Page 59 of To Follow her Heart

Here, they felt very much alone.

“Luke,” Kitty said, her voice quavering a little. “Please may I stay with you tonight?”

Luke swallowed. His heart had leapt to his throat and anticipation thrummed through him, his body at complete attention. The warm weight of Kitty on his lap, her lovely behind nestled comfortably against his groin did not help one iota. He’d been trying manfully not to take too much notice, especially as she was in distress, but now….

He frowned.

“Wait a minute. This isn’t a ruse to get me to—”

“Luke!” Kitty exclaimed, glaring at him. “I agreed to let you have your way and wait until our wedding night.”

Luke snorted, unconvinced. “That was before the carriage fell on my head. If not for that, you’d have likely lost your virtue on the road to Aylesbury.”

Kitty burst out laughing, her delight at his indignation quite apparent.

He sighed, once her hysteria had abated and tried again. “Are you really scared of the ghost, Kitten?”

She gave him a look which no helpless kitten ever born could have bettered and he knew he was beaten.

“Very well,” he said, hoping he sounded stern. “You may sleep in my room. I’ll take the chair.”

“Oh, but Luke—”

“The chair, Kitty, or go to your own bed.”

Kitty pouted and Luke resigned himself to a sleepless night.

***

Luke fidgeted in the chair. He’d shed his coat but not dared disrobe any more than that, now he tugged at his cravat which was strangling him. His neck hurt and no matter which way he shifted he could not get comfortable. Having glimpsed Kitty in her virginal white night gown, and knowing she was curled up in the big bed just a few feet away from him, was not helping his discomfort. Especially as the wretched creature had made it obvious he was welcome to join her if he changed his mind.

Well, he had changed his mind, back and forth a dozen or more times in the two hours since they’d retired to bed. He groaned, rubbing his face and wondering if he might be better off sleeping on the floor when a strange sound made him jolt with alarm.

“What was that?” Kitty squeaked, sitting bolt upright in the bed.

Luke tried to calm his heart as she’d startled him half to death. “I thought you were asleep,” he whispered crossly.

“Don’t be ridiculous, not with you fidgeting about over there. I kept thinking you were getting up to join me. I’ve been dying of anticipation all night.”

“Honestly, Kitten,” he began, and then froze as the noise came again.

“Luke?”

Luke swallowed and got to his feet, fumbling about for the tinderbox. It took him several tries to light the ruddy thing, but at last the candle flared and he lifted it up, turning towards the bed.

“Stay here,” he said, his voice firm, though all the hairs up his neck were standing on end. Damn Kitty and her blasted ghost stories.

“Not on your life,” Kitty shrieked, flinging back the covers and hurrying over to him. She grabbed hold of the back of his waistcoat and Luke knew better than to bother arguing with her. Instead he moved to the door, his lovely shadow padding silently behind him.

Luke cracked the door open, wincing as it creaked a little in the heavy silence.

The noise came again, a low moaning sound that had Kitty whimpering and burying her face against his back.

“What the devil is it? It can’t be a ghost, I refuse to believe it,” he said, as much to convince himself as reassure Kitty.

“What if it’s the man with the limp?” she whispered, wrapping her arms about his middle, the warmth of her breasts pressing against his back about the only thing that could have distracted him in the circumstances.

“There is no ghostly man with a limp,” Luke said, his voice firm now. “Come along.”