Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Kitty could barely contain her nervous excitement. Aunt Stella’s faint snores assured her the older lady was fast asleep, so she swept her cloak around her shoulders and eased open the bedroom door.
This part of the castle was one of the oldest. Most of the guests had been housed in the other wings, but Kitty had always loved staying up here, and Gwyn had been happy to accommodate her.
The stairs up to the tower were just around the corner, at the far end of the hall, and there were no other bedrooms nearby.
Kitty peered up and down the hallway. All the lamps had been extinguished, but moonlight filtered through the lead-paned windows. Detecting no-one, she closed the door silently behind her and hastened forward.
As she turned the corner, however, she saw not one, but two broad-shouldered silhouettes up ahead. She ducked behind one of the suits of armor that stood at various intervals along the hallway.
What was another guest doing up here? Of all the terrible luck—
Heart pounding, she peered around the armor’s shiny breastplate. She was too far away to see much, but it appeared as though the second shadow was sneaking up on the first one, moving furtively and silently in his wake.
She squinted into the darkness. The first shadow was Charles, presumably on his way to meet her in the tower. The second shadow—
She sucked in a horrified breath. James! What on earth was he doing?
Unsure of what to do, she watched as James tapped Charles on the shoulder from behind.
Charles let out a yelp of surprise, having been unaware that he was being followed, and started to turn.
Kitty just caught a glimpse of his shocked expression, then James lifted his fist and dealt him a lightning-fast blow to the side of the jaw.
Charles didn’t even make a sound; his head snapped back and he simply crumpled.
James caught his unconscious form in his arms and with only a slight effort, dragged him to the door of the broom cupboard, opened it, and thrust Charles unceremoniously inside.
Then he shut the door, locked it, and pocketed the key.
Kitty was too astonished to make a sound. He’d moved with such casual, ruthless efficiency. As she watched, James tugged down the points of his waistcoat, ran a hand through his disheveled hair, and strode off toward the winding stairs that led up to the west tower.
She thought she heard him whistling under his breath.
Damn James! He must have overheard her conversation with Charles in the kitchen garden and decided to interfere.
Kitty crept forward and paused outside the broom closet. A muffled groan and some muttered cursing from behind the wood told her that Charles was at least coming to. She really ought to let him out—but James had the key.
“Insufferable idiot,” she muttered. She marched toward the darkened tower stairs.
James was probably planning to scold her for arranging to meet single men in dark rooms late at night. Well, she’d just have to give him a piece of her mind. She was perfectly capable of looking out for herself.
The door to the tower room was open a crack, but no light came from within.
Kitty pushed the wood, wincing as it squeaked on its unused hinges, and took a tentative step inside.
The heavy velvet curtains were closed, and only a tiny sliver of moonlight pierced the gloom.
She was vaguely aware of a bed, some drapery, perhaps a curtain or canopy, off to one side.
She opened her mouth to whisper James’s name, but his tall shadow disengaged from the darkness and her heart leapt.
“Close the door.”
Kitty did so, plunging the room into even deeper darkness, and waited for the scrape of a flint as James lit a lamp. None came.
She frowned. James’s voice had been a whisper, as if he was trying to disguise it, and an almost unbelievable thought struck her. Did he want her to think he was Charles?
A thrill, not of fear, but of excitement, fizzed through her blood.
He did! Why else wouldn’t he reveal himself? The rotten scoundrel clearly meant to play some kind of cruel trick on her. He probably thought he could pretend to be Charles, and give her a disgust of him, so she’d forget all about marriage.
Or maybe he planned to start seducing her, then reveal himself, to show her just what a fickle hussy she really was.
To do either of those things, though, he’d have to touch her.
Kiss her.
Her heartbeat doubled its normal pace. This was her chance to do the one thing she’d always dreamed of doing; kiss James Cashell! Truly, properly kiss him.
And she wouldn’t even have to betray herself. He’d never know that her ardent response was for him. He’d think it was for Charles!
Kitty almost laughed aloud at the prospect.
Oh, this was too perfect.
To add to her ruse, she whispered, “Charles?” and jumped as she felt a disturbance of the air behind her.
James was as silent as a cat. Probably something he’d learned in all those years as a soldier.
Her skin pebbled as he stalked behind her, and a nervous thrill of anticipation twisted low in her belly.
