Page 45 of Gambling with the Earl
In less than a heartbeat his strong arms had encircled her and lifted her to her feet as if she weighed no more than a feather. His good hand stroked the length of her spine, coming to rest at the small of her back.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” She tilted her face up towards his, unable to wait any longer.
His lips settled upon hers, gently at first, in a kiss so sweet and gentle it unfurled something inside her. Kitty reached up and cupped each side of his face, delighting in the raspy feel of his stubble and the warmth of his body against her. He inched his face away and his eyes gazed down at her. Dark eyes, full of feeling, which she could get lost in.
His hand caressed her spine, sending jolts of anticipation through her. He kissed her again, more firmly this time. She arched into him, parting her lips in surprise at the wave of pleasure he was unleashing. Guy moaned slightly and pulled her towards him, claiming her mouth with his own. She gasped at the magnetic thrill of his tongue touching hers. Such intimacy she had never imagined. She could taste him, and he could taste her. The coil of tension deep inside her clenched with wanting.
He pulled away from their kiss. Breathing hard, he rested his forehead against hers.
“That did nothing to satiate my longing for you,” he said, his left hand roaming her back and making her press herself more firmly against him.
“I didn’t want you to stop.”
He gave a low chuckle. “Nor I, believe me.”
But he had stopped, all the same. Did something about her displease him?
Had she done it wrong?
All the fire and certainty of the previous moment deserted her. Kitty felt only flushed and embarrassed.
“I want you, Kitty,” he said, easing her fears. “But I shall not permit myself to have you. I am not the type of man to bed a servant.”
His words were a slap in the face. Of course, she was nothing to him but a servant. If he knew the truth of her birth, would he want her more?
Her mother was Isabella of Answick. But her father was a drunkard who had gambled her away. How had Kitty ever imagined that a man like this would choose a woman like her?
Keeping her eyes fixed firmly on the floor, Kitty backed away from the warmth of his arms.
“I will leave you, my lord.”
He put a hand to her chin and lifted it. “I am sorry for my lapse of control,” he said, a range of emotions flickering across his face.
At once, she longed again to move into his strong embrace. But there was no comfort for her there. Not when she was living a lie.
If she revealed who she was and why she had come to the castle, would he understand her deception? Return her family heirlooms?
Every day under his roof she had feared him finding out. Feared that he might claim her, ravish her. But now that she had kissed him, she knew she would always be safe in his arms. The Earl of Rossfarne had no streak of cruelty to him. He was an honourable man. A knight.
So how could she admit to him that she was the unfortunate daughter of Owain?
“You have no need to apologise,” she said firmly. “The lapse was my own.”
She bobbed her head politely and left the room, before he should see the tears prickling at the corner of her eyes.
Chapter Twelve
Guy had acquiescedto letting in the light, but now there was too much of it. Days of cloudless heat had settled over the town and castle of Rossfarne, making farmers fret over the wilting harvest and fishermen long for a breeze to fill their sails. Sunlight flooded the castle, shining a bright, relentless beam into long-forgotten chambers.
He had opened himself up to Kitty. She’d broken through the high barriers he’d erected to keep everyone at a distance, and she’d glimpsed the real Guy, the one he preferred to keep hidden. He could no more barricade his defences against her now, than he could command the skies to darken.
Each day she came to his chamber and calmly, quietly, ministered to his wound. On the first morning, she brought with her leaves from a strange green plant, which he couldn’t help eying suspiciously.
“Comfrey,” she said, in answer to his look. “I found it growing in the small meadow behind the castle and dried it in the pantry overnight. Packed into your bandages, it will reduce the swelling.”
He’d baulked at the return to bandages, hating the way they swathed his body and restricted his movement, but was touched by her thoughtfulness. Kitty had braved the relentless, smothering heat to go out and gather herbs for his sake.
