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Before she could, Zeke was back, reaching around her and hoisting her arms up again with a quick, impatient tug. He stuck there like a bad rash. “Watch your footing. There’ll be a—”

Bang!

The force of the shot lifted her off her feet, jackknifing her into the hard wall of Zeke’s chest, bottom first. She bounced off him and, as gracelessly as humanly possible, cartwheeled airborne to land on her feet, arms flung out before her.

She gaped at him through a snaking plume of smoke snaking up from the revolver, which, by some miracle, she hadn’t dropped.

“Recoil!” Zeke yelled with a grin.

Bloody, bloody hell.

She glared at him. This was all his fault. He’d flummoxed her so she’d pulled the trigger without preparing for the recoil.

When his grin only widened into a dazzling smile, she turned away to set the pistol atop the barrel. It was that, or aim it at him, the audacious peacock. He had nerve, looking as elegant and poised as ever.

Meanwhile, Kitty could only thank her lucky stars her wig hadn’t jettisoned off to land in the middle of the pond.

She sniffed and then grinned despite herself. She had hit the mark again.

“For all the exercise young Kit supposedly mandates for your edification, he seems rather malleable himself. I suggest he join you on some of your prescribed walks,” Lord Thurgood shouted to the earl.

Her mouth fell open. Had he just implied she had a large bottom?

“Kit, if you’re hot you could try losing the jacket.” He lifted a hand to point at her head. “And that felt hat.”

Evidently the sweat droplets rolling off her nose and chin had not escaped his notice. Kitty grasped her hat with both hands. She wouldn’t put it past the ogre to rip it off her head.

“Let the boy be, Zeke. He needs a break to recoup his arm.” The earl waved a dismissive hand. “As for me, I’m starved. Let’s to lunch. Zeke, go and fetch the basket.”

Zeke shook his head in disbelief, eyeing Kit meaningfully.

Kitty spoke up. “No, my lord, I can—”

“Nonsense, Kit. Zeke, you said yourself the boy’s overheated. Kit and I will have a seat in the shade. Lend me your arm, Kit, there’s a lad.”

Kitty shot the earl a reproving glance as she fell in step beside him.

He winked at her. “Bring the blanket first, Zeke, if you don’t mind. We want to sit under the hawthorn without getting dirt on our trousers.”

***

As the earl and his grandson supped, Kitty did her best to disappear into the background and Lord Thurgood seemed only too happy to allow her to do so.

He sat with his back to her while devouring his meal and grilling the earl—on his overall health, how he’d been sleeping, whether he continued to work so many hours on the estate or if he’d handed some of his duties over to the manager as Zeke suggested before he last sailed.

His obvious affection for his grandfather quite charmed her, though she maintained a mask of indifference in the event he deigned to glance her way.

Her ears pricked up when Lord Claybourne asked about his upcoming travel plans.

“The American West is next on the docket,” Thurgood said. “I believe I mentioned a gold mine I’ve a mind to purchase.”

“Once or twice. Just when do you propose to make this journey, Zeke?” Lord Claybourne demanded, sounding weary.

“Soon,” Zeke hedged, ripping off a hunk of bread from the remaining loaf and stuffing it into his mouth.

“What is it with you and mines?” The earl splashed a portion of wine into his goblet.

Kitty wondered the same thing.

Zeke considered the question for a long moment, rubbing his chin with his pointer finger. “I suppose I enjoy mining because”—he paused—“because of what mines produce. We can hold it, measure it, count on it to stand the test of time, and once it’s ours, no one can take it away.”

As if sensing he’d given some secret part of himself away, Zeke cleared his throat and muttered, “Or something to that effect.”

“There are other things in this world even more substantial than gems and metals,” the earl said softly.

If Zeke heard him, he made no comment. “All I need now is a bed.” He set aside his empty plate,leaned back on his elbows and stretched out his long legs.

Kitty’s hand paused halfway to bringing a piece of cheese to her mouth. Her gaze grazed over his well-shaped calves to the contoured muscles of his thighs visible through the fabric.

As if he sensed her eyes on him, Zeke glanced over his shoulder at her.

She shifted her focus away in the nick of time. What in the world was wrong with her? First she’d stared at his arms, now his legs. Arms and legs. Everyone had them.

“My lord, how many times did you bring Caden and I out here to shoot, fish, and hunt? Too many to count, I’d wager.”

She heard the smile in his voice and found herself smiling along with him.

“Too many indeed. Do you recall the times your father joined us?”

The tentative note in the earl’s voice drew Kitty’s gaze back to the two men in time to see Zeke snatch a piece of grass from the ground and fling it back toward the earth.

“I recall the last time. One of the few family outings Father bothered attending after Mother—” Zeke slammed his mouth shut so hard Kitty heard the clash of his teeth.

She averted her gaze, but not before she glimpsed the flash of pain in Lord Claybourne’s eyes, and no one could miss Zeke’s simmering anger. What had he meant to say before he stopped himself?

She knew little of his parents’ history. The earl’s son, Zeke’s father, had died some time ago, as had his mother. But Kitty had no inkling as to the details. Whatever the case, it appeared neither Zeke nor Lord Claybourne had fully recovered. She could relate all too well.

“Suffice it to say, the cottage holds many pleasant memories, old man,” Zeke said in a light tone that almost convinced Kitty she’d imagined the tense moment between grandfather and grandson.

But she’d experienced too much loss herself to be fooled.

Behind her, Zeke bounded to his feet. “Are you finished with your meal? Care to take a stroll? That is, unless you wish to walk the property with Kit while I tidy up, m’lord?”

Kitty had been feeling a degree of kinship with Zeke. Now she had a strong urge to shift around and kick him in the shin.

She turned to glare over her shoulder, and caught Lord Claybourne’s twinkling eye.

Guessing he intended to play her against his grandson yet again, Kitty shook her head an emphatic no. “I’ll be happy to take care of this, Lord Claybourne.”

The older man grinned, then gave her a wink when Zeke’s head snapped in her direction.

She nearly groaned. She could practically hear his warranted censure. Kit had no business telling Lord Claybourne what he would or would not like to do.

The problem was, she couldn’t seem to recall she was supposed to be Kit, the servant, and not Kitty, the lady.

“Come, Ezekiel, let us walk” Lord Claybourne said, forestalling another dressing down,.

After they moved off, she levered herself to her knees and gathered the used dishes and food containers. She carried the picnic supplies to the buggy and tucked them into the back trap.

The position put the earl and his heir in her sights as they strolled the grounds near the pond.

She drank in the sight of Zeke. She couldn’t help it.

He was the most compelling man she’d ever met.

Beautiful to look at, yes, but more to the point, he had presence.

Something in the way he carried himself, like a royal prince, broad shoulders thrown back, head held high, that wavy hair glinting in the sunlight like a golden mantle.

And today he’d shown he had a vulnerable side. A heart that had not escaped this world unscathed. The demigod was human after all.

As she stared, he threw his head back and laughed at something the earl said.

A funny little flutter tickled her belly, and she wished just for a moment, he knew her as a woman, and not an irritating boy.

Wished she’d met him as Lady Christine Hastings at a London party, dressed in one of the gowns her grandfather purchased for her come-out.

She saw them dancing on a glittering ballroom floor, staring into each other’s eyes. The image was so vivid it hurt.

Her eyes stinging, she turned her back on the earl and Lord Thurgood, and her silly, impossible yearnings. She should be grateful for Lord Claybourne’s generous willingness to hide her had afforded, not dreaming up impossible fairytales about his grandson that could never come true.