As if on cue, the dowager, who had been blessedly silent for some time, spoke up. “Pretty little thing, isn’t she, in a simple sort of way?” she asked with a nod toward Chloe.
Kit’s eyes narrowed at her observation. There was nothing simple about Chloe, and his grandmother was failing if she thought so, but he was not about to argue the merits of their guest, being too wary of his grandmother’s motives. Instead he shrugged carelessly, as if the matter was of no interest, while he picked at what little was left upon his plate.
“Of course, she’s not in your usual style,” the dowager added in a sly tone.
The comment brought his head up. “And what exactly does that mean? How could that possibly be germane to her work here?” Kit asked. When his grandmother did not answer, he frowned as a certain dark conjecture took root. “Unless you want me to seduce the chit?”
The dowager sniffed. “Well, I’d like to see you take an interest in anything, even a bit of muslin.”
Kit turned, impaling his grandmother with a cold look. “She is not a bit of muslin.”
“No, of course not,” the dowager conceded, but it was too late. Kit’s suspicions were aroused, as well as his long-inactive sensibilities. He had already judged Chloe to be guiltless, but what of the dowager?
“Did you hire her to seduce me?” he demanded as a new, potent sensation filled him, painful yet different from his usual tormented grief.
“No!” his grandmother snapped, but Kit caught a telltale glint in the old woman’s eyes before she quickly glanced away.
He seized upon it. “Then just why is she here? Certainly not as a companion to you. Did you lure her here with the promise of a position, intending to dangle her before me as some kind of bait? To what purpose? You cannot want such a nobody as countess, so what use do you have for her? Answer me!” he demanded in a cold, hard voice that, for once, left his grandmother speechless.
Or maybe her own guilt kept her silent. Kit made a low sound of disgust as he rose to his feet. “For all your fine title and grandiose airs, you are nothing more than a procuress! And as to your opinion of me, it doesn’t even bear comment,” he muttered before turning on his heel.
Kit stalked from the room, some kind of heat giving strength to his tired limbs. He was outraged to discover not only that his original suspicions about his grandmother were correct, but that she had duped an unwitting innocent with her scheme. It was unconscionable! She had deliberately put a lovely female in his way, hoping to rouse his dormant interest to the point that he acted upon it. Worse yet, she had involved Chloe. Kit’s mind reeled, and even his jaded senses balked at the thought of so coarsely using a decent young woman, and she a relative, as well!
Rarely did he bestir himself to action these days, but Kit could not let this intrigue continue. Of course, he had no intention of dallying with Chloe or any other, but neither could he allow her to be so misused by his grandmother. The dowager had gone too far this time. He was used to her tricks, but no gently bred baron’s daughter should be put in such a position. The old woman ought be horsewhipped, Kit thought as anger, hot and righteous, surged through him.
It was such a strange sensation that he halted in confusion. He felt oddly off balance, as though muscles long unused were being employed. Glancing down at his injured leg, Kit sought to blame his wounds, but the low, dull ache there had nothing to do with this sudden warmth. Abruptly, he realized that he hadn’t felt this way since returning home. Indeed, he had felt nothing at all except his twin companions of grief and guilt, and the fierceness of his rage caught him off guard.
He was staring stupidly ahead, startled at the revelation, when Chloe returned. She was going to brush past him, but he made some noise, effectively halting her. “I need to speak with you,” he said a bit stiffly.
When she looked up in surprise, Kit turned his head back toward the dining room. “Not here. Come with me,” he said, reaching out to take her arm. But the touch only brought more heat and awareness, and he dropped his hand in surprise. For a long moment he stared dumbly at his fingers, puzzled by his reaction, then, recovering himself, he motioned for her to join him out of earshot of both his grandmother and the servants who spied for her. “Let us go outside,” he said.
Although Chloe looked a bit wary of his invitation, she lifted her chin and walked beside him through the French doors of the grand salon into the gathering darkness. Closing the tall portals behind him, Kit stepped out onto the stone terrace, enclosed by curved railings leading down to the manicured lawns below. Beside him, he heard the gentle rustle of skirts as his companion moved past to stand by the balustrade.
