The Corinthians Series: Rules of Masquerade

Chapter Twenty Two

Chapter Twenty Two

“Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god...” Charlotte chanted anxiously under her breath. Her grip on the porcelain vase slackened as William crumpled heavily into a heap and landed on the carpeted floor with a thud. Trembling, Charlotte lowered the vase onto the floor, crouched down and began to study the unconscious man she had just whacked on the head.

“Please don’t die.” She whispered and was immediately comforted by the reassuring rise and fall of his chest. Carefully, Charlotte began to feel his scalp, God forbid if she had actually cracked open his skull with her careless blow. Thankfully, William suffered no open wound.  

His cravat was no where to be seen and his olive colored shirt creased, scandalously unbuttoned at the base of his neck permitting Charlotte sight of the golden patch of skin that lies under the shirt. His dark hair disheveled. In his sleep, the marquess would sometimes let out a soft moan in between his breathing. Charlotte shifted her nightdress and sat on the floor in front of her fiancé. Her fiancé. Her lying, wretchedly handsome fiancé, who was drunkenly scaling her bedroom in the middle of the night.

What on earth was he thinking?

He probably wasn’t, she answered herself, he was inebriated and drunkards had little wit to spare once ensnared by alcohol. Leaning close, she appraised his straight nose and long lashes, dusting on his cheek. Without his piercing stare and blunt words, the formidable marquess looked quite normal. The slope his stern jaw caught her attention before her eyes was drawn to his lips. They were slightly pouting. 

Her mouth watered. 

She sat on the floor for what seemed like an hour, lost in her own thoughts. She was still angry at him for his cruel trick and yet, she could already feel her heart softening. Her will was crumpling under the weight of his unexpected innocent charm. Damn him! While she stared at him, Charlotte was taken back to the times when William mercilessly tricked her; knowing now that his words was laced with deception. He deliberately provoked her and toyed with her feelings. Afterward she was reminded of the way his eyes would rest on her, two intense chocolate orbs looking into her own. She felt his hands on her body and his lips on her lips…

Then, before her eyes William started to stir. Charlotte shot on her feet and darted to a small desk near the window where she kept a few books and a set of stationery. She selected a silver letter opener and stood to watch while William blinked the sleep out of his eyes. At first William merely looked perplexed, casting a weary glance around her room. Then, he looked up to her and awarded her with an arresting lopsided grin.

“Are you going to gut me with a letter opener, love?” He asked, his voice was still gruff with sleep, his eyes rested on the silver instrument.

Charlotte maintained her ground. “You deserved a fate far worst.”

He asked, his head favoring a sly tilt. “How so?”

“Do not feign ignorance you… you… charlatan.”

William raised one hand and placed it above his heart in exaggeration. “Your words wound me.”

Unable to help herself, Charlotte’s gaze flickered to a pinkish bruise was blooming on his temple. “You shouldn’t have climbed up my window.”

“You shouldn’t have knocked me on the head.” He responded.

Charlotte slipped the letter opener back onto the desk and folded her arms to her chest. “You were foxed and I was afraid.”

“I would never hurt you.” William replied in a small, steady voice that carried to where Charlotte stood. However, she brushed away the profound emotion buried within the assertion.