Leam gripped the reins with frigid fingers. He had promised his son. He had promised himself.
“I have no heart for it, Colin,” he uttered to his old friend. “I would make a poor spy.”
“You never had any heart for it, Leam. That is what makes you the perfect spy.” The viscount’s face wore the same expression of confident sobriety it had five years ago when, over brandy on a chance meeting at their club, he had first spoken to Leam of the Falcon Club. A new secret organization, Gray had said, with a task Leam seemed particularly suited for at the moment. They needed a Scot, and it would allow him to leave England. To leave it all behind.
But now he did not wish to leave. For the first time in years he wished to remain, and in the company of a woman he mustn’t have.
So be it.
“I must launch my sister into society this spring.” It was the least he could do for her. Married to a suitable man, Fiona might take Jamie into her home when Leam must be away. The boy mustn’t remain alone at Alvamoor with Isobel’s bitterness to blight his youth.
He lifted his head and met Gray’s gaze. “Tell them that I am theirs to do with as they wish. But if anyone importunes Lady Katherine again, I will make you pay for it personally, Colin.”
“Of course.”
Leam turned his mount’s head and rode away.
Kitty waited for her mother to rise. The dowager remained abed. At eleven she went to her mother’s room and knocked. A maid answered.
“She hasn’t been in today, milady.”
Kitty maintained her poise. “Well, that is curious. Perhaps she stayed at my brother’s last evening.
Lord and Lady Savege hope we will all move into the new house down the street before the baby comes, of course.”
“Course, mum.” But the maid didn’t believe it either.
She would not have even a day, an hour to decide what to tell her mother. Unlike her daughter, the dowager countess would not give herself to a man or risk being discovered consorting with a gentleman without the promise of marriage. Lord Chamberlayne, it seemed, was set to be a member of the family. What would Lord Gray have to say to that? And how could Kitty withhold it from her beloved mother?
She could not.
She went to the parlor and pulled the rope bell, then sat at her writing table and drew out a sheet of paper and ink.
“Milady?” the footman said from the doorway.
“I am not at home to callers this afternoon, John. If my mother should come home, please alert me to it immediately.”
He bowed and closed the door.
She wrote, not what Lord Gray wished to read. She could not do what they asked of her. If they sought information about Lord Chamberlayne, they must find it through another source. She would not tell her mother anything, but she would not betray her either. And she was not a spy. She must leave that to others better qualified. If Lord Chamberlayne were guilty of fomenting rebellion among Highlanders, the government would bring him to justice by some other means. She must believe that.
But her conscience pricked alongside her anxiety for her mother.
When the ink dried, she sealed the letter and addressed it. She stood, swiping the tears from her cheeks, and went to the door.
“John,” she called, and went onto the landing. But the footman was not walking up the steps. Leam was.
Chapter 19
He halted, his hand tight around the banister.
“You have been crying.”
“What are you doing here? Go away.” She did not plan the words. Apparently they surprised him as much as her; his eyes widened.
“Go back inside the parlor.” He advanced up the steps.
“Stop giving me orders. You have no right to.”
“I damned well do.” He came to her and grasped her arm.
“No you don’t. And stop cursing at me too. You are a cretin after all.”
“I am not cursing at you. Not precisely.” He snatched the missive from her hand. “You should not have written this.”
“I did not—”
“Milady?” The footman peered up at her from the foyer below.
“I am fine, John. Who admitted Lord Blackwood?”
“The door was wide open,” the earl snapped.
“And you sauntered in uninvited? Disinvited, in point of fact. I told you not to come here again.”
“Your servants should be horsewhipped for leaving you vulnerable to intruders.”
“We are moving the household down the street. There is a great deal of coming and going. Anyway I thought Mr. Grimm was taking care of the intruders.”
“Go into the parlor,” he ground out.
“John, please see that the front door is properly closed,” she called down. “I will not require tea.
Lord Blackwood will not be remaining long.” She pulled from his hold and went into the parlor and across the chamber, away from him. He shut the door, then moved to the door adjoining the drawing room and closed that as well.
Kitty shook her head. “What are you doing? Don’t. Open them up at once.” When he came toward her she thrust out her palm. “Stop. Do not come any closer.”
But he did, not allowing her the distance she needed from his body, his strength and intensity. He set the letter on the table, his brow severe.
“What did you write?” he demanded.
“You will read it eventually. Why don’t you just wait to find out when Lord Gray gives it to you?
It will heighten the anticipation to be frustrated now, don’t you think? That tactic worked so nicely for us in Shropshire, after all.”
He grasped her shoulders, bringing them close, and God help her, she welcomed even so unloverlike a touch.
His gaze scanned her face, his eyes peculiarly bright. “Kitty, this is no game.”
“How can you say that to me? To me?”
“I cannot allow you to be hurt.”
“I understand that. But you must at least be relieved that your enemy chose to threaten me rather than one of your innocent family members. After all, I consorted with a villain for years. I am well able to—”
“You take my breath away,” he whispered.
She gaped, and melted. He seemed to drink in her features with his dark eyes. He lifted a hand and curved it around her cheek. Then his other hand. He sank his fingers into her hair and his grip tightened.
“I will not allow him to come close to you again.” His voice was hard, hinting at violence.
“Who—who are we talking about? The shooter, Lord Gray, or—”
“You speak and I hear nothing else. You move and I cannot look away,” he said roughly. “It seems I cannot resist you.” He bent and brushed his lips across the corner of her mouth. She sucked in air, trembling toward him.
“But you are trying to resist?” she barely managed.
“I am failing.” His hands holding her were warm, certain.
“Tell me that you did not know of their suspicions of Lord Chamberlayne before, in Shropshire.
Tell me so that I can believe you. Please, Leam.”
“I knew of your glance and your smile, your words and the touch of your hand, and nothing else.
Your very existence mesmerizes me, Kitty Savege. It has since the moment I first saw you three years ago. Is that sufficient to convince you?”
“P-perha—” He captured her lips, openmouthed. She wound her arms about his neck and let him pull her close, closer until their bodies met everywhere and the relief of touching him again filled her. His palms moved down her back, then over her behind, grabbing her up. She let herself touch him, to revel in the strong planes of his face, his shoulders and hard arms, and the pleasure of it. She could lose herself in his kiss and never wish to be found again. She was on the verge of allowing that to happen.