Page 76 of Keeping Kate
Chapter 21
As she tapped on the door and entered the room later that night, expecting to find Alec asleep, Kate was surprised to see him perched on the edge of the bed. Though he looked in better health, he seemed ill at ease, sitting with an ivory coverlet wrapped around him, his torso bare, skin a smooth sheen in the firelight. He pressed his left arm against him in a cloth sling, and one bare foot was flat on the floor, ready to go. And yet, he sat.
“Kate,” he greeted her, and gestured toward the coverlet. “I have naught to wear, apparently,” he said. “Where are my things?”
“I have come to your rescue. I brought you a clean shirt.” She crossed the room toward him, smiling despite his disgruntled frown, and set the folded shirt and clean linens on the bed.
“I will need more than a shirt if I am to walk out of here, lass,” he said drily.
“Mary brushed and mended your coat and plaid. I will bring those too. I did not think you so eager to leave. It is dark and late.”
“Aye, but soon it will be time,” he said somberly, his gaze touching hers.
She nodded stiffly, though she did not want to think about him leaving Duncrieff. He meant to take her to Edinburgh—after all, she was in legal fact still under arrest and in his custody. Remembering what she carried in her pocket, she drew out an envelope. “This was in your jacket pocket.”
He accepted it and set it aside. “A letter from my aunt.”
“It smells heavenly. Like chocolate.”
“She sent a sample of something my uncle is working on. An eating chocolate, like a wafer, but not for dissolving. He is trying to make a chocolate that is like a sweetmeat.”
She smiled. “That would be good!”
He grimaced. “Believe me, they do not taste very pleasant. My uncle is fond of chocolate in the Spanish style. With hot pepper,” he emphasized. “And every sample she sends me melts in the packet.”
“Can I try it?”
“Are you brave enough?” He lifted it without opening the tightly folded paper and sniffed. “I believe this one has hot peppers in it. And not a lick of sugar.”
She leaned forward, sniffed, wrinkled her nose. “Oh! Aye. Thank you, no.”
“It was the way cacao powder was mixed in the Americas when the Spaniards first learned about chocolate from the savage tribes there,” he explained, setting the packet aside. “Xocalatlis what the natives called it. They drank it cold and unsweetened, sometimes with very hot spices added.”
“But it makes such a lovely, rich drink with thick cream and lots of sugar, the way we make it here.”
“You are fortunate. My aunt and uncle often made the original recipes.”
“And your parents?”
“My mother despised chocolate in that fashion, despite my father’s family business, which included cacoa by that time. So we rarely had it unless we were visiting Aunt Effie and Uncle Walter in Edinburgh.”
She nodded. “I wish I could see your house in Edinburgh.”
“I was thinking of taking you there,” he said, his tone careful, watching her keenly. She looked away, picked up his shirt, shook it out. “I need my plaid with that,” he said.
“A shirt is all you need for now, resting in that bed.”
“What I need in that bed,” he murmured, touching her arm, “is not rest.”
Her breath caught, and a shiver plunged through her as he took her elbow, drew her toward him, the generous coverlet a cushion between them. She could not help herself, leaned forward, met his lips with hers, and melted within, warm as the spicy chocolate fragrance that lingered in the air. This was what she wanted too—tenderness, passion. Love.
But what still existed between them interfered with what she most wanted. She did not want to think, argue, bargain anymore. She still wanted to be free, aye—but with him. Though that could not happen, here in this moment, this place, it was.
His lips brushed over hers, his hand cupped her face gently. Her will was dissolving, and what would follow would only make matters more confusing in the cold light of day. She pulled back, shook her head. He let go.
“You should rest,” she said.
“I have had more than enough rest,” he said. “I am mended enough. And soon we must leave, you and I, for Edinburgh.” With one arm in the sling, he began to pull the shirt awkwardly over his head.
