Page 48 of Gambling with the Earl
If only. His gaze raked over the still courtyard and the parched earth. “The only fresh air in this whole cursed place can be found out there.” He motioned beyond the far tower to where the sparkling sea lapped gently at the sun-drenched cove.
She was beside him, standing too close for his comfort. She smelled of meadow grass and something citrussy. Her soft lips parted as she raised herself on tiptoe to see where he was pointing.
“The sea?”
The fabric of her sleeve brushed against his chest and the sensation was enough to tip him over the edge, where self-restraint was no longer a burden.
“The sea.” He couldn’t help himself. He placed his hands upon her narrow waist and spanned his fingers outwards.
She didn’t flinch away. If anything, she moved imperceptibly nearer. “I believe saltwater bathing can be highly beneficial for healing.”
Bathing in the sea. He hadn’t done so since he was a child. But as tempting as the notion was, it couldn’t compete with the beautiful young woman who was almost in his arms.
“I can think of other ways to exercise,” he growled, inching her closer. His thumbs skimmed upwards until he could feel the press of her lower ribs through her dress.
She swallowed but didn’t pull away. A battle was being fought behind her eyes. Indecision washed over her face, but he saw no sense of fear.
She reached up to touch his face and he closed his eyes as her fingers brushed lightly against his skin. She was soft and tender; he was hard with passion, like a tightly coiled spring.
Not like this. He must regain his self-control.
“Saltwater bathing is an interesting idea.” He forced the words out while his eyes remained closed. Immersing himself in the cool, clear water would chase the heat of passion from his body.
He heard her sharp intake of breath. “I believe it has enormous benefits.” She shifted slightly, coming dangerously close to the part of him still straining with desire. “If it pleases you, my lord, I will bring down a change of clothing for you.”
Her practical mindset shamed him afresh. He must leave her, before he spoiled her virtue further.
“It pleases me,” he stated.
She nodded her capped head. “Then I shall meet you in the cove.”
Chapter Thirteen
He walked quicklyout of the chamber, his wooden-soled shoes clattering down the stone steps in his haste. Kitty stood in the centre of the room, weak with relief and awkward with shame.
Her ruse had worked. Guy had left her alone, which meant she could take possession of her jewels. At last, she had found a way.
But at what cost?
Masquerading as a servant was one thing. Today, her duplicity had reached new heights. Little had she realised what influence she wielded over the earl. He was powerful and wealthy, while she stood before him with chapped fingers and a maid’s apron. But then his body had yielded to her soothing hands. Suddenly he was pliant and biddable. As his customary alertness was replaced by clumsy, smouldering passion, she had spied the saddlebag and known, instinctively, that she must press this unforeseen advantage. Even though the territory was unexplored. Even though with every breath she took, she longed to give herself over to the fantasy she was spinning between them. A man and a woman, free to be together, wanting only each other.
Though Guy’s mention of the sea had been a stroke of luck.
Kitty bit down on her lip. She was deceitful, dishonest, all the things she hated. But if she didn’t move soon, it would have all been for naught.
Far below her, an outer door banged shut. Was it Guy leaving for the cove, or Thomas returning? Kitty couldn’t dally a moment longer. She ran over to the writing desk and turned over the saddlebag in her hands. The leather was soft and supple, but the buckle was stiff. It would be easier to take the whole thing, but the saddlebag belonged to Guy and Kitty only wanted what was hers. Plus, if the saddlebag remained where it was, the jewels may not be so quickly missed. Her fingers shook with anxiety. Finally, the buckle opened, and she tipped out the contents.
There they were, the Answick jewels. Still in the familiar cloth bag which carried the faint scent of Shoreston.
Kitty’s heart pounded. This was the moment she’d been hoping for, ever since father handed the jewels over to the strange man in the carriage. But now the man wasn’t strange to her—he was kind and respectful. He had demons but he also had integrity. The sound of his voice made her heart leap. And she was on the cusp of betraying him.
Would he have returned the jewels to her if she had confessed her true identity? Mayhap he would. Now that she knew him better, she could almost believe it. But if she took them now, she would never know.
Her stomach churned with indecision. To give him this opportunity, she must tell him the truth. She was the daughter of Owain the drunkard. Her own father had gambled her away.
No. It couldn’t be done. She couldn’t bear to see the pity shining from his dark eyes. Once he knew who she was, he would never again look at her with respect, let alone desire.
She dropped the jewels into her apron pocket as unshed tears burned at the corners of her eyes.
