In The Devil's Stables (Spirited #1)

Chapter 31

***A/N: PG13 moment ahead, folks! Don't like it, don't read it ;) ***

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"How long have you known?"

Charlie's words came out harsh in the silence of the room. What the devil had gone on inside this room? What did Greyson mean about her uncle? What deal had he made?

Charlie could have kicked herself for believing for one moment that her uncle might have been forced into it, that there was something bigger at play.

She shook off the disappointment weighing her down, and instead focused on the man before her.

A deep chuckle bore from deep within Greyson's chest at Charlie's words, and it took every ounce of self control she possessed not to close the distance between them and box his ears.

The bloody arse.

"You, my lady," Greyson said, coming out from his lean against the door as he crossed his arms over his chest, "are as poor of an actor as your dear uncle."

Charlie placed her hands on her hips. "What the devil is that supposed to mean? And I don't know what part of 'how long have you known' was supposed to be funny, my lord. Did you know this whole time?" Charlie's foot stamped in frustration as her eyes probed his across the room. Her lips were tight, the corners of her mouth white from the strict way she held them.

When silence met her question, Charlie placed a hand on her hip, her chin resting upon her chest. "You kept me working within your stables. We shared a room at a hotel," she whispered, her head coming up. They locked eyes and Charlie could feel color creeping from the collar of her shirt and spreading along her cheekbones. "For heaven's sake, you had me worried for days that you were attracted to men -"

Greyson choked and his shoulders swept back, his black tailcoat straining across the breadth of his chest. "I beg your pardon?"

Charlie laughed, bitterly. "Oh, don't be so surprised. What else was I supposed to think, Greyson?" Charlie's words ended on a shriek and she cleared her throat, her fingers stretching at her sides as she shook her head. So consumed in her anger was she that she failed to notice the change that came over Greyson. His eyes went heavy lidded, focusing on the stretch of her fingers, the tenseness of her shoulders, the color climbing over her throat. He uncrossed his arms, his legs taking slow, measured strides towards her.

"The way you stared at me," Charlie continued, unheeded, grabbing pieces of her shorn locks and tugging. "That first day, after the robbers...in the stables....you had me on the ground...beneath you and...I felt...something," she finished lamely, her gaze falling onto Greyson.

It didn't register how much distance he had closed as she had carried on so. Part of her angry and the other...knowing she hadn't imagined it.

It had been there.

Of their own accord, Charile's eyes took in Greyson's full lips - ones that had kissed her, to his hands - ones that had gripped her thigh, bringing it up to straddle one of his hips, to that part of him she had felt, but not seen - one that had been pressed intimately against her softness.

Charlie felt her cheeks flame and she cursed silently.

The cad! How he must have laughed at her! While she had been worried about maintaining her disguise, worried she would give herself away, he had been wondering how long she would continue, how long until Charlie's disguise would crumble.

And then to have her worried that Greyson had been attracted to her - Charlotte and Charlie both. How often had Charlie replayed their every interaction? How often had she been kept awake tossing and turning, cursing herself for thinking the bloody man would ever be attracted to her.