by Sahara Kelly
Kitty saw Max’s nostrils flare, and quickly put her hand on his arm as she turned to her brother. “Hecate should not have been in that carriage, Edmund. It was borrowed—if you can call using someone else’s carriage without their permission borrowing—by Miller-James. If anyone should be lying on that couch, it should be me instead of Hecate. And Max would be…” She couldn’t say it, but the word dead hung in the air like a shadow. “And we don’t know yet that Max was definitely the target. Coaches look similar in the dark, don’t they?”
Simon sighed. “You have a point, Kitty. We don’t know enough to make assumptions.” He looked at Edmund. “I completely share your feelings, brother. But we must temper them with logic.”
Edmund ran a hand through his hair. “You’re right. No offense, Max.”
“None taken. I’d feel the same if it were my sister.”
Kitty felt it was safe enough to remove her hand. She was tired, so tired. Scared half to death by Hecate’s injuries, and now the burden of Max being a potential target—it was all taking its toll on a woman who was more accustomed to choosing gowns than dealing with disasters. “We need to plan what to do now,” she said.
Max glanced down at her. “Sit, Kitty.”
She sat and he brought her a brandy. “Thank you.” She sipped, the warming liquid bolstering the little strength she had left. Aware of the disapproving gaze of her brothers, she defiantly took another sip.
Edmund sighed. “Right then.” He turned to James. “You’ll be coming with us, James?”
“Yes, absolutely.” He narrowed his eyes. “I would think Hecate will need most of the space in the carriage, so it’s a good thing we have our mounts.”
“Should someone attend her? A maid? Kitty?” Simon looked at his sister.
She shook her head. “Simon, I love my sister to the ends of the earth. But I am not good at tending to the sick. I would spend half the journey sick myself with worry, and when we got to Ridlington any aspirations I might still have about nursing would be completely overrun by Rosaline, you know that. She’s so much better at organization than I am. Within a day I’d be back to the old pattern of doing nothing and trying to make it look like I was doing something.”
“You’re right, Kitty,” acknowledged Edmund. “But Ridlington is, and always will be, your home. You know that, don’t you? You are welcome there at any time, no matter the situation.” He cast a pointed look at Max.
“Understood, Baron.”
Edmund eased at Max’s response. “Good.”
Dal returned at that moment. “Sirs, forgive my intrusion.” He bowed over his steepled fingertips. “I have arranged a sling to hold Miss Hecate within the coach. I believe this will ease the journey so that she may not suffer any grievous harm while travelling.”
“Oh. Goodness.”
Kitty’s admiring exclamation was echoed in the faces of the others.
“Brilliant, man. Quite brilliant.” James nodded his approval.
“I would ask a great favor, sirs.” Dal lowered his eyes. “I would ask to be allowed to accompany Miss Hecate to the Ridlington Chase.”
“What?” Simon’s eyebrows rose. “I don’t think…”
“Simon, wait.” Kitty moved to Dal’s side. “Hecate has become very close to Dal and his family. I understand she has been teaching his niece and assisting his sister as she awaits the return of her husband from France. He’s a soldier in Wellington’s army…”
“Indeed sirs,” endorsed Dal. “We owe Miss Hecate so much. Nothing I could do for her would in any way equal what she has done for us.” He took a breath. “She protected my niece from an unpleasant incident without thought for her own well-being. For that alone, we owe her so much more than our gratitude.”
“That’s Hecate,” nodded Simon. “Always lending a hand.”
“One other thing, sirs.” Dal paused, looking at each of them, meeting their gazes squarely. “My people, my country…we accept and venerate those who are gifted above and beyond the ordinary.”
The silence was deafening.
“Miss Hecate is one such person; her abilities are, as I’m sure you are all aware, very unusual. And yet she has to hide them, to suppress them, if you will, while trying to live an ordinary life.” He sighed. “My sister and I have seen some of the strain this conflict imposes. But we are of the few who understand the nature of that strain. She can be herself around us. I would be there beside her when she wakes so she knows she can be herself then as well.”
