Hers was a most intriguing reaction, Grayson thought, dealing out the cards as though she had consented to play.When he noticed her watching his hands, he paused to draw a low breath.If she kept that up, it was going to be a very uncomfortable game, at least for him.
“Shall we play for guineas?”he asked, hoping to divert her attention.Although he had never reached the limits of his legendary control, he had a feeling that Kate could test them mightily.
“No.”
“Pennies?”
“No.I will not play for money,” she said.She lifted her head to eye him with calm defiance.“I do not approve of gambling.”
Grayson smiled at her pretense of propriety, for he had already found out what he wanted to know.She had no money, that much was obvious.But what of her background?“Should I worry that your guardian will take offense at our little game?”he asked, picking up his cards.
Innocent that she was, she missed the subtle nuance that a more experienced woman would have parlayed into a flirtation.Instead, she stared at him, her lips a firm line.“Tom thinks we would be ill-advised to tell you anything more.”
Clever girl that she was, Kate had divined his intent.He felt both proud of her and challenged as he had not been in years.“Tom?”he muttered.“You trust his judgment?”
She wavered only for a moment before fixing him with the clear, direct gaze that so appealed to him.“Perhaps not, but how do I know you will not turn me over to the magistrate and cheer while I hang?”
The question startled him so much that Grayson barked out a laugh, but Kate’s expression remained somber.“You cannot think that I would like to see you swing,” he said, incredulous.
She did not flinch, but held his gaze with her own, as if seeking the truth in them.
Grayson felt oddly shaken and annoyed by her distrust.“I assure you that I have no desire to snuff out your extraordinary existence,” he said.
His words seemed to puzzle her.“I shot you.”
“Quite accidentally, I recall,” Grayson said.“I was there, you might remember.”
She flushed and nodded, but said nothing.Suddenly, Grayson wanted to shake her out of her calm, courageous pose.She did not trust him.Considering that she was the one who had put a bullet in him and dragged him here, Grayson found that a bit astonishing.And grating.
His eyes narrowing slightly, he studied her, wondering just how he could gain her confidence.Although her head was held high, he noticed the rapid rise and fall of her chest and recognized the wariness riding just below the surface.Grayson felt like grabbing her and dragging her down on top of him to dissolve her doubts in the heat that flared between them.
But he did not.Without knowing who she was, he could not touch her, and she seemed determined not to tell him.Frustration surged through him.He was not accustomed to being denied, and he did not care for it.
“Very well,” he said, feigning indifference.“Believe what you will, poppet, but you have been wrong before about me.”
Grayson saw the flicker of surprise in her lovely eyes and leaned back, watching her from under lowered lashes.He was used to getting what he wanted, and Kate would be no exception.
In political circles, he was known for both his thoroughness and his tenacity.Ruthless, some people called him, but he simply did not suffer fools or delays.And, although he sometimes was forced to compromise, he never gave way.
His lips curved slightly as he contemplated his newest challenge.Poor Kate had no idea just how far she was out of her depth.
Grayson intended to discover everything there was to know about the poppet.And perhaps that would only be the beginning…
Chapter Six
Grayson slipped out of bed and tested his legs.Better.Stretching untried muscles, he walked to the window and looked out.The late-afternoon sun was glinting from behind the last of the rain clouds, creating an eerie brightness on the green lawn below.Taking a deep breath of the country air, warm but refreshing, he was reminded of Kate.
He missed her.
Odd that, but Grayson put it down to his forced imprisonment.Even one’s jailer looked good after a while, and Kate was not your typical jailer.Rusty at first, she had soon given him several good hands at cards, while he regaled her with London gossip.
He had even coaxed a laugh from her and had basked in its glow like a boy with a sweetmeat.Kate was too somber, too burdened by who knew what.Grayson rubbed his smooth chin thoughtfully.He would soon find out.After innumerable games of piquet, she had found him some shaving things and left him to his own resources, but he did not intend to linger.
Stirring from the window, Grayson searched for his clothes, relieved to find them hanging neatly in the wardrobe.There must be servants somewhere, for they had cleaned and returned his garments.
Grayson took his time dressing.There was no need to hurry, and he had no intention of pushing himself too hard.He wanted out of the room, not another sentence of bed rest.When he finally tugged on his boots, he looked down at himself with wry amusement.
His valet would have a hemorrhage if he could see the mended and poorly ironed shirt that graced the famous Marquess of Wroth.Although Grayson was by no means a dandy, he was accustomed to the finest of materials, superbly tailored to his frame, and he found that it irked him to look less than his best, especially for the poppet.
