Kasey Michaels - [Redgraves 02] (9 page)

“I’d like to say
confident,
but that would be bragging, wouldn’t it?”

Why was he still talking? “Oh, just shut up and kiss me.”

“I do so adore a willing woman,” he said, his mouth claiming hers just as she opened it to say something certain to be wonderfully pithy, or something incredibly stupid that could even talk him out of what he planned to do.

No one ever told me,
she thought wildly as a toe-curling wave of what had to be desire swept over her. She’d never experienced such instant heat and this most curious
hunger.
Simon was doing things to her mouth that, if described to her, would have had her pulling a face and saying
no thank you!

He let go of her hands and sudden panic struck her.
No! Don’t stop!
She grabbed at his cheeks, pressing her mouth against his, returning exotic favor for exotic favor.

Simon’s hands skimmed her waist, then rose to cup her breasts. Kate thought the top of her head might simply explode. She moaned against his mouth, and then gasped as he slid his thigh between hers.

And then he was gone, just as she had escaped him earlier, leaving her to stand there, rocking, wondering when Mother Nature had turned up all the colors of the world until they made her blink.

Simon held up his hands. “Enough,” he said, although he seemed to have some trouble getting the word out without taking another quick, shallow breath.

“Yes...I think so.” She took a deep, shuddering breath of her own. “Well...well, that was interesting, wasn’t it? As in, that is...by way of experimentation.”

Simon leaned his shoulder against the sturdy brick of the stable wall, crossing his legs at the ankle, his folded hands clasped together below his waist. “In case you’re wondering, that doesn’t always happen. In fact, I’d have to say it’s damned rare. I think, Kate, we’re dangerous for each other.”

“It’s not as if this was my idea,” she bristled, wondering if he might be surreptitiously attempting to hide his— No, she wouldn’t think of that! “However, I concur. My curiosity is satisfied, I assure you. Now, if you tremble in your boots at just the thought we’d have to be in each other’s company as the search proceeds, please don’t feel as if your continued presence is required here at Redgrave Manor.”

“Ah, so polite yet firm. Now she’s Lady Katherine, lady of the manor. Too late, Kate, I know who you really are. And I’m going nowhere.” He ran his gaze lazily up and down the length of her body, and then smiled. “Unless we travel there together.”

“You can’t put the skin back on the apple, so you might as well peel it all,” Kate mumbled beneath her breath, and then shook her head. “Go eat your breakfast, Simon. You can then join me at the greenhouses or not, as is your pleasure.”

“Yes,” he said, pushing himself away from the wall. “Pleasure. A lovely word, don’t you think?”

“Oh, go hang yourself!” she exploded, and then stomped away, slowing only once she had turned the corner of the stables, to wonder if Simon’s posture after their kiss had been rudely nonchalant, his teasing only in good fun—or if he’d had as much trouble regaining his equilibrium as she had done.

CHAPTER SEVEN

D
EARBORN
HANDED
S
IMON
a well-polished apple as he made to leave the breakfast room after a satisfying meal of slab bacon and curried eggs.

“Why, thank you, Dearborn,” he said as the butler curtly bowed and signaled for the footman to clear the table.

“My pleasure, my lord,” the butler said. “But the apple is for Lady Katherine. She seems to have misplaced the one I presented her with earlier.”

Simon snatched up another apple from the fruit bowl on the massive sideboard. “You assume I’ll be seeing her?”

Dearborn pulled himself up stiffly. “I seldom assume, my lord. You’ll be meeting her at the greenhouses. We watch over her, you understand. Closely.”

“Well, that put me in my place,” Simon muttered as he headed out of the house, munching on one apple while lazily tossing the second up and down in his hand, attempting to appear nonchalant, just in case he was being watched from some hidey-hole. From cowbells to watchful servants, Kate was about as unprotected as the crown jewels in the Tower. Could their kiss have gone undetected? He was beginning to believe it hadn’t been quite the private moment he’d supposed.
Wonderful.

He’d earlier noticed the morning sun as it was reflected off the hundreds of large panes of glass making up the roofs of the greenhouses, so he knew where he was going. Although, if he hadn’t known, it may have been possible to call out
which path leads to the greenhouses,
and have a half-dozen heads poke up from the shrubberies to point him in the correct direction.

The enormous trio of structures—the buildings at the Manor all were constructed in various versions of enormous—lay some distance from the main house, long enough that he’d supposed servants employed the pony cart to haul flowers and fruits to the kitchens.

There was a glass-domed conservatory attached to the East Wing, but that was probably simply for the lady of the household, if digging in the dirt interested her. The real succession houses were now straight ahead of him.

“Hold there a moment, Simon, if you would.”

Simon stopped in his progress across the scythed lawn, to see Valentine Redgrave approaching at a near trot, his overly long black hair flying, his fists clenched, his expression considerably less than pleasant.

Before one of those fists possibly ended up smashing his face into bits, Simon held up his hands to indicate surrender—if Kate was that good with her fists, Simon wasn’t in a hurry to receive firsthand knowledge of the pugilistic prowess of her brothers.

