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Chapter Eighteen

K itty loved the earl’s library—the scent of leather permeating the air, the rich red and green striped silk-covered walls, the floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with books on every subject imaginable.

Seating areas comprised of comfortable wing-back chairs and sofas invited a person to settle in, while the thick Persian carpets blanketing dark pine floors tempted one to step out of her slippers and tiptoe around the room in just her stockings.

A log in the hearth popped, reminding her the fire would soon be nothing but glowing embers. She ought to go to bed and get some rest before facing the impressive bunch of Corinthians that had descended on her. She smiled. They were an entertaining lot, save Zeke.

He was something else entirely.

She needed to quit thinking about him. Which was why she opted to stay behind when Lady Lillian suggested they turn in for the night. A book to occupy her mind seemed like just the thing.

She approached the book shelves, stopping in front of the section on architectural design where she’d picked up the tome on Chissington Hall’s construction. Fascinating reading, but it had landed her in a hill of trouble. She moved on.

Books on scientific study, psychology, politics. None struck her fancy. She could go for a good novel, but so far hadn’t spotted any fictional works.

Which left…she closed her eyes. Smiled. Of course .

She adored books on travel and geography. Atlases contained more than simply maps. Their first-hand descriptions of faraway lands and cultures satisfied her thirst for knowledge and adventure, while keeping her safely at home.

Someone like Zeke would never understand.

But she wasn’t supposed to be thinking about him. She craned her head, eyeing the top shelf. Should she climb the gliding ladder tonight, or wait for another day?

She wasn’t exactly dressed for it. She fingered the delicate green silk of her evening gown, disheartened that no one complimented her on her finery. True, the earl had, as had Lord Randall and Caden. Come to think of it, Lady Lillian had remarked on her gown. Oh, bother. He hadn’t noticed.

Zeke, Zeke, Zeke. She had to get him off her mind. She grasped the rails of the ladder and started up. Her slippers skidded on the rails, so she kicked them off and continued climbing.

Halfway up, she peered down to where her shoes lay. They seemed very small from this distance. Probably best to set her sights on the top shelf and press on.

Reaching the top, she saw right away her perseverance had been worth the effort.

Grasping the ladder rung with one hand, she used her free hand to finger the spines, reading the titles as she went.

Milner’s Descriptive Atlas , S.D.U.K. Family Atlas , Bromme’s Illustrated Hand Atlas . They all looked promising.

There looked to be more atlases further down the shelf. Which meant climbing down, sliding the ladder over and climbing back up. Or she could glide sideways on the ladder. How hard could it be? Grasping the curved mahogany edge of the bookshelf, she gave a little push.

The ladder took off at breakneck speed toward the other side of the room. Using one hand, she grasped the passing shelf. The ladder came to a jerking halt. Her body did not.

Chirping in alarm, she clung to the ladder’s rails as the lower half of her body levitated.

Heart racing, and feeling rather like a monkey, she wriggled toes of her right foot back onto a rung, then swung her left foot to join the first. She closed her eyes and leaned her forehead on cool railing—and giggled. Monkey indeed. A bloody lucky one.

“Is there a bird nesting up there, or was that you I heard just now? And what the devil are you doing up there, with no one about to hear if you fall?”

Zeke. Of course. She giggled harder and prayed he hadn’t actually witnessed her graceless flight.

“Are you quite all right?”

She opened her eyes and peered down at him. “Quite. Why do you ask?” Another giggle escaped her. She bit her lip.

He stood, hands on his hips, directly beneath her, staring up. “Oh, I dunno. Your death grip on the side rails, perhaps?” His gaze roamed over her, searching for further ways to insult her no doubt. “Your…”

She waited, but he didn’t go on, merely continued to stare up at her. No, not at her. Under her. She scooted her stocking-clad feet closer together. “What are you doing in here?”

“Looking for you. What’re you doing up there?”

“Looking for a book.”

“You couldn’t find one down here?” He moved his hand in wide sweep.

“Are you saying you’d like me to come down?” she asked.

He appeared to give her question some thought.

Mostly just to annoy him, she perused the titles she’d risked her life to reach. “Oh, my. Hullo there.” She traced the spine of the book with one fingertip.

