Page 22 of The Trouble with Tigers
“He…” Zeke hesitated before blurting, “stares at me. When he thinks I’m not looking, he studies me with those frosty green eyes. It’s…it irritates me. It’s like he wants something I have, orwants to learn my mannerisms, or maybe eat me for breakfast. In fact, just this morning—what?”
“What do you mean what?” the earl asked, his voice choked.
“You’re laughing.”
“I have something in my eye.”
He thought she stared at him? That wasn’t true. Or not often true, anyway. Oh, she could just die. She should leave, now, before she heard any further hurtful remarks. She inched backward, gliding her boots over the marble.
“Is that all?” the earl asked.
“Now that you ask, no.”
In an instant, she was back in place outside the library.
“I can’t figure out why you’re so enamored of him. Other than playing a mean game of chess and being a quick study…”
Warmth flooded her heart.
“…he speaks up far too often, and he has that scratchy voice.”
“He takes an interest in my well-being, and he can’t help it if his voice hasn’t yet changed. You can hardly fault him for that, Zeke. It’s not like you to be so unfair.”
“Perhaps I’m being, as you say, unfair, because I know you’re playing me for the fool. Either that, or he’s playing you.”
Kitty heard a rhythmic sound and realized Zeke drummed his fingers as she’d seen him do a thousand times, impatient man.
“You could tell me who he is.”
“Zeke, my boy, patience. All will be revealed in good time.”
“I knew it,” he exclaimed. “I knew there was more to Kit. Who is he? Caden’s by-blow?”
An odd, scratchy-voiced, ogling by-blow.
“Nothing like that. And I’d appreciate it if you’d leave the matter,” Lord Claybourne said.
“It’s a little late for that, isn’t it? After you’ve done everything in your power to taunt me, jamming the bugger down my throatat every turn? You’ve both had a good laugh at my expense, haven’t you?”
All too late she heard the telltale whisper of footsteps over carpet. A half second later, boot tips appeared. Then Zeke emerged. He spotted her in an instant, his smokey blue eyes going wide with shock, then smoldering with outrage.
Kitty leapt back and bumped hard into the console, unseating a porcelain vase filled with flowers in the process. She made a grab for it, but Zeke beat her to it, catching the arrangement with one hand.
He settled the vase never taking his narrow-eyes stare off her.
She gulped. “Lord Thur—”
“Grandfather!” His bellow reverberated off the walls. He grabbed the scruff of Kitty’s coat collar with one hand, lifting her bodily and swinging her around until she dangled over the library threshold. “Look what the cat dragged in.”
Kitty couldn’t breathe. Black spots danced before her eyes.
“Zeke, put Kit—put the boy down. You’re choking him, for pity’s sake.”
Zeke opened his hand.
She dropped like a stone, crumpling to her knees. An instinctual will to survive bade her drag in air. She wished to be anywhere but here, huddled on all fours. She stared into the red and black pattern of the Aubusson carpet through a blur of tears.
“Don’t tell me you’re not going to do anything about this? I’ve a mind to blister the boy’s behind.”
