Page 56 of Gambling with the Earl
“I did once.” Her eyes darted to the side. “I believe I may do so again.”
“You should.” He dropped a kiss onto the top of her head. His cloak swamped her. She needed a hand to hold it closed and another to prevent herself falling over its folds. It would never do, not for climbing down the tower steps. Surely, there was a pin somewhere that Thomas used on such occasions?
He walked over to his washstand but found nothing. He scratched his head, aware that time was passing. His desk then. Maybe he could fashion something from there. Or else Kitty could make use of one of the Answick jewels?
He smiled at his fancy, but the smile froze on his lips when his fingers encountered the saddle bag. It was empty. The Answick jewels were gone.
Someone had stolen from him, again.
Chapter Fifteen
Kitty sat onthe lumpy mattress in her narrow bedchamber, bidding her hands to not shake as she listened to the panicked sounds echoing through the castle beneath her. Rushing footsteps sounded on the stairs, accompanied by the banging of doors and the occasional shouted warning. It took her back to that terrible night when she and Rosalind had hidden in the pantry at Shoreston, listening to Owain tear the house apart in his search for the very same jewels.
These gems must be cursed, to have wreaked such havoc on her life. Especially today, when happiness had briefly seemed within her grasp.
Tears brimmed in her eyes and Kitty dashed them away impatiently. Clarity of vision had never been more vital. At any moment, Thomas may bang on the door and demand her room be searched. She would have no choice but to comply.
She needed but another minute. Her needle flew through the woollen gown she had brought from home. Her sewing was untidy, if anyone looked closely, they would notice the uneven hem and the strange bulges within it. But why should anyone look closely at the dress of a serving maid?
Her fingers trembled with emotion and the needle slipped, plunging directly into her thumb. She winced with pain and a bloom of blood flowered on her skin. Blood as red as the rubies which were secreted into her dress.
If only she had confessed the truth before Guy realised the jewels had been taken. The words had hovered upon her lips, she waited only for the courage to say them aloud. Courage which fled from her when she saw the dark rage which descended upon him. Anger transformed his face, turning him from someone she trusted into a man she feared; the infamous Earl of Rossfarne. Her knees had trembled, and her mouth had clammed tightly shut. Even then, she could have made her confession.
“I am Owain’s daughter. The jewels belong to me.”
Simple words, which might have made all the difference.
Tears came properly now, streaming down her face with no chance of being checked. Upstairs in the tower room, she had vowed to return the jewels at the first opportunity. Once they were safely back in the saddle bag, she could finally tell Guy the truth about who she really was.
But she hadn’t been braced to admit to theft as well as deceit.
Guy’s fist had crashed down onto the writing desk, sending his quill and a raft of papers drifting to the floor.
“I will not be made a fool of twice,” he roared. “The castle shall be searched. Whoever stole from me will be flogged.”
Kitty couldn’t remember how she had fled up to her own bare room. All she knew was that her fate was sealed. No relationship could succeed when it had begun in darkness and deception.
Thomas flung open her door, his cruel mouth twisted up into a smile. The man was in his element.
“Stand aside,” he ordered. “I have orders to search this room.”
Her legs shook like jelly, but Kitty managed to move herself to the back wall. She leaned against the cold stones, needing support. Thomas crossed to her small closet, bringing with him a waft of stale ale. She closed her eyes as he rifled through her meagre possessions, tossing Lizzie’s straw hat onto the floor andtaking obscene delight in running his gnarled fingers through her stockings.
“What’s this then?” he exclaimed, as his eyes alighted on Guy’s travelling cloak, which she’d flung onto her bed. He fingered the heavy brocade. “Unless I’m very much mistaken, this belongs to his lordship.” The manservant crossed his arms, enjoying his moment. “Do you care to explain how it comes to be in your chamber?”
Kitty met his stare levelly. “As you can see, Thomas, I am in the process of mending it.” She indicated her needle and sewing kit.
He narrowed his eyes. “I know of no tear in that cloak. It hasn’t been worn since winter.”
She shrugged her shoulders, showing how little she cared for his prior knowledge. She was sore inside, from what she and Guy had done just hours earlier. She had felt so close to him then. Safe and protected, maybe even cherished. But now, scarcely hours later, she was being interrogated by his manservant.
She straightened her back, ignoring the burn at the top of her thighs. “You may examine it, if you wish. Even do me the favour of returning it to his lordship. My work on it is finished.”
He scoffed at her suggestion. “I am not here to fetch and carry for a chambermaid.”
Their eyes clashed in an unspoken battle of wills.
“Then may I help you with something else?”
