Kate stood, rooted to the spot, as she took in the sight of him, burnished golden by the light like some pagan god.His eyes were closed, and dark strands of hair fell away from his face to gleam wetly in the candle’s glow.Nothing disturbed the silence but the crackle of the fire and her pounding heart.
It was so loud that she wondered he did not hear it, and the thought finally moved her sluggish limbs to action.She straightened, ready to flee, but it was too late.As she watched, wide-eyed, Grayson slowly turned his head, lifted his lashes, and looked directly at her.
“Kate.”
The way he said her name seemed to draw the very breath from her body, and she sucked in a ragged draft of air to keep her lungs working.She strove for a calm, even tone, and words that would disguise her reaction.“Don’t get your dressing wet,” she said.
His lips curved just enough to show her that he thought her concern amusing.“Come wash me, Kate,” he said softly.
She shook her head, her cheeks flaming at the outrageous suggestion.If he had been anyone else, she would have found her tongue and apologized for her intrusion, but he seemed to rob her of the power of speech.Like someone drunk or dazed, she could only gape at the broad expanse of his chest, remembering the feel of it beneath her fingers.
He, too, must be recalling those days and nights she had spent tending his body, for she saw an answering flicker in his eyes.“I’ve been dreaming of you, Kate, dreaming of you touching me,” he whispered.
Kate shivered as his voice flowed over her.Deep and rich and potent, it threatened to melt her resistance even as she searched for words to deny his memory—and her own.
Her lips parted and stilled, too dry to be of use.She wet them slowly with her tongue as she watched a drop of water trail down his throat and disappear into the shadowy pelt below.Overcome by a wild desire to follow it with her fingers, to taste it with her mouth, she could only stare in fascination.
“Come, join me, and I shall return your favors.Shall I bathe you, Kate?”he asked, his tone low and seductive.The very idea made her knees weak, and she grabbed at the corner of a nearby cupboard to keep her balance.
For one startling instant, she imagined herself going to him, sliding her modest nightgown down her body and climbing in beside him.The warmth.The water.His hands.On her.
Shaken to the core, Kate closed her eyes against the image and the lure of it.Was this how Lucy had fallen from grace?Had someone like Grayson taunted her with his male beauty, melting away her good sense with his hot promises?Tempting her?
Kate’s eyes flew open in swift denial, but Grayson was still there, his strong body relaxed in its nakedness, his gaze smoldering as it touched her, moving from the high neck of her nightgown downward.Her limbs grew heavy under his perusal, and she felt chafed by the restricting material.She longed to take it off, to free herself of all clothing, all inhibitions, all responsibilities.
But she could not.
Slowly, without taking her eyes from his, Kate shook her head again, more firmly.It was all that she could manage, for anything more might reveal just how close she had come to accepting his invitation.
Not trusting herself to speak, she pressed her lips together and, with great effort, turned away from Grayson and all that he offered her.Her heart still pounding from the struggle to subdue a side of herself she had not known existed, Kate fled back through the house, to the safety of her room and her duty.
Grayson roused himself slowly, the memory of a dream lingering just enough to tantalize him, but gone now, beyond his reach.Unused to such elusive visions, he probed his memory and groaned when he realized what had triggered his restless night.
It was his evening bath and Kate, virginal and erotic in a white nightgown that had revealed her beautiful bare feet and slender ankles to his curious gaze.With her wide eyes and tousled curls, she had looked like a sleepy siren, and he had wanted nothing more than to see all of her, naked and flushed as she joined him.
Of course, a gentleman would have begged her pardon and sent her away, and a well-bred innocent like Kate should have fled at the first sight of him.But they had not played their proper roles, proving to Grayson just how well-suited they were.
Something had passed between them there in the hot darkness, something that went beyond simple wanting, though he knew her desire matched his own.With a low oath, Grayson sat up and swung his feet over the side of the bed.
Sunlight shone through the windows and open drapes.Although he usually slept past noon, as did most of his peers, today he intended to explore before anyone else was about.
He needed some answers and fueled by what had almost occurred in the kitchen last night, his search took on a new sense of urgency.Standing, Grayson stretched and winced as his shoulder protested.
Then he eyed his only set of clothing with disgust.Although he did not consider himself to be abnormally fastidious like that idiot Wycliffe, or a dandy like Raleigh, he was loath to don the same ragged garments day after day.
The problem provided him with yet another incentive to solve the puzzle of this strange household.This afternoon, he would send word to his valet for clothes, perhaps even a servant or two, or know a good reason why not.His patience was running thin, and he had no desire whatsoever to pluck his first fowl in order to dine.
Slipping from the room, Grayson headed toward the stairway.The silence that met his descent was familiar now and the lack of footmen no longer unusual.In the spacious foyer below, he paused to let himself out, closing the massive doors quietly behind him.
The morning was pleasant, the verdant green of the landscape the only sign of the past few days’ rain.Descending the wide steps, Grayson followed the drive until it angled off toward the stables and a myriad of outbuildings, then strode across the grass.It was too long to be fashionable, and he wondered how the devil the three members of the household kept up with the outside work.
Although someone obviously tended the immediate area, Grayson could see signs of neglect in the bushes that needed to be trimmed and the undergrowth that encroached upon the lawn.It was too bad, for these once had been very attractive grounds, if the paintings in the drawing room were any indication.
Those images had struck him as so familiar that he knew a view of the outside would help him finally name the place.Now a far distance from the house, Grayson turned and lifted his gaze to the mass of stone.
Hargate.He recognized it at once, although it had been many long years since his first visit.Grayson stood still, letting his thoughts return to a time when he was just a boy.His parents had still been alive, and summers had been filled with travels from one country house to the next, parties, and laughter.
They had come to Hargate to celebrate the birth of the Earl of Chister’s first child, and Grayson had been infernally bored for much of the stay, due to the lack of companions his own age.With the jaundiced eye of maturity, he recalled his insistence on an adulthood that would be thrust upon him all too quickly.