“It’s beautiful here, isn’t it?” she asked in that sultry voice of hers, and Kit had to tear his gaze away from her gleaming hair to their surroundings.
He had been here evenings beyond count, of course, especially since his return, for the beauty of Hawthorne Park and the Yorkshire countryside seemed the only thing that gave him a moment’s peace. And yet, tonight it all looked different, the stars shining brighter in the night sky, the moonlight glittering freshly on the fading grass below. Odd, but Kit felt almost...human again.
Out loud, he said, “It is quite picturesque, yes. But that is not why I brought you here. Again, I apologize for my behavior this morning, but I fear that my suspicions were not totally groundless.” When she turned to look at him, her dark eyes wide, Kit had to concentrate on what he had been about to say. He took a deep breath. “I’m afraid you have been brought here under false pretenses,” he said, deliberately focusing his gaze on the distant beeches.
When she didn’t answer, Kit glanced at her again only to be caught once more in that dark gaze. Deep. Tranquil. Soothing. He blinked. “My grandmother does not need or want a companion, nor does she care in the slightest for the misfortunes of distant relatives. Despite her title, she is no better than the meanest sort of female. In short, Miss Gibbons, she lured you here in the hope that I might be enticed to bed you. Though her logic escapes me, as is usually the case, I can only conjecture that once returned to manly vigor, she thinks I will assume all the duties she has laid upon my head without protest, thanks to your virgin sacrifice.”
Kit expected another slap, a shocked gasp, at least, but not the long, low laugh that rippled through him like a fine wine, heady and delicious. He swung his head around to stare at her, and she immediately put a hand up to cover that wonderful smile of hers, tipped tooth and all.
“I’m sorry, but the idea is just so ludicrous!” she said.
Well, yes, Kit had to admit that his grandmother was reaching on this one, if she expected him to despoil a relative without the slightest prompting of a conscience. Perhaps she thought the army had effectively eliminated all ethical codes except for kill or be killed. Or maybe she mistakenly thought him as bereft of morality as herself.
“I mean, why on earth would you be tempted by a penniless spinster who has moved on naught by the very fringes of society?” Chloe asked. Then she chuckled, as if she had not insulted both herself and his taste in one fell swoop. Obviously she was looking at the whole thing from a skewed perspective.
“And what makes you think I wouldn’t be attracted to you?” Kit asked, genuinely curious. “Society bores me to death, and I have no need of money, so your wealth or position hardly matter.” Indeed, he was more interested in her throaty laugh, in the dark promise of solace in her eyes, in the gentle curves of her woman’s body. That is, if he were interested in anything, which he most definitely wasn’t.
“I beg your pardon, but I am hardly the sort to catch the eye of someone like yourself, let alone drive you to uncontrollable lust!” Chloe protested.
Kit frowned at both her plain-speaking and her words. There were far too many so-called gentlemen of the ton with uncontrolled passions who would be only too happy to take advantage of a hired governess or companion, with or without their grandmother’s sanction. Kit suddenly saw the darkly beautiful Chloe as unprotected, and he felt a raw
surge of possessiveness, to claim his own...strictly in his role as a relative, of course.
“Someone like me? What does that mean?” he asked. Did she refer to his admitted lack in that area necessary to act upon lustful urges? Eyeing her carefully, Kit thought he saw a faint blush tinge her cheeks in the darkness, and he felt a heavy regret at his previous honesty.
She looked down at her hands. “I mean, someone young, handsome, charming...”
The weight lifted, making him light of heart. “Formerly young, formerly handsome,” Kit muttered, brandishing his cane. “And formerly charming, most certainly,” he added with a rueful smile.
Chloe laughed again. “Oh, I wouldn’t underestimate your charms,” she said.
“And I wouldn’t underestimate yours,” Kit said, his smile fading. He held her gaze, and the heat that sparked when they touched seemed to gather in the stillness like a thread between them, growing and strengthening...
Chloe dropped her gaze. “You flatter me, my lord. Kit,” she amended. “And I appreciate your concern for me, though I still think it misplaced.”
