“So, our arrangement must end,” he said.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I truly appreciate you helping with Mr. Blaylock, but I can’t go running off at all hours of the night.”
He slid her hand up her cheek. “You don’t have to do everything yourself, you know. I can help you. It’s not shameful to ask.”
She put her hand on top of his. “It’s not about helping. I lost sight of my goal.” She searched for the words that would make him understand. “For years, I’ve been focused on making this shop a success. Becoming financially independent. Tonight, I let that dream go, and look what happened.” She gestured to the damage.
“That is ridiculous,” he said sharply. “It was an accident, nothing more.”
She squirmed out of his embrace. “An accident, maybe, but one that wouldn’t have happened if I had been thinking clearly.”
“Kitty, I don’t—”
She held up her hand. “I have a lot of work to do. Unless you want to help me clean, I think you should leave.”
He glanced at the window—and the deep-red sky. Dawn.
“I’m sorry,” he said, backing away.
Pressure built behind her eyes. Of course he wouldn’t stay. To a man of his status, she was nothing more than a pleasant diversion. She really had become like her parents, trying to fit into a social class that would never accept her. How foolish.
She grabbed a broom and swiped it so hard, several bristles broke off. If she kept it up, she’d make the mess worse. She dropped the broom, which clattered to the floor. Why did everything continue to go wrong? All she wanted was to create dresses and have them worn by customers. To make people happy and take pride in her accomplishments. Instead, she had been thrust backward time and time again.
It wasn’t fair.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Cordon slammed thedoor to his room and stomped to his bed. The night had been going perfectly until they had knocked over that infernal lantern. The Kitty who had shuddered in his arms and laughed as she’d pulled bloomers from a wardrobe was the Kitty he wanted by his side. Not the Kitty who had coldly rebuked him. One mistake and she’d snapped back to being a prim and proper dressmaker. The woman was so stubborn and so determined to bury herself in her work. He wouldn’t have been surprised to find cast-off threads in her hair.
Blaylock’s involvement with the Wild Hunt was an unexpected complication, but he had yet to meet a human man who could not be bought. If that didn’t work, Cordon would kill him to ensure Kitty’s safety, then return to her shop and convince her to let him help her.
“My lord?”
Adams stood in the doorway.
“You are home earlier than expected,” Adams said. “Did you enjoy your ride?”
Cordon snorted.Enjoyingthe ride hadn’t been the problem.
“Allow me to help you disrobe, at least,” Adams said. He entered the room and closed the door behind him.
Cordon struggled to his feet. Adams was right. As annoyed as he was, there were other matters to attend to first.
“My lord, what were you doing, rolling in the dirt?” Adams asked as he removed Cordon’s jacket. “I hope Miss Carter did not end up in a similar state.”
It took all of Cordon’s strength not to laugh as he remembered how he had nearly taken Kitty in the stables. The scent of her blood had been so strong, he hadn’t considered the damage he’d been doing to his suit.
He closed his eyes as Adams removed his clothing and recalled how it had felt to have Kitty spasming around his cock. He would go to sleep remembering the look of ecstasy on her face as she’d worked herself. That image he would keep for the rest of his unnatural life. When he recovered, he’d deal with Mr. Blaylock, then beg Kitty’s forgiveness.
Adams gasped, startling Cordon out of his thoughts.
“What is it?” He craned his neck, but Adams was behind him. “Has the rash spread?”
Fingers touched the middle of his back. “This is no rash, but a bruise, my lord. A wicked, large one.”
Cordon stiffened. “What does it look like?”
“I’ll get a mirror,” Adams said. He made it several steps before stopping. “Ah…right. I sometimes forget.”