“What in blazes are you doing?” Valentine asked as he approached, looking at Simon’s raised arms. “My God, man, do you think I’m on the attack? Why would I do that?” Then his dark eyes narrowed. “Why would I want to do that, Simon?”

“I have no idea,” he said, lowering his arms, knowing Valentine Redgrave wouldn’t let it go at that. “Possibly because I kissed your sister behind the stables, not realizing Kate is never really alone?”

“She damn well was alone this morning. Her watchers keep their distance, for God’s sake, else she’d have our ears. The servants watch over her, yes, but they don’t dog her steps like puppies.” Then he sighed. “All right, you kissed her. I suppose it was only a matter of time. I’m not so unawares I’ve missed the sparks I’ve seen flying between the two of you since the moment you met. So. How did that go?”

“How did it—?” Simon goggled at the man. “Very well, all things considered, thank you,” he then answered, dumbfounded. “I’m quite prepared to offer for her hand at once, of course.”

Valentine rolled his eyes as if this was the most absurd thing he’d ever heard. “And what makes you think any of us would dare to make that sort of decision for Kate? We’d have better luck ordering the rain to stop falling. I admit I’d earlier thought about asking you to tell me your expectations with Kate, until she pointed out I’d only be making a dashed fool of myself. Well. Let’s see now, Simon, shall we? Where do we go from here?”

“I have no idea,” he admitted honestly. “The only rules I’m conversant with in the matter appear not to apply to Kate.”

Valentine nodded his agreement. “Although Gideon doesn’t share Kate’s belief, mind you. Do you think you could love her?”

Simon had already been half expecting that question. “I don’t think I honestly could answer that either way, not at this point.”

“I understand. It’s early days yet. Sometimes it takes a shovel.”

“I beg your pardon?” Was he to
dig
for the answer? Or was someone considering conking him on the head with one? Perhaps all the Redgraves were insane...or he was. Either way, Simon hadn’t been put so far off his stride since the age of ten, when his father asked him just what he thought he was doing sneaking out of the man’s study with a pipe tucked in his waistband and a handful of tobacco.

“Never mind. But have you given it any thought?”

“Some, yes. I think, in time, she might drive me straight around the bend,” Simon confessed.

Valentine draped a companionable arm around Simon’s shoulders. “Then there’s our answer, isn’t it? Kate calls the tune, just as she’s done since the cradle. We can blame Trixie for that, by the way. We blame her for everything else,” he ended, grinning.

“Yes, four innocent children, doomed by their heritage and then corrupted by the deliciously
outré
dowager countess. Those scandalous Redgraves, those unpredictable Redgraves. I can’t say I wasn’t warned. But my informants had it wrong. You’re simply who you are, with no pretense, which may make you four of the most independent-thinking and therefore most civilized people in all of England. There aren’t many of us who can say that. I envy you.”

“That’s all well and good, although I cannot but point out if you ruin her we variously accused Redgraves will not scruple at hanging pieces of you on every lamppost in London.”

“A friendly warning, Val?”

His smile was wide, but it was his words that Simon took to heart. “Nothing friendly about it. A kiss is a kiss, and probably to be expected. But she can be quite inquisitive. Don’t let the girl seduce you unless you intend to meet her at the altar, understood?”

“Understood.” Feeling lucky to have survived the past few minutes without having to play the gentleman and let Val knock him down, Simon then asked, “So why were you chasing after me?”

The scowl returned instantly. “You mean now that we have that other settled— It is settled, isn’t it?”

“Most definitely. The only question left to me is, am I more afraid of Kate or her brothers?”

“Trixie. Fair warning, my friend. Be most afraid of Trixie. There are hidden depths to that woman even we reckless Redgraves would never dare to plumb. In fact, I stand rather in awe of you for having dared that kiss, knowing what my grandmother is capable of if displeased. In any case, now that we understand each other, perhaps I can feel more at ease with what I have to tell you. It would seem you and Kate will be on your own for a while.”

Simon shot a glance toward a nearby shrubbery. “
Relatively
speaking, you mean, if you don’t mind the pun?”

“True enough. Very good, Simon. Yes, but not really on your own. I’m leaving for London.”

“Is that a fact,” Simon commented without inflection, although the statement had surprised him. “May I inquire as to the reason?”

“I would venture to say not, no.” This, again, was said with an accompanying smile. Such a handsome, well-set-up man. Smooth, eminently affable and easygoing. Simon was beginning to think an adversary should be more concerned with Valentine Redgrave’s smiles than his scowls.

Then again, Simon wasn’t easily put off. “Personal pleasure, or something to do with the Society?”

“There can be nothing more personal to us Redgraves at the moment than the
pleasure
of unmasking the Society. All right, since you’re not going to stop, are you, I may as well tell you the rest. Our only other known avenue to answers at this moment is Lord Charles Mailer, now that his cohort, the late Archie Urban, the only other Society member whose name we know, is busily feeding the worms. Post and City. Meaningless code names found in Jessica’s father’s journal, until you somehow figured them out without our assistance. I don’t believe it was ever mentioned—how you did that.”

“Damn if you aren’t correct. I don’t believe I shared that information,” Simon said, and then most deliberately smiled. More than one could play at this game.

