Page 49

There was another pitiful mewl, then a tiny shape detached itself from the shadows near the kitchen door and took a hesitant step toward him.
Oh, no. It was that little gray demon, the one who’d sliced the back of his neck to ribbons! Miss Templeton’s cat. Hera, was it? No, that wasn’t right, but it was something like that. Whatever her name was, there was no question Miss Templeton loved thelittle vagrant. She’d nearly sacrificed her position for the cat after that incident on the staircase with the drinking chocolate.
Damn it, why did it have to be this particular cat? She’d likely make mincemeat of his fingers if he tried to touch her, yet he couldn’t very well leave her out here. She’d freeze to death, and that was assuming an owl or coyote didn’t get her first.
Even he wasn’t so hard-hearted as to leave her to such a sad fate. With one last prayer for the well-being of his fingers, he crouched down and held out his hand to her. “Come here, little creature. Yes, that’s it. Nice kitty?—”
For all that the kitten was a demon from the underworld, she was no fool. She saw at once he was her best and only hope of rescue, and scurried toward him. He scooped her up in one hand—she was no bigger than his palm—and held her against his chest to protect her from the wind. As quick as lightning she scrambled up his shirt front, settled herself under his chin, and nestled her tiny body into the hollow of his throat.
“Er, well, alright, then. I suppose that will do.” She hadn’t scratched him, and she was already purring, and the sensation of her warm, soft body tucked against him wasn’tawful.
But now that he had her, what was he meant todowith her? Leave her in the kitchen? Or outside Miss Templeton’s bedchamber, so she’d be sure to see her when she woke? He made his way through the dark kitchen, the kitten still cuddled under his chin, but paused when he reached the bottom of the entryway staircase.
He couldn’t go wandering about in the hallway outside Miss Templeton’s bedchamber. It wasn’t proper. That is, he didn’t have any wicked intent towards his governess, of course. It was all perfectly innocent—of course, it was—but what if she heard him out there, and came into the corridor clad only in her night rail?
Miss Templeton in a night rail…no, nothing good would come ofthat.
He curled his hand around the kitten’s body, intending to detach her from his person and leave her at the bottom of the stairs, where she’d surely be safe until someone found her in the morning, but the kitten had no desire to leave the warm place she’d found. She clung to the collar of his shirt with her tiny claws and let out a mewl so pathetic it pierced even his stony heart.
Now what? He wasn’t taking her to his own bedchamber. It was out of the question. “Be reasonable, er…” Was her name Hebe? Or Hermana? It was some Greek goddess’s name, but damned if he could remember what. “You don’t want to come up with me. We’re sworn enemies, remember?”
But the kittendidn’tremember, because she only snuggled closer, one paw resting against the curve of his neck. “For God’s sake. Very well, then, but only for one night?—”
“Hestia?” There was a soft shuffle of footsteps on the stairs above, then, “Dash it, you naughty girl, where have you gotten to?”
He looked up, and there, at the top of the second-floor landing was Miss Templeton, dressed in a white night rail, her long, thick hair hanging loose around her shoulders.
He gazed up at her, his mouth going dry.
She wasn’t wearingjusther night rail—a circumstance that was both extremely lucky and extremely disappointing at once—but had a pair of half-boots on her feet and a cloak over her shoulders. Yet the sight of Miss Templeton in her night rail, with her hair floating in a golden-brown cloud around her wasn’t a sight he’d soon forget, boots and cloak be damned.
The truth hit him all at once then, like a sudden blow to the stomach, snatching the breath from his lungs. His instant andinexplicable dislike of her. His ill-temper toward her, his teasing and goading and generally dreadful behavior...
He wanted her. HewantedHelena Templeton.
He wanted her from the first moment he’d caught sight of her in that tree, in her worn boots and that catastrophe of a yellow cloak. Why had he handled it so badly? He was a man, for God’s sake, not a boy. In some circles he was even considered charming, but he hadn’t been charming toher.
No, toher, he’d behaved like an utter arse. Why, it was as bad as if he’d been tugging on her curls and splashing mud on her pinafores like an infatuated prepubescent boy who’d fallen victim to a pretty face.
Why hadn’t he known it at once as desire? It wasn’t as if she were the first woman he’d ever wanted. The answer slammed into him like another blow to the stomach.
Because he hadn’t desired anyone since Sophie.
No, it was more than that. He hadn’t believed he evercoulddesire another woman after Sophie, and now here was Miss Templeton—his sons’ governess, of all absurd things—her wild curls and those fascinating blue gray eyes holding him captive?—
“Lord Hawke? Oh, dear, I…er, I beg your pardon.” She pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders, a flush rising in her cheeks. “I didn’t expect anyone else would be awake. Hestia escaped from my rooms, you see, and I?—”
Hestia, of course! The little creature’s name was Hestia. “Yes, I have her. I found her outside the kitchen door, crying.”
“Oh, thank you, my lord! I was dreadfully worried about her. She doesn’t usually leave my bedchamber.”
“Well, I don’t think she’ll venture to do so again. She was rather terrified when I found her, and now she, ah…she won’t let go of my shirt.”
“Here, let me help. She’ll come to me I think.” She hurried down the stairs, stopping three steps from the bottom so they were eye to eye. “Come here, Hestia. It’s alright.”
He stilled as she reached for the kitten, her crooning voice winding around his chest before dipping low and settling in the pit of his stomach. He swallowed. “She’s still clinging to my shirt. You, ah…you may have to help get her off.”
“Yes, of course.” Her blue-gray eyes met his for an instant, and she caught her lower lip between her teeth, the flush on her cheeks deepening. “Come here, sweetheart.”