Possessive. Assured. Masterful.
Her arms wound around his neck and she gave herself up to these wonderful new sensations, her entire body tingling...coming alive. His tongue plunged, mimicking the timeless rhythm that she recalled from her marriage, but now...this time...with this kiss...it felt as though an invisible thread ran straight through her, connecting her mouth with her breasts—full and heavy, and aching—and with her womb, which wanted...needed...craved...in a way she had never felt before.
Boots ringing in the stone-flagged passage outside wrenched her back into the present and she tore her lips from Adam’s and stepped away, feeling the heat burning in her cheeks, her knees trembling. Adam looked no less discomposed as their eyes met. He could do nothing, sitting on the table as he was, so—as the door opened—Kitty began to sort through the strips of linen lying on the table. She selected the longest.
‘I think this will suffice.’ She held it aloft, then spun to face the door, pasting a look of surprise on her face as though she had missed their visitor’s approach.
‘Adam! What is this I hear? You have been hurt?’ Robert strode into the room, his eyes filled with angry concern and fixed on Adam. ‘Is it true?’
‘It is. As you may see, Lady Fen—Catherine is about to bandage my wound, having cleaned it thoroughly. And painfully.’
‘What happened? A shot, Vincent said.’ Robert grabbed Adam’s elbow and moved his arm to get a better look at the wound. ‘It looks painful.’
‘Someone,’ said Kitty, nudging Robert aside so she could bandage Adam’s arm, ‘was shooting out in the woods. We had each gone for a walk to get some air and met quite by chance in the woods. Then we were caught in that thunder shower and took shelter in the old keeper’s cottage until the rain stopped. We had just started on our way home again when we heard the shot.’
‘And, as you can see, he missed.’
Robert frowned at Adam’s sardonic comment. ‘Are you saying it was deliberate?’
Adam shrugged. Robert’s frown deepened. ‘We’ve had some trouble with poachers, but as long as they are local and restrict themselves to taking the odd rabbit, I turn a blind eye. But they usually use snares, not guns.’
‘You’re forgetting the thunderstorm,’ said Kitty. ‘The animals can sense such a change in the weather and they normally take cover long before the storm strikes. Any countryman worth his salt would know that.’
Robert stared at her, still frowning. ‘That is true.’ Then he started, as though seeing her for the first time. ‘You will catch your death of cold, Stepmama. Look at the state of you.’
Kitty glanced down at her wet, muddy gown. ‘We were already wet through before we were forced to dive to the ground.’ She shook her head. ‘A muddy gown is the least of my worries.’
‘Your stepmother is too modest, Rob. It was her quick thinking that saved us—she dived to the ground and took me with her even as I was still trying to work out what had happened.’ Adam smiled ruefully.
‘I had no idea whether that shot was an accident or by design, but I wasn’t prepared to take the chance it was a deliberate act.’ Kitty shivered then, as the reality of what had happened hit her again. ‘Who knows what might have happened had whoever it was shot at us again?’
Her stomach churned and she wrapped her arms around her torso as though she might contain the tumult of emotions that erupted from nowhere. Adam muttered something beneath his breath and jumped down from his perch on the table.
‘Thank you for your help, Catherine. You need to go and change out of your wet clothing. In fact... Rob, I think your stepmother would benefit from a warm bath.’
Robert wrapped his arm around Kitty’s shoulders and, grateful for the support, she sagged against him even as she castigated herself for her weakness. She hadn’t noticed the chill of her damp gown before and the fear about what had happened—and what might have happened—only now seemed to have caught up with her.
Still, even though she longed to do as Adam suggested, she felt she must protest. ‘It is you who have been injured, Adam. Not I. And you are equally as wet.’
‘And Adam will no doubt go and change into dry clothing now his arm has been bandaged,’ said Robert, steering Kitty towards the door. ‘Come on. I shall help you upstairs.’
‘I can manage, Robert. There is no need for all this fuss.’
‘Caring is not fuss. Now do as you’re told.’ Robert paused as they reached the door. ‘I’ll have hot water sent up to your bedchamber, Adam,’ he said, ‘and I will send my man up to assist you.’
Kitty, glancing back, saw Adam’s attention on her, his eyes brimming with concern. She forced a smile and was rewarded by a smile in return.
‘Come, now, Stepmama.’ Robert tightened his grip as they stepped into the passage. ‘You know Charis will never forgive me should you succumb to a chill on my watch. Let me help you upstairs.’
Chapter Fifteen
When Adam, freshly washed and clad in clean clothes, descended the stairs a short while later, Vincent awaited him in the hall.
‘Where might I find His Lordship?’
‘He is out riding, my lord. With some of the men.’
Adam’s brows rose. ‘Out in the woods?’
‘I believe so. He desired me to tell you on no account were you to follow him and he will come to see you the minute he returns.’
Adam’s instinct was, indeed, to follow, but common sense warned him he was unlikely to be much use and his arm had stiffened up enough to make him reluctant to attempt to ride.
‘Very well. You may consider your duty discharged, Vincent. I shall continue my work in the library, so that is where I shall be when His Lordship returns.’
