Chapter 17 #2
When they entered the common room of the inn, Tess was waiting. She rose from her chair, striding toward Kate with purpose, both relief and anger plain as she surveyed her charge. James was glad to know Kate had another protector.
“Lady Katherine, I believe it is time to pay your aunt a visit,” James said.
“Would it suit you to depart within a few hours?” He did not want to linger in town, especially with the chance Kate would be recognized by someone from the warehouse.
The sooner they reached Lady Hawthorne’s, the sooner they could examine the ledger pages Kate had copied for any connection to Henry’s death.
Kate readily agreed, and she and her maid disappeared to their quarters.
James asked for a tray of food to be brought to his room so he could attend to his wounds before their journey.
After informing the coachman of their intention to depart, James retreated to his private quarters.
The smell of fresh bread, cold ham, eggs, and tea greeted him, and his stomach growled in anticipation.
He was gratified to find they had also provided honey for his tea.
Setting the tray on the side table by his bed, he savored a few mouthfuls of the soft bread before removing his waistcoat and cravat.
He pulled his shirt off over his head, his torso protesting at the movement.
Sucking in a sharp breath, he examined the area and moved his arms back and forth.
There would be a dark bruise and some lingering soreness, but no serious injuries.
A brisk knock sounded at the door, likely a manservant come to ask if he required anything else.
Good. He would ask for some salve for the raw places on his wrists.
But when he opened the door, it was Kate who stood before him.
“I asked—” Her words froze. For one suspended moment, she seemed entirely arrested by the sight of his bare chest, and he could not suppress a stir of masculine satisfaction at the blush that flooded her face. Then the color faded from her cheeks as she took in the darkening bruise along his torso.
“Kate.” He leaned against the door frame, folding his arms over his chest before she could examine his injuries too closely. “I thought you would be resting after our late-night adventures.” He had not meant to flirt, but seeing her blush deepen even further, he found he couldn’t regret it.
“I, uh—” She cleared her throat, her chin lifting with resolve. “I noticed the ropes had rubbed at your wrists, and I was not certain what other injuries you may have suffered, so I inquired after some salve from the innkeeper.”
“I appreciate your thoughtfulness.” He reached for the jar she clutched, but she pulled it tight against her chest.
“Would you allow me to inspect your wounds?” she asked with determination. “I often help tend to our servants and tenants.”
He lifted a brow. “You do not trust me to manage myself? This is not the first time I have been injured.”
“Precisely. I have seen you injured three times now in almost as many weeks, and I need to reassure myself that you will not aggravate your wound on the road.” Her playful tone was tinged with worry, and the defenses that he had spent years fortifying began, at last, to give way.
He was accustomed to tending his own wounds in silence, hiding the cost of his work from anyone who might care enough to ask.
But Kate stood before him, salve in her hands and concern in her eyes, and he found himself craving the comfort she offered.
Letting her into his chamber might be a blunder of sizable proportions, but he could not deny her. He drew back, sweeping his arm in a welcoming gesture while pointedly leaving the door ajar.
“The chair, please,” she said firmly.
He yielded to his wiser instincts and donned his discarded shirt before sitting obediently on the rickety chair.
Kate narrowed the space between them. As she lifted his arm to assess the cuts, he noticed the blush remained high in her cheeks, her gaze straying to where his linen shirt pulled across his chest.
While she inspected his wrists, he was free to study the soft tendrils framing her face and the curve of her throat. Longing tangled with the urge to keep her safe.
She opened the jar, and a pungent, medicinal scent filled the small room.
He instantly recoiled. “What the blazes is that?”
“It is a healing ointment of comfrey and herbs. It will aid your recovery and soothe any irritation.” She dipped two fingers into the jar and massaged the foul-smelling ointment into his skin. Perhaps the smell was a fair price for her touch.
“Is this going to be the pattern between us, then?” she asked lightly, still tending his wrists.
Her question reached deeper than her teasing tone.
James knew he ought to laugh it off, but instead, he found himself imagining it—an impossible glimpse of the future before he could stop it.
A lifetime of her healing his wounds, of them finding their way through the shadows together.
He forced it away. It was nothing but a foolish dream for someone like him.
“What? You rescuing me?” He meant to keep his voice teasing, but it betrayed him.
“No, you getting injured,” she countered, her fingers continuing their work, “and me helping to pick up the pieces after.”
The familiarity of her touch unsettled him far more than the sting in his wrists. It felt entirely too natural to have her here, as if they had done this a hundred times before. As if he were actually allowed to get this close to someone.
And suddenly, the future he had just dismissed felt within reach—years of darkness and secrecy balanced with her steadiness and light. He felt a surge of something desperately, dangerously akin to hope.
James had little to prepare before they departed, a consequence of chasing after Kate with more urgency than foresight.