Everyone took a moment or two to digest Dal’s impassioned soliloquy.
Finally, Kitty spoke. “I cannot presume to know what Hecate would wish, Dal, but I do know she values your friendship most highly. And I also know she would not be with us, alive, had it not been for her gift and your devotion.” She turned to Edmund. “There is nobody I would trust Hecate to more than Dal.”
Edmund winced. “I’m going to have a hell of a time explaining him to Rosaline.”
Simon chuckled. “No you won’t. Introduce them. Rosaline will see what’s what immediately.”
“I have to agree with Simon,” added James. “Plus the fact that Mr. Dal here found Hecate, and I’m still not clear on how that happened…” He raised an eyebrow at Dal, who remained silent. “All these things persuade me that he would be an excellent companion for Hecate on the journey. His strength will be useful if the ride is rough, and should she wake…having him there would set her mind at ease, I’m sure.”
And thus the matter of an attendant for Hecate was decided, and the process of taking her back to Ridlington was set in motion.
Kitty spent a moment wondering if this was some kind of nightmare from which she would wake any moment. But her hands were cold, and her tears harsh stings at the back of her eyes as she watched a still and pale Hecate, wrapped in warm blankets, carried out to the coach. She managed to touch her sister’s hand briefly. “Heal, darling. Take all the time you need, but come back to us, all right?” She dropped a quick kiss on one cool cheek.
Then they were saying their farewells, and the servants bustled to make sure all the provisions Max had ordered were loaded correctly.
Standing beside Max, Kitty observed but didn’t see. Her eyes blurred as she wondered if this was the last time she’d ever see Hecate. A tiny sob escaped, but Max heard it.
“Kitty?” He looked down at her. “You’re shaking. Come inside…”
Blindly she followed him, unable to contain her tears, staggering as her legs refused to hold her upright anymore.
“Oh sweetheart.” He caught her before she stumbled to the floor.
She barely heard his endearment, but felt his arms beneath her thighs and around her shoulders. The next thing she knew, she was sitting on his lap as he sat on the grand staircase. And he was cuddling her the way one would a distressed child.
The warmth, the touch of his arms and the sense of comfort—it overset her completely and she finally broke down, crying harsh sobs into his jacket. He rocked her, gently soothing her, murmuring things she couldn’t hear.
She was lost in the torrent of emotions that had finally overwhelmed her.
So she didn’t see Edmund return for his gloves, nor catch the widened eyes and amazed expression that crossed his face for a moment as he saw the master of the house cuddling and soothing his sobbing sister.
She also missed the slight curve of Edmund’s lips as he took in the unusual tableau. He gave an approving nod, which was answered by a slight dip of the head from Max.
Given the subtle implications of this silent exchange, the fact that Kitty remained unaware of any of it was probably a good thing.
Chapter Fourteen
“If you apologise one more time, I swear I will do something awful.” Max glowered at Kitty over the dining table in the small parlor.
She sniffed. “I’ve never done that before in my life, I swear.”
“You mean you’ve never cried?” His eyebrow rose. “I find that somewhat hard to believe, m
y dear.” He sipped his wine and watched her face in the candlelight.
“Only as a little girl,” she answered. Turning to her food, he realized that topic was closed.
She was pale still, but composed, her crying episode having ended with her pulling away from him, wiping her nose and determinedly striding up the stairs, announcing she needed a brief rest. It had lasted all afternoon, so he guessed she’d fallen asleep. They’d not met until the dinner gong.
He had to admire the strength that held her together and also admit he was surprised by it. Kitty, to all outward appearances, was a beautiful woman who possessed all the graces, had a modest amount of financial backing, and decorated the salons of the Ton every bit as successfully as her peers. To find her capable of handling everything the last twenty-four hours had thrown at her, and keep her countenance through it all, well it was extremely impressive.
