Page 9 of To Tempt a Troubled Earl
The earl shot him another cool glance, taking in Kit’s dishevelled appearance before his attention returned to a row of beech trees lining the road, already shedding colour. He swallowed as if it pained him to say any more.
“Mr Angel. You…you said you had been at Captain Prosser’s deathbed. So, tell me this; was it…was it quick? In the end?”
Ye gods, how on earth did one answer that? With a lie or the truth? The wasting disease was a punishing master; Kit wished it on no one. His uncle’s death had been slow, painful, and absolute. In his final hours, the pitiful captain had died drowning in his own juices, like every other poor sod. Surely this earl must have realised that?
“Peaceful,” he pronounced with as much conviction as he could muster. Even this cold fish did not deserve the truth. “He did not suffer. Captain Prosser slipped away peacefully in his sleep with Anne tending to him at his bedside.”
“I don’t believe you.” The pale hands gripped the reins tighter. “I believe you to be a liar, Mr Angel.”
“And I believe you’re scared to face the world without him. That you hide from it, here in your private kingdom, untouchable.”
Kit regretted the words as soon as they flew out of his mouth. He was supposed to be winning the man’s support, not riling him further. But there was something about this immaculate earl’s cold-bloodedness that made him want to…heat him up a little.
A pulse ticked in the earl’s jaw. After a drawn-out silence during which the stallion remained as still as his master and sweat broke out across Kit’s brow, Rossingley spoke in a voice made of daggers.
“You tread on thin ice, Angel. Men have been called out and killed for less.”
“But you will not,” declared Kit with much more conviction than he felt. “Granted, I am a thorn in your side, but I am also the blood of your beloved. And hear this; I cared for my uncle very much. As did Anne.”
The earl’s eyes held a coldness Kit felt right to his core. “I don’t think you had as much affection for Captain Prosser or care that he died as much as you pretend. I think you have come to Rossingley with the preposterous idea you can frighten me into exchanging money for your silence by throwing around outlandish accusations regarding the nature of my friendship with the late captain. And I’m here to tell you that you can’t.”
Kit clenched his fists. A vein in his forehead throbbed as red-hot anger swept through him. “Shall I take it that you prefer, my lord, to hear of the messy, cruel indignities, the endless coughing, the bloodied, soiled sheets? Or shall I speak of the consummate terror in his eyes when your lover realised his battle was lost? Even our greatest war heroes are cowards at the end. If that is your desire, then I am more than happy to fill in the…”
Rossingley dismounted with such speed and grace Kit didn’t have time to finish. Before he knew it, one of those slim, pale hands only a second ago gripping the reins now twisted around his cravat. With the element of surprise, the earl’s strong lean body propelled him backwards.
“Call that man a coward again, and you’ll be sorry you ever heard the word Rossingley, Mr Angel. Let alone set foot on my land.” The earl’s pale, silvery eyes flashed with frozen fury. “And if you utter one more whisper regarding myclosefriendship with Captain Prosser, then you’ll be begging for a messy cruel death yourself.”
A hot burst of agony exploded in Kit’s head as his skull smacked against the stable wall. With Kit momentarily stunned, the earl wedged his thigh in between Kit’s, pinning him between his firm body and unforgiving brick. Teeth bared, Rossingley twisted Kit’s cravat higher. A meteor shower of stars flashed before Kit’s eyes as fresh beads of sweat broke out on his brow. Kit had been in scrapes before, but none like this, none against an opponent so untouchable and so fuelled by rage. As the linen tightened, a panicked gasp escaped his lips.
“Now let’s see who’s cowardly,” spat the earl with a bloodless snarl.
The metallic tang of Kit’s own blood seeped warmly from the gash on his head into his mouth. The hard length of the nobleman’s torso squeezed up against Kit, and with it, an overwhelming rush of clean, citrus cologne and fresh male sweat. Dizzily, his mind spiralled between fear and lust, and with a vicious thrust, the earl pressed home his advantage. For a second, they were as one, eye to eye, chest to chest, hip to hip…groin to groin. Kit let out a cry of…something…as his body reacted to the searing heat in the only way it knew how.
Rossingley relented, but only for a second. He shot Kit a bloodless, thin-lipped smile, then tilted his head closer so that his hot breath puffed across Kit’s cheek. With a roll of his hips, he thrust again.
“Like the feel of that, do you?” Once more, he ground into Kit, his lips brushing Kit’s ear. “Enjoy the feel of an invert like me up against you, do you?”
Without warning, the earl licked a savage stripe across Kit’s earring. Sharp teeth tugged on the gold hoop causing a piercing jolt of pain. A hand snaked between them, and the earl cupped Kit’s balls in a strong grip. Kit gasped, bracing for a sharp knee or a brutal twist that never came. Instead, his attacker’s touch gentled; with a lover’s tenderness, he cradled them in his warm fist.
“You want me, don’t you, my pretty?” Rossingley crooned in a chilling tone. “You can’t help yourself.” His mouth grazed Kit’s jaw, and as the pointed edge of his teeth teased the skin, Kit’s breath caught in his throat. With a low chuckle, the earl rubbed one of Kit’s balls between finger and thumb, and despite himself, Kit let out a low moan. His member pulsed; he was horribly close to humiliating himself.
“You may have to reconsider those blackmail plans of yours, Mr Angel. You might need to—” He gave Kit’s ball a threatening squeeze. “—tweak them a little.”
With that, the earl shoved him aside, and Kit toppled to the ground in an untidy heap. Above him, Lando straightened his cuffs. “You’ve bitten off more than you can chew, Mr Angel, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Quite possibly,” gasped Kit.
“Stay at the inn until I send for you.”
As he gathered himself to his feet for the third time in as many days, Kit reflected it might have simply been easier to ask the earl nicely.
Chapter Seven
BY THE TIMERobert returned from London, Lando had sufficiently calmed to extend him a cordial greeting. He’d spent the two days since his altercation with Mr Christopher Angel endlessly pacing the library. Fury vied for prominence in his thoughts with something indefinable; Lando’s frustration sharpened its teeth on it. Like a starving fox blundering into a henhouse, his visitor had demanded Lando’s assistance in as crude a way imaginable, ruffling every single one of his feathers in the process. And yet, the young buck’s swagger, his boldness, hisnewness,stirred up emotions in Lando he’d resigned himself to as all but lost.
“I’m hoping you have come to inform me that Mr Christopher Angel is a crook and a scoundrel and wanted in three counties for treason and gross crimes against our dear king himself,” said Lando, as soon as they were alone. “Because otherwise, I may have… um… taken liberties against his person unbefitting of an earl.”
Now was not the moment for Robert to unveil Mr Angel as a duke’s undersecretary or trusted emissary of the King of Spain. Not after Lando had threatened to kill him, then rubbed himself up against him. In broad daylight. Gadzooks, he’d licked the man’s ear too.