“Don’t turn around,” he murmured.
Kitty grinned in the darkness. It was definitely him. That gravelly voice had filled her most forbidden night-time fantasies. It shimmered across her nerve endings like rough silk.
Maybe it was the dark, or the knowledge that she was doing something forbidden, but it felt like there was magic in the air. Her stomach fluttered in excitement, as if something amazing was about to happen, something that would alter the course of her life forever.
She told herself to stop being fanciful. It was only a kiss. People kissed all the time. In fact, she’d bet good money that other people, in this very castle, were kissing right at this very moment.
But if this was her one and only chance to kiss James, then she wanted him to do it right. She didn’t want a wet, sloppy assault from ‘Charles.’ She wanted a proper kiss, with all the skill and passion at his disposal. Just once, she wanted to know what all those other lucky women had experienced.
A wicked idea blossomed in her brain.
“I have a confession to make,” she whispered into the darkness. She paused, straining to hear James’s response, but he remained silent. She swallowed. “I’ve never actually been kissed. Not on the mouth, at any rate.”
She held her breath, waiting for his answer.
“That’s something we’ll have to remedy.”
His voice was barely a whisper, a thread of sound emanating from the shadows. Disembodied, it might have belonged to a ghost, but there was nothing imaginary about the breath that stirred the tendrils of hair by her ear as he stepped up close behind her.
She shivered in anticipation.
He leaned forward and the warmth of his body pressed down the full length of her back. His legs brushed her skirts, his hips molded to her bottom, his chest touched her shoulder blades.
“For the record, there isn’t just one type of kiss,” he murmured.
His breath tickled the sensitive shell of her ear and she stood still, utterly mesmerized.
“A kiss can be tender and sweet, the lightest brush of lips.”
His chin brushed her shoulder as he reached around her and unfastened the button that secured her cape at her throat. It slipped from her shoulders with the faintest rustle of fabric, and Kitty shivered as the cool air teased her bare arms and throat, exposed by her dress.
“It can be an apology,” he continued. “A promise. An invitation.” His words seemed to swirl around her like sorcery. “You can kiss in anger, for consolation, for joy.”
His lips brushed the hair at her temple, and she heard him inhale softly, as if he were drawing her scent, her essence, into his lungs.
Her knees went weak.
“A kiss can last the briefest of heartbeats or linger like the most luxurious of warm baths.”
She managed to find her voice. “A kiss can do all that?” She sounded breathless, skeptical. Hopeful.
“And more.”
“Which type are you going to show me?”
“All of them, in time. If you’ll let me.”
Her pulse fluttered wildly in her throat.
“Close your eyes,” he commanded.
“Why?”
“Because when you can’t see anything, all your other sensations become heightened. Scent, touch, taste.”
“It’s already dark.”
She felt the slight huff of his amused exhale against her nape; he’d always loved her arguing with him. “Indulge me.”
Kitty could barely draw in a breath. No doubt about it, she was being seduced by a master, and while she hated how he must have gained such experience, she was certainly appreciative of his skills.
She closed her eyes, even though it made little difference, and became aware of the delicious masculine smell of him; musky woods and clean sheets.
He smelled nothing like Charles.
He moved around in front of her, and she gave a little start as the pad of his thumb brushed across her lips. His long fingers slid up her cheek to cup her jaw, and her whole body tingled in excitement.
“The first kiss is a welcome. Just to say hello.”
She hardly dared to breathe as his lips grazed hers. Petal-soft. Tender. Every part of her surged to that point of contact; she was fizzingly aware of the place where they touched.
She’d dreamed of this.
When he pulled back, she made an inarticulate sound of protest, but then his thumb brushed her chin and he turned her jaw, tilting her head to a slightly different angle.
He kissed her again. More firmly this time, a pressure she couldn’t help but return. She swayed, leaning up into it, into him, delight and amazement singing in her blood.
His tongue traced the seam of her lips.
Oh!
“Open your mouth for me,” he breathed, and the rough gravel of his voice made her stomach somersault with a kind of excited terror. She parted her lips to ask him what he meant, but his mouth closed over hers again, and she gasped as his tongue slid inside to tangle with her own.
He groaned, deep in his chest; a thrilling, masculine sound of torment. The hand on her jaw tightened, then slid down her throat, over her collarbone to her shoulder.