Tempting Kate. Deborah Simmons

dismay escalated as the truth dawned.

      “I have never seen your sister before in my life,” the stranger explained dryly. “And the last time I checked, I was the only marquis of Wroth.”

      

      Grayson eyed the duo calmly, while they stared as if he had sprouted two heads. Although his name was not always a welcome one, still, he could never recall receiving quite this sort of reception before. It was interesting, to say the least.

      Apparently unconvinced of his parentage, the old man, called Tom, was still inclined to argue. “Here, now, Lucy says—”

      Grayson halted him with his most damning look. “I am sure that the lady, Miss Lucy, is speaking the truth as she knows it, but since I am Wroth and I have not seduced her, it stands to reason that someone has been using my name, although I am at a loss as to who would be so imprudent.”

      Tom gaped, scratching his bristly chin in confusion, but the dark-haired girl, obviously more intelligent, nodded. It was easy to see that she was in charge, for both Lucy and Tom took orders from her in the manner of those of long habit. Intrigued, Grayson found himself watching her closely. She did not look old enough to run a household, but she had a serious, capable air that told him she could manage very well. As if to prove his thoughts, she proceeded to draw herself up to her full height—she stood not much above five feet—and unflinchingly apologize for shooting him.

      “I must tell you that I regret very much your injury, my lord, and will do my best to remedy any inconvenience that this…mis understanding may have caused you.” Despite the pain in his shoulder, Grayson found himself admiring her pluck. He could not wait to hear exactly what she had planned for him, should he have been her sister’s seducer. A wedding ceremony at gunpoint had most likely been the plan, and he could not help but be relieved at Lucy’s imperious rejection. The auburn-haired chit with the grating voice did not appeal to him in the slightest, while this Kate…

      “Naturally, you are welcome to stay here until you are sufficiently recovered,” she said, as politely as if they were discussing the weather, and not the attack upon his person and his subsequent abduction. Really, she was most intriguing.

      A low growl from the corner made him glance toward Tom, who apparently took exception to the offer of such hospitality. He hitched up his trousers and glared at Grayson in a decidedly menacing fashion. “He looks to be well enough right now. I can take him back to London soon as I ready the horses.”

      “Nonsense,” Kate responded in that take-charge tone of hers. “He needs food and rest. Now let us leave him to it.” Turning to Grayson, she said, “I shall send Tom up with another tray, since the other was spilled.” For the first time, her amazing composure seemed to desert her. She cast her eyes downward, and as Wroth watched the slow bloom of color in her cheeks, he felt an answering stirring in his loins.

      Then, with a nod, she took her leave, dragging a reluctant Tom along with her, and Grayson felt oddly bereft at her absence. Damn, but she was an extraordinary creature! He found it difficult to reconcile all his images of her: the filthy boy; the gentle healer; the competent woman who took charge of an awkward situation without blinking an eye; and the innocent who had returned his kiss with tentative passion.

      Grayson frowned grimly. He did not care to examine that small lapse in his judgment. He had waited for one of his jailers to arrive, not expecting to see the begrimed urchin again until she had walked through the doorway. Although it took Grayson a moment to recognize the demure young girl as the pistol-wielding pup of the night before, he had had no doubts once he looked into those eyes. Luminous eyes, they were like none he had ever seen, serious and clear. Guileless. Lovely.

      Enthralled, Grayson had made a feeble attempt to question her before giving in to the lust that seized him in a grip that was truly remarkable, considering his recent injury. But all thoughts of his shoulder had been forgotten when he took her mouth. She tasted of mint and sweetness and delight, with an underlying passion that took him by surprise. He shuddered to remember the first bold forays of her tongue. She had ignited him effortlessly, and he had wanted nothing more than to feel her breast beneath his palm again, without a layer of boy’s clothing to cover it More than that, he had wanted her naked beneath him, small and slender and…

      Hearing the rapid rise of his breathing, Grayson pushed such images forcefully from his mind. It must be his condition, he decided. Never before had he let himself be carried away by the thought of fondling a female. He was a skilled lover, but he never lost his head. Nothing disgusted him more than a supposedly intelligent man who made a cake of himself over the latest fashionable female.

      But Kate was neither, and Grayson knew he had been extremely careless to let himself be so distracted from his situation. He was lucky to find himself a victim of mistaken identity, rather than at the hands of someone truly dangerous—though he had an odd suspicion that the inimitable Kate could be dangerous enough, in her own way.

      Who was she? Although her speech and bearing proclaimed her a woman of quality, her gown was faded and ill-fitting. And despite her eventual response to his kiss, it was obvious that she was an innocent. As beautiful as she was, Grayson thought she must have lived a protected existence to remain so pure and unaffected, but what sheltered female would dress up as a boy, break into a nobleman’s study and shoot him? He knew a few women who could handle a pistol, but none who could have succeeded in besting him.

      And how had she become the leader of this odd trio? If her sister truly had been ruined, why was a male relative not seeing to her welfare? Instinctively Grayson knew that the rough-looking Tom was not a part of the family. Yet why was he treated as an equal, rather than as a servant?

      And what of the sister’s alleged seducer? Had the man truly claimed to be Wroth, or had the girl concocted the story to placate her sister? She would not have been the first to claim that a nobleman, and not the traveling tinker, had sired her child. And, if so, she would not be happy to have her ruse exposed.

      Really, the whole business was more entertaining than the theater. From the identity of the players to the country home that formed the backdrop, it was a fascinating puzzle, and Grayson could not wait to begin putting all the pieces together. Not’surprisingly, he no longer felt the suffocating press of ennui that had plagued him for months, and the realization made him release a sigh of relief.

      Hell, if it were not for the bullet hole in his shoulder, he would be enjoying himself thoroughly.

       Chapter Three

      Grayson lifted a brow in contempt when Tom came barging in with his breakfast tray. The old man was the worst excuse for a servant Grayson had ever seen, plopping down his burden with total disregard for the tea that sloshed over the rim of the cup. Obviously, Tom was not accustomed to waiting at table.

      Eyeing the spill askance, Grayson wondered if Kate and her cohorts were hiding him from the rest of the household, for he had yet to see a maid or serving girl. He was determined to investigate later, but right now he was hungry. He watched, amused, when Tom pushed the food at him, as if begrudging every bite, then stepped back and hitched his trousers in an irritating manner.

      Situating the tray neatly on his lap, Grayson glanced at the man, who was glowering at him. “Is there something else, Tom?” he asked.

      “That there is, my lord,” Tom answered, drawling the address as if he did not believe Wroth to be himself. “Kate’s a bit kindhearted, but I won’t have her suffering for it.” His thick, peppery brows drew together. “Fair warning. I’ve got my eye on you.”

      “Do you now?” Grayson asked, undisturbed.

      “That I do,” Tom growled, as if taking exception to Grayson’s attitude. “And I’m thinking that maybe you’re Wroth and maybe you ain’t.”

      “And maybe you’re an extremely incompetent servant or simply a kidnapper who botched my murder,” Wroth said, calmly spreading