Her collapse after all was done…merely showed how she had been affected, and demonstrated what she’d kept hidden during the times of crisis and decision.
“You are silent,” she said. “You must be tired too. I did manage to rest, but you’ve been up for hours, haven’t you?”
He nodded. “I was just thinking about today. Not a usual day in my life, or yours I’d suppose.”
She managed a chuckle. “Max, if my days were like this on a routine basis, I would probably have ignored this delicious dinner and gone directly to the brandy.”
He grinned. “I understand.” He sipped his wine. “Your aunt was all right?”
“She was. But it was probably best you were elsewhere when she arrived. Aunt Venetia, it would seem, responds to emergencies with temper. She needed someone to blame.”
“Me?” said Max.
“I’m afraid so.” Kitty shrugged. “From Hecate’s accident to us being here together, you were the villain in the drama.”
“How long will it last? Should I worry?”
She looked up at him in surprise. “Good lord, no. She means no harm. By tomorrow she’ll be worrying about Hecate, of course, but also trying to assess the damage to her reputation by it all.” She put down her knife and fork and touched her napkin to her lips with a satisfied little sound. “That was excellent, by the way. You have a marvellous chef—his creations are delicious.”
“He is a she, and she’s been here at Mowbray House since my grandfather’s time. Started as an undercook or a potato peeler or something.”
Kitty laughed, as he meant her to do. It was a sound that warmed him, which—upon reflection—should have disturbed him, but didn’t.
“So Lady Allington wasn’t too concerned that Hecate had left?” He pursued the topic, since it would be relevant when it came to his and Kitty’s status in town.
“She was,” Kitty shook her head. “I wouldn’t want you to think she wasn’t distraught. She loves Hecate—everyone does—and she’s promised to keep footmen at the ready to send messages to and from Ridlington if necessary.” She paused. “She’s a good woman, Max. I wouldn’t be here without her help. She didn’t have to welcome Richard and myself the way she did, nor did she have to offer us financial support, but she did that as well. I do believe she has her own way of dealing with things, though. And in this case, she knows Hecate is better off with her family at Ridlington. Thus she will spend more time working on how to present matters to London, than dashing down to the country where she knows she will be of little use.”
“She is a practical woman. A rarity in town.” He finished his wine. “And since you mentioned him, where is your brother? Of all the people to punch me in the face this morning, I would have expected his fist to land the first blow.” He rubbed the sore spot absently.
She examined his chin. “You can barely see the bruise.”
“A great comfort. Thank you for mentioning it.”
“I was just pointing out…”
He raised his hand. “My bruise is nothing. I’ve had worse. Where’s Richard, Kitty?”
He saw her pause, and look away from his gaze.
“Kitty?”
She squared her shoulders. “I don’t know.”
He frowned. “Doesn’t he have rooms with Lady Allington?”
“He did,” she said, running her fingers over the embroidery on the tablecloth. “He spends less and less time there, and more and more with his friends.”
“So you really don’t know where he is?”
“No, I don’t. And he is a grown man, as I am a grown woman. He makes his own choices.”
“I sincerely hope they are intelligent ones.”
She gave him a sideways look as she reached for a tiny sweetmeat. “I’m sure they are. To him.”
“Kitty.” He gazed at her, keeping his expression and his voice calm. “Where do you think he is?”
A pair of worried eyes met his. “I think he may be in Brussels.”
Max blinked. “Good God. What the hell is he doing there?”
She wiped her fingers carefully in the napkin. “Well, there was this woman…”
Max rolled his eyes, then lifted a hand. “Enough. I fully comprehend the situation.”
“Good, because I don’t.” She glanced at him. “But Richard is Richard, and he’s my twin. So as long as he’s healthy, I shall not worry.”
Curious, Max pursued that statement. “Is it true what they say about twins?”
She smiled. “You mean about us being able to sense the other’s feelings or something?”
“Yes. Things like that.”
