Hold My Hand

Chapter 4

Returning to the cabin with the dead cat around my shoulders filled my soul with satisfaction. What tried to kill me, I had defeated. I had also protected Charlotte from the same fate as I had. If he had hurt Charlotte, I would never be able to forgive myself. I would have never been able to take care of her the same way she had taken care of me. She was safe, and that's all that mattered to me.

Back at the cabin, I stripped the hide from the cat and did what I could to cut meat off of the bones. I had never eaten a panther, but it was meat. We had to survive. Charlotte didn't seem bothered by it one bit. I could only imagine how the high society women of London would think about eating a cat. I didn't find the meat bad and was thankful for something more substantial.

With our bellies full and the feeling of contentment at being safe from another attack, Charlotte and I settled into a week of comfortable and playful conversations. We worked together around the cabin doing chores like chopping wood, cleaning brush away, taking care of her horse, cleaning the cabin, gathering food like berries and other edible roots and leaves we had come across, cleaning and preserving the hide of the cat, and Charlotte mended my shirt and pants. We spent many days at the waterfall cleaning our bodies and gathering fresh water. I had even concocted a makeshift fishing pole and caught a plethora of fish. We were thriving on the land and spending our evenings talking about anything that caught our interest. Charlotte wanted me to tell her all about London and even Sanditon. She wanted to know about London society and how things worked. At times, she looked at me as if I was speaking a foreign language. She had been entirely sheltered at her family farm and never experienced much of anything else. We had spent so much time together, the feelings we had for each other only deepened. I would steal a kiss or two from time to time, and at night, we would both lay on the bed together. Sometimes I'd hold her hand, and others we simply lie next to each other staring into each other's eyes. I never let it go any further than small touches or a kiss.

"You're cheating," I teased. It had been ages since I had played cribbage. I was surprised how quickly it came back to me as we continued the game. It was late into the evening and a rainstorm was coming down outside. Neither of us wanted to end the night. We had gotten closer, learning more and more about each other as we worked together for the week. Although, there was so much she still kept hidden from me. I tried not to pry, knowing she had her reasons why she wanted to keep things private. I assumed it was to protect her own heart.

"I am not," she giggled. "You don't know how to play."

"I have been watching you. There's no possible way you aren't cheating. Do you have a stash of cards up your sleeve?" I asked, taking her hand in mine and teasingly searching her sleeves. I secretly wanted nothing more than to simply touch her hand.

"I assure you, I am not cheating," she laughed.

I held on to her hand longer than what would be acceptable, not that touching her in any way would ever be acceptable without engagement. I definitely had crossed the lines with every touch and every kiss I had given her. Yet, she never turned away from me or made me believe I was doing anything improper. I wondered if we were in society, if she would be the same way, or if she would still feel comfortable with every touch I gave her. She had not been bred to follow societal restraints, yet I couldn't imagine she had never been taught that a man's touch was not acceptable unless marriage was intended. She was engaged to another. I knew this. Yet, I couldn't help how I felt about her.

As our fingers linked together and drew even more deep feelings out of us, we both became more subdued, simply enjoying the moment. The cribbage game entirely abandoned.

"How do we face this, Sidney?" she asked sadly, looking down at our connected hands.

"I do not know," I answered. "What I do know is I will never feel for another what I feel for you. You are my match in every way. We both enjoy the same things. We both have the same desires and interests. You make me want to be more than I am. Even your hand fits perfectly in mine." I tightened my hand around hers and gently rubbed my thumb across her knuckles.