“Yes, I’d like you to come down,” he finally said. “Are you having a conversation with yourself up there?”

She couldn’t wipe the grin off her face. “Did you know you have one of my parents’ works? Atlas to the Historical Geography of Europe .”

“Wonderful. Feel free to bring it down with you. Now.”

“Yes, my lord,” she said with a tiny salute. She pulled the tome from the shelf and hugged it to her chest with one arm. Hmm. Getting down would be tricky with only one hand holding the rail.

She stretched one foot downward till her toes contacted solid wood, then shifted her weight. Sliding her gripping hand lower, she lifted her upper foot and navigated it to meet the lower, then began the process again.

“At this rate, you’ll be up there till morning.”

She gritted her teeth. “I’m going as fast as I caaaan …” A blur of leather book spines passed before her eyes as she plummeted toward her death.

She landed in a pair of strong, masculine arms.

Breathless, speechless, Kitty gazed up into Zeke’s face. His smoky blue eyes shimmered with suppressed emotion. Anger? Amusement? She couldn’t tell.

“Thank you?” she said.

He shook his head and strode from the bookshelves. “I can’t leave you to your own devices for five minutes.”

At least he sounded more exasperated than annoyed.

He dropped heavily onto a well-cushioned sofa located in the most dimly lit, private corner of the room.

Displaced air swirled softly around them, mingling the scents of leather, smoke, brandy, and Zeke.

Her belly trembled with giddy delight at being in his arms, the feel of his warm, hard chest against her ribs, his face so close she could kiss his lips if she dared—which she wouldn’t, any more than she would twine her arms around his neck and burrow her face into his warm skin.

But she wanted to. Like nothing she’d ever wanted before. It was maddening.

Meanwhile he probably didn’t even realize he still held her.

He shot her a sullen look. “It’s a wonder you survived this long.”

She searched her brain for a smart reply—but no words came. She couldn’t focus on anything beyond the intoxicating scent of him. She shifted and he loosed his hold enough so her her bottom settled onto his hard thighs. Heat swirled through her low belly. It felt oddly…good.

“At least you have the good sense not to argue.” One corner of his mouth hitched upward in grudging amusement. “By the by, you’re welcome.”

Helpless to resist the urge, her gaze locked on his lips, on that captivating hint of a smile. “You do appear at the most opportune moments.”

He pulled his arm from beneath her knees, freeing his hand to toy with one of the loose tendrils of hair framing her face. His fingers were warm and gentle against her cheek. “You could’ve been seriously hurt.”

Their eyes met and held.

“You look very beautiful tonight,” he said, his voice gruff.

Had she knocked her head during the fall after all? Because it sounded like Zeke had just complimented her. “Thank you.”

He shrugged.

She lowered her lashes and, seeing what she still clutched in her arms, remembered the treasure she’d nearly broken her neck to retrieve. “Do you want to see my parents’ book?” She held the tome out for his inspection.

“Yes.” He plucked the atlas from her hands and set it on the side table. “In a moment. First, I want to talk.”

“All right.” She tried to sound self-assured, as if she wasn’t sitting across Zeke’s lap. Was he waiting for her to extricate herself, she wondered? “What about?”

He reclined his body into a more comfortable position, pulling her along with him, and stretched out his long legs.

“For starters, promise you won’t go up that ladder again without someone standing by to catch you.

” His tawny brows knitted together. “Scratch that. Either send one of the footmen up to do your foraging, or wait until I’m available. ”

Here was familiar territory, Zeke and his proclivity for issuing orders.

“You and your ‘promise this’ and ‘promise that.’ Soon enough you’ll have me promising not to leave my bed.”

“An interesting choice of words,” he drawled. His gaze lowered to her lips.

“I…” How could she think with him staring at her mouth like that?

Abruptly he dropped her onto the sofa beside him. “That’s a fine bit of gratitude.”

She struggled to maintain her dignity after being unceremoniously dumped off his lap, righting her skirts and curling her slipper-less feet under the hem. “I only meant I’m not totally helpless.”

He ignored her, choosing instead to pick up the atlas. He set it on his lap and read, “Atlas to the Historical History of Europe, by Lord and Lady Charles Hastings. Very impressive.” He flipped open the book and began leafing through its pages.