Fortunately, his valet had been instructed to meet them at Lady Hawthorne’s with a change of clothes.
He did not relish smelling like the docks or remaining in clothes that made him look like a man who had been dragged through a warehouse.
He settled their bill with the innkeeper and met the others in the innyard where Kate’s carriage waited with her trunk and baggage. Apollo shook his head as James brushed a hand over his mane. The horse seemed eager to leave, but the wistfulness on Kate’s face stopped James before he mounted.
“Kate, what is it? Has something happened?”
“No, I am simply dreading being confined in the carriage, even if it is only for a few hours.”
“Would you like to ride? We can inquire about hiring a mount for you.”
“Truly?” Her eyes brightened, then dimmed. “I did not pack my riding habit.” She paused. “But this traveling gown perhaps would serve well enough since it is a short journey.” She glanced at Tess, hopeful.
The maid pinched her lips in disapproval but acquiesced with a nod. “Very well, my lady. Perhaps we should wait in the carriage while Lord Brenton attends to the details?” Tess guided Kate toward the carriage while James went in search of the innkeeper.
When James returned leading a dark brown mare with ears flicking attentively, Kate approached with an outstretched hand. The mare nuzzled her palm instantly. “She is perfect,” Kate remarked, her smile unmistakable.
“The innkeeper assured me she is gentle and intelligent.” James patted the mare’s neck, offering Kate a soft smile. “She seemed like a fitting partner for the road.”
“Thank you for allowing me to ride.”
“I did not allow you anything. You are more than capable, and if you wish to ride, I see no reason to object. Shall I assist you in mounting?”
She nodded. James placed his hands around her waist and lifted her into the sidesaddle in one smooth movement. He let his touch linger a moment longer than strictly necessary, then forced himself to take a step back. She smiled down at him, her blue eyes sparkling in the morning light.
He mounted Apollo, and they settled into a familiar rhythm as they rode out of town. The carriage trailed behind, wheels clattering softly along the narrow lane. Filtered sunlight warmed the wintry air, and each glance at Kate threatened his concentration.
“I have forgotten how much I love riding,” she said, contentment in her voice.
“Do you ride often then?”
“As often as I am permitted with my social obligations. I would much rather go riding on Sage than sit through afternoon callers.”
“Even if the caller is the most charming man of your acquaintance?”
“You mean Lord Alverton?”
“I was thinking of a Mr. Thorne.”
“How did you . . . ?” she asked with a laugh.
His mouth curved. “A gentleman who claims a dance while failing to exist is rather difficult to overlook.”
Kate’s smile turned entirely unrepentant.
James nudged Apollo closer to Kate’s mare. “Hugh often bragged about your riding while we were away at school.”
“Surely not.”
“Truly. He was fond of telling the boys that his younger sister had a better seat than most of them.”
“I spent hours riding Sage through the fields near Fairhaven Park. It was one of the few pursuits I was permitted while preparing to come out in society.”
“Surely there were other activities you enjoyed.”
“It seems you have a few hobbies of your own, my lord. Lock picking, for instance.” Her tone was playful, but there was nothing careless in it.
His shoulders tensed as he weighed how much to say. “A skill useful on occasion—playing pranks, retrieving objects . . . protecting others.”
“You are more than the man you pretend to be, Lord Brenton.” Her horse drifted closer to Apollo.
A mix of admiration and disbelief stirred in him at her insight. The open fields surrounded them, the welcoming trill of birds and the rumble of the carriage the only sounds. He checked the trees ahead for any sign of trouble.
“The danger we faced at the warehouse,” she asked, “is that a common occurrence for you?”
“More often than most gentlemen,” he admitted. “And you?” he dared ask. “Is deciphering codes a frequent pastime?”
“More often than most ladies,” she shot back, amusement flickering across her expression before it turned serious. “People count on my skills. What I do helps to keep them safe.”
Her admission reordered everything he thought he knew.
Kate was not merely clever at riddles and ciphers.
This was not a parlor game or trick. She was using her skills for someone, for a purpose.
He did not know who, or how deeply she was entangled, but the conclusion was impossible to ignore.
Kate had found her own way into his world long before he tried to keep her from it. There was only one way forward.
“Then perhaps we should stop pretending we are each alone in this and work together,” he said.
She studied him before returning her attention to the road ahead. “I would like that very much,” she said softly.
The quiet acceptance struck him harder than expected.
She was choosing to stand beside him, not because she misunderstood the danger, but because she had the courage to face it.
The thought should have terrified him, and it did.
But staying away from her was no longer a choice he could make.
He would just have to protect her from within the shadows.
The winding road stretched out in front of them, winter sunlight spilling through the trees as their horses moved in an easy rhythm. He angled Apollo toward the center of the lane until his knee brushed Kate’s. Neither of them pulled away.