Page 60 of To Tempt a Troubled Earl
“Just kill me now,” he groaned to a pair of sturdy watchman’s boots inches from his face.
The answering low chuckle was his first indicator that all was not as it seemed. And a brutal strike from those boots, which he braced for, never came. Instead, Kit heard a rustle of clothing, followed by the unmistakeable clink of a bunch of keys.
“I’ve been sorely tempted once or twice, son,” grunted a coarse voice. “I took a right kicking in the ballocks for you. But the master will have my guts for garters if I do.”
“Jas…Jasper?” Crabby, liverish, one-eyedJasper?
“He wouldn’t trust anyone else to come and rescue you, would he? Let’s get these off before you do yourself any more mischief.”
A searing pain flooded Kit’s hands as the shackles fell from his wrists. At his agonised hiss, Jasper chuckled again. Kit didn’t care; if he’d been able to wrench himself up, he’d have kissed him. The hard floor, his pains, his annoying saviour; none of it mattered. Somehow, he was free. And freedom meant only one thing—his dear Lando.
“He’s done this, hasn’t he? Lan— the earl.”
“Of course he has, you daft apeth. You think he’d have let the hangman have at you?”
Water leached from Kit’s eyes, copious streams of it, as if imprisoned for too long inside a heavy rain cloud. Making no effort to wipe them away, he surrendered to his tears, slumped even more untidily across the dusty carriage floor. A deep-throated half groan, half sob escaped him.
“Never have your dulcet tones and honeyed vowels sounded so bewitching. Keep seducing me, Jasper, so I know you’re real.”
Jasper snorted. “He’d have my head on a spike if I attempted that.” He gave Kit a shove with his foot. “You gonna get up or stay there all day?”
Kit groaned again. Rising to his feet seemed an insurmountable challenge.
He’d never lain on the floor of a carriage before. As the steady rhythm of hooves thundered under his ear and his body lurched to and fro in time, Kit decided it was to his liking. He might make it his permanent home. The noise was strangely soothing, or maybe the wash of relief sweeping through his shattered body was because his beloved, infuriating, beautiful eleventh earl had kept his promises and saved him from his most dreadful fate.Trust me.
Eventually, when his breathing returned to normal and he was confident he wouldn’t further humiliate himself by bursting into tears again, Kit allowed Jasper to help him up and into the carriage seat. A few more minutes elapsed before he felt able to speak, and when he did, it was not to profess eternal gratitude but to comment on the passing scenery. Which was…increasingly countrified.
“I’m not terribly familiar with this corner of Mayfair,” Kit said suspiciously. “And unless we’re travelling in circles, we should have arrived at Grosvenor Street by now.”
Wordlessly, Jasper handed him a well-worn leather hip flask, and in one ungentlemanly glug, Kit emptied it down his throat.
“You’re kidnapping me, aren’t you?” he asked.
“The earl is kidnapping you,” corrected Jasper. “By way of me. Don’t say I didn’t give you fair warning, lad.”
“So we’re bound for Rossingley.”
“We are,” Jasper confirmed. “Home.”
Wiping his mouth, Kit cursed. “It’s not my home. Why would I want to go to Rossingley?”
Jasper examined him as if it was the most stupid thing he’d ever heard. “I can always turn us around again and drop us off at Bow Street.”
“That…um…won’t be necessary,” Kit swiftly replied. “But the earl and I have not discussed what…I mean…I don’t live there.” They had not discussed anything, in fact, beyond the Gartside plan and their increasing fondness, nay, love for each other.
“Well, lad, I’ve got a feeling you do now.”
Kit couldn’t stay at Rossingley. Not for more than a short visit, at any rate, until his new set of injuries had healed. Men like them just…didn’t. No matter how discreet and loyal Lando’s household, word would get out eventually, and Kit had had enough of being arrested to last him a lifetime.
Unless…unless Lando expected to find him employment on the estate, given that Kit had had enough brushes with the law and promised to join the ranks of the honestly employed. But a position working for Lando? Kit would refuse immediately, on principle. He was many things, not all good, but he did have his pride, and he would not be paid by his wealthy lover to be his keptparamour.
A pothole tossed his sore backside up off the bench seat and back down again with a hard thump. He swore, unsure if it was directed at the pain, the man, or both. “Bloody Rossingley.”
“There’re worse homes,” said Jasper, not unreasonably. “You got yourself bested outside one of them.”
“Yes, there are. But that’s hardly the point.” Kit began ticking off on his fingers. “In the space of one evening, I have been arrested, humiliated, and handcuffed by a man who has been chasing me for as long as I can recall. Then, with certain death sitting on my shoulder, he lets me go, but only after kicking me down a brutal flight of stairs. And I land in your outstretched arms. To find I’m being kidnapped.” He shook his head. “So forgive me if I’m not in the finest of moods.”
Jasper’s placidity was infuriating. “Just following orders, lad. If the boss wants you at Rossingley, Rossingley is where you’ll be.”
