
than he'd wanted any woman. To hear her soft moans in his ear, feel her flesh
against his—
    "Unhand her!" growled
Hendricks from the doorway.
    Susanna pulled away. Orlando
sighed and wished he had a few moments more of the sweet torture.
    "It's all right,
Hendricks," she said. "Mr. Holt was...protecting me."
    The shadowy form of the servant
entered the bedchamber. He wore nothing but a nightshirt and cap. The poor
fellow must be cold and indeed, the hand holding the dagger shook, but that
could have been from age or from the exertion of running up the stairs.
    "Oh, my lady!" said
Bessie, crowding in behind Hendricks. "Oh my dear girl, what's happened?
Has he hurt you?"
    "It wasn't me," Orlando
said, hands up in surrender. "There was an intruder."
    "An intruder!" Bessie
pushed past Hendricks and enveloped Susanna in her arms, but Susanna was the
one who uttered soothing words of comfort to the maid.
    "It's all right now. He's gone,"
she said, rubbing Bessie's back.
    "You sure it wasn't this
fellow?" Hendricks jerked the knife at Orlando.
    "I'm sure." Susanna
glanced at Orlando quickly then away. "I didn't see the intruder's face,
but he went out the window the instant before Mr. Holt came through the door
upon hearing my scream. It couldn't have been he."
    "Upon hearing you scream,
eh?" Hendricks said, frowning. "He came all the way from the servants'
wing in an instant ?"
    "Not the servants' wing,
from the kitchen." Orlando gave Susanna a shrug. "I was still
hungry."
    "Hendricks, please lower the
knife," she said. "I can assure you, it was not Mr. Holt."
    Hendricks obeyed. His frown
didn't disappear but became more uncertain, as if he was thinking something
through. He said nothing, however, just continued to glare at Orlando.
    "Oh, my poor baby,"
Bessie said, "you could have been hurt." She held Susanna at arm's
length. "Look at you in your nightgown. You must be freezing. Get back in
bed."
    "I'm all right,
Bessie." She looked over the little maid's head as Cook rolled through the
door, breathing hard. She pressed a hand to her bosom and held her candle high.
    "What happened?" she
asked. "What's going on?"
    "An intruder,"
Hendricks said.
    "An intruder!"
    "Mr. Holt scared him
away," Bessie said.
    "Everyone's all right,"
Susanna added. "Now, please go back to bed. Nothing more can be done."
    "Not yet," Bessie said.
"He might come back."
    Was Orlando the only one who
could see the sheen of fear in Susanna's eyes again? He ached to comfort her.
Alone. In her bed.
    Later.
    "I'll check the
master." Hendricks shuffled off, apparently no longer thinking Orlando was
a threat. If he only knew...
    "And I'll warm up some
milk," Cook said. "You used to like warm milk whenever you had
nightmares as a girl." Instead of leaving, she leaned a shoulder against
the door frame. "Just let me catch my breath first."
    Bessie pulled back the covers on
the bed and patted the mattress. "Hop in before you catch your death, m'lady."
    Susanna glanced at Orlando. There
was enough light to see that she struggled to control her emotions, but whether
those emotions were fear, embarrassment, or desire he