The plans he had been working on had completely slipped his mind in among everything that had happened that afternoon and, although his wound might render fine draughtsmanship as tricky as horse riding, he could use the time to sketch out rough ideas and plans. That would help to distract him from that shot and from what Robert might discover.
Nothing, however, could distract him from Kitty.
‘How fares Lady Fenton?’
‘I believe Her Ladyship is resting in her room, my lord. Might I bring you refreshments to the library?’
‘Thank you, Vincent.’ What he really wanted was a dram of whisky, but Robert did not keep that heathen spirit in the house. ‘A glass of brandy would be most welcome.’
He strolled to the library, his heart full of fear and his head full of images of Kitty.
She could have been killed.
He’d been aware of that ever since the shot rang out, but so much had been happening that the full horror of it had been kept at bay. Now, though, alone with his thoughts as he entered the library, that knowledge hit him with force. It would be impossible to concentrate on work, so he swerved away from the desk and, instead, headed for a wingback chair by the centre window. Vincent appeared a moment later, carrying a tray with a decanter and two glasses, and set them on a table within reach of the chair.
‘Two glasses?’
‘For if His Lordship wishes to join you in a glass upon his return, my lord.’
Vincent poured brandy into one glass, bowed, and then left the library, closing the door softly behind him.
Adam reached for the glass, drained it in one and then refilled it. He closed his eyes, tilting his head to rest on the back of the chair, and willed away the utter terror that now paralysed him at the thought of what could have happened.
She could have been killed!
Images again filled his brain.
Kitty... I’ve only just found her. I could have lost her again.
Had it been deliberate? Aimed at him? If it was...there was only one culprit he could think of.
‘Uncle Grenville.’
The rustle of fabric reached his ears seconds before th
e scent of flowers with a top note of citrus registered. ‘My thoughts precisely.’
His eyes flew open. He sat up straight and glared at Kitty. ‘Ye should be resting.’
‘As should you.’
‘I am.’
A brief smile flickered on her lips. She gestured, indicating the chair in which she was now sitting. ‘As am I.’
He scowled. ‘Will ye please stop humouring me? Ye should be in bed.’
With me. A new, mouth-watering picture now filled his head... Kitty, in bed, the covers rumpled, her hair loose around her shoulders, her eyes heavy-lidded with desire. He thrust aside that image.
‘But I am too restless. I want to talk about what happened. Or, more to the point, talk about who might have been responsible. And it would seem we have reached the same conclusion.’
‘I was thinking aloud,’ Adam growled. God, I just want to hold her. Protect her always. ‘Ye weren’t meant to hear that.’
Her brows arched. ‘Of course I was not, because I am a lady and must therefore be shielded from the brutal reality of this world.’
That was close to what she had said before. She had been so happy he had told her the truth...and he could not disagree with her point. She was—and he could verify it—no child.
‘What you mean,’ she continued, ‘is that you would not say such a thing to me because I am female. I should be prostrate upon my bed because I am female. We spoke about this earlier—I need neither protection nor cossetting. It happened. I was there. Someone shot at us...with you as the most likely target...yet I am expected to quash any conjecture or curiosity because of my sex?’
‘Put like that, no. Of course not. But ye were in a state of shock when I last set eyes upon ye.’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘As. Were. You. And yet...’ again, she gestured ‘...here you are and here am I.’
Adam sighed and shook his head. ‘Ye’re just as stubborn as I recall.’
Her smile lit her face. ‘And, you will find, just as opinionated. So...may we discuss your uncle and his possible involvement as adults or is it your intention to exclude me entirely from what you and Robert will surely talk about upon his return?’
How could he deny her? She was beautiful and charming and graceful: the most desirable woman he had ever known—and he included her younger self in that—but, more than that...so much more...she fascinated him. Now they had cleared the air between them, he felt he could talk with her for hours and never grow tired of listening to her, watching her. He wanted her, physically. But that could wait. For now, what she was asking him was that he treat her as an equal...as though he were talking with another man. And so that is what he would do. And he would always strive to respect her wishes.
‘Let us talk, then.’ He cocked his head to one side. ‘Would ye care for refreshments? Shall I ring for Vincent?’
‘You may pour me a brandy, if you will,’ said Kitty. ‘There is no need to disturb Vincent when there is a spare glass just begging to be filled.’
‘Is there no end to your rebellion? Brandy in the afternoon? Quite shocking!’
She grinned and, for the first time since they had met again, those beloved dimples made an appearance. ‘It is good for shock. You said so yourself.’
Adam poured the brandy and handed her the glass. She grew serious then, staring reflectively into the amber liquid as she swirled it gently.
‘Seriously, Adam...do you truly suspect your uncle?’
He didn’t want to think it, but what other explanation could there be? If it had been a deliberate act.
‘I think we are agreed it was unlikely to be a stray shot from poachers,’ he said, still pondering, ‘and someone pulled that trigger. Twice.’
‘So...you do not believe it was accidental?’
‘No. And, as I can think of no one I have angered enough to cause him to wish for my death, I fail to see we can reach any other conclusion,’
‘Or her.’
