“Yes, poppet,” he murmured.“Wrap your legs around me.”
He helped her, and when she was pressed against him, he felt as if his head were spinning, his wits scattered, his whole being throbbing with want for her.
Without thinking, Grayson laid her down upon the table, on the cloth that had spilled from its bolt.Her short, dark curls fell away from her face, and she blinked at him with eyes heavy with desire.
Right here.Right now, Grayson thought.His breathing had escaped his usual mastery, and he could hear it, loud and ragged, while the blood rushed past his ears, urging him on.Exhaling harshly, Grayson brought her up hard against him, his control straining.Here.Now…
And then he heard a low gasp from across the room.His head snapped around in time to see Badcock standing in the doorway with a carefully blank expression on his face.Slowly, as if groping his way out of a fog, Grayson helped Kate into a sitting position.His body did not care for this course, but he stepped back, away from her, and managed to speak.
“I was just trying out the cloth you brought along, Badcock.Good choice,” he said coolly, though he felt aflame.
“Just so, my lord,” the valet answered as Kate slid from the table and fled.Grayson made no move to follow.He was too stunned by the realization of what he might have done, if it had not been for Badcock’s interruption.
Grayson glanced back at his impassive valet, unsure whether to curse the man or thank him.
Chapter Nine
Grayson watched as Kate excused herself from the breakfast table, irked that she refused to look at him.He could follow her, of course, but he had learned that the most successful negotiations were conducted after tempers were allowed to cool, and Kate’s was still burning brightly.
In fact, she had been treating him like a leper since yesterday’s frolic in the kitchen.Obviously, she did not approve of such public behavior.
But, then, neither did he.
He was not sure what had possessed him, but he was immensely relieved that Badcock had interrupted before things went any further.He was also keenly aware of the good fortune that had caused his valet, and not the protective Tom, to come upon the scene.
Had the irate coachman been there, Grayson’s pleasure might have been halted by a carving knife buried in his back.He probably would not have felt it, either, considering the state he was in.The memory made him uncomfortable in more ways than one, and he shifted in his seat.
The movement drew Tom’s attention, but instead of scowling, the old fellow actually grinned.Pushing away his clean plate, he patted his belly.“I’ll say this for you, my lord, you know how to pick a cook.”
“I agree that Meg is a treasure, but I cannot take credit for her employment.That was my mother’s doing.As always, she showed both impeccable taste and good sense,” Grayson said.It seemed that Tom took no delight in chicken plucking either and would rather eat the food than prepare it.
“Now that our most immediate needs are provided for, I would like to ferret out my imposter,” Grayson said, studying the coachman carefully.“What do you know of the rendezvous point where Lucy met her lover?”
Tom gaped at him, his face turning red.“What?”
“Lucy told me she met him in the woods at an abandoned cottage near my hunting box.Can you take me there?”
Tom eyed him suspiciously.“Why?”
Grayson met his gaze coolly.“I would like to have a look at the place.Maybe it can tell us something about the man’s identity.”
Tom snorted.“I know where it is, all right.I’ve been there.I waited for the bastard night after night when Lucy told us about him, but he never came back.He’s gone.Make no mistake, there’s nothing there that will lead you to him.”
Grayson lifted a brow.“You’ll pardon me if I would like to see for myself.”
“Suit yourself,” Tom said with a shrug.“I’m to take Meg into the village for supplies, but I can show you where it is first.”
Grayson nodded his agreement.Since he put no faith in Tom’s investigative skills, he was not discouraged by the man’s pessimism.If his suspicions concerning the imposter were true, there was a good chance there was a trail that would lead right to him.
And Grayson intended to find it.
An hour later, Grayson had to admit that the dimwitted coachman might have been right.The tiny cottage where Lucy trysted with her lover was bare of all except a narrow bed, a table and chairs, and a few implements.Grayson walked around the interior once, twice, then strode to the bed and pulled back the blankets.
“Lucy’s,” Tom said smugly.“She brought ’em from Hargate.And this set is fresh.”
Grayson frowned and tucked the linens back into place.He looked beneath the bed and found nothing but great clods of dust.Obviously, Lucy was not a vigilant housekeeper, either at home or at her love nest.
Abandoning that corner of the room, Grayson moved to the table, studying its workmanship and eyeing the tin cups and plates for any clues to their origin.Unfortunately, the tableware probably was his own property, pilfered from the hunting box some time ago.
