Page 38 of Gambling with the Earl
Kitty regarded him steadily for a moment. “I do not believe your place is in the shadows, my lord. No knight of the realm should linger there for long.”
His breath caught in his throat.Had she any idea how poignant those words were?
Kitty walked regally over to his high arched windows and threw open the heavy shutters. He blinked as light streamed into the room, illuminating all he had plunged into darkness.
He readied himself to accuse her of impudence. To demand she return the room to his preferred state. But a shaft of golden light hit the granite wall over the fireplace and he found himself mesmerised by it. Kitty herself was haloed with light, like an angel. She took a step closer to the window and looked out.
“It’s a beautiful morning,” she said lightly.
“And you have brought some of that beauty in here.” His throat was dry.
She turned to face him. “The light won’t come in unless you let it.”
She could see him properly now. The extent of his ruined body would be visible, even the childhood scar on his clavicle. She would see all he was, on the outside at least.
He shifted his gaze away from her, not ready to see the flash of pity in her eyes.
In a moment she was beside him again, her light fingers probing his wrist and hand.
“Can you make a fist?”
“Not one that would serve me in battle,” he quipped.
Why had he asked this maid to nurse him? He should have known that in doing so, he would be obliged to demonstrate his physical frailties. It had been desire, pure and simple, and he cursed his baser instincts for bringing him here.
Though it hadn’t been lust that prompted his request. More a desire for Kitty’s presence. An urge to spend more time with her. He had not sunk to his uncle’s depths of depravity.
“Why have you not asked for help before?” she asked, puzzled. “Surely that would have aided your recovery.”
He couldn’t deny the truth of it.
“I don’t like to ask for help,” he answered, through gritted teeth.
He expected a soft reprimand, but Kitty’s face showed sudden comprehension.
“Nor I.”
She smiled and he returned it. The tension between them had been replaced by something deeper. An understanding that surpassed sensual desire.
“You do not think me foolish then?” he asked lightly. “To suffer alone rather than communicate my needs?”
She paused in her exploration of his ruined hand. “I would do almost anything rather than ask for help from another.”
There it was again. That flash of intrigue. What was her background? Her true background? No servant would know how to sing with such measured control. Nor were they likely to be familiar with the haunting words of the final ballad she had sung for him.
Perhaps she was the daughter of a minstrel? For all her efficiency as a servant, Guy did not believe this was the life she had been born to. But she had not asked him about the knotted scar on his clavicle. She hadn’t pried into the presence of the coin chests. He would respect her privacy, just as she had his.
“I would like to try something, if I may?” Her questioning expression broke into his thoughts.
“Go ahead.”
“Close your eyes,” she whispered.
His instinct was to refuse. To lay in pain was one thing. But to remove one of his senses, quite another. Especially when they were surrounded by coin and jewels.
This enigmatic maid, who had lied to him at least once, could lift a handful of silver and be gone down the stairs before he realised. She could do almost anything, and in his current weakened state, he couldn’t hope to stop her.
He gazed into her face and saw the calm kindness he had first identified down on the causeway. The sincerity and patience that had quietened his frightened horse.
