She sucked in a horrified breath. James! What on earth was he doing?
Unsure of what to do, she watched as James tapped Charles on the shoulder from behind. Charles let out a yelp of surprise, having been unaware that he was being followed, and started to turn. Kitty just caught a glimpse of his shocked expression, then James lifted his fist and dealt him a lightning-fast blow to the side of the jaw.
Charles didn’t even make a sound; his head snapped back and he simply crumpled. James caught his unconscious form in his arms and with only a slight effort, dragged him to the door of the broom cupboard, opened it, and thrust Charles unceremoniously inside. Then he shut the door, locked it, and pocketed the key.
Kitty was too astonished to make a sound. He’d moved with such casual, ruthless efficiency. As she watched, James tugged down the points of his waistcoat, ran a hand through his disheveled hair, and strode off toward the winding stairs that led up to the west tower.
She thought she heard him whistling under his breath.
Damn James! He must have overheard her conversation with Charles in the kitchen garden and decided to interfere.
Kitty crept forward and paused outside the broom closet. A muffled groan and some muttered cursing from behind the wood told her that Charles was at least coming to. She really ought to let him out—but James had the key.
“Insufferable idiot,” she muttered. She marched toward the darkened tower stairs.
James was probably planning to scold her for arranging to meet single men in dark rooms late at night. Well, she’d just have to give him a piece of her mind. She was perfectly capable of looking out for herself.
The door to the tower room was open a crack, but no light came from within. Kitty pushed the wood, wincing as it squeaked on its unused hinges, and took a tentative step inside. The heavy velvet curtains were closed, and only a tiny sliver of moonlight pierced the gloom. She was vaguely aware of a bed, some drapery, perhaps a curtain or canopy, off to one side. She opened her mouth to whisper James’s name, but his tall shadow disengaged from the darkness and her heart leapt.
“Close the door.”
Kitty did so, plunging the room into even deeper darkness, and waited for the scrape of a flint as James lit a lamp. None came.
She frowned. James’s voice had been a whisper, as if he was trying to disguise it, and an almost unbelievable thought struck her. Did he want her to think he was Charles?
A thrill, not of fear, but of excitement, fizzed through her blood.
He did! Why else wouldn’t he reveal himself? The rotten scoundrel clearly meant to play some kind of cruel trick on her. He probably thought he could pretend to be Charles, and give her a disgust of him, so she’d forget all about marriage.
Or maybe he planned to start seducing her, then reveal himself, to show her just what a fickle hussy she really was.
To do either of those things, though, he’d have to touch her.
Kiss her.
Her heartbeat doubled its normal pace. This was her chance to do the one thing she’d always dreamed of doing; kiss James Cashell! Truly, properly kiss him.
And she wouldn’t even have to betray herself. He’d never know that her ardent response was for him. He’d think it was for Charles!
Kitty almost laughed aloud at the prospect.
Oh, this was too perfect.
To add to her ruse, she whispered, “Charles?” and jumped as she felt a disturbance of the air behind her. James was as silent as a cat. Probably something he’d learned in all those years as a soldier. Her skin pebbled as he stalked behind her, and a nervous thrill of anticipation twisted low in her belly.
“Don’t turn around,” he murmured.
Kitty grinned in the darkness. It was definitely him. That gravelly voice had filled her most forbidden night-time fantasies. It shimmered across her nerve endings like rough silk.
Maybe it was the dark, or the knowledge that she was doing something forbidden, but it felt like there was magic in the air. Her stomach fluttered in excitement, as if something amazing was about to happen, something that would alter the course of her life forever.
She told herself to stop being fanciful. It was only a kiss. People kissed all the time. In fact, she’d bet good money that other people, in this very castle, were kissing right at this very moment.
But if this was her one and only chance to kiss James, then she wanted him to do it right. She didn’t want a wet, sloppy assault from ‘Charles.’ She wanted a proper kiss, with all the skill and passion at his disposal. Just once, she wanted to know what all those other lucky women had experienced.
A wicked idea blossomed in her brain.
“I have a confession to make,” she whispered into the darkness. She paused, straining to hear James’s response, but he remained silent. She swallowed. “I’ve never actually been kissed. Not on the mouth, at any rate.”
