Page 39 of Gambling with the Earl
He closed his eyes.
Her quick footsteps crossed his chamber. He heard rustlings, as if she reached for something, and then she returned and fell quiet.
His remaining senses flinched with suspense. He could hear nothing save the ever-present roar of the sea. Feel nothing, bar an unfamiliar warmth stealing over his legs as the morning sun rose higher in the sky. Then there was the lightest touch on his left hand. Less than a touch. A feather stroke. His fingers flickered in response.
Kitty spoke up. “Did you feel that?”
“I did.”
It came again. A feathery sensation which was almost unbearably light ran down his arm from his elbow to his wrist. His weakened muscles pulsated in response, but the resulting pain stemmed from the ache of healing.
His lips curled into a smile. “What are you doing?”
“An experiment.”
The feathery sensation ran over his knuckles and for the first time since his accident, Guy’s hand clenched into an instinctive fist.
Kitty laughed in delight. “An experiment which seems to be working.”
He opened his eyes to see her kneeling beside his bed, brandishing the feather quill from his writing desk. Morning sunlight danced across her beautiful hair.
“Clever idea,” he acknowledged, unable to dampen down his rush of excitement at this new development.
She nodded thoughtfully. “If we can start to rebuild your muscles, your recovery will be all the quicker.”
It was all he had wanted since taking up residence in Rossfarne Castle. “Thank you.”
She stood up, suddenly a dutiful servant once again. “Shall I come again tomorrow?”
“No.” He resisted the urge to reach up and touch her arm. “Tonight. Come and sing for me, tonight.”
She dipped her head. “Very good.”
He watched her walk carefully around the scattered coin chests. She hadn’t so much as mentioned their presence, even though one was evidently bursting with silver. Was this the act of a circumspect servant, or a refined lady?
Would her gaze have been drawn by the jewels which Thomas proclaimed rested in the second chest?
He remembered now the decision he’d made late last night.
“Kitty,” he called.
She paused at his doorway and turned with a smile. “Yes, my lord?”
“When you came here, did you pass through the village of Rossfarne?”
Had her expression hardened? It was difficult to tell in the haze of light surrounding her.
“I believe so.”
He struggled upright. “Tell me, did you find any commotion in the village? Any gossip?”
She looked away from him and down to the floor. “I came straight to the castle.”
“I see.” He slumped back onto his bed. Never mind. He would have to ask someone else.
“May I ask why, my lord?” Her voice was more tremulous than he’d ever heard it.
He rubbed at his temples, weary now with pain. “Because I am seeking the daughter of a man named Owain.”
