Chapter Eight #3
“Oh, my lord, call me Ellen, please. I am so grateful for the work. It’s been hard since Jimmy died.
Me mum is always singing your praises, so I’m thrilled to be doing whatever I can for you.
And wait until you see the lovely things we brought,” she said, turning to drag a bolt of cloth from the coach.
It was a violet silk that would set off Kate’s eyes to perfection, and Grayson reached out to finger the texture. Oh, yes. It would do nicely. He pictured the poppet draped in nothing except the smooth material, and his pulse quickened.
“Thank you,” he said, taking the bolt in hand. “I’ll let Tom show you to your quarters.”
Ignoring the coachman’s black scowl, Grayson nodded to his servants and headed into the house in search of Kate. She had kept to herself since this morning, and he found himself eager for her company.
Although he had never taken much interest in women’s fashions, he wanted to see her in new clothes: low-cut silks, lacy chemises, and smooth stockings with ruffled garters. Dressing and undressing for him.
Grayson’s lips were curved into a wry smile by the time he reached the kitchen.
He paused on the threshold, surprised by the jolt of awareness that shot through him when he saw her.
He had never known such want as this slip of a young woman inspired in him, and he was hard-pressed to keep himself in check.
His gaze wandered from the brush of her curls against her nape down her slim back, to the tantalizing curves below, and anticipation seized him. His colleagues had always praised his patience, but right now Grayson did not know how much longer he could wait.
As if sensing his presence, Kate turned slightly, but barely glanced at him.
“Tom has returned,” Grayson said, carefully controlling his reactions.
“Good.”
“My valet, Badcock, is here, along with my London cook and a young widow who—”
She raised her head at that, and although her face revealed nothing, Grayson saw the flash of anger in her eyes. “We cannot afford to feed extra mouths.”
Grayson lifted a brow, surprised at her vehemence. “I’ll send Tom into the village to buy provisions. Of course, since they are my responsibility, I’ll see to the expense.”
“Oh, you will, will you?” The question seemed almost belligerent.
“Yes, I will.”
“Can’t you live without your valet?” she asked.
“I believe I have proved that I can, but I would rather not,” Grayson said.
“And the widow? What service does she provide that you cannot do without?”
Grayson’s eyes narrowed. “She is here to create a new wardrobe for you and your sister,” he said, tossing the bolt on the table. It unraveled like a river of violets across the worn surface, but Kate barely spared it a glance.
“I don’t need any of your fancy gowns,” she said.
“What the devil’s gotten into you?”
“Nothing’s gotten into me. Maybe I just prefer my own clothes,” she said, lifting her chin.
Had he pricked her pride again? Grayson had thought her sensible, but he was having his doubts, as she fixed him with a cool stare.
“And just what kind of payment are you expecting for your largesse?” she asked. “Perhaps you think because Lucy is already ruined, what she does no longer matters, but I will not allow you to use her further.”
For a moment, Grayson was so stunned that he stared in amazement. Then he threw back his head and laughed. But his amusement fled when she watched him with a determined expression that told him she would fight to the death for what was left of her sister’s honor.
His indignation was weathered by an odd sense of pride. What other woman, especially in her position, would have the strength to give such an ultimatum to a marquess?
“I assure you that I have no interest in Lucy,” he said.
“I saw you this morning in the garden.”
The accusation in her tone made him bite back an oath.
“From the looks you and your coachman gave me at breakfast, I thought it my duty to soothe your sister’s ruffled feathers.
What you saw was my untutored attempts at comfort, but I will gladly refrain from approaching her ever again.
” He paused to lift a brow. “Especially if it makes you jealous.”
Shaking her head in denial, Kate stepped back, but her thighs came up against the edge of the table and Grayson moved forward, bearding her with his gaze. “This talk of Lucy is nonsense,” he muttered. “I think we both know where my interest lies.”
Her eyes widened, and Grayson tilted her chin upward, his fingers sliding to rest over the rapid beat of her pulse.
Gently stroking the smooth skin, he watched her eyes turn dazed and warm and her lashes drift downward, proving his case.
Then he lowered his mouth. Brushing his lips against hers softly, he sought to banish all thoughts of her sister and mark her as his own.
That was all he intended, but Kate insisted upon more.
He felt her arms slide around his neck, pulling him down to her, and he smiled against her mouth, pleased at her response.
But the feel of her tentative kiss focused his attention on her lips as he urged her to open for him.
When she did, all hell broke loose as his tongue plunged inside.
Grayson usually had more finesse, and he was vaguely conscious of the lack of his usual skill and patience.
But when Kate moved up on her toes, pushing her breasts into his chest, his restraint was tested to its limits.
He slid a hand down her back to lift her upward, and her startled sigh only heightened an excitement that was almost foreign in its intensity.
“Yes, poppet,” he murmured. “Wrap your legs around me.”
He helped her, and when she was pressed against him, he felt as if his head were spinning, his wits scattered, his whole being throbbing with want for her.
Without thinking, Grayson laid her down upon the table, on the cloth that had spilled from its bolt. Her short, dark curls fell away from her face, and she blinked at him with eyes heavy with desire.
Right here. Right now, Grayson thought. His breathing had escaped his usual mastery, and he could hear it, loud and ragged, while the blood rushed past his ears, urging him on. Exhaling harshly, Grayson brought her up hard against him, his control straining. Here. Now…
And then he heard a low gasp from across the room.
His head snapped around in time to see Badcock standing in the doorway with a carefully blank expression on his face.
Slowly, as if groping his way out of a fog, Grayson helped Kate into a sitting position.
His body did not care for this course, but he stepped back, away from her, and managed to speak.
“I was just trying out the cloth you brought along, Badcock. Good choice,” he said coolly, though he felt aflame.
“Just so, my lord,” the valet answered as Kate slid from the table and fled. Grayson made no move to follow. He was too stunned by the realization of what he might have done, if it had not been for Badcock’s interruption.
Grayson glanced back at his impassive valet, unsure whether to curse the man or thank him.