“You don’t know my grandmother and her machinations,” Kit muttered.
“Oh, but I’m learning quickly, and I believe she feels that her schemes and deceptions are justified, if the results meet her ends.”
Kit opened his mouth to comment, but Chloe stayed him with a hand that rendered him speechless, soft and pale and so warm before she pulled it away. “And I know you two are constantly at odds, but she did not hire me to entice you, merely to watch you, as a companion of sorts, out of her concern for you,” Chloe said.
“What?” Kit asked. Truly bewildered, he tried to marshal the thoughts that seemed to scatter at a mere touch from this young woman. Had his grandmother spun some Banbury Tale to ensure her cooperation?
For a long moment Chloe said nothing, then she lifted her dark gaze to his, serious and intent. “The dowager is afraid that you might do yourself in,” she whispered.
Kit sucked in a harsh breath, unable to believe what he heard, then released it in a rush, along with several colorful curses. “I’m more likely to murder her, the interfering old harridan!”
Instead of being offended by his words, Chloe laughed, and for an instant, Kit forgot his outrage as he basked in the rich peal of it. Low and sultry, the sound made him think of long nights of lovemaking, and he decided that a laugh like that should not belong to the sensible spinster Chloe thought herself. Indeed, no guardian or governess or lady’s companion ought to possess a voice like hers, warm and deep and sensual.
Kit blinked. No matter how attractive or pleasing or even desirable this woman might be, he had no intention of allowing her to remain here, especially as some kind of nursemaid to him! Obviously his grandmother had gone mad, or even worse, she thought him insane. Yes, he had often wished to trade places with Garrett, but suicide would not bring back his brother, and he would not dishonor his fallen comrades in such a fashion.
Kit swung toward the young woman who stood so calmly before him, as though she had spoken of nothing earth-shattering or soul-searing. If she truly were destitute, he could hardly turn her out. The crafty dowager had counted on that, but he need not spend any time with her.
“I’ll make you a deal,” he said. “You leave me alone, and I’ll leave you alone.”
To his utter astonishment, she shook her head. “I’m afraid I cannot,” she answered.
“Why the devil not?” Kit demanded.
“Because I have been employed to complete a task, and I’m not leaving until I see it through.”
Kit stared at her, stunned. Surely she did not intend to shadow him about, testing his drink for poison and removing all sharp objects from his care? A flush of humiliation stained his cheeks at the thought, and he laughed bitterly. Had he really such an intention, no slender young woman could stop him. Nor could she play at being his companion of sorts, should he refuse her. All he had to do was walk away.
“Good luck to you, then!” he said, turning on his heel and stalking back inside, leaving Miss Chloe Gibbons out in the cold. For good.
* * *
Kit slipped out while dawn was still streaking the horizon. Sleep no longer came easily to him, so it was no hardship to arise at a time when he once would have been seeking his bed after a long night spent at elegant balls or gambling dens, the favored pursuits of the ton. Now he kept the hours of a country farmer, caring naught for his old habits. It was struggle enough for him to get through his day, and, this morning, to outwit his so-called companion.
With a wicked curve of his lips, Kit headed for the stables. He might not be able to outpace her on foot, but horseback was a different matter, and in a few moments he was mounted on Raja, looking forward to a long, solitary ride through woods bright with autumn colors. Although the horse was restive, Kit was in no hurry. He knew the stallion could outpace anything in the stables. So he went slowly, climbing the long, gentle slope that led to the oaks clustered on the hills ahead. Smugly, he told himself that Chloe was probably still in bed, but that brought to mind images of her flushed from sleep, her thick hair tousled, and he quickly turned his attention to the path ahead.
He had no use for a nursemaid, a companion, or anyone else. Why couldn’t his grandmother accept that and leave him be? No one understood him, so he preferred to be alone with his own tortured thoughts. He wondered, not for the first time, if he ought not to leave Hawthorne Park, abandoning his grandmother, his heritage and the earldom in a single swoop. But something deep inside him clung to this last connection to his former life.
