Page 40 of Gambling with the Earl
Chapter Eleven
His words sickenedher, literally. Her stomach heaved and her vision blurred. It took all her strength to remain standing in the doorway of that cursed room. She blinked rapidly to disperse her nausea and recover her wits.
“Owain?” she repeated, to give herself time.
“He lives in a manor just outside Rossfarne.”
The earl shrugged his muscular shoulders. She had sat on his bed and allowed him to caress her. Nay, she had enjoyed his touch and yearned for more. And all the time he had been playing with her.
But if he intended to claim her, would he not have done so by now? Despite his injuries, he could have overpowered her at any moment. Instead, he had shown restraint. His touch had been gentle. He had confessed his own weakness.
That could only mean one thing. He had not worked out who she really was.
The realisation made her heart pound afresh, for at any moment he could place her. Her hair, which she had intended to keep covered, was loose around her shoulders. Moments earlier he had run his fingers through it. And her hair was the distinctive feature that linked her to her father.
He lifted his head from the pillow to see her better, a question flashing through dark eyes which she had seen grow luminous with feeling. She had believed their time togethermeant something. She had started to believe in him, the wounded knight who wanted only to hear her sing. Trust had knocked at her door and she had stood back to let him in.
And all the time, the earl searched for Owain’s daughter.
“Kitty?” He frowned. “Are you well?”
He pushed himself up on his right elbow as if he would come over to her. She raised her hands to ward him off.
“Just thinking, my lord,” she answered. “I know of no one with that name.”
“I see.” He relaxed back onto the pillows. “I shall enquire elsewhere.”
His words were a punching blow to her stomach. Of course, he would do so. It was only a matter of time before her true identity was discovered.
But how galling to leave now, when she had secured admittance not only to the earl’s solar but also his bedchamber. This new opportunity had fallen into her lap, though she would not now be able to exploit it.
The coin chests she had seen Thomas haul from the well were all around the room. She cared not for their contents, however lavish and sparkling they may be. She was no thief. She wanted only what was hers. The bag of jewels which must be secreted somewhere in the room.
Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating every corner. Why had she wasted her time ministering to the earl when she should have been searching for her family’s fortune?
Kitty bit down on her lower lip to control her trembling. The chance to look for the jewels was still within her reach. She must stay in the room, even though her instincts screamed at her to run.
“You are lost in thought,” he observed. A smile transformed his face as he watched her.
She wanted to shake her head and accuse him of treachery. How could he lay there and smile at her, looking for all the world like an honourable man? A man she had wanted to know better? He was as cunning as a fox—sleek and beautiful on the outside, yet selfish and manipulative on the inside.
And she was the foolish maid who had fallen into his trap. Well, she wouldn’t stay there for long.
Kitty drew deeply on her strength. “I am thinking anew,” she lied. “The name, Owain, it is familiar although I struggle to place it. What business do you have with him?”
Her question was forward for a servant. Yet she was a servant who sang to order, bathed his wounds and allowed him to cup a hand to her cheek. A blush warmed her face and neck as she recalled how his fingers had brushed against her flesh. Tension twisted deep inside her at the memory, and she walked quickly to the window to appease it.
Their relationship had already strayed beyond what convention allowed. Why shouldn’t she try to discover his plans?
Outside, the morning sunshine dappled the rough grass and brought a rosy hue to the unforgiving castle walls. Just minutes earlier, she had thought herself almost happy, content at least. She should have known better.
He hadn’t answered her question. And every second she spent in his presence increased the likelihood that he would realise her true identity.
She twisted around to face him, expecting confrontation of some kind. She would run if she had to. How quickly she had been brought to fear, when earlier she had known a willing surrender to his touch.
The earl’s eyes were closed, and a pulse jumped in his cheek. At once her emotions turned again to sympathy. He was a brave knight who had fallen in battle and wanted only to return to the service of his king.
Nay. He was a cruel overlord who had entered into a wager with a drunkard, with a living soul as the stake.