“And we didn’t impart our method to you, or Perceval, for that matter.” Valentine looked at him for a long moment. “All right. No matter what avenue you took, we all somehow arrived at the same destination, didn’t we?”

“Until Urban was run down by a cart—highly suspicious—and Mailer decided it was time he withdrew from London to rusticate in the countryside. There are some who believe he should have been arrested, you know, and thoroughly questioned about those misdirected supplies.”

“You among them, I’m certain. But in this case, we Redgraves managed to convince Perceval a bird who believes he is free to fly is more useful to us than one locked in a cage, steadfastly denying his guilt. You’ve not the most subtle of approaches, my friend, dogging their steps everywhere they went during the Season. You half frightened Jessica to death that night at Almacks.”

“I apologize. That was back when I was wondering if this generation of Redgraves was involved in the Society.”

“No apology necessary. God knows I would have thought the same thing had I been on the outside, looking in. But to return to your question. Now that Mailer has calmed his fears of having been found out and ventured back to town, a finer hand might be called for. Mine, in point of fact. Although there’s always the fear the man only remains aboveground because the Society is using him for bait, assuming someone is on to them and that’s why Urban is dead. And they most certainly know by now these unknown someones somehow managed to thwart their scheme, implemented by Mailer, to misdirect the supplies meant for the Peninsula. Yes, the man would make perfect bait, meant to draw us in. Dear me, always so many possibilities. My mission is not devoid of its pitfalls.”

“Agreed. You could be walking straight into a hornet’s nest, cultivating Mailer. Urban was most certainly murdered. I’d thought—”

“We’d done it? Let’s say this—we didn’t stop it. But it was a better death than he deserved. I could be prodded into telling you the whole of it, once we’ve cleared this mess we’re in currently. In any case, I leave for London in the morning.”

“Kate may decide to go with you.”

Valentine shook his head. “No, I doubt that. She’s determined to locate those journals, and now, I fear, our father’s body. Besides, you don’t really believe I’m a slave to truth when explaining my numerous absences to her these past few years, do you? With luck, I’ll return in a week, or some other of us will show up.”

“You have my word as a gentleman. I’ll watch over her,” Simon told him, nearly childishly reaching up a hand to cross his heart. He couldn’t believe his good fortune. Or was that his bad luck? Either way, the next days should prove interesting. Lord knew how much had already been packed into this first full day at Redgrave Manor. And it was far from over yet!

“And the servants will watch over you, with Consuela trading in her senior maid’s duties to act as Kate’s duenna. Consuela arrived on these shores from Spain with our mother, and is fiercely protective of her charge, not to mention the proud possessor of arms like ham hocks. Should be delightful having her about as chaperone, don’t you think?”

Valentine turned to start back toward the Manor, before swinging about to add, “Oh, and don’t attempt to make friends with Dearborn, or else he’ll be convinced you’re a rotter of the first water and you’ll never see another of Gideon’s cigars.”

Simon waved his understanding, and then stood quite still, lost in thought for some time, attempting to understand the Redgraves. It wasn’t possible. The only conclusion he could come up with was the notion he, Simon Ravenbill, had been accepted into this strange, fairly eccentric family. Trusted. Why this pleased him so much, he had no idea.

Then he realized this supposed trust also damn well put a heavy damper on any amorous plans he might have harbored about Kate...and he was fairly certain Valentine knew that. His sister’s virtue couldn’t be safer inside a nunnery than it would be with Simon on the premises.

Damn, they were a diabolically clever bunch!

By the time he reached the greenhouses, Simon was smiling at his predicament, mostly because he believed Kate might not see the humor in the thing once she realized why he was keeping his distance. And definitely wouldn’t if she was truly attracted to him. “God, I would be the pursued rather than the pursuer. Now
that
could prove interesting.”

One of the gardeners paused in his pruning of some low shrubbery, to point Simon toward the last of the trio of succession houses and then dutifully returned to his task—which seemed to be clipping the air just above the neatly trimmed greenery.

He knocked on one of the sparklingly clean panes at the open doorway and called out Kate’s name.

“Stop!” she shouted from somewhere behind the carefully stunted pear trees blocking his sight of her. “Don’t move, for God’s sakes—can’t you see that gaping hole?”

Since he’d been looking forward as he walked, no, he hadn’t seen a need to examine the center pathway. The ground was the ground. But he looked now. He’d been two steps away from a minor disaster.

“You never had the collapse filled in?”

She stepped from the trees, appearing on the other side of the miniature abyss, pressed her fists against her hips and peered down into the darkness. “Gideon is still debating digging the whole thing wider, although when he first was lowered inside, he saw the collapse had hidden any hint of what we assume to be more of the tunnel. It still could be nothing but a result of heavy rains and the fact Gideon had ordered the direction of the stream rerouted in order to make it more convenient to carry water to the succession houses. The hole actually fills a bit whenever it rains, even beneath this roof. It could collapse on itself anytime, Gideon says, and any information lost to us, or collapse enough to point us in the direction of the rest of the tunnel. My brother is, of course, hoping for the latter possibility. Do you know if it rained last night?”