Kasey Michaels - [Redgraves 02] (20 page)

He kissed away her right sleeve, and then the left, and wrapped her arms about his neck. He licked at her breasts, sucked lightly on the side of her long throat. He whispered to her in French, the language of lovers, and she sighed, her breath warm against his ear.

And then she did something totally unexpected. She reached between his legs and caught him, stroked him, guided him.

“If we get this over with, we have the rest of the night ahead of us,” she told him, wrapping her legs around him as he took over, directing himself, finding, gently probing.

The pole, probing. The ground, soft and moist. Breaking through to the tunnel beyond...

Kate cried out, just a single time, and then bit into his shoulder even as she clamped her arms and legs around him as if she’d never let go.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“Y
OU
COULD
HAVE
managed to wipe that unholy grin from your face by now,” Simon told Kate as he pushed back his chair and got to his feet when she entered the breakfast room.

“Now you’re bragging,” she scolded quietly as she brushed past behind him, managing to surreptitiously run her finger down his spine as a footman hastened to assist her at the buffet set up on the large sideboard. “Sit down, Simon, before your food grows cold. I’m ravenous, aren’t you?”

He swiveled toward her, his smile twinkling with mischief, just as it had as the two of them sneaked back into the Manor, replaced the keys and then stealthily climbed the servant stairs...or as stealthily as possible, considering Simon was behind her, tickling and teasing so that she nearly giggled and gave them away. “And probably will be for some time. Whole decades, I’d imagine.”

Kate laughed, longing to sit herself in his lap and partake of a few morning kisses. Once they were wed, they’d take their breakfast in bed. That way she could feed him bits of jam-topped toast and he could share his fruit compote with her. Among other things. Why, it might be months before they left their bedchamber at all. She still tingled all over, and had been terrified Consuela would notice something different about her as she watched her being dressed. Some outward sign of change in her. Ah, poor Consuela, she didn’t know what she was missing, or else she would be more understanding. To think, she was more experienced than her duenna. Delightful!

And how strange. The intimacies they’d shared last night seemed like something out of another world, their world. Just theirs. She felt no shame, no guilt, no regrets. She supposed another woman might be somewhat shy this morning, avoiding her lover’s eyes, at least slightly embarrassed to be sitting across the table so politely and impersonally from the man who had wakened her to such ecstasy only a few hours earlier.

A devil at night, an angel in the morning.

Kate knew she didn’t fit that category. She was Kate, night or day, and she didn’t wish to be anyone else. Should she warn Simon? Tell him to beware of dark corners, be prepared to fend her off as she made untoward advances each time they chanced to find themselves alone together for above a minute?

Then again, from the way he’d just looked at her, perhaps he should be warning her.

The odd thing was, Trixie had warned her against ever allowing a man to believe he might hold her happiness in his hand. At the time, they’d laughed about that, about always maintaining the upper hand. To Trixie, love was a game, and she was master of that game, and had been for decades. It was difficult to ever think of her grandmother being wrong; she had been correct about so many things.

But Kate didn’t want love to be a game. A contest with a winner and a loser; one in control, the other the supplicant. That was cruel. Moreover, that wasn’t Kate. She did nothing halfway, so if she was going to fall in love, it would be with all of her heart, and with no reservations, no barriers thrown up in some sort of self-protection.

Did that mean she could be hurt...or that Trixie was once hurt, very badly, so much so she’d refused to ever care all that deeply again? The thought brought a moment of sadness to Kate, and she quickly shooed it away.

She sent a cheery
good morning
toward Dearborn, who had belatedly entered the room to take up his usual spot just in front of one of the windows (looking slightly breathless, as he’d probably warned someone to alert him when his charge entered any room where the marquis was already in residence).

Poor Dearborn,
she thought,
destined to failure yet again at the hands of those naughty, unrepentant Redgrave brats.

Poor Dearborn. Poor Consuela. Poor world. So sad for anyone who isn’t me this morning.

As the footman held her plate, Kate loaded it with enough food to keep any of her brothers happy for a morning, and then swiped another bun from a silver platter while the servant was carrying her plate to her chair across the table from Simon.

“I trust you passed a pleasant night, my lord?” she asked innocently as she allowed her satin slipper to fall from her foot and reached out her silk-encased toes to locate Simon’s knee.
Begin as you plan to go on,
that was always good advice. And since she couldn’t seem to resist the urge to touch him, she may as well
begin
now.