She thought for a moment. “I believe it is. I do know that if Richard is in trouble, or injured, I get an odd feeling.” Absently, her hand went to her ribcage, just below her bodice. He broke his leg when we were about eleven or so. I knew instantly, even though I was in the Ridlington library and he was several miles away.”
“Fascinating.”
“Well, I suppose so. But then again, he knows if I’m in any kind of pain as well. I’ve never broken anything, thank goodness, but…he might have picked up on my emotional outburst this morning.” She sighed. “For which I shall apologize once more.”
Max narrowed his eyes. “I did promise to do something awful if you apologized again, Kitty.”
She looked at him from tired eyes. “And if you wish to do so, then you must, of course.” Up went that Ridlington chin. “I am your mistress still, Max. Regardless of this momentous day, you are still my Master if you so desire.”
He rose and held out his hand. “I do desire, Kitty. I desire you. As my mistress, in my bed, naked and awaiting my pleasure. And yours.”
She rose and moved around the table to take his offered hand. “Then by all means let us retire, Master.”
Together, they walked upstairs to their rooms, separating at their doors without a word.
Max knew what she was expecting. That he would take her again, perhaps spank or tease her to her heights and then fuck her, the way he had done last night.
What she didn’t realize was that he was a Master who deplored the predictable.
So when she tapped on his door, he summoned her to enter. And her eyes widened.
He was in bed, the candles low, the room warm and the other side of the quilts turned down.
She blinked. “Max?”
He patted the bed. “Come, Kitty. It has been a day beyond belief for both of us. I am tired, and find my desire for you burns still, but my body needs rest at this moment.”
She hesitated at the end of the bed, as if unsure of what to do.
“Kitty, come.” He motioned again. “Remove your robe and come here beside me.”
She did as he bid. “I don’t understand, Max. You puzzle me.”
“It’s simple, my dear. Tonight I don’t need a mistress.” He turned to her, encouraged her to turn on her side, and tucked her bottom into his body as his arms enclosed her and brought her up against his chest. “I need…”
“What?” She whispered, settling into his embrace.
“You.”
; *~~*~~*
In spite of the awful events of the previous day, Kitty awoke to the realization that she’d just enjoyed one of the best nights’ sleep she’d had in quite some time.
She might have put it down to the deliciously soft and comfortable bed, or the cosiness of the room, or the slight fragrance of lavender emanating from the linens. But she was nothing if not honest.
It was Max.
Having a warm body next to her, feet she could touch if she stretched out her own just a smidgen, and arms that reached for her, surrounded her even in sleep—it was all those things. And as the light crept through the tiny breaks in the curtains, indicating the dawn of a new day, she accepted that even if she could change things, she would not give up this moment for the world.
Then she thought of her sister, and sighed. Today they should get at least a message from Ridlington; she hoped so, and prayed with all her heart that the journey had gone smoothly with no further detriment to Hecate. Lying there, snug beneath a warm quilt, with Max’s rhythmic snuffling a soft background to her thoughts, Kitty spared a moment to ponder the future.
The die had been cast, without doubt. She was now a “fallen woman”, having accepted the protection of a man, assumedly in return for sexual favors. Her body tingled at that particular thought, but best leave that for the time being. She had no control over Max and their physical lovemaking. Quite the reverse…he had control over her.
And he’d given no indication that he would buy her a house of her own, where he could visit at his whim. So it would seem that for the time being, she’d be here at Mowbray House.
A pressing need made itself known, and she sighed as she slowly and silently slipped from the bed. Max grunted, snuffled and shifted, but slept on, giving her chance to pick up her robe and make her way back to her room. The new day was here…time to get on with it.
The household staff were efficient, and seemingly non-judgmental, since a maid appeared at her door with a light tap, bearing a day dress for Kitty to try on. It was at the master’s request, she was told.
“It’s lovely,” said Kitty, staring at herself in the mirror. “Does this belong to Mr. Seton-Mowbray’s sister?”