Page 129 of The Trouble with Tigers
Zeke pulled his blanket over his head. “Can’t see a thing.”
She stripped out of her gown, stockings and slippers with her back to him, pressed in close to the side of the wardrobe, though it didn’t actually shield her from Zeke’s view if he looked, which he wasn’t.
“There was one thing I didn’t mention. More of a coincidence, really,” she said.
“Oh?”
She folded her gown, then rolled up her stockings and piled them neatly on a shelf in the wardrobe.
“An old acquaintance of Collin’s happens to be staying here. He stopped by our table to say hello. Collin acted strangely,practically running the man off without introducing Garrick or me. He explained himself later, of course.”
Zeke’s blanket rustled as he ripped it off his head. “Do you recall the man’s name? Did you recognize him?”
She squinted her eyes, studying him. His lids still appeared sealed shut.
“Let me think. When the man approached the table, he said something to the effect of, ‘Hastings? Is that you? Haven’t seen you in an age. It’s me. Peters.’ Or Parish. Something with a P.”
She shook out her nightshift, debating her chemise. Scowling to herself, she decided to leave it on and shimmied the white lawn over her head.
“The thing is, after Collin walked me to my door, I noticed he didn’t go on to his chamber, but turned for the stairs. When I called after him, he told me he was going to have a word with Mr. Peters.” She smiled. “Yes, Peters it is. I’m sure of it.”
“The same man he didn’t want you to meet?”
She paused in the act of buttoning the neckline of her gown. “I asked him that very question. He had a sound reason for not doing so, Mr Fault finder. He told me he hadn’t introduced us because he didn’t want to get into the whole title issue in front of Garrick.”
“I see.” Zeke yawned loudly.
Kitty hadn’t liked the look of Mr. Peters. He had a coarseness about him that made her uneasy—but she didn’t want to say anything else that might further sour Zeke on Collin.
She tiptoed across the cold wooden floor and slid beneath the bedcovers, pulling her sheets to her nose. “You can open your eyes now.”
Zeke did not respond.
“Zeke?” She strained her ears—and heard the slow steady breath of one fast asleep.
The blasted man had nodded off. She couldn’t say exactly why his ability to do so annoyed her.
With a hmph, she reached up to extinguish the lamp, then rolled to her side and pinched her eyes closed. And proceeded to lie awake. She tossed, turned, and beat her pillow.
It was no use. How in the world could she relax with Zeke mere feet away? So very close, yet they may as well be oceans apart.
She still couldn’t quite believe he’d come for her, and then refused to leave until he knew for certain she wasn’t with child, no matter she’d told him she wasn’t.
What if, by some miracle she was pregnant?
Zeke would insist on marriage. And what sweet torture that would be, married to a man she loved desperately, whose kisses left her breathless and whose touch brought her body to the height of ecstasy, but who flat-out told her he would never love her.
And she mustn’t forget he said nothing about staying in England, baby or no. In fact, he made it clear he would be off at the first opportunity to dig a fresh hole in the earth, half a world away.
Through it all, there was Collin to consider. Why hadn’t she thought of him before bedding the man?
Because she loved Zeke, and thought she’d never see him again.
Because she hadn’t been thinking at all.
“I can practically see smoke coming out your ears, you’re thinking so hard,” Zeke said in that rich, velvety voice of his.
She nearly jumped out of her skin. “I thought you were asleep.” She aimed a glare at him in the darkness.