“For the most part, yes, thank you,” Simon replied, his green eyes still twinkling, which was just the way she liked them best. He’d reached his left hand below the table and was now running his finger lightly up and down her arch.
Delicious!
“Although there were moments when I was awakened by some rather high-pitched sounds.”

She remembered the moments. Happily remembered them. But she hadn’t been all that loud, for pity’s sakes! Oh, he’d pay for that. “Really?” Kate asked, shooting him a warning look. Dearborn was old, and slowing up, but he hadn’t turned brick stupid. “I can’t imagine what that could have been.”

“Caterwauling, if I may hazard a guess. Probably some bitch in heat, yowling to attract a mate. My papa kept plenty, and when they want it they want it, that’s what he always said. Morning all, please congratulate me on my sterling recovery from the very edge of death. Lord, I’m famished.”

Kate and Simon had turned as one to the doorway, to see Adam Collier standing there in all his town finery and natural woeful blockheadedness, striking a pose for them in yet another ridiculous rigout, this one sporting a sky-blue waistcoat and clocked stockings striped in red, blue and tan. Pitiful.

Simon was the first to recover, find his voice.

“You look like Paddy’s pet pig, done up for the fair, and greatly offend the eye while you’re at it, I might add. All that’s missing is an enormous blue bow around your neck or you’d take the grand prize. Of course, that would probably mean you’d be hung from a hook by nightfall, being sliced up for bacon. You really need to give these things more thought, Adam, if only for your own sake,” he said, returning his attention to his plate even as Kate used her toes to search the floor for her slipper. Clearly the teasing moment was over, and it was back to business.

“You look very nice, Adam,” she said, still thanking her lucky stars her mouth had been empty when he’d spoken, or else Dearborn would still be banging her on the back, to dislodge a bite of ham or some such thing.
Probably some bitch in heat?
Honestly, the idiot boy should have his mouth plastered shut until he learned to curb his tongue. “We’re delighted to see you’ve made a complete recovery.”

“I should say so. Elsewise you would have had a devil of a time explaining to Jessica why you dropped her beloved brother in a hole, now wouldn’t you?”

“Dropped you in a— Adam, you’re a bird-witted twit, do you know that?”

“Yes, Kate, I do. I’m told the ladies find that charming.”

“The ones demanding recompense by the hour for their services,” Simon muttered, and then stuck a forkful of coddled egg into his mouth. For her part, Kate decided it might be safer if she didn’t eat another thing.

Adam oversaw the footman as he pointed to various dishes and then explained just how many spoonfuls he wished, precisely where it was to be placed on his plate. “No, no, man. Eggs most certainly do not come within so much as an
inch
of kippers. Runny things, getting in everywhere. Place them on a separate plate. No, don’t try to hand that ladle to me while you get another plate—what do you suppose
I’m
to do with it?”

Kate grinned at Simon. “You aren’t going to suggest something Adam could do with it? My, you must be in good humor this morning. Why is that, I wonder.”

“Fishing for compliments, are you? Will they be returned?”

Kate felt her cheeks going hot, recalling a particularly intimate and daring portion of the evening. “I thought they already had been...reciprocated in kind.”

Goodness! Now Simon’s face appeared flushed. He must be remembering the same thing as she. How she’d taken his initial tutoring and turned it on him, not quite certain how to go about it, but clearly possessing some natural talent as she’d daringly kissed her way down his chest and belly, and beyond. At least gauging from Simon’s reaction she did. Oh, my, yes. She believed the word he used to describe how he’d felt was
spent.
He’d been entirely
spent.
Or at least he had been until she’d begun to tease him again and he miraculously recovered. Poor man. Perhaps they shouldn’t spend months in bed. Perhaps only a few weeks....

“What in blazes are you grinning at, woman?” Simon asked, tearing her away from her thoughts; odd thoughts for the breakfast table, even she’d agree.

“Nothing important,” she answered and then quickly turned to Adam, who was just sitting down beside her and unfolding his serviette, which he then promptly tucked beneath his chin so as not to drip coddled eggs on his overdone, pouter-pigeon neck cloth. “Adam, we’re going looking for the rest of the tunnel today. Would you care to accompany us?”

He looked at her in horror. “Would I care to— Are you mad? I won’t go within ten yards of that horrible hole!”

