Page 64 of To Tempt a Troubled Earl
“YOU’RE A BIGGERbleeding idiot than I thought,” commented Jasper.
Kit had believed himself alone at the inadequate bar; he was the inn’s only guest, after all. But like a guilty conscience he couldn’t shift, his footman-soldier-valet-saviour was propped on a stool at the other end, supping on a tankard of ale with an unpleasant smirk on his face.
“Possibly,” he conceded.
“His lordship’s got a face like thunder. Matching yours, only more handsome-like. Lover’s tiff?”
Blushing, Kit took a long pull on his ale. “Something like that.”
Jasper shrugged. “My man and me have them all the time. They’re good for you. Clears the air.”
“Your…you…what?” Good lord, was everyone around here a deviant? Seeing his astonishment, Jasper chuckled.
“Been with him nine years. Miserable bugger—he’s the second groom. Face like a slapped kipper, worse even than mine, but he gives a man a good t—”
“Does he really? Excellent.” Kit buried his face in his tankard.
“It’s not too late to say sorry, lad. His lordship’s a forgiving sort.”
“Me say sorry? I’m the one who was arrested and thrown down the stairs,” Kit pointed out. “And kidnapped.”
“And you also escaped the stews, the gallows, and are being landed with a huge blooming estate. Not to mention a regular invitation to have your fill of what’s hiding under the earl’s nightgown. If you know what’s good for you, lad, you’ll take your stupid pride and shove it up your backside. Pardon my French.”
When put like that, the facts were hard to dispute.
“He’s too good for me.”
“He is that. But without you, he is hardly alive.”
Lando’s tight, pale face as he stood under the tree, arms folded so Kit wouldn’t see his hands shaking flashed through his head. Kit wasn’t the only one with a surfeit of pride. But once more, Lando had exposed his soul, and Kit had…trampled over it.All I see is foolish pride and the man I love.
“Bloody hell, Jasper, I’m a fool.”
Disconcertingly, Jasper rolled his one eye. “Yes, but you’re the earl’s fool,” he corrected. “And if you get yourself up to the big house and do a bit of grovelling, my lad, it’s not too late to be his prince.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“YOU HAVE Avisitor, my lord.”
Lando tipped his brandy tumbler this way and that, aware Inglis awaited his response but not trusting his voice.
“A Mr Christopher Angel, my lord. The young man says it’s important.”
“For both of us, I’ll wager.”
“That is my understanding, my lord.”
A low ache tugged at Lando’s chest, and the brandy soured on his tongue. The time for farewell had come; at least Kit was affording him that.
“Then you had better show him in,” Lando managed eventually. He examined his robe, Kit’s favourite grey one, and he allowed himself the smallest of sad smiles. “I’m decent.”
He’d never asked Kit why he favoured the gold earring, dangling from its slender hook. He’d admired it aplenty though. He’d kissed it and fondled it and traced the curve of it with his tongue. Tonight, candlelight glinted off its golden surface, reflecting Lando’s dreams and desires back at him, mocking him. The dark velvet ribbon nestling against Kit’s strong nape absorbed the shadows, Lando’s hopes along with it, and his crushing need for this man.
His vision blurred, and he gulped in a sharp breath. He should stick to port.
“I am here to thank you for your gift,” Kit began. “As we both recognised, my gratitude was poorly executed. I have reflected greatly and wish to apologise.”
Though the earring brightly shone, Kit’s olive skin tones bordered on sallow as if he hadn’t slept. Lando’s own features were drawn too. Pritchard had entered his master’s bedchamber that morning to find him awake, dressed, and staring up at the bleak dawn sky.