The Yorkshire dales were in his blood. Kit took a deep breath of air scented with grass and leaves and faint hints of lingering flowers, and he felt the tension inside himself ease some small measure. Here was the only place he could find any surcease, so why should he let the dowager take that away from him? He ought to send her packing instead!
Kit had not gone much farther when he heard the sound of another rider behind him. It couldn’t be, he thought. Chloe was surely still asleep and, if not, she could never have followed him so quickly. Yet, even as Kit told himself otherwise, he felt a curious elation at the thought of her pursuit. Like one meeting a dangerous challenge, Kit turned slowly only to stare in horror at the sight of his companion atop Pegasus, a high-stepping thoroughbred that required the firm hand of a seasoned rider and was known to dislike members of its own sex. True to form, the filly was dancing about and tossing its head, while Chloe clung, ineffectually, to the reins.
It took Kit but one frantic moment to reach her side, and without thought, he simply seized her from the saddle. As he pulled her onto his lap, she gasped in surprise and clutched at his coat, as if fearing he would toss her onto the ground. But he gripped her about the waist, so tightly in fact, that Kit realized she was shaking. Or was it his own hands that quaked, while his heart pounded as fiercely as in battle?
“What the devil were you doing on Pegasus?” he demanded.
At least she had the good grace to look chagrined. “I told your groom that I wanted a mount that would be able to catch yours,” she said, her brows tilting up in a rueful expression. “But that is only because I knew you would ride ahead, rather than wait for me.”
Kit cursed fluently. “Have you no sense at all? You could have been killed, and for what?” For me, he thought grimly. “I will not have another death laid at my door!” he swore through gritted teeth.
“I’m all right, Kit,” she said softly.
Chloe’s low, steady voice seemed to sweep away the red haze of anger and grief until he could see clearly, and she filled his vision. She was like a beacon, a point of light in his dark world. Beneath his fingers, her slender body was solid and anchoring. Her dark hair, hastily arranged, fell in great, silky locks here and there, and thick lashes lifted over eyes that drew him with some imagined promise of peace and comfort and...passion.
Of all his bizarre musings, it was that last stray thought that arrested him
. Suddenly, Kit found himself looking at her mouth, wide and luscious, and a torrid heat exploded around him. He wanted to sink into that mouth, to take his refuge and pleasure there, to abandon his grief and guilt in exchange for life and love. And it scared him to death. Sucking a deep breath, he jerked his gaze away and nudged Raja back toward the stables.
Kit kept his eyes focused on the low building until he slowed the stallion to a halt near the somber groom, who helped Chloe to the ground. He gave the man a look that evinced his displeasure, then he made the mistake of glancing once more down at Chloe, who was watching him with those wide, calm eyes, just as if nothing untoward had happened. And instead of racing off into the hills, putting the greatest distance possible between him and the threat presented by Miss Chloe Gibbons, Kit found himself telling the groom to find her a more suitable mount. And before he knew what he was about, they were both moving toward the oaks on the hill.
They rode in silence, and Kit relaxed once more as whatever delusions he had harbored receded into the reality of one innocent young relative perched upon a nearby gelding. What danger could she possibly pose to him? Perhaps he had imagined his response; surely he had exaggerated the depth of it. It had been a long while since he had held a woman on his lap, so it was only natural that he would be stirred in some manner even though his body could no longer function as it once had.
Taking in a deep breath, Kit banished such thoughts and let the peace of the morning wash over him. He could no longer stand the racket of idle chatter, the sound of people who just wanted to hear themselves talk. That was one of the reasons he sought the countryside, the open spaces and still oaks, where the only noise was the call of the birds, the rustle of the leaves and the occasional movement of some small animal.
Under the branches of the sheltering trees, Kit felt his usual ease, but with a different aspect. Today, his was not the solitude of the solitary. Instead he was filled with a warmth that came with sharing the beauty of the forest paths with another. Despite his vow to the contrary, he and Chloe had settled into a comfortable companionship, and when at last she spoke, he found he was eager for her voice.
The Companion Page 4