Page 14 of Gambling with the Earl
It was the gown of a lady, in every way except the cut. Kitty blushed as she beheld the immodestly shaped bodice. Was this some fashion of old? She couldn’t imagine her gracious mother ever displaying so much of her own creamy flesh. She reached for the next gown, this one trimmed with fur, and shook her head in confusion as the same revealing neckline sprang into view.
She carefully laid the gowns beside her and plunged her hands back into the chest, her fingers searching beneath the fabrics for the familiar cloth bag. Nothing. She sat back on her heels, disappointed but not surprised.
The jewels were in the earl’s bedchamber. She knew it in her bones.
She must fold the gowns and place them back exactly as she had found them. Although why the unmarried Earl ofRossfarne had a chest filled with ladies’ gowns in his solar, she simply couldn’t imagine. Especially ones cut just so. Kitty ran her fingers along the neckline. Her own generous bosom would surely spill over the top of such a dress.
All at once she realised what she was holding in her hands. Sickened, she pushed the slippery fabric into the chest and closed the lid, not sparing any time to fold the gowns neatly.
Kitty was too nauseated to fold.
How had it taken her so long to work it out?
Those were not gowns for ladies. Not real ladies, like her titled relatives who had occasionally come to Shoreston to dine with her mother. Those were gowns for ladies of a different persuasion altogether. Gowns for ladies who wanted to display their flesh for the perusal of men.
For the perusal of the earl.
She winced as if she had been slapped. To think she had questioned his reputation. The man was every bit as base as the uncle who had gone before him. Unless, of course, the gowns were from the era of the old earl. Mayhap they had nothing to do with the man upstairs? It was a tempting thought, but she had no way of knowing for sure.
She straightened up, her legs trembling anew. She should leave this dreadful place at once. To stay was to become as much a gambler as her father. But what then would become of Rosalind?
Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t hear the heavy wooden door to the solar swinging open. She didn’t see the tall, brooding man standing in the doorway, watching her.
It was only when he spoke up that she jumped in surprise.
“What the devil are you doing in here? I should take you out to be flogged.”
Chapter Five
Guy dampened hiswashcloth in a bowl of warm water and rubbed vigorously at his torso. His scar was puckered and dark, a sharp contrast to the smooth, bronzed skin on his right side. But it was healing; that was all that mattered.
Naked from the waist up, Guy crossed his bedchamber to the high, latticed window. His gaze travelled out over the sparkling sea and then returned back to the castle grounds. If he listened carefully, beyond the crashing of the waves he could make out raised voices coming from the outer courtyard. Guy grimaced. The stable master was unused to spirited horses and his favourite charger, though usually a kind animal, was increasingly restless. At first, Guy had assumed that like his master, his horse was struggling to adjust to life away from the battlefield. But this morning’s ride had planted a new fear in his mind—that the horse was responding to Guy’s own inner turbulence.
He clenched his left fist tightly and swore in frustration. His grip was still feeble. Too feeble. He needed to recover fully, for his horse’s sake as well as his own.
The stark walls of his bedchamber mocked his plight. Guy was used to a knight’s transient lifestyle and had picked up few possessions of his own. Those he had, now graced the solar downstairs. But this room was unchanged. His pitiless uncle had slept beneath the dark canopy of the bed and picked out the solecheerless tapestry hanging by the door. Today’s brightness only served to highlight the lack of warmth and colour inside. Dust danced in the sunlight streaming through the window and the rushes on the floor were beginning to smell stale He should have let the maid put the room to rights, but he had sworn to allow no one in here but his manservant. Thomas was a dour soul, but he had served Guy faithfully for many years. After the theft of his coin, Thomas was the only person Guy could trust.
With a roar of frustration, he slammed the wooden shutters closed, casting the room into shadow. That was better. He could hide in the gloom, safe from the phantoms which the familiar granite walls were raising from their slumber.
He rummaged in his closet and found a long tunic that would suffice for the day. Pulling it roughly over his head, his fingers encountered a familiar knot of scarring across his clavicle. There it was. The tangible proof that he must return to the battlefield with all possible haste. This old injury had not threatened his life in the same way as his newest scar, but it was the one that he spent his days running away from.
He remembered the flash of cruelty in his father’s grief-stricken face when he’d released the dagger.
“Never again lower your guard,” the older man had growled, his pink lips curling back in satisfaction as deep red blood pooled in his son’s clavicle.
For all his brutality, his father had been right. Guy had found kinship on the battlefield and over the years, he had begun to let down his guard. And this new trust in humanity had led to the loss of his silver.
Guy had learned his lesson now. All locks would be fastened. All shutters barred. He would never again forget the cruel lesson his father had imparted in the aftermath of his younger brother’s death. A death he’d carried the burden of since his miserable youth.
A hammering on the door jolted him from his reverie.
“Come,” he shouted, lifting his chin to straighten the tunic.
Thomas stalked into the room. He was unshaven and carried a faint whiff of polish from the armoury. Guy beheld him with displeasure. It was true that they did not expect visitors to the castle, but certain standards should still be maintained. Thomas’s grey hair needed combing and his shirt was missing a button.
“What is it?” he asked.
Thomas nodded behind him. “I found her lurking in your solar, my lord.”