“I don’t find you helpless. More like reckless, or at the very least unlucky. I want your promise, Kitty. This looks to be a fine bit of scholarship,” he added, as if he’d been discussing the atlas all along.

“Very well. I promise.”

He nodded and continued perusing the atlas.

Decorum forgotten, Kitty hoisted herself onto her knees to peer over his shoulder.

“I’m familiar with this volume. Grandfather had a copy of every one of my parents’ published works, as well as their personal travel journals in his library.

I read them all a thousand times. It made my parents seem not so far away. ”

She leaned forward to get a better look at the page he studied, just as he lifted his head to glance at her.

Her heart started a wild staccato in her chest. Any closer and their noses would collide.

Or their lips. From here, even in the dim light, she could practically count his thick, tangled lashes.

Could almost taste his soft, warm breath fanning over her cheek.

Zeke’s brows hitched.“Had? Past tense?”

She licked her lips and told herself to ignore his, mere inches from hers. “One of the many ways Garrick has taken revenge against my family for the slight he feels he received.”

“James sold off the collection?”

“Sold. Burned. Tossed. Your guess is as good as mine. I only know when we arrived in Maidstone last week, my grandfather’s library had been decimated.”

“I see. I hadn’t realized.” Zeke’s eyes held a wealth of empathy—as if he truly understood how much those inanimate things meant to her.

“I did manage to salvage one totem. Something I’d tucked beneath my mattress, before I knew I’d be ru—before I knew I’d be leaving Hastings House indefinitely.”

He arched a brow. “What’s that?”

She pulled a long ribbon from her bodice. On the end, dangled a shiny gold band. “My grandfather’s pinkie ring. See here, it has the Maidstone insignia.” She held the band out to him.

He fingered the ring, studying it briefly, then lifted his gaze to hers. “The metal’s warm.”

Kitty inched back, tucking the ribbon into her bodice.

He huffed out a breath. “I should go,” he muttered. “It’s getting late. Our discussion can wait until morning.”

“If you don’t mind, I’d rather press on tonight. There’s something I wish to discuss, as well. Something I’d rather no-one else overhear.”

He slung one arm over the back of the couch, angling his torso toward her. “Very well. Go on.”

“You go first.”

“No, I insist.” He gestured magnanimously toward her while bending one long leg to prop his foot on a small ottoman.

Good God, they could be at this all night.

She drew a deep breath and took the plunge. “I was wondering…that is, unless I misunderstood at dinner, you haven’t filled your brother and Lord Randall in on all the pertinent facts concerning our engagement?”

He gazed at her with slumberous eyes. “Correct.”

“Explain yourself, my lord.”

“Are you so anxious to have our betrothal denounced?”

“No. I merely assumed, Caden being your brother, you would tell him the whole of it.”

He studied his bent knee, plucking at the fabric. “The best way to assure your safety is to maintain the utmost discretion. There’ll be plenty of time to explain everything to Caden and Randall after your cousin is no longer a threat.”

She gazed at him, wonder unfurling in her chest. “You kept quiet for my sake?”

He shifted in his seat. “In my experience, secrets work best when shared with the fewest people possible.”

“You don’t trust them?”

“I trust them.” He slanted her a look. “Do you have a particular wish for Randall or Caden to know the whole of it?”

She huffed. The truth was complicated. She didn’t like to lie, but telling them now would be beyond embarrassing. “No.”

He leaned forward, slapped his hands on his thighs, and rose. “It’s settled, then. We’ll leave things as they are.” He strode toward the bookshelf, pausing near the ladder when something on the floor drew his attention.

Kitty followed his gaze. Her cast off slippers. Her toes curled reflexively into the carpet.

He scooped up the slippers and sauntered toward her. “Caden and Randall will probably stay at Chissington Hall for several weeks. You do realize we’ll need to do a better job of acting the part of a soon-to-be-wed couple.”

“I do? I mean, we will?”

“Don’t you agree?” He stopped directly in front of her.

“I…er…yes.” She reached for her slippers.

He pulled his arm back, putting the pair just out of her reach.

She wouldn’t fight him for them. She laced her fingers together on her lap. “How do you propose we go about—how did you phrase it?—acting the part?”