‘Her? No!’
‘Because a female would never kill?’
He huffed a laugh. ‘Not a bit of it. Women, I am sure, nurse grievances and think murderous thoughts just as men do. I meant I can think of no female I have angered enough for her to wish to end my life.’
‘No other young ladies you have wooed and then abandoned?’
He started at her question.
‘I apologise.’ She looked contrite. ‘Now it is my turn to squirm at an attempted jest that has fallen flat.’
Adam did wonder how much truth lay behind that question. He’d known she’d be upset when he left, but... He raised his brows. ‘Tell me ye never hated me enough to wish me dead, Kitty.’
‘No. Of course not. I cannot imagine hating anyone as much as that.’
‘I am relieved to hear it. And, in answer to your question—no.’
‘Which leaves your uncle. Or...’ A frown knit her brow.
‘Or?’
‘Your cousin. Bartholomew Trewin. Your uncle is your heir and, after him, your cousin.’
‘Tolly? No...surely not. He is...that is...he seems a good man. And he is a friend of Robert’s, is he not?’
He felt his colour rise under her scrutiny. ‘Do you believe that good men cannot be driven to do bad things, given desperate circumstances?’
‘Why, of course not. But... Tolly...what circumstances? He gave nae hint of debts or such.’
He desperately did not want to suspect his cousin but, now the notion had been put into his head, he could not deny Tolly would probably have more cause to wish Adam dead than Uncle Grenville. Tolly was still at Kelridge on the day Adam left, so either man could have ridden over to Fenton Hall and stalked the woods. But...to what purpose?
‘As a plan, it left much to be desired,’ he said. ‘What if I had been more conscientious and remained working at my desk? How long would my assailant wait, hoping to take a pot shot at me?’
‘Hmmm.’ Kitty tapped her lips with one forefinger, frowning. ‘Tell me...did you establish a routine of any sort while you were at Kelridge?’
Adam eyed her with admiration. He hadn’t even considered that, but it was logical. ‘I did ride out most afternoons. It became something of a habit.’
It had become a necessity, if he was honest. Anything to get away from that stifling atmosphere in which he’d felt more and more of an interloper. Maybe he should air his concerns, especially as they pointed more definitely at his uncle as the culprit.
‘To be honest, I found it difficult to settle at Kelridge. There was this...oh, I don’t know... I suppose you’d call it an undercurrent. And not a pleasant one.’
‘I am sorry to hear that, but you must have expected it to be a difficult period of adjustment. Not only for you, but for everyone at Kelridge Place.’ Kitty frowned. ‘Was your father popular among the staff? I had heard he could be...difficult.’
‘He was, without doubt, unpopular.’ And that was an understatement. ‘Did you never meet him?’
‘No. Edgar knew him, of course, but our paths never crossed. I have heard that your uncle has improved the estate a great deal since he took over running it, though.’
‘So I have been told. Many times.’
‘It makes sense, therefore, that the servants and other workers will view him favourably.’
‘Without doubt. That message was made clear in numerous subtle and not-so-subtle ways by many senior members of my staff. Grenville Trewin is still regarded as the true master of Kelridge Hall, no matter what the laws on primogeniture and entails might decree.’
And he was beginning to wish he had never learned the truth. That his mother had kept her secret to her grave. Except...he would not then have met Kitty again. And that was unthinkable.
‘Hopefully that will all change once I have an heir of my own.’ An image of Kitty with a babe in her arms appeared in his mind�
��s eye, filling him with hope and contentment. The future looked rosier than it had for many, many years. But he was rushing ahead of himself. He must keep to the topic at hand. ‘That would soon quash any random hopes that my uncle will ever fully control the reins again.’
Adam emptied his brandy glass. Without a word, Kitty leaned forward and refilled both his glass and her own. She sat back and sipped as she stared at the window, her fine brows drawn together.
‘Maybe,’ she said, after a few minutes’ reflection, ‘they fear you are your father’s son? If he was a cruel master, they will fear a return to that regime.’
‘But I have given them no reason to suppose I am like my father. In fact, I have been at pains to be friendly in my dealings with them.’
Kitty tucked her lips between her teeth. Adam scowled at her. ‘What is so funny?’
‘Servants, my dear Adam, do not appreciate their masters trying to make friends with them. They want to serve a man they can look up to and respect. A master who can make them feel superior to servants in the neighbouring houses. You must understand that they have their pride, too. And a nobleman is expected to behave as such.’
‘I do not wish to live in that manner of household. I want a more relaxed feeling, like when I was growing up. I canna believe they wouldn’t appreciate that.’
Kitty smiled at him. The tenderness in her look evoked a swell of longing, but a longing tinged with a sadness he couldn’t place until Ma’s face materialised in his mind’s eye. Sadness and guilt, that was it. He thrust his fingers through his hair, sweeping it back from his face.
‘Anyway. We are straying from the point. Yes, I established a routine of sorts, but why would my uncle or anyone else suppose I would continue that routine at Fenton Hall?’
‘That is true, and the theory has been disproved because you did not ride out. You went for a walk.’
The Earl with the Secret Past Page 16