Kate explained the plan, and that he’d do nothing more than use one of the poles to poke in the ground as he walked along, taking the air. “You do look dangerously pale, you know. There’s fashionable, Adam, and then there’s consumptive. I’ve had it on the best authority, my grandmother’s. Only women ever wish to look consumptive, although I don’t understand why they do. Come along with us, you’ve been moldering in your bedchamber long enough.”

Adam immediately dropped his fork on the china plate and groped in his waistcoat pocket for a small, hinged case he flipped open to expose the mirror inside. He peered into the miniature glass, turning his head this way and that, touching his cheek, frowning, touching again.

The lid snapped shut. “I’ll go with you.”

“Oh, happy day. We would have been devastated without your company,” Simon drawled, getting to his feet. “Kate, I’ll see if Liam can round up some long poles somewhere and meet you at the greenhouse in thirty minutes. Enjoy your breakfast.” He glanced toward Adam and smiled. “As I’m sure you will, with Adam here to keep you entertained.”

Wretch,
she thought, but then smiled. Whatever list he was keeping of grievances against her, he could now cross off at least one of them, for breakfast alone with Adam should pay it in full.

“So, Adam,” she began sweetly as Collier picked up his fork once more. “Other than being locked bare-rumped in a cabinet, suffering a stern lecture from Valentine, being rebuffed by every house servant and milkmaid, and falling into a muddy pit, how are you enjoying your stay here at Redgrave Manor?”

Even Dearborn had to cover a bark of laughter with a cough on that one.

Adam actually looked, for a moment, as if he was considering how he could best answer her question, but finally grinned at her. “Not
all
of the milkmaids.”

“Liar,” Kate countered cheerfully. “You wouldn’t dare risk Val’s wrath. Or Gideon’s. You’re silly, but you’re not anxious to be dunked head and shoulders in one of the horse troughs, now are you?”

“And you’re no fun at all,” the boy complained. “Although Val’s much worse, you know. Your brother threatened to have a bonfire of every stitch of my fine clothes and send me to Jessica dressed only in a sack. You’re all rather evil, you know.”

“Not just rather, Adam,” Kate reminded him, but again, sweetly. “Val told you about what that journal of your father’s really means, didn’t he?”

Suddenly Adam looked as young as his years, and more than faintly bilious. “You mean he wasn’t just trying to frighten me?”

Kate put her hand on his arm. “No, Adam. It’s true. It’s all true. It’s why your parents are dead, among so many other things.”

“I thought so, but didn’t wish to believe it. What must he have had planned for me? That’s really why I took to my bed, you know. I thought it was all about the willing women, not—” he lowered his voice to a whisper “—treason. A person can be shot for that! How do you stand it? Knowing, I mean.”

“I don’t
stand
it. What has been done isn’t something to be endured. We have to fight, Adam. We’ve all set ourselves to stopping these horrible people. If, in our hearts and minds, that makes up for some of the sins of the past, that’s all well and good. But what we really need to do is put an end to the Society, once and for all time.”

“And that’s why we’re poking holes in the ground? It seems sort of silly.” He gave a limp wave of his hand. “I suppose it was your idea.”

“That’s one of the things we’re doing,” Kate said evenly, wondering how she had suddenly become so mature she wasn’t now boxing the idiot’s ears for him. “Your father’s journal is one of dozens, perhaps dozens of dozens. We need to find them all, and they might be in that tunnel, if we can trace it to its source. Do you understand now?”

“I’m not a simpleton, of course I understand. His lordship and I are about to humor you, and then get down to business in earnest.” Adam pulled the serviette from his collar. “The journals must be found, at which point we will have saved the day. Let’s get started—these eggs are too runny in any event.”

“There are boots in the kitchens. You wouldn’t wish to ruin those lovely shoes.” Kate hurried to her feet before the footman could react. Goodness! Had she finally gotten through to Jessica’s brother, when everyone else had failed? She longed to pat herself on the back, but would satisfy herself by telling Simon how brilliant she was.

“My lady,” Dearborn called after her as she hurried toward the door. “Your apple, my lady.”

Kate turned around and Dearborn tossed a shiny apple in her direction, unfortunately just as Adam stepped in front of her. Instead of catching it, he recoiled, squealing like a piglet stuck in a grate as the apple connected with his right eye.

“My eye! My eye!” he screeched, clapping his hands to his face as Kate, always quick to react, rescued the apple before it fell to the floor.