In The Devil's Stables (Spirited #1)

Chapter 37

The entire household was in an uproar.

Charlie had entered moments ago, the knife clutched in her grip and hidden in her skirts. She was determined to see Greyson. To show him what she had found. Unfortunately, it seemed Greyson had found something rather intriguing himself.

Charlie came to the edges of Greyson's study and was shocked to see the dratted man standing at the window, one hand clutching parchment in his left fist, the other covering his right side, and if his wince was anything to go by, he was in pain.

Fury filled Charlie's breast, so thick it painted her vision in streaks of red. She set her bundle on a shelf inside the door and stalked across the room.

Disregarding their avid audience, or the way the room that had bustled only moments before had now become eerily quiet, Charlie planted her hands on her hips and for the first time in three days, gave Greyson her full attention.

"What the devil do you think you are doing?"

"I see you are no longer avoiding me," Greyson mumbled, his grip white knuckled as he tried for a look of nonchalance.

Charlie didn't know who he was trying to fool, but the bloody man wasn't fooling her.

Stopping next to Greyson she grasped his forearm, leading him to his chair. Charlie pushed on his shoulders until Greyson landed with a groan. "Well, if this is what you have been doing, more's the pity for you, Greyson!"

Thorne snorted a laugh, and Charlie cast a black scowl in the man's direction, before her ire returned to the appropriate outlet. "You shouldn't even be out of bed, let alone standing about! Before you know it, you'll be languishing on the floor from the pain, and heavens knows, Thorne can't carry you up those stairs a second time."

Greyson snorted a laugh, his head falling back onto his shoulders. He peered at Charlie from beneath his heavy lashes. "Your sweet words astound me, Charlie," he grumbled, shifting in his seat. "They really do."

"I told him to sit down before he fell down too," Marianne said, coming to Greyson's side. "God knows he won't listen to me."

A stale scent bit Charlie's nose and she gave a dubious look to the steaming cup of liquid in his mother's hand.

"Ah ha!" Charlie turned to Greyson who was staring at her, his gaze triumphant. He pointed a finger towards Charlie. "And that's why I won't listen to the woman. She's trying to poison me."

Charlie wondered if the earl wasn't half wrong. She wondered how the devil Greyson hadn't gagged already from the foul odor.

"It helps with the pain," she interjected, a cross look passing over her features. Charlie had a feeling this wasn't the first time they had had this particular conversation.

Greyson straightened in his chair, making a show of poise and contentment. "I'm fine, Mother. Never felt better."

Marianne snorted, but placed the cup on his tabletop instead. Her worried eyes fell on Greyson. "What is the cause of the ruckus now, Greyson. You have delayed long enough."

All traces of humor fled Greyson and Charlie tensed. He unclenched his hand around the wrinkled paper, placing it on his desk and clearing out the wrinkles. When Greyson's eyes next met Charlie's, a bode of trepidation hit her at Greyson's bleak expression.

"What is it?"

Charlie leaned over Greyson's shoulder, doing her best to ignore the scent of bergomet that drifted from him. Her hand rested on his shoulder, noticing a touch of heat and dampness still lingered. She was going to make the bloody man return to his chambers postehaste.