“What are you doing?”she cried, rushing forward to place his breakfast on the nearby table.
“I cannot stay in this bed one moment longer,” he said in an arrogant tone that dared her to argue.
“Well, you certainly cannot leave it,” Kate said.“Just yesterday you were consumed by fever.”
“And today I am not,” he said, his steely gaze boring into her.
Kate refused to let him intimidate her.“You must regain your strength.Look, I’ve brought you something to eat.”
“More gruel?”he asked, cocking one dark brow disdainfully.
“No,” she shot back.“Bread and milk and a bit of stew.”
“Milk?”
“Yes, milk,” she said, putting her hands on her hips.“I suppose you would prefer brandy or champagne?”
“Well, I certainly will not drink milk.I am not some swaddling babe.”
Kate glanced down the length of him.He had put on one of her father’s nightshirts, but it barely hung to his knees and she could see the muscled calves below and his bare feet, finely boned and arched.
Suddenly, she was swamped by the memory of touching those feet, of running her fingers over those toes, and her cheeks blazed.He need not prove his manhood to her; she was all too aware of it.
She jerked her attention back to his face, certain that she would see a sardonic gleam in his eyes, but they held no amusement.Their cool gray color belied the fire that leapt in their depths, sending heat stealing through her limbs until she felt weak.Kate turned abruptly and busied herself with his tray.
“You cannot keep me here forever, you know.”
Kate’s hands stilled, his words slicing through her like a knife, and she sucked in a sharp breath, glad her face was hidden from him.Naturally, he wanted to leave.She had always known he would, but the impatience in his voice still hurt.
After all, she had spent nearly a week caring for him, tending to his every need and worrying that he might die.She blinked, annoyed at herself for feeling anything for the arrogant nobleman.
“I must get on my feet in order to take care of myself.”
Kate heard his frustration, but said nothing.She stared at the milk, wishing she could force it down his ungrateful throat.
“Damn it, pup, I have to use the chamber pot!”
Kate whirled on him.“And just who do you think managed that when you were sick?”
His features hardened into a harsh mask, while his eyes blazed fury, and Kate took a step back, suddenly aware of all the strength and power that was leashed, temporarily, by his recent illness.
The dark stubble of unshaven beard on his face made him look less like a marquess and more like a very dangerous man.He would be a formidable foe, and she wished she could call back her hasty admission.He was not one to ask for help or appreciate it when given, no matter what the circumstances.
“I remember you touching me,” he said, his voice as cutting as a blade.“Do you want to do the honors again… or do you only fondle unconscious men?”
Kate felt her face flame, and she pushed away from the table so violently that the breakfast tray rattled.Striding to the door as quickly as was possible without relinquishing her dignity, she damned the skirts that hindered her.She wished for her old trousers and her old life—before this man had appeared to complicate everything.
At the threshold, she turned.“Fall flat on your face, then,” she said, managing to keep both her expression and her tone cool.“I’ve picked you up for the last time.”
The well-aimed taunt failed to prick him, however, for Grayson neither cursed nor scowled.He simply lifted those dark brows, and she wondered how he could look so smug wearing nothing except her papa’s nightshirt.
Kate did not slam the door, but went straight to her room and tugged off the faded, tight gown, to replace it with a pair of old trousers, a shirt, and a soft waistcoat.She was through playing the maid for that arrogant beast.
Marching down to the kitchens, she began to make some long-overdue bread, taking her anger out on the fat lumps of dough.If Grayson was well enough to get about, he was well enough to leave.
He could go this afternoon, she told herself, denying the ache that formed in her chest.Instead, she pounded the dough more fiercely, startling Cyclops, the one-eyed cat, away from his spot by the fireplace.
Kate straightened then, astonished by her behavior.She was the quiet one.Calm, capable Kate.She never lost her temper!And as soon as she recognized that, her fury ebbed away.She was being foolish, undone by the irritating presence of Grayson and exhausted by her efforts